COFFEE.
After the dessert comes Coffee, and it is now fitting that I should
make a few remarks on the best means of making that agreeable and
stimulating beverage.
The coffee tree is a native of Arabia. The use of the berry extended
itself to Mecca, Medina, and then to Cairo in Egypt. It continued
its progress northward; and in 1554, under the reign of Solyman the
Great, became known to the inhabitants of Constantinople. The Venetians
introduced coffee to the western parts of Europe. In 1644 it was
brought to Marseilles, and in 1657 to Paris. According to Le Grand
D’Aussy, the custom of drinking coffee became general in Paris in
1669, through the example of Soliman Aga, ambassador of Mahomet IV.
The coffee is an evergreen shrub, rising to twenty feet in height. The
fruit is a round, fleshy berry, and great care is taken to conduct
little rills of water in small channels to the roots of the trees. The
berry grown in Arabia is smaller than that of the East and West Indies,
but its flavour is much finer, because in Arabia the soil is rocky,
dry, and hot. The trees are watered by artificial means, and therefore
the proper quantity of moisture only is imbibed by them. Almost all
studious, hard-working men love coffee; and this is not wonderful, as
it is, when properly made, a delightful, innoxious, and exhilarating
beverage. “It is a slow poison,” said some one to Voltaire, who saw
him drinking strong coffee. “It must be a very slow poison indeed,”
rejoined the wit, “as I have been taking it now for more than seventy
years.” How often must a man who laboured as Voltaire did have required
a beverage which excited the nerves and exhilarated the spirits,
without producing the baneful effects of those stimulating liquids and
narcotic substances which act on the brain? In cases of extreme heat or
cold, coffee is the most salutary beverage, as it not only warms and
exhilarates the system, but dissipates the languor produced either by
fatigue or the influence of the climate or weather.
How many writers are there who have vaunted the good effects of coffee?
Delille and Lebrun have praised its virtues in well-tuned verses.
The poem entitled “Les Disputes,” by Rulhière, originated in coffee.
Fontenelle, who lived more than 100 years, is lavish in its praise.
Montesquieu has consecrated to the brown ambrosial berry some eloquent
and sounding periods; and Rousseau, and Buffon, the most eloquent of
prose writers, have not forgotten to record the brilliant inspirations
which they owed to its influence. Nor are these the only triumphs of
the brain-clearing beverage. Heroes, and statesmen, and philosophers,
have bowed down before the filagree cups; and Frederick of Prussia
and Napoleon, Talleyrand and Cambaceres, and Metternich, Portalis,
Corvisart, and Cuvier, have all acknowledged and felt the inspiration
and good effects of coffee.
One of the virtues, the dissipating the fumes of wine, has also been
alluded to by Delille:--
“Le Café vous presente une heureuse liqueur,
Qui d’un vin trop fumeux dissipe la vapeur.”
In another passage, the same poet thus apostrophises the cheering yet
not inebriating liquor:--
“Il est une liqueur au poète bien chère,
Qui manquait à Virgile, et qu’adorait Voltaire:
C’est toi, divin café, dont l’aimable liqueur,
Sans altérer la tête, épanouit le cœur.”
It is a remarkable fact that, during the retreat of the French from
Russia, such soldiers as refrained from brandy, and took only coffee,
escaped being frost-bitten, or any of the diseases arising from
exposure to cold. There is no part of the world in which better coffee
is sold than in London, more especially the Mocha coffee of Twining
(which may be purchased, unground and unroasted, at 1_s._ 8_d._ the
pound, and roasted, or ground and roasted, at 2_s._ 4_d._ the pound);
yet there is no spot in this world, we verily believe, where coffee is
generally so badly made, as in this great wilderness of a metropolis.
This arises from several causes: first, the purchasing coffee ground
and roasted. The consumption and sale of the article is so small in
England, compared to France, that in many of the shops the ground
coffee is a week, and in many a fortnight or a month old; and, being
too frequently exposed to the influences of the weather and climate,
the aroma has entirely evaporated. There is scarcely a shop in London
where coffee is daily roasted; and, even if there were such a shop, the
quantity purchased for private consumption is generally so large, and
the use of it so unfrequent in families, that the flavour in so humid
a climate is gone long before the coffee is consumed. The Turks, who
are our masters in the art of making coffee, do not employ a mill to
triturate the berry, but pound it in mortars, with pestles or mallets
of wood. When these machines have been long used for the purpose, they
are esteemed precious, and sell at a large price. Brillat Savarin
relates the result of an experiment which he caused to be made as to
the comparative merits of the liquid made from the pounded and the
ground berry:--
“I roasted with care,” says he, “a pound of good Mocha coffee, and
separated it into two equal portions, one of which was ground, and the
other pounded in the manner of the Turks. I made coffee with both one
and other of these powders, taking an equal weight of each, pouring on
each an equal portion of boiling water, and in all respects dealing
equally between them. I tasted these coffees, and caused them to be
tasted by the best judges, and the unanimous opinion was, that the
liquid produced from the powdered was evidently superior to the produce
of the ground coffee.”
The second reason why the coffee is inferior in England is, that the
berry is burned instead of being roasted, and is consequently bitter
and burnt, instead of being fine-flavoured and aromatic.
The third reason is, that at hotels, coffee-houses, clubs, and even
in private houses, enough of the coffee (even though it were good) is
not infused; and the fourth reason may be found in the addition of an
excess of water. Now, in the first place, the roasting of coffee should
be carefully watched and superintended by an intelligent person. The
moment the berry crackles and becomes crisp enough to pulverise, it is
sufficiently roasted. Once taken off the roaster, it should be placed
in several thick folds of flannel to undergo the process of cooling.
This preserves the essential oil in the coffee, and prevents the aroma
from escaping. When the coffee is cool, place it in an air-tight
canister. Sufficient for the day should be the coffee thereof. In other
words, never roast, if you can avoid it, more than for a single day’s
consumption--certainly not more than for two or three days. Grind or
pound your coffee not more than a quarter of an hour before you want to
make the infusion.
There are various methods of preparing the infusion. Any one of them
would have the effect of producing very tolerable coffee, if the
directions I have given touching the roasting and grinding of the berry
were attended to, and a sufficient quantity of the powdered coffee
used. But unfortunately English servants, who drink tea or beer, are
ignorant of or insensible to the true flavour of coffee, and as they
do not partake themselves of the beverage, become indifferent to its
preparation. The coffee produced by them is, indeed, drowned in a
deluge of water, and deserves the title given it in an old tract called
the “Petition against Coffee,” namely, “a base, black, thick, nasty,
bitter, stinking, puddle water.”
The best coffee in the world, taken altogether, is certainly made in
Paris, though I have occasionally tasted at private houses in England,
where the master was a _gourmet_, and the servants disciplined,
finer coffee than was ever brewed either at the Café Foy or the Café
Corrazza. And the only wonder is, that it should not be always so; for,
as was before observed, the very finest qualities of coffee come to the
London market.
For the last forty years, a great deal of fancifulness has prevailed in
Paris as to the best manner of making coffee. Much of this arose, no
doubt, from the inordinate love which Napoleon exhibited for coffee;
as everyone was desirous to improve upon the favourite beverage of
the little Corsican and great conqueror. Projects of all kinds were
started: to make coffee without roasting it, without grinding it, to
infuse it cold, to make it boil three quarters of an hour, &c. Another
mode was to run the cold water several times through the powder;
another, to infuse the coffee over night. But, notwithstanding these
vagaries, coffee is generally well made in France. It is true, that it
is most commonly adulterated by the admixture of _chicorée_, but there
is nothing noxious in the endive; it merely adds a bitterness to the
coffee, and is adopted in nine instances out of ten from motives of
economy.
The most usual method of making coffee in France is _à Dubelloy_,
which consists in pouring boiling water on coffee placed in a porcelain
or silver vase, cullendered or pierced with very small holes. This
first decoction is poured off, heated to boiling heat, passed again
through the coffee-pot, when a clear and exquisite coffee is produced.
More than a full-sized tablespoonful of coffee should be allowed for
each guest in making a small cup of coffee after dinner.
The most complete apparatus for coffee making ever invented in England,
is said to have been the production of Mr. Jones, of Bond Street,
ironmonger; but, as I have never tried it, I will not speak of its
merits. The ordinary English tin coffee-biggin succeeds tolerably well
if the coffee be properly roasted and ground; but the disadvantage is,
that the filtering occupies so long a time, that the coffee is half
cold when ready to be poured into the cups.
The cylinder for roasting coffee, which one cannot pass through the
streets of Paris without seeing constantly at work, has been in use
since 1687. The love of novelty is so great in that capital, that when
coffee was first introduced, two methods were adopted of preparing
it: one, the ordinary method now in use; the other, a method said
to prevail in the seraglio at Constantinople, for the mistresses of
the Grand Signor. This consists in boiling for a certain time in hot
water, not the grain itself, but the shell or pod which envelopes it.
This method affords a liquor of an agreeable colour to the eye, but
it yields a pale and flavourless coffee, though decorated with the
name of _café à la sultane_. Blegny invented, in 1687, a distilled
coffee water, an oil, and a syrup of coffee. Under the Regent Orleans,
coffee sweetmeats were invented, to appear at dessert; and a few years
afterwards the _distillateurs_ of Montpelier made a _liqueur_, produced
after dessert, which they called _eau de café_, whose odour resembled
roasted coffee. There were also _tablettes de café_, which were eaten
before the _liqueurs_. There were and are medical men who, from the
time of its introduction to our day, have not ceased to sound the alarm
as to the unwholesomeness of coffee; but I think with old Lémery, that
“coffee fortifies the stomach and brain, promotes digestion, allays the
headache, suppresses the fumes caused by wine, makes the memory and
fancy more quick, and people brisk that drink it.” This last effect,
says he, has been observed by the shepherds of Africa, who took notice,
that before coffee was used, and that their sheep fed upon this kind of
pulse, that they _skipped about strangely_.[24]
I shall close my observations on coffee by giving a receipt of Dr.
Roques for a _café à la crême frappé de glace_. It is a delicious
breakfast during the summer heats. Here it is:--“Make a strong
infusion of Mocha or Bourbon coffee; put it in a porcelain bowl,
sugar it properly, and add to it an equal portion of boiled milk, or
one-third the quantity of a rich cream. Surround the bowl with pounded
ice.” Doctor Bonnafous, of Perpignan, recommended this beverage to
such persons as had lost their appetite, or who experienced general
debility. This agreeable epicurean one day said to a patient, Dr.
Roques, who was himself in the profession,--“Study, my friend,
that which is good, that which pleases your palate. Try to become
a little _friand_; commence a series of gastronomic experiments
without infringing a regimen. You will be the better for it, and in
certain circumstances you will exercise on sickly people inclined to
_gourmandise_ an unlimited power. Breakfast during July, August, and a
part of September, on iced coffee, and in winter on woodcock soup. This
is a regimen with which I restored to health and sense an aged canon
who had nearly lost all appetite, and who was disgusted with life.”
Brillat Savarin recommends that coffee should be taken in the
dinner-room, as thus served it is hotter. This may be so in
establishments where there are an insufficient number of servants; but
in good houses in England, where there is a regular establishment of
servants, coffee is served quite as hot in the drawing-room, library,
or _salon_, as in the dining-room or _salle a manger_. Coffee should
be hot, clear, and strong; and, like every other good thing, be taken
in moderation. Morin, in his “Manuel d’Hygiene,” says, “Quelle que
soit son action sur l’estomac, il en est du café comme de toute autre
chose, il faut en user et ne pas en abuser.” Tea is much more generally
taken after dinner in England than coffee, and it is a beverage deemed
more wholesome and more agreeable by the great majority of Englishmen.
Cowper’s lines in the “Task,” on the winter evening cup of tea, will
recur to the reader.
“Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each;
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.”
[Illustration]