THE DESSERT.
The Dessert, if by that word be understood the agreeable mingling
together of cakes, of fruits, and sweetmeats, is an Italian invention.
It was cradled in the sweet south, and is the offspring of beautiful
gardens, and flourishing cities and towns, clustering with grapes
and peaches. Carème used to say that the dessert had been elevated
into a science with a view to retain girls, young women, and children
at table, in friendly family converse. In such sort it deliciously
prolongs the repast. A dessert should above all things be simple;
considered as a third or fourth course, it is often a dangerous
superfluity, and the fruitful cause of many an indigestion. There are
some who eat of it solely and simply because it appears promotive of
a light, agreeable, and sparkling conversation. But these worthy,
good-natured people often deceive themselves. It is a rock, says
Carème, at the end of a dinner, a serious embarrassment for the liver,
which it too often harasses and obstructs. Lachappelle (_port-queue_
of Louis XIII., and his major domo) goes further, and mentions that
all persons who make a point of eating dessert after a good dinner
are fools, who spoil at once their wit and their stomachs. “Reject,
therefore, once for all,” says another French author, “the _Macedoines
glacées fruits rouge_, the white cheeses _à la Bavaroise_, the _petits
pains à la duchesse_, the _fanchonnettes de volaille_, the _vol-au-vent
à la violette_. Experienced diners out never touch these things, not
even at the end of a second course. When we speak of experienced and
clever people, who know what they are about, we would speak of those
gourmands so gifted, and so superior in all the affairs and business of
life, such as Lorenzo de Medicis, Leo X., Raphael, Prince Talleyrand,
George IV., the Emperor Alexander, Castlereagh, and Pitt himself.” M.
F. Fayot, who writes biographies of Canning, and political articles in
the French newspapers, ought to have known that Pitt did not care for
such knick-knackeries as Pistachio nuts, and _crème à la vanille_.
Though the dessert was originally invented in Italy, yet the usage
was early transplanted into France. In the works of St. Gelais I find
some lines, in which he sends fresh cherries to a lady on the first of
May. How this fruit could be thus early produced, without the aid of
hot-houses, is difficult to imagine. From Champier, however, who wrote
about 1560, we learn that the Poitevins sent yearly forced cherries in
post to Paris. The fruit was prematurely ripened by putting lime at the
root of the tree, or watering the roots with warm water. La Quintinié,
the head gardener of Louis XIV., boasts that he served strawberries
for the dessert of his royal master at the end of March, green peas in
April, and figs in June.
It was in 1694 that preserved pine-apples, shipped from the French
West India islands of St. Domingo and Gaudaloupe, were first seen at
dessert in Paris. The tree had been originally transplanted from Asia
to the West Indies, where the heat of the climate preserved it from
degenerating. “Although the fruit of the pine be fibrous,” says Father
Dutertre, “it melts into water in the mouth, and is so well flavoured,
that you find the taste of the peach, of the apple, of the quince, and
of the muscatel, blended together.” It is plain to perceive that Father
Dutertre was _friand_, and that he possessed, in matters of the table
at least, the science of analysis. The “pine,” says Dr. Roques, “is
impregnated with a corrosive juice, which may be extracted by steeping
the root for one or two hours in sugared brandy.” Lovers of pine cut
it up in slices, cover it with sugar, and bathe it copiously over with
sherry wine. Jellies, ices, and creams, are also made of this fruit;
and the Italians prepare with it a _liqueur_ which is called _manaja_,
and which is really delicious.
Dates, so well known and so esteemed in ancient times, are oftener
served at dessert in Spain, Italy, and the south of France, than in
England. Theophrastus, Plutarch, and Pliny speak in rather extravagant
terms of the date-tree, and the excellence of its fruit. Nicholas
of Damascus, in Syria, one of the most distinguished members of the
Peripatetic school, sent to the Emperor Augustus the famous dates that
grow in the valley of Jericho. Pliny says they are so thick, that four
ranged together would be the length of a cubit. This fruit is gathered
in the autumn, and dried in the sun. The Tunisian dates are the best;
they are pulpy, mucilaginous, saccharine, and nutritious. The expressed
juice of the date yields a syrup, which serves as a substitute for
butter, and is used as a seasoning. Lémery says that those who feed
on dates are generally afflicted with the scurvy and lose their
teeth. They have been generally considered a dry and stringent fruit.
Though an incentive to wine, they are indigestible, and in Spain have
generally a harsh, rough, and unpleasant taste.
There is not a more grateful or a less noxious fruit at dessert than
oranges. Louis XIV. was particularly fond both of the tree and the
fruit. When the monarch gave those magnificent _fêtes_, so vaunted both
in prose and verse, the porticoes, halls, and ante-chambers of his
palaces were decorated with orange-trees, and the fruit, then esteemed
rare, always appeared at dessert. The Maltese oranges were, at that
period, considered the finest; while the fruit of Portugal maintained a
secondary rank only. But even Portuguese oranges were deemed a present
worthy of being offered to the children of kings. “Monsieur me vint”
(says the Duchess of Montpensier in her Memoirs); “il me donna des
oranges de Portugal.” Molière, in giving a description of the comedy
which formed a portion of the famous _fêtes_ given at Versailles in
1688 by Louis XIV., remarks that there was first laid a magnificent
collation of Portuguese oranges, and of all sorts of fruits, in
thirty-six baskets. About this period a species of sweet citron was
much in vogue. It is mentioned by Lémery in his treatise on foods,
written about 1705, who says “that the ladies of the court carried
about sweet citrons in their hands, which they bit from time to time to
produce red lips.”
More than 270 years ago figs were common at dessert in France. There
were then but four species of this delicious fruit; the red, the
purple, the white, and the black. The two latter were the most common,
but the black were considered in Provence the most wholesome, as well
as the most agreeable. The figs of Marseilles, had then, as indeed
they have now, great repute, and were renowned all over the country.
Nor were those of Montpelier, Nismes, and St. Andéol, without their
admirers, though inferior to the figs of Marseilles. There have been
few fig-trees in the neighbourhood of Paris for some centuries, though
in the time of the Emperor Julian the figs of Paris were already
celebrated.
The famous gardener and horticulturist La Quintinié, to please his
master, Louis XIV., who was particularly fond of figs, adopted the
plan of placing the trees in wooden boxes, as had been previously
adopted in reference to orange-trees. Some of the finest figs in
England are grown in the neighbourhood of Worthing. Those who have
spent a summer there must have often eaten them for dessert. There is
a magnificent fig-tree at Hampton Court, as old as the time of Charles
II. rooted in a place which shall be nameless, and the fruit of which
is particularly fine flavoured. In parts of Italy, Sicily, and the
Levant, they have a curious custom of acupuncturating the fig when half
ripe, and introducing a drop of fine oil into the fruit; this greatly
mellows the flavour, while it increases the size of the fig. The white
figs at Cherbourg are very fine, as those will say who have eaten
them at dessert at the excellent _table d’hôte_ in that town.
Occasionally, also, white figs, equally excellent, are to be procured
in the Channel Islands.
Pomegranates are scarcely ever seen at dessert in England, and rarely
in France, except in Languedoc and Provence. In the sixteenth century
this fruit was much used in certain diseases, and, in localities where
it was not grown, was often sold for a louis-d’or. When Clement VII.
arrived at Marseilles to have an interview with Francis I., several
Frenchmen, who had eaten to excess of pomegranates, became seriously
ill in consequence. Pomegranates are a favourite dessert at Grenada in
Spain, where they grow in great quantities.
Chestnuts, though a very common dessert fruit in France, are
comparatively little used in England, though there is no reason why
they should not be much cultivated, as they grow well in a cold, and
even in a mountainous country. In Perigord they count eight different
species of chestnuts, and there, as well as in Brittany, the chestnut
forms a staple article of food for the peasantry. Madame de Sévigné,
writing from her estate of the Rochers, near Vitré, says:--“Je ne
connaissais la Provence que par les grenadiers, les oranges, et les
jasmins; voilà comme on nous la dépeint. Pour nous, ce sont des
châtaignes qui font notre ornement; j’en avois l’autre jour trois ou
quartres paniers autour de moi. J’en fis bouiller, j’en fis rôtir, j’en
mis dans ma poche; on en sert dans les plats, on marche dessus, c’est
la Bretagne dans son triomphe.” In the thirteenth century Lombardy
chestnuts were cried in the streets of Paris. According to heathen
records chestnuts were first noticed at Sardes, in Lydia. Virgil speaks
of the “castanea molles.” They are eaten at dessert boiled or roasted,
and are in both ways palatable.
Cherries are, in the season, an important portion of a French as
well as of an English dessert. There are in France six species of
black-heart cherries, six of _bigarreux_, and five-and-twenty of
cherries and black cherries. The cherries most prized by the Parisians,
however, are those of Montmorency, so named from that rich valley in
which they grow, extending from St. Denis to Pontoise. England, our own
dear country, greatly transcends France in this article of dessert,
brought originally from the garden of Mithridates. Not only are
cherries produced in greater quantity, but are much finer in flavour.
Kent, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, are pre-eminent in this produce; and the
May-duke (probably originally from Médoc), Biggarroon (_bigarreux_),
and white-heart attest our superiority.
Apricots, which frequently appear at dessert in France, and not
unfrequently in England at the tables of the wealthy, were not known in
either of these countries (though they are mentioned by Dioscorides,
who lived in the time of Nero, under the name of _prœcocia_) till
the sixteenth century. After that period they became rather common;
but previously were sold, says Champier, as though the price were
extravagant, at a farthing a-piece. When this fruit was first
introduced into France it appeared no bigger than the smallest plum;
but the science and art of French gardeners not only contributed to
increase its size but its flavour. In 1651 there were but three species
of apricots; the late, the early, and the _musqué_, or musk-flavoured.
Now there are at least twenty, of which the apricot of Nanci is the
largest and best. But the apricots of Angoumois, of Holland, of
Portugal, and of Alexandria, are not to be despised. Under favour,
and with submission be it said, however, that the best apricot that
ever was in Grange’s, Owen’s, Marks’, Levy’s, Solomon’s, Israel’s, or
Raine’s shop, is but a dry and insipid article compared with a fine
peach, fine greengages, fine fresh-gathered, green, hairy gooseberries,
fine Mirabel plums, fine pears, or fine mellow ribston pippins. The
apricot comes originally from Armenia. The name originates in the
situation which the tree prefers--a wall exposed to the heat of the
meridian sun. The word _apricus_ is sometimes differently applied, as
_aprici senes_, old men who delight in sitting and prattling on benches
exposed to the reviving warmth of Sol’s rays.
There are about twenty kinds of plums both in England and France; but
among these the greengage, called by the French the _reine claude_,
is by far the most luscious, succulent, and full-flavoured. These
plums, called after the daughter of Louis XII., first wife of Francis
I., have, in France, a peculiarly rich mellow juiciness, the effect
probably of a drier atmosphere, and the being exposed to a warmer
sun on mud-built lime-washed walls, with a southern aspect. These
greengages are always eaten with a peculiar relish in Paris. There is a
sun-burnt look about them, as well as,--
“A deep embrowned tint, which tells
How rich within the soul of sweetness dwells;”
whereas the greengage of England looks pale and peaky, as though it
were afflicted with the green-sickness.
The peach, or Persian apple, is one of the oldest known fruits in
France, and one of the commonest served at dessert. The most esteemed
in the neighbourhood of Paris, is the peach of Corbeil. In the
provinces, those of Troyes and Dauphiné enjoy the greatest renown. The
Auberi peach is common in Languedoc, and has latterly been cultivated
in the neighbourhood of Paris. The Duracine peach is a native of
Brittany. It is of more than ordinary size, and the flesh firm and
juicy; but almost all peaches in France are mere turnips compared with
the hot-house fruit in England. Enter Grange’s in Piccadilly, or the
elder Owen’s in Bond Street, Marks’ at the corner of Holles Street,
and try one of the shilling peaches in the season, and you will find
a rich, juicy, fleshy flavour and aroma oftener sought than found in
the fruit of France. It is true that you may have six or eight peaches
in France for the price you would pay for one in England at any of
these three shops, but that one peach is better than a bushel of such
tasteless turnip fruit as is often presented to you all over Gaul.
The ten and twelve sous peaches of Corbeil, which may be obtained
at Madame Malliez in the Marché St. Honoré, are certainly a more
commendable fruit, but I should prefer for my own eating a first-rate
hot-house peach to any three of them. I know not whether an improved
peach has recently come from China. The peach is a fruit which has
been cultivated in the Celestial Empire from the earliest times, and
celebrated in their ancient books, in the songs of their poets, and
the disquisitions of their doctors. The peach _yu_, it is said in
their legends, produces an eternity of life, and preserves the body
from corruption to the end of the world. A fine peach is a delicious
fruit; it is good with sugar, good without sugar, and excellent,
super-excellent with a glass of good Madeira, sherry, or brandy thrown
over it. The peach-tree does not always require the protection of the
sheltering wall in warmer climates. The trees stand insulated in the
vineyard or orchard, swinging gently in the breeze, which the French
call _pêches de vigne_, and _abricots en plein vent_.
There is no better dessert fruit than a good apple, and in this fruit
England beats all the world, with the exception of America. The
New-town pippin is unquestionably the first of apples, but first-rate
ribstons come next to it. The nonpareil and golden pippin (the golden
apple of the Hesperides) are not without merit. The great defect
of French apples, however, is their general mealiness and want of
juiciness. The _paradis_ of Provence is the best of its kind. There
is also an apple of very tolerable flavour, called the _capendu_,
which ladies lock up in their drawers and wardrobes to perfume their
clothes. There are about forty-six kinds of apples mentioned in the
“Théâtre d’Agriculture,” but the grey and white _reinette_ are the only
apples desirable at a French dessert.
The different species of pears (from the Epirean orchards of Pyrrhus)
are more numerous even than the species of apples. De Serres speaks
of ninety-five kinds of pears; 400 are mentioned in the “Jardinier
Française,” and more than 300 in “La Quintinié.” It is not generally
known that the famous _chaumontel_ (called by corruption in England
_charmontel_), was a wild pear transplanted into the garden and
rendered perfect by culture. The Burgundy pear, called _Madame Oudotte_
(and by corruption _Amadotte_), was also a wild pear found in a wood
belonging to a lady of the name of Oudotte. Four of the best dessert
pears in France are the _beurré_, the _cuisse de madame_ (my lady’s
thigh), the pear of Lyons, the _bergamotte_ of Lorraine, and the _bon
chrétien_ of Tourraine. The _bon chrétien_ is by no means a common pear
in England; though towards the latter end of August, or the beginning
of September, it is always to be had at Covent Garden Market. The
finest Spanish _bon chrétiens_ I have ever eaten in England were grown
in the garden of Mr. Powell, near to Minster and Herne, in Kent. This
is extraordinary, as the Kentish soil is unfavourable both to pears and
apples, while the opposite coast of Essex produces exquisite fruit,
and above all, those bulbous thin-skinned gooseberries, equal to the
best _chasselas_ of Fontainbleau. _Compotes_ of pears are excellent and
cooling at dessert, and render the fruit more digestible, according to
the line,--
“Cruda gravant stomachum relevant pyra cocta gravatam.”
Talking of the _chasselas_ grape of Fontainbleau, the reader will
naturally ask why I have hitherto omitted all mention of the finest
fruit, oranges excepted. This was from no indisposition to do every
justice to grapes, the wholesomest and most grateful of fruits. The
best grapes in France are undoubtedly the _chasselas_, which come into
the Paris markets neatly packed in small baskets, sold for forty,
fifty, and sixty sous each, according to the quality. In the autumn of
the year many of the Parisian _badauds_ undergo a regimen of grapes,
eating nothing else for three weeks or a month. Used thus, grapes have
all the effect of the Cheltenham waters. “They open the body,” says
old Lémery, physician to Louis XIV., “create an appetite, are very
nourishing, and qualify the sharp humour of the heart. They agree with
every age and constitution, provided they be not used to excess.”
The _ciotat_, the _Corinthe_, the black _morillon_, the _muscat_ of
Touraine, are all excellent grapes, and may be purchased in France
for a few sous a pound. In the southern departments of France as many
grapes as the most inveterate eater of that fruit would desire may be
had for the small sum of one penny, though it must be admitted that
the hot-house grapes of England are superior in flavour and variety
to every description of grape in France, excepting the _chasselas_;
but the prices asked in Covent Garden Market are enormous and wholly
unjustifiable. Hot-house grapes are, in fact, a luxury wholly beyond
the reach of persons of moderate fortune.
Notwithstanding the decided taste which Louis XV. had for strawberries,
and the efforts made by his minions to furnish him with this fruit at
his dessert all the year round; we have, nevertheless, for the last
century and a half, surpassed the French in the variety and quality of
this esculent. The Chilian strawberry is one of the largest produced in
the imperial gardens of Versailles and Fontainbleau; but strawberries
of nearly twice the size may be daily seen during the months of
May, June, and July, in Covent Garden Market. The pine strawberry,
originally of Louisiana, was first introduced into France in 1767.
Though it may have more pine flavour than our pine strawberry, yet it
is by no means so large as the common run of pines in Covent Garden.
It too frequently happens, however, that what fruits gain in size they
lose in flavour. Every good judge of fruit is quite opposed to the idea
of monster fruit, fish, flesh, or fowl; convinced that average-sized
turbots, bullocks, turkeys, and fruits, are among the very best.
The dried fruits are, of course, never produced at dessert, when fresh
fruits can be obtained. A very common French dessert in the winter
months is composed of almonds, raisins, and figs; but, though these
afford a passable pastime enough when nothing better can be had, yet
the opinion of the Gauls concerning their value may be learned from the
name given to them. If you wish to obtain the trio at a _restaurant_
after a copious or a spare dinner, you must not call for _des amandes,
des raisins, et des figues_, but ask for _trois mendiants_. Provence
furnishes dried figs to Paris; the ancient province of Maine, dried
cherries; and Rheims, Tours, and Brignoles, dried plums. Dried apples,
a very palatable dessert, come from Tours and Orleans.
In England our winter dessert is thus furnished: the raisins come from
Malaga, the figs and currants from Turkey and the Grecian islands, the
almonds from Syria and the Archipelago, and the olives from Spain and
Italy. France produces this latter fruit on her own soil. The Phocians,
founders of Marseilles, first planted the olive in that locality;
and, according to Strabo, taught the natives the art to cultivate it.
Olives are now grown in every part of Provence and Languedoc, and may
be always found at dessert at the most moderate _tables d’hôte_ of
Marseilles, Toulon, Nismes, Montpelier, Avignon, &c. Biscuits, cakes,
and sweetmeats, are also an accompaniment. The poets of the thirteenth
century speak of _flamiches_ and _galettes chauds_, and at this period
the Rheims gingerbread was also in great vogue. When Champier wrote,
about 1560, the gingerbread of Paris was nearly as renowned at dessert
as the famous _croquets_ of Rheims. A cake made of powdered sugar
and almonds, called _massepain_, has also been common at dessert in
France for more than three centuries. Its component parts are filberts,
almonds, pistachio nuts, pines, sugar, and a little flour. It is,
however, rather a dear morsel, and can only be eaten by the wealthy.
L’Etoile, describing a magnificent collation of three courses given at
Paris in 1596, says, “Que les confitures seiches et massepans y estoit
si peu espargnez que les dames et damoiselles, estoient contraintes de
s’en décharger sur les pages et les laquais, auxquels on les bailloit
tous entiers.”
In the time of Rabelais a tartlette or cake called _darioles_, was
eaten at dessert; there were also other _friandises_ called _ratons_,
and _cassemuseaux_, and _petit choux_. The first and last words have
since been adopted as terms of endearment among lovers, and from nurses
and nursery-maids to children.
Aromatic spices and warm seeds were much more frequently used at
dessert a century and a half ago than in our own day. After dinner,
says the work called “Les Triomphes de la Noble Dame,” “On sert chez
les riches, pour faire la digestion, de l’anis du fenouil et de la
coriandre confits au sucre.” The author of “Ile des Hermaphrodites,”
in painting the manners of the court of Henry III., makes the same
remark. After the dessert, says he, “Les uns prenoient un peu d’anis
confit, les autres, cotignac,[23] mais il falloit qu’il fût musqué.
Autrement il n’eut point eu d’effet en leur estomach qui n’avoit point
de chaleur s’il n’etoit parfumé.”
At the royal table, and in establishments of great lords, another
custom prevailed which did not obtain in the houses of private persons.
Independently of the spices which composed the dessert, there were
others more select still, which were served in a small box divided into
compartments. This box was of gold, silver, or silver gilt, and was
called a _drageoir_, comfits being the principal portion of its
contents. This box was generally presented to the king by an esquire or
person of condition, and to the king only, unless his majesty wished
particularly to honour some one among the guests. He then sent to him
his comfit-box, “On apporta vins et épices,” writes Froissart, “et
servit du drageoir, devant le Roi de France tant seulement, le Comte
d’Harcourt.”
Brandied fruits, _compotes_ and fruits preserved in syrup, are
generally produced at a French dessert; as are marmalade fruits, as,
for instance, _marmelade d’abricots_, _de pêches_, _de pommes_, &c.
Fruit jellies, as cornel berry jelly, apple jelly, are also esteemed
delicacies. Various pastes are also occasionally handed round at
dessert, as apricot paste, peach paste, and ginger paste. Le Loyer, in
his poetical pieces, speaks of these pastes as proper to be given to
cold and indifferent husbands:--
“Que, sur la fin du dessert, on leur porte
L’hypocras rouge on bien un puissant vin,
La truffe noir avec le fruit du pain.”
There is no more pleasant dessert in the month of September than young
filberts and walnuts, in which former fruit England certainly surpasses
the world. In walnuts we are equalled, if not surpassed, by Switzerland
and France.
The truth is, however, that the dessert after a good London or Parisian
dinner is a superfluity, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred does
more harm than good. This was the opinion of Brillat Savarin in his
“Physiologie du Goût.” A little bit of cheese, says this great epicure,
may be permitted, and some preserve or a sweetmeat. “Un beau diner,” he
adds, “sans vieux fromage, est un joli femme à qui il manque un œil.”
The word dessert was introduced into the French language at the end of
the sixteenth century. In an _ordonnance_ of the 21st January, 1563,
the word occurs. “En quelques noces festins ou tables particulières que
ce puisse être, il n’y aurait dorénavant que trois services au plus
savoir, les entrées de table, la viande ou le poisson, et le dessert.”
The following is the regulation of the _ordonnance_ concerning the
dessert:--Au dessert, soit fruit, pâtisserie, fromage, ou autre chose
quelconque, il ne pourroit non plus, être servi que six plats, le
tout sous peine de 200 livres d’amende pour la première fois, et 400
cent pour la seconde. Speaking of desserts, a French authoress says,
“Le choix et l’arrangement des fruits ou des fleurs dont est parée la
table, l’elegance des edifices sucrés, la symmetric des assiettes, ne
sont pas des soins tout à fait étranges aux arts. L’appetit satisfait,
les yeux et l’odorat sont flattés à la fois par la beauté du fruit
élégamment élevé en pyramides; par les formes varies des sucreries,
dont la saveur parfumée réveille encore la satieté, enfin par la fumée
des vins pétillants ou liquoreux dont les esprits volatils excitent
la verve et animent la gaité. Carème says the dessert ought to be the
special labour of the lady of the house. Medical men in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, more especially in France, ordered some fruits
at the commencement of dinner. Champier recommended that cherries,
raspberries, peaches, and apricots should be so eaten; and that after
dinner medlars, pistachio nuts, filberts, chestnuts, apples, quinces,
and pears should be produced. Melon, in the time of Henry IV., and to
this day, is eaten in France with the _boulli_, just after the soup.
Sully tells that one day when Henry IV. was at dinner, his Maître
d’Hôtel entered with a golden basin filled with melons. “Right glad am
I,” said the jovial king, “for I wish to-day to have a surfeit. They
never injure me when I eat them on an empty stomach and before meat,
as the doctors direct.” In Madame Sévigné’s time the same opinion
existed touching melons. “Je ne vous deffends point les melons (she
wrote to her daughter), puisque vous avez si bon vin pour les cuire.”
The author of “La Nouvelle Instruction pour la Culture du Figuies,”
written in 1692, writes that figs should be eaten on an empty stomach
and before dinner, for it is an axiom, he says, in medicine, to
commence at supper or dinner by the things most easily digested.
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