The servant is ready to hand from the side-board any condiments desired
for the oysters, which are promptly disposed of. It may be remarked at
the outset, that everything at table is handed at the left, _except
wine_, which is offered at the right. Ladies are served first.
After the oyster-plates are removed, the soup is served from the side
table--a half ladleful to each plate being considered the correct
quantity. The rule regarding soup is double, you must, and you must
not. You must accept it (whether you eat it or merely pretend to), but
you must not ask for a second helping, since to do so would prolong a
course that is merely an "appetizer" preparatory to the substantials.
The soup-plates are removed, and the fish immediately appears, served
on plates with mashed potatoes or salad, or sometimes both, in which
case a separate dish is provided for the salad. The _entrees_ follow
the fish, hot plates being provided, as required. Dishes containing
the _entrees_ should have a large spoon and fork laid upon them, and
should be held low, so that the guest may help himself easily.
Again the dishes are removed. Here we may pause to remark that the
prompt and orderly removal of the dishes after each successive course
is a salient feature of skillful waiting. The accomplished waiter
never betrays haste or nervousness, but his every movement "tells," and
that, too, without clatter, or the dropping of small articles, or the
dripping of sauces. The plates, etc., vanish from the table--whither,
we observe not. The waiter in the dining-room must have the
co-operation of the servant behind the scenes, to receive and convey
the relays of dishes to the kitchen. However it is managed, and it
_must be managed_, the nearer the operation can appear to be a "magic
transformation," the better.
To return; the roast is the next course. The carving is done at the
side table. Guests are consulted as to their preference for "rare" or
"well-done;" and the meat, in thin slices, is served on hot plates,
with vegetables at discretion on the same plate, separate vegetable
dishes--except for salads--not being used on private dinner tables.
Certain vegetables, as sweet corn on the cob, may be regarded as a
course by themselves, being too clumsy to be disposed of conveniently
on a plate with other things.
The game course is next in order (if it is included, as it generally is
in an elaborate dinner). Celery is an appropriate accompaniment of the
game course. The salad is sometimes served with the game; otherwise it
follows as a course by itself.
The salad marks the end of the heavy courses. The crumb tray is
brought, and the table-cloth is cleared of all stray fragments. A
rolled napkin makes a quiet brush for this purpose, especially on a
finely polished damask cloth.
The dessert is now in order. Finger-bowls and doylies are brought in
on the dessert-plates. Each person at once removes the bowl and doyley
to make ready for whatever is to be put on the plate.
Ices, sweets (pastry and confections), cheese, follow in course; and,
finally, the fruits and bon-bons. Strong coffee is served last of all,
in small cups. Fashion decrees _cafe noir_, and few lovers of cream
care to rebel on so formal an occasion as a dinner; but when the
formality is not too rigid, the little cream jug may be smuggled in for
those who prefer _cafe au lait_.
Water is the staple drink of the American dinner-table. A palatable
table water, like Apollinaris, well iced, is an elegant substitute for
wine when habit or conscience forbids the latter.
When wine is served with the different courses at dinner, the
appropriate use is as follows: with soup, sherry; with the fish,
chablis, hock, or sauterne; with the roast, claret and champagne; after
the game course, Madeira and port; with the dessert, sherry, claret, or
Burgundy. After dinner are served champagne and other sparkling wines,
just off the ice, and served without decanting, a napkin being wrapped
around the wet bottle.
While wine may be accounted indispensable by many, the growing
sentiment in favor of its total banishment from the dinner-table has
this effect on the etiquette of the case, that the neglect to provide
wine for even a very formal dinner is not now the breach of good form
which it would have been held to be some years ago. Such neglect has
been sanctioned by the example of acknowledged social leaders; and when
it is the exponent of a temperance principle it has the respect of
every diner-out, whatever his private choice in the matter. No
_gentleman_ will grumble at the absence of wine at his host's table.
It is good form for a host to serve or _not_ serve wine, as he chooses;
it is very bad form for his guest to comment on his choice. When any
one who is conscientiously opposed to wine-drinking, or for any reason
abstains, is present at a dinner where wine is served, he declines it
by simply laying his hand on the rim of his glass as the butler
approaches. No words are necessary. Apollinaris will take the place
of stronger waters, and no embarrassment follows to either host or
guest. As to the moral involved, a silent example may be quite as
influential as an aggressive exhibition of one's principles. Questions
of manners and morals are constantly elbowing one another, and it is a
nice point to decide when and how far duty requires one to defy
conventionality. It is safe to say that only in extreme cases is this
ever necessary, or even permissible. The hostess who simply _does not
offer wine to any guest under any circumstances_, is using her
influence effectively and courteously, especially when she supplies the
deficiency with delicious coffee and cocoa, fragrant tea, and, best and
_rarest_ of all, crystal clear, sparkling cold water. By pointing out
a "more excellent way," she is adding to her faith _virtue_.