“The fame of the Reform Club and its matchless _cuisine_, under the
direction of that great master of his art, Alexis Soyer, have gone to
the uttermost ends of the earth. To render that fame imperishable, Soyer
has composed his ‘Gastronomic Regenerator,’ a work which is destined to
throw all others, from the time-honoured Mrs. Glass to the learned
Eustache Ude, into the shade. The former, most loveable in her way, will
henceforth only be remembered for her one receipt, “first catch your
hare,” &c.; the piquancy, the _utile et dulce_ characteristics of Soyer,
like one of his own chyle-begetting and renowned sauces, entirely
neutralises, absorbs, swallows up the greatest effort of Ude. _Tempus
edax rerum!_ Soyer is a wit and a wag of the first water; hence a
perusal of the introduction to the goodly volume before us acts as a
whet. “Laugh and grow fat” is an old and a true adage; read Soyer’s
introduction, and the veriest valetudinarian will afterwards sit down
and eat like a man! Soyer’s experience has been vast--_magnifique_!
hear, on the important head, what he tells his readers:--“During the
last ten months I had to furnish 25,000 dinners for the gentlemen of the
Reform Club, and 38 dinner parties of importance, comprising above
70,000 dishes, and to provide daily for 60 servants of the
establishment, independent of about 15,000 visitors who have seen the
kitchen department in that lapse of time.” Authors frequently assign a
reason for writing; Soyer, in this respect, is not behindhand; in his
preface he says;--“At the request of several persons of distinction who
have visited the Reform Club, particularly ladies, to whom I have always
made it a rule never to refuse anything in my power, for, indeed, it
must have been the fair sex who have had the majority in this domestic
argument to gain this gastronomical election. Why do you not write and
publish a cookery-book? was a question continually put to me. For a
considerable time this scientific word caused a thrill of horror to
pervade my frame, and brought back to my mind that one day, being in a
most superb library in the midst of a splendid baronial hall, by chance
I met with one of Milton’s allegorical works, the profound ideas of
Locke, and several _chefs d’œuvre_ of one of the noblest champions of
literature, Shakspeare; when all at once my attention was attracted by
the nineteenth edition of a voluminous work. Such an immense success of
publication caused me to say, ‘Oh, you celebrated man, posterity counts
every hour of fame upon your regretted ashes!’ Opening this work with
intense curiosity, to my great disappointment, what did I see,--a
receipt for Oxtail Soup! The terrifying effect produced upon me by this
succulent volume, made me determine that my few ideas, whether culinary
or domestic, should never encumber a sanctuary which should be entirely
devoted to works worthy of a place in the Temple of the Muses.” That
section of the work entitled “Soyer’s new mode of carving” (worthy of
the deepest attention) is thus ushered in:--“You are all aware,
honorable readers, of the continual tribulation in carving at table, for
appetites more or less colossal, and when all eyes are fixed upon you
with anxious avidity. Very few persons are perfect in this art, which
requires not only grace, but a great deal of skill. Others become very
nervous; many complain of the knife which has not the least objection to
be found fault with; or else they say, this capon, pheasant, or poulard
is not young, and consequently not of the best quality. You may
sometimes be right, but it certainly often happens that the greatest
gourmand is the worst carver, and complains sadly during that very long
process, saying to himself “I am last to be served, my dinner will be
cold.” Soyer’s motto is, “cleanliness is the soul of the kitchen;” the
_cuisine_ of the Reform Club is a perfect embodiment of this healthful
axiom. That portion of the work before us devoted to “The Kitchen at
Home,” deserves the attentive perusal of every housewife who wishes to
enjoy comfort herself and be the cause of it to others; the author is
almost as earnest and enthusiastic in his directions for the production
of a good rump-steak pudding for the stomach of common life as he is for
that of the most aristocratic and indulged. The work is, in short, one
suited to the palace of the prince, and the cottage of the peasant. The
two thousand practical receipts it contains, adapted to the incomes of
all parties, have been eaten by a “committee of taste,” who have
pronounced a verdict in their favour. It is appropriately dedicated to
his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, and the volume is rendered
more valuable by its numerous well-executed illustrations. The
frontispiece is a fine portrait of the author, after a painting by the
once-accomplished and now lamented Madame Soyer. It is a most truthful
portrait; each feature indicates the man--the play of the eloquent lip
in there, at once the portal of wit and the minister of intense palatic
sensibility. _Vive le Soyer!_