RESTORATIVES
"Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some antibilious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the soul."
William of Normandy--A "head" wind at sea--Beware the
druggist--Pick-me-ups of all sorts and conditions--Anchovy
toast for the invalid--A small bottle--Straight talks
to fanatics--Total abstinence as bad as the other
thing--Moderation in all things--Wisely and slow--_Carpe
diem_--But have a thought for the morrow.
"I care not," observed William of Normandy to his
quartermaster-general, on the morning after the revelry which followed
the Battle of Hastings, "who makes these barbarians' wines; send me
the man who can remove the beehive from my o'erwrought brain."
This remark is not to be found in Macaulay's _History of England_; but
learned authorities who have read the original MS. in Early Norman,
make no doubt as to the correct translation.
"It is excellent," as the poet says, "to have a giant's thirst; but
it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." And not only "tyrannous"
but short-sighted. For the law of compensation is one of the first
edicts of Nature. The same beneficent hand which provides the simple
fruits of the earth for the delectation of man, furnishes also the
slug and the wasp, to see that he doesn't get too much. Our friend
the dog is deprived of the power of articulation, but he has a tail
which can be wagged at the speed of 600 revolutions to the minute.
And the man who overtaxes the powers of his inner mechanism during
the hours of darkness is certain to feel the effects, to be smitten
of conscience, and troubled of brain, when he awakes, a few hours
later on. As this is not a medical treatise it would be out of place
to analyse at length the abominable habit which the human brain and
stomach have acquired, of acting and reacting on each other; suffice
it to say that there is no surer sign of the weakness and helplessness
of poor, frail, sinful, fallen humanity than the obstinacy with which
so many of us will, for the sake of an hour or two's revelry, boldly
bid for five times the amount of misery and remorse. And this more
especially applies to a life on the ocean wave. The midshipmite who
over-estimates his swallowing capacity is no longer "mast-headed"
next morning; but the writer has experienced a cyclone in the Bay of
Bengal, ere the effects of a birthday party on the previous night
had been surmounted; and the effects of "mast-heading" could hardly
have been less desirable. In that most delightful work for the young,
Dana's _Two years before the Mast_, we read:
"Our forecastle, as usual after a liberty-day, was a scene of tumult
all night long, from the drunken ones. They had just got to sleep
toward morning, when they were turned up with the rest, and kept at
work all day in the water, carrying hides, their heads aching so that
they could hardly stand. This is sailors' pleasure."
Dana himself was ordered up aloft, to reef "torpsles," on his first
morning at sea; and he had probably had some sort of a farewell
carouse, 'ere quitting Boston. And the present writer upon one
occasion--such is the irony of fate--was told off to indite a leading
article on "Temperance" for an evening journal, within a very few
hours of the termination of a "Derby" banquet.
But how shall we alleviate the pangs? How make that dreadful "day
after" endurable enough to cause us to offer up thanks for being still
allowed to live? Come, the panacea, good doctor!
First of all, then, avoid the chemist and his works. I mean
no disrespect to my good friend Sainsbury, or his "Number One
Pick-me-up," whose corpse-reviving claims are indisputable; but at the
same time the habitual swallower of drugs does not lead the happiest
life. I once knew a young subaltern who had an account presented
to him by the cashier of the firm of Peake and Allen, of the great
continent of India, for nearly 300 rupees; and the items in said
account were entirely chloric ether, extract of cardamoms--with the
other component parts of a high-class restorative, and interest.
Saddening! The next thing to avoid, the first thing in the morning,
is soda-water, whether diluted with brandy or whisky. The "peg" may
be all very well as an occasional potation, but, believe one who
has tried most compounds, 'tis a precious poor "livener." On the
contrary, although a beaker of the straw-coloured (or occasionally,
mahogany-coloured) fluid may seem to steady the nerves for the time
being, that effect is by no means lasting.
But the same panacea will not do in every case. If the patient be
sufficiently convalescent to digest a
_Doctor_
(I do _not_ mean a M.R.C.S.) his state must be far from hopeless. A
"Doctor" is a mixture of beaten raw egg--not forgetting the white,
which is of even more value than the yolk to the invalid--brandy, a
little sifted sugar, and new milk. But many devotees of Bacchus could
as soon swallow rum-and-oysters, in bed. And do not let us blame
Bacchus unduly for the matutinal trouble. The fairy _Ala_ has probably
had a lot to do with that trouble. A "Doctor" can be made with sherry
or whisky, instead of brandy; and many stockbrokers' clerks, sporting
journalists, and other millionaires prefer a
_Surgeon-Major_,
who appears in the form of a large tumbler containing a couple of eggs
beaten, and filled to the brim with the wine of the champagne district.
_A Scorcher_
is made with the juice of half a lemon squeezed into a large
wine-glass; add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, or Hollands, and a
dust of cayenne. Mix well, and do not allow any lemon-pips to remain
in the glass.
_Prairie Oyster._
This is an American importation. There is a legend to the effect that
one of a hunting party fell sick unto death, on the boundless prairie
of Texas, and clamoured for oysters. Now the close and cautious
bivalve no more thrives in a blue grass country than he possesses the
ability to walk up stairs, or make a starting-price book. So one of
the party, an inventive genius, cudgelled his brains for a substitute.
He found some prairie hen's eggs, and administered the unbroken yolks
thereof, one at a time, in a wine-glass containing a teaspoonful of
vinegar. He shook the pepper-castor over the yolks and added a pinch
of salt. The patient recovered. The march of science has improved on
this recipe. Instead of despoiling the prairie hen, the epicure now
looks to Madame Gobble for a turkey egg. And a
_Worcester Oyster_
is turned out ready made, by simply substituting a teaspoonful of Lea
and Perrins' most excellent sauce for vinegar.
_Brazil Relish._
This is, I am assured, a much-admired restorative in Brazil, and
the regions bordering on the River Plate. It does not sound exactly
the sort of stimulant to take after a "bump supper," or a "Kaffir"
entertainment, but here it is: Into a wine-glass half full of curaçoa
pop the unbroken yolk of a bantam's egg. Fill the glass up with
maraschino. According to my notion, a good cup of hot, strong tea
would be equally effectual, as an emetic, and withal cheaper. But they
certainly take the mixture as a pick-me-up in Brazil.
_Port-flip_
is a favourite stimulant with our American cousins. Beat up an egg in
a tumbler--if you have no metal vessels to shake it in, the shortest
way is to put a clean white card, or a saucer, over the mouth of the
tumbler, and shake--then add a little sugar, a glass of port, and
some pounded ice. Strain before drinking. Leaving out the ice and the
straining, this is exactly the same "refresher" which the friends of
a criminal, who had served his term of incarceration in one of H.M.
gaols, were in the habit of providing for him; and when the Cold Bath
Fields Prison was a going concern, there was a small hostelry hard by,
in which, on a Monday morning, the consumption of port wine (fruity)
and eggs ("shop 'uns," every one) was considerable. This on the word
of an ex-warder, who subsequently became a stage-door keeper.
One of the most unsatisfactory effects of good living is that the
demon invoked over-night does not always assume the same shape in
your waking hours. Many sufferers will feel a loathing for any sort
of food or drink, except cold water. "The capting," observed the
soldier-servant to a visitor (this is an old story), "ain't very well
this morning, sir; he've just drunk his bath, and gone to bed again."
And on the other hand, I have known the over-indulger absolutely
ravenous for his breakfast. "Brandy and soda, no, dear old chappie; as
many eggs as they can poach in five minutes, a thick rasher of York
ham, two muffins, and about a gallon and a half of hot coffee--that's
what I feel like." Medical men will be able to explain those symptoms
in the roysterer, who had probably eaten and drunk quite as much
over-night as the "capting." For the roysterer with a shy appetite
there are few things more valuable than an
_Anchovy Toast_.
The concoction of this belongs to bedroom cookery, unless the
sitting-room adjoins the sleeping apartment. For the patient will
probably be too faint of heart to wish to meet his fellow-men and
women downstairs, so early. The mixture must be made _over hot
water_. Nearly fill a slop-basin with the boiling element, and place
a soup-plate over it. In the plate melt a pat of butter the size of a
walnut. Then having beaten up a raw egg, stir it in. When thoroughly
incorporated with the butter add a dessert-spoonful of essence of
anchovies. Cayenne _ad lib_. Then let delicately-browned crisp toast
be brought, hot from the fire. Soak this in the mixture, and eat as
quickly as you can. The above proportions must be increased if more
than one patient clamours for anchovy toast; and this recipe is of no
use for a dinner, or luncheon toast; remember that. After the meal is
finished turn in between the sheets again for an hour; then order
a "Doctor," or a "Surgeon-Major" to be brought to the bedside. In
another twenty minutes the patient will be ready for his tub (with
the chill off, if he be past thirty, and has any wisdom, or liver,
left within him). After dressing, if he live in London and there be
any trace of brain-rack remaining, let him take a brisk walk to his
hair-dresser's, having his boots cleaned _en route_. This is most
important, whether they be clean or dirty; for the action of a pair
of briskly-directed brushes over the feet will often remove the most
distressing of headaches. Arrived at the perruquier's, let the patient
direct him to rub _eau de Cologne_, or some other perfumed spirit,
into the o'er-taxed cranium, and to squirt assorted essences over
the distorted countenance. A good hard brush, and a dab of bay rum
on the temples will complete the cure; the roysterer will then be
ready to face his employer, or the maiden aunt from whom he may have
expectations.
If the flavour of the anchovy be disagreeable, let the patient try the
following toast, which is similar to that used with wildfowl: Melt a
pat of butter over hot water, stir in a dessert-spoonful of Worcester
sauce, the same quantity of orange juice, a pinch of cayenne, and
about half a wine-glassful of old port. Soak the toast in this
mixture. The virtues of old port as a restorative cannot be too widely
known.
_St. Mark's Pick-me-up._
The following recipe was given to the writer by a member of an old
Venetian family.
Ten drops of Angostura in a liqueur-glass, filled up with orange
bitters. One wine-glassful of old brandy, one ditto cold water, one
liqueur-glassful of curaçoa, and the juice of half a lemon. Mix well
together. I have not yet tried this, which reads rather acid.
For an
_Overtrained_
athlete, who may not take kindly to his rations, there is no better
cure than the lean of an underdone chop (_not blue_ inside) hot from
the fire, on a hot plate, with a glass of port poured over. A
_Hot-pickle Sandwich_
should be made of two thin slices of crisp toast (no butter) with
chopped West Indian pickles in between. And for a
_Devilled Biscuit_
select the plain cheese biscuit, heat in the oven, and then spread
over it a paste composed of finely-pounded lobster worked up with
butter, made mustard, ground ginger, cayenne, salt, chili vinegar, and
(if liked) a little curry powder. Reheat the biscuit for a minute or
two, and then deal with it. Both the last-named restoratives will be
found valuable (?) liver tonics; and to save future worry the patient
had better calculate, at the same time, the amount of Estate Duty
which will have to be paid out of his personalty, and secure a nice
dry corner, out of the draught, for his place of sepulture. A
_Working-Man's Livener_,
(and by "working-man" the gentleman whose work consists principally
in debating in taverns is intended) is usually a hair of the dog that
bit him over-night; and in some instances where doubt may exist as to
the particular "tufter" of the pack which found the working-man out,
the livener will be a miscellaneous one. For solid food, this brand of
labourer will usually select an uncooked red-herring, which he will
divide into swallow-portions with his clasp-knife, after borrowing
the pepper-castor from the tavern counter. And as new rum mixed with
four-penny ale occasionally enters into the over-night's programme of
the horny-handed one, he is frequently very thirsty indeed before the
hour of noon.
I have seen a journalist suck half a lemon, previously well
besprinkled with cayenne, prior to commencing his matutinal "scratch."
But rum and milk form, I believe, the favourite livener throughout
the district which lies between the Adelphi Theatre and St. Paul's
Cathedral. And, according to Doctor Edward Smith (the chief English
authority on dietetics), rum and milk form the most powerful
restorative known to science. With all due respect to Doctor Smith I
am prepared to back another restorative, commonly known as "a small
bottle"; which means a pint of champagne. I have prescribed this many
a time, and seldom known it fail. In case of partial failure repeat
the dose. A valuable if seldom-employed restorative is made with
_Bovril_
as one of the ingredients. Make half-a-pint of beef-tea in a tumbler
with this extract. Put the tumbler in a refrigerator for an hour, then
add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, with just a dust of cayenne.
This is one of the very best pick-me-ups known to the faculty. A
_Swizzle_,
for recuperative purposes is made with the following ingredients:--a
wine-glassful of Hollands, a liqueur-glassful of curaçoa, three drops
of Angostura bitters, a little sugar, and half a small bottle of
seltzer-water. Churn up the mixture with a swizzle-stick, which can
be easily made with the assistance of a short length of cane (the
ordinary school-treat brand) a piece of cork, a bit of string, and a
pocket knife.
A very extraordinary pick-me-up is mentioned by Mr. F. C. Philips,
in one of his novels, and consists of equal parts of brandy and
chili vinegar in a large wine-glass. Such a mixture would, in all
probability, corrode sheet-iron. I am afraid that writers of romance
occasionally borrow a little from imagination.
The most effectual restorative for the total abstainer is
unquestionably, old brandy. It should be remembered that a rich,
heavy dinner is not bound to digest within the human frame, if washed
down with tea, or aerated beverages. In fact, from the personal
appearances of many worthy teetotallers I have known digestion cannot
be their strong suit. Then many abstainers only abstain in public,
for the sake of example. And within the locked cupboard of the study
lurks a certain black bottle, which does _not_ contain Kopps's ale.
Therefore I repeat that the most effectual restorative for the total
abstainer--whether as a direct change, or as a hair of the dog--is
brandy.
Our ancestors cooled their coppers with small ale, and enjoyed a
subsequent sluice at the pump in the yard; these methods are still
pursued by stable-helpers and such like. A good walk acts beneficially
sometimes. Eat or drink nothing at all, but try and do five miles
along the turnpike road within the hour. Many habitual roysterers
hunt the next morning, with heads opening and shutting alternately,
until the fox breaks covert, when misery of all sorts at once takes
to itself wings. And I have heard a gallant warrior, whilst engaged
in a Polo match on York Knavesmire, protest that he could distinctly
see _two_ Polo balls. But he was not in such bad case as the eminent
jockey who declined to ride a horse in a hood and blinkers, because
"one of us must see, and I'm hanged if _I_ can!" It was the same
jockey who, upon being remonstrated with for taking up his whip at
the final bend, when his horse was winning easily, replied: "whip be
blowed! it was my balance pole: I should have fell off without it!"
_Straight Talks._
In the lowest depth there is a lower depth, which not only threatens
to devour, but which will infallibly devour the too-persistent
roysterer. For such I labour not. The seer of visions, the would-be
strangler of serpents, the baffled rat-hunter, and other victims to
the over-estimation of human capacity will get no assistance, beyond
infinite pity, from the mind which guides this pen. The dog will
return to his own vomit; the wilful abuser of the goods sent by a
bountiful Providence is past praying for. But to others who are on the
point of crossing the Rubicon of good discretion I would urge that
there will assuredly come a time when the pick-me-up will lose its
virtue, and will fail to chase the sorrow from the brow, to minister
to the diseased mind. Throughout this book I have endeavoured to
preach the doctrine of moderation in enjoyment. Meat and drink are,
like fire, very good servants, but the most oppressive and exacting
of slave-drivers. Therefore enjoy the sweets of life, whilst ye can;
but as civilised beings, as gentlemen, and not as swine. For here is
a motto which applies to eating and drinking even more than to other
privileges which we enjoy:
"Wisely, and slow;
They stumble who run fast!"
A resort to extremes is always to be deprecated, and many sensible men
hold the total abstainer in contempt, unless he abstain simply and
solely because a moderate use of "beer and baccy" makes him ill; and
this man is indeed a rarity. The teetotaller is either a creature with
no will-power in his composition, a Pharisee, who thanks Providence
that he is not as other men, or a lunatic. There can be no special
virtue in "swearing off" good food and good liquor; whether for the
sake of example, or for the sake of ascending a special pinnacle and
posing to the world as the incarnation of perfection and holiness. In
the parable, the Publican was "justified" rather than the Pharisee,
because the former had the more common sense, and knew that if he set
up as immaculate and without guile he was deceiving himself and nobody
else. But here on earth, in the nineteenth century, the Publican
stands a very poor chance with the Pharisee, whether the last-named
assume the garb of "Social Purity," or "Vigilance," or the sombre
raiment of the policeman. This is not right. This is altogether wrong.
The total abstainer, the rabid jackass who denies himself--or claims
that he does so--the juice of the grape, and drinks the horrible,
flatulent, concoctions known as "temperance beverages," is just as
great a sinner against common sense as that rabid jackass the habitual
glutton, or drunkard, who, in abusing the good things of life--the
gifts which are given us to enjoy--is putting together a rod of
rattlesnakes for his own back.
There is nothing picturesque about drunkenness; and there is still
less of manliness therein. There is plenty of excuse for the careless,
happy-go-lucky, casual over-estimater, who revels, on festive
occasions, with his boon companions. 'Tis a poor heart that never
rejoices; and wedding-feasts, celebrations of famous victories,
birthday parties, and Christmas festivities have been, and will
continue to be, held by high and low, from the earliest times. But
there is no excuse, but only pity and disgust, for the sot who sits
and soaks--or, worse still, stands and soaks--in the tavern day after
day, and carries the brandy-bottle to bed with him. I have lived
through two-thirds of the years allotted to man, and have never
yet met the man who has done himself, or anybody else, any good
by eating or drinking to excess. Nor is the man who has benefited
himself, or society, through scorning and vilifying good cheer, a
familiar sight in our midst. "Keep in the middle of the road," is
the rule to be observed; and there is no earthly reason why the man
who may have applied "hot and rebellious liquors" to his blood, as a
youth, should not enjoy that "lusty winter" of old age, "frosty but
kindly," provided those warm and warlike liquors have been applied in
moderation.
I will conclude this sermon with part of a verse of the poet Dryden's
imitation of the twenty-ninth Ode of Horace, though its heathen _carpe
diem_ sentiments should be qualified by a special caution as to the
possible ill effects of bidding too fierce a defiance to the "reaction
day."
"Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call to-day his own;
He who, secure within, can say;--
To-morrow, do thy worst, I've liv'd to-day!"
INDEX
"_Ala_," the fairy, 68
"Albion," the, 77
Alexander Dumas, 80
Allowable breakfast-dishes, 14
_Almanach des Gourmands_, 79, 184
Anchovy toast, 267
Angel's pie, 55
_Apium_, the, 129
Apricot brandy, 229
Artichoke, the, 130
Jerusalem, 131
Ascot luncheon, 54
Asparagus, 124
with eggs, 17
Aspic, 176
Athole brose, 241
Baksheesh, 100
Ball suppers, 175
Banquet, a vegetarian, 132
"Beano," a, 121
Beans, 119
"Borston," 120
Beef, "can't eat," 96
Bernardin salmi, a, 92
Birch's, 37
_Bischoff_, 211
Biscuit, a devilled, 269
Bishop, 212
Bisque, 89
Bitters, 229
Blackmore, R. D., 247
Blue blazer, 243
Bombay duck, a, 146
Bones, grilled, 189
Bosom caresser, a, 239
Bouillabaisse, 88
Bovril, 271
Braddon, Miss, 247
Brandy, apricot, 229
cherry, 227
ginger, 230
orange, 230
sour, 243
Brazil relish, 265
Breakfast, allowable dishes at, 14
French, 27
Indian, 31
Mediterranean, 26
with "my tutor," 32
Brillat Savarin, 106
Brinjal, the, 131
Broth, Scotch, 52
Buckmaster, 77
Bull's milk, 240
Burmah, food in, 203
Burns, John, 234
Cabbage, the, 115
Calcutta jumble, 16
"Cannie Carle," 189
Canvass-back duck, a, 95
Carlton House Terrace, 91
Carlyle, Thomas, 246
Carrot, the, 121
Cassis, 244
Cauliflower, the, 115
Cedric the Saxon, 66
Celery, 129
sauce, 164
Champagne and stout, 225
Charles Dickens, 52, 248
_Chateaûbriand_, a, 70
Chef, Indian, 135
"Cheshire Cheese," the, 39
pudding, 39
Chinaman's meal, a, 91
Chops, 50
_Chota Hazri_, 29
_Choufleur aû gratin_, 116
Chowringhee Club, the, 135
Christmas dinner, a, 82
Chutnee, raw, 163
Chutnine, 163
Cinquevalli, Paul, 112
City dinners, 100
Clam chowder, 95
Cleopatra, 170
"Coal-hole," the, 187
Cobbler, champagne, 226
sherry, 226
Cocktail, Bengal, 236
brandy, 235
champagne, 236
gin, 237
Manhattan, 236
Milford, 236
Newport, 237
Saratoga, 237
whisky, 237
Yum Yum, 236
Cod liver, 102
Coffee tree, the, 7
Cold mutton, 162
Collins, John, 218
Coloured help, 94
Corelli, Marie, 247
Cow, milking a, 205
Crécy soup, 122
Cremorne Gardens, 184
Cup, ale, 226
Ascot, 224
Balaclava, 223
Chablis, 222
champagne, 222
cider, 221
claret, 220
Crimean, 223
Moselle, 226
Curry, Benares, 134
dry Madras, 144
locust, 140
Malay, 140
Parsee, 136
powder, 139
Prawn, 143
rice for, 17, 145
what to, 142
when served, 141
Cyclone, a, 262
Dana, 263
Delmonico, 95
Devilled biscuit, a, 269
Dickens, Charles, 52, 248
Dingley Dell, 249
Dinner, afloat, 101
city, 100
Christmas, 82
an ideal, 101
Doctor, a, 264
Samuel Johnson, 71
Donald, 220
Duck, Bombay, 146
canvass-back, 95
jugged, with oysters, 46
Rouen, 87
-squeezer, 93
Dumas, Alexander, 80
Dumpling, kidney, 190
Early Christians, 63
Closing Act, 181
Eggs and bacon, 13
Elizabeth, Queen, 66
Englishman in China, the, 92
Evans's, 181
Fairy "_Ala_," the, 68
kiss, a, 240
Fergus MacIvor, 67
Fin'an haddie, 23
Fixed bayonet, a, 91
Flash of lightning, a, 240
Flip, ale-, 216
egg-, 217
-flap, 241
Fowls, Surrey, 88
Free trade, 8
French soup, 97
_Fricandeau_, a, 104
Garlic, 128
Gin, sloe, 227
Ginger brandy, 230
Glasgow, the late Lord, 191
Goats, sacrifice of, 198
Goose pie, 56
Gordon hotels, 71
Green, "Paddy," 182
Greenland, across, 110
Grilled bones, 189
Grouse pie, 48
Gubbins sauce, 14
Haggis, 63
Halibut steak, a, 20
Happy Eliza, 242
Hawkins, Sir John, 113
Hawthornden, 84
Help, coloured, 94
Highland cordial, 229
Hollingshead, John, 181
Home Ruler, 227
Horatius Flaccus, 112
Horse-radish sauce, 164
steaks, 191
Hotch potch, 53
Hotel breakfasts, 17
"Parish," 21
Hot-pot, Lancashire, 42
Hunting luncheons, 48
Indian breakfasts, 31
Irish stew, 50
James I., King, 64
Japan, 92
Jesuits, the, 93
Johnson, Doctor, 71
John Collins, 218
"Jolly Sandboys," the, 51
"Joseph," 83
Jugged duck with oysters, 46
Jumping powder, 230
Kent Road Cookery, the, 109
Kidney dumpling, 190
in fire-shovel, 188
King James I., 64
Kiss, a fairy, 240
Kitchener, Doctor, 139
Knickerbein, a, 239
Lamb, Charles, 146
Lamb's head and mince, 186
Lampreys, 106
Lancashire hot-pot, 42
Large peach, a, 15
Larks, such, 46
Lightning, a flash of, 240
Li Hung Chang, 91
Liver, cod's, 102
_Lorna Doone_, 247
Louis XII., 60
XIV., 60
Lucian, 119
Luncheon, Ascot, 54
race-course, 50
Simla, 58
Macaulay, Lord, 261
_Madère_, 94
Maiden's blush, 241
Majesty, Her, 107
Mandragora, 231
Marrow, vegetable, 130
Marsala, 94
Mayfair, 85
Mayonnaise, 153
Mediterranean breakfast, a, 26
Mess-table, the, 105
Miladi's boudoir, 190
Milk, bull's, 240
Mint julep, 242
_Mirepoix_, a, 89
Mutton, cold, 162
Nansen's banquet on the ice, 109
Napoleon the Great, 107
Nero, 62
New York City, 95
Nipping habit, the, 233
"No cheques accepted," 18
Off to Gold-land, 25
"Old Coppertail," 197
Onion, the, 128
Orange brandy, 230
sauce, 161
Orgeat, 224
Out West, 96
Oven, the, 76
Overtrained, 269
Oysters, Aden, 172
in their own juice, 173
Kurachi, 171
prairie, 265
sauce, 137
scalloped, 173
stewed, 174
Worcester, 265
"Paddy" Green, 182
Parsnip, the, 129
Parlour cookery, 187
Payne, George, 82
Peake and Allen, 263
Pea soup, 118
Pease, 117
"Peg," a, 217
Pepper-pot, 195
Peter the Great, 106
Physician, an eminent, 108
Pick-me-up, "Number One," 263
St. Mark's, 268
Pickles, hot, 269
Pie, angel's, 55
goose, 56
grouse, 48
pigeon, 55
pork, 49
Wardon, 5
woodcock, 47
Yorkshire, 49
Poor, how they live, 109
Pope, Doctor Joseph, 146
Possets, 242
Pork, roast, 45
Potato, the, 111
salad, 155
Port-flip, 266
Powder, jumping, 230
_Pré salé_, a, 90
Prison fare, 110
"Property" food, 258
Pudding, Cheshire cheese, 39
plover, 46
rabbit, 45
snipe, 41
Pulled turkey, 94
Punch, 206
ale, 214
Barbadoes, 214
Cambridge, 210
Curaçoa, 214
Grassot, 214
Glasgow, 213
Halo, 212
milk, 208
Oxford, 210
Regent, 215
Queen Elizabeth, 66
Rabbit pie, 45
Race-course luncheons, 50
sandwich, 53
Rajah's hospitality, a, 196
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 113
Rat snakes, 204
Regimental dinner, a, 99
Rice for curry, 17, 145
Richardson, 81
Roasting, 76
Romans, the, 59
Royalty, 85
Rouen ducks, 87
Salad, anchovy, 160
a memorable, 157
boarding-house, 150
celery, 156
cheese in, 158
corn, 158
Francatelli's, 150
French, 151
fruit, 161
herring, 155
Italian, 159
lobster, 151
maker, a gentleman-, 156
orange, 161
potato, 155
Roman, 159
Russian, 160
tomato, 156
Salads, 147
Sala, George Augustus, 71
_Salmi Bernardin_, 92
of wild-duck, 93
Salmon steak, 24
Sandhurst R.M.C., 67
Sandwich, a race-course, 53
_Sambal_, 168
St. Leger, the, 84
Sauce, carp, 165
celery, 164
Christopher North's, 165
currant, 167
goose, 168
gooseberry, 166
Gubbins, 14
hare, 165
horse-radish, 164
orange, 161
oyster, 137
Tapp, 190
_Tartare_, 166
Savarin, Brillat, 90
Saxon dining-table, a, 65
Scorcher, a, 264
Scott, Sir Walter, 67
Scalloped oysters, 173
Scotch broth, 52
Shandy gaff, rich man's, 225
Shepherd's pie, 45
Ship and Turtle, the, 38
Sidney, Harry, 183
Simla, luncheon at, 58
to Cashmere, 200
Sligo slop, 244
Sloe gin, 227
Smith, Sydney, 147
Snipe pudding, 41
Soup, French, 97
"Spanky," 182
Spinach, 127
Sprats, 179
Staff of life, the, 7
Steaks, 50
salmon, 24
thoroughbred horse, 191
Steam-chest, the, 76
Stew, Irish, 50
"Jolly Sandboys," 51
oyster, 174
Stout and champagne, 225
Straight talks, 272
Suetonius, 61
Suffolk pride, 56
Such larks, 46
Supper, Hotel Cecil, 179
ball, 175
Surgeon-major, a, 264
Surrey fowls, 88
Swizzle, a, 271
Tapp sauce, 190
Tartar sauce, 166
Tea, 6
_à la Française_, 28
Thibet, 200
Thumb-piece, 53
Tiger's milk, 241
Toddy, 215
whisky, 216
Tomato, the, 126
Tomnoddy, Lord, 180
Toole, John Lawrence, 258
_Tournedos_, a, 89
Tripe, 177
how to cook, 178
Tsar, the, 57
Tsaritza, the, 86
Turkey, the, 94
pulled, 94
Turmeric, 139
Turnip, 127
Turner, Godfrey, 103
Vegetarian banquet, a, 132
Vitellius, 61
_Vol-au-Vent financière_, 90
Waiter, the, 112
Wardon pie, a, 5
Wellington, Duke of, 107
West Indies, the, 240
West, out, 96
Whisky, sour, 243
Wild-duck, salmi of, 93
William the Conqueror, 261
Woodcock pie, 47
Working man, the, 270
Wyndham, 241
Yates, Edmund's Reminiscences, 178
York, New, 95
Yorkshire pie, 49
THE END
MILLER, SON, AND COMPY., LIMITED,
PRINTERS,
FAKENHAM AND LONDON.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is incorrect to speak of bread as the sole "staff of life."
Eggs, milk, cheese, potatoes, and some other vegetables, supply
between them far more phosphoric acid than is to be got from bread,
either white or brown. And a man could support existence on "beer and
baccy" as well as he could do so on bread alone.
[2] In most recipes for puddings or pies, rump steak is given. But
this is a mistake, as the tendency of that part of the ox is to
_harden_, when subjected to the process of boiling or baking. Besides
the skirt--the _thick_ skirt--there be tit-bits to be cut from around
the shoulder.
[3] The cannie Scot, however, never made his haggis from anything
belonging to the pig. The dislike of the Scots to pork dates from
very long ago, as we read in a note to Sir Walter Scott's _Waverley_.
King "Jamie" carried this prejudice to England, and is known to have
abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco. His proposed banquet
to the "Deil" consisted of a loin of pork, a poll (or head) of ling,
with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.
[4] This dish must somewhat resemble the "Fixed Bayonet," which at one
time was the favourite tit-bit of "Tommy Atkins," when quartered in
India. It consisted of a fowl, stuffed with green chilis, and boiled
in rum. The fowl was picked to the bones, and the soldier wound up
with the soup. Very tasty!
[5] Kidney potatoes should always be boiled, as steaming makes them
more "waxy."
[6] Doubtful starters.
[7] Formerly Assistant-Surgeon Royal Artillery. A celebrated lecturer
on "The Inner Man," and author of _Number One, and How to take Care of
Him_, etc.
[8] "Of all the delicacies in the whole _mundus edibilis_ I will
maintain it to be the most delicate--_princeps obsoniorum_. I speak
not of your grown porkers--things between pig and pork--those
hobbydehoys; but a young and tender suckling, under a moon old,
guiltless as yet of the sty, with no original speck of the _amor
immunditiae_, the hereditary failing of the first parents, yet
manifest--his voice as yet not broken, but something between a
childish treble and a grumble--the mild forerunner or _praeludium_ of
a grunt. He must be _roasted_. I am not ignorant that our ancestors
ate them seethed, or boiled--but what a sacrifice of the exterior
tegument!
"His sauce should be considered. Decidedly a few bread-crumbs, done
up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild sage. But banish,
dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole onion tribe. Barbecue your
whole hogs to your palate, steep them in shalots, stuff them out with
plantations of the rank and guilty garlic--you cannot poison them, or
make them stronger than they are; but consider, he is a weakling--a
flower."--_Lamb on Pig._
[9] Our then commanding officer was noted for his powers of
self-control. I once noticed him leave the table hurriedly, and retire
to the verandah. After an interval he returned, and apologised to the
President. Our revered chief had only swallowed a flying bug. And he
never even used a big D.
[10] An excellent aerated water and a natural one, is obtained from
springs in the valley beneath the Long Mynd, near Church Stretton, in
Shropshire. In fact, the Stretton waters deserve to be widely known,
and are superior to most of the foreign ones.