Generally speaking, food in Australia is cheaper and more plentiful than
in England, but poorer in quality. Adulteration is, of course, as yet
unknown, or but very little known, for the simple reason that it costs
more to adulterate than to provide the genuine article. The working-man's
food here is also immeasurably better and cheaper. Mutton he gets almost
for the asking, and up-country almost without it. Bread is only 1¼d. to
2d. a pound, and all the necessaries of life are good, healthy, and
fairly cheap. But the richer man, who asks for more than soundness in the
quality of his food, finds himself worse off than in London. Meat of the
same quality as he gets at his club in Pall Mall is not to be got in
Collins Street for love or money. The flour is the best in the world, and
the bread wholesome and sweet; but the toothsomeness of German and French
bakers is not to be had, and the finest qualities of flour are all
shipped to England instead of being used here. The dearness of labour
makes it impossible to give the same care to the cultivation of fruit and
vegetables; and though these are cheap enough, the delicate flavour of
Convent Garden is hardly compensated by their superior freshness. In
short, our food is somewhat coarse, albeit wholesome enough.
Up-country the meat is excellent; but in the towns it is not, as a rule,
so good as in England, as the sheep and cattle have often to be driven
long distances before they are slaughtered. Prices vary according to the
different towns, seasons, and qualities from 6d. to 2½d. a lb. for beef,
and from 4d. to l½d. for mutton. Pork is from 9d. to 7d.; veal from 8d.
to 4d. All kinds of fruit and vegetables, except Brussels sprouts, are
cheap and plentiful. I will quote one or two prices at random from a
market-book: artichokes, l½d. a lb.; tomatoes, 2d. a lb.; beetroot and
cabbages, 1s. 6d. a dozen; potatoes, 6s. a cwt. During the season fruit
is very cheap. Splendid Muscatel grapes can be bought in Adelaide from
ld. to 2d. a lb.; peaches, 3d. a dozen; apricots, 2d. a dozen;
raspberries, 5d. a lb.; cherries, 2d. a lb.; strawberries, 4d.; plums
almost for nothing; but by far the best is the passion-fruit. Neither
vegetables nor fruit, as sold in the markets and shops, are as good as
those you buy in England. The inferior quality is due to the
grow-as-you-please manner in which the fruit is cultivated, pruning and
even the most ordinary care being neglected; but you can get as
fine-flavoured fruit here as anywhere, and to taste grapes in perfection
you must certainly go to Adelaide.
Of course meat is the staple of Australian life. A working-man whose
whole family did not eat meat three times a day would indeed be a
phenomenon. High and low rich and poor, all eat meat to an incredible
extent, even in the hottest weather. Not that they know how to prepare it
in any delicate way, for to the working and middle, as well as to most of
the wealthy classes, cooking is an unknown art. The meat is roast or
boiled, hot or cold, sometimes fried or hashed. It is not helped in mere
slices, but in good substantial hunks. In everything the colonist likes
quantity. You can hardly realize the delight of 'tucking in' to a dish of
fruit at a dinner-party. I once heard a colonist say, 'I don't like your
nasty little English slices of meat: _we_ want something that we can put
our teeth into.' Imagine the man's misery when dessert came on the table,
and he was asked whether he would take a _slice_ of pear! Vegetables are
for the most part despised, though the thoroughly old English dish of
greens remains in favour, and potatoes are largely eaten.
Tea may fairly claim to be the national beverage. A large majority of the
population drink it with every meal, and you find cases of this even in
the metropolitan middle classes. With them, however, it is more usual to
drink beer with their mid-day meal, and to have meat-tea in the evening.
This practice extends through the upper and middle classes, and into many
wealthy houses. Next to tea may be ranked beer, English or colonial,
which I have come to think is a necessity to the English-speaking races.
But no colonist drinks much at meals. He prefers to quench his thirst at
every opportunity that may occur between. In all country towns, if you go
to see a man on business, out comes the whisky-bottle. If you meet an old
friend, his first greeting is, 'Come and have a nobbler!' No bargain can
be concluded without it. If it is a warm day, you must have a nobbler to
quench your thirst; if it is freezing, to keep the cold out. There is no
trade at which more fortunes have been made here than the publican's. The
most exclusive and the most out-at-elbows find a common meeting-place in
the public-house; although it is only fair to say that the custom of
'shouting,' as it is called, is going--if it has not gone--out of fashion
amongst the better classes in the capital cities. Beer, or more
frequently spirits, form the favourite 'nobbler,' the price of which
varies from fourpence to eightpence in Sydney and Adelaide according to
the drink. In Melbourne all drinks are sixpence. There is a current
story--which I know to be true--of two well-known colonials, who, on
landing from the P. and 0. steamer at Southampton, immediately entered
the first public-house, and asked for 'two nobblers of English ale.'
Having drunk the ale, which was highly approved of, one of them put down
a shilling, and was walking off, when the barmaid recalled him, and
offered eightpence change. 'By G----!' was their simultaneous
exclamation, 'this is a land to live in, where you can get two nobblers
of English ale for fourpence! let us drink our shilling's-worth.'
Like their American cousins, the Australians are of opinion that there is
no liquid worthy to be mentioned by the side of 'champagne.' It requires
some education to acquire a taste for claret. To the uninitiated sherry
and port are chiefly palatable for their spirituousness; but everyone is
born with a taste for champagne. It does not follow that everyone knows
what constitutes good champagne. No merchant or lawyer, or anyone whose
income is over £500 a year, dare give a party without champagne. It is
champagne which gives _ton_. For this purpose it need not be very good.
The _sine quibus non_ are a well-known brand and a 'gold-top.' Moët's or
Roëderer's _carte d'or_ is the party-goer's criterion of the success of
the entertainment. As soon as he sees the label, he swallows the wine,
good or bad--more probably bad, for most champagnes, like all other
wines, are 'specially prepared for the Australian market,' and you know
what that means. 'Body,' or what captious folk would call 'heaviness,' is
the first condition of good wine to the colonial taste. The lower middle
and lower classes also like it sweet; but of course a man who drinks any
quantity of wine prefers it dry. Besides the champagne drunk for show,
there is--in spite of a 20s. a dozen duty--a large quantity consumed in
the way of nobblers, and at dinner by wealthy men. When a man has made a
lucky speculation, or has just got a large order, he treats his friends
to a bottle of champagne.
I have not seen burgundy half a dozen times since I have been here. The
old colonist finds claret thin and sour; but the younger generation are
beginning to take to it, although there is no wine harder to obtain here
than claret. Nine-tenths of what one buys is adulterated. His knowledge
of _crûs_ being naturally limited, the colonist likes to see on his wine
a fine label, one which makes the quality of the wine easily
comprehensible to him. Thus the most successful claret sold here is
divided according to degrees of nastiness into five ranks, and you ask
for So-and-So's No. 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, irrespective of vintage or year. 'Bon
ordinaire' is of course unobtainable, but you can get 'Chateau Margaux,'
duty paid, at from 40s. to 50s. a dozen. I was once asked to buy some
wine bearing that label for 2s. 6d. a bottle. The names of one or two
well-known wines having reached your host's ears, he likes to show you by
the name on the label that he is giving them to you; and, unfortunately,
Margaux and Lafitte _labels_ cost no more than any other.
A good deal of sherry and port--even more brandied than for the English
market--is drunk. A wealthy man will never give you colonial wine, not
because it is necessarily worse than the imported stuff on his table, but
because it is colonial. Amongst the middle classes it is beginning to
find favour. A great deal of extravagant praise has been lavished in the
press on these wines since the Bordeaux Exhibition, and I fear that many
who taste them for the first time will be disappointed. They are too
heady, and for the most part wanting in bouquet, whilst their distinctive
character repels the palate, which is accustomed to European growths. But
for all that, I cannot understand how men with only moderate means living
out here can pay large prices for very inferior imported wines, when a
good sound, palatable wine is obtainable at from 15s. to 25s. a dozen. At
the latter price a Sauvignon approaching to claret, grown close to
Melbourne, is obtainable, which is really excellent; and the white
hermitage from the same district, as well as from the Hunter River
district in New South Wales, at 15s. a dozen, is also as good as one can
wish, short of a _grand vin_, although in none of these wines do you
entirely lose the _goût du terroir_, a peculiar earthy taste resulting
from the strength of the soil. The cheapest wholesome wine I have ever
drunk off the Continent is a thin _vin ordinaire_, smelling like
_piquette_, which is sold at a certain rather low-looking shop in
Melbourne. It is quite palatable, and when heavily watered I can vouch
for its wholesomeness.
The lightest of these wines contain about 18 degrees of spirit, whereas,
as you know, an 'ordinaire' has only about 8, and a burgundy not more
than 11 or 12. But the native wines which are generally preferred by the
colonists themselves are the South Australian. In spite of a duty of 10s.
a dozen, large quantities of Adelaide wine are drunk in Melbourne. Its
chief characteristics are sweetness and heaviness. It may seem to you
incredible, but I have drunk a wine made from the Verdeilho grape, and,
grown near Adelaide by a Mr. C. Bonney, which contained no less than 36
degrees of natural spirit, without a drop added: 32 and 33 degrees are
quite common, and the average percentage in South Australian wine is
about 28.
In most cases the wines are named after the grape from which they are
made, though sometimes the less sensible course of calling the wine
'claret,' 'sherry,' or 'port,' is adopted. I say less sensible, because
all colonial wines have a peculiar flavour, which makes it difficult to
mistake them for the wines they profess to imitate. The
Carbinet-Sauvignon grape, which I believe is the principal one used in
the Bordeaux district, produces here a wine something like what you get
on the Rhone. The Riesling, a Rhineland grape, resembles a brandied hock;
it makes one of the best wines, and is often very palatable. The red and
white Hermitage grapes do best of all. The Muscatel makes a delicious
sweet wine in Adelaide, but it is very heady. I have no doubt that in the
course of time, and when more scientific methods are pursued, South
Australia will produce excellent ports and sherries, as well as
Constantias, Malagas, and madeira, but I fear it will not be within the
present generation. Claret, I understand from experts, will never be
produced, but hermitages and wines of that type will be made in the
course of ten or twenty years which will be able to compete in the
European markets; long before this they should become useful for blending
with French and Spanish wines. As a rule the wine is already sound and
wholesome; and if one comes to think of it, taste is a purely arbitrary
matter. One forms one's taste according to a certain standard to which
one is accustomed. To a man accustomed to colonial wines, clarets and
hocks seem thin and sour. One great difficulty which militates against
the reputation of Australian wine, is that of the untrustworthiness of
all but a few brands. Of course all vintages from the same grapes differ,
but there is a margin of difference beyond which a wine may not go, and
with many an Australian _vigneron_ this margin is frequently passed,
owing to carelessness or inexperience in manufacture. Another drawback is
the difficulty of procuring all but the most immature wine. Nearly the
whole of each vintage is drunk within twelve months after it is made.
That Australian wines will ever compete with the famous French _crûs_ I
should very much doubt, but that they will in the course of the next
twenty years gradually supersede with advantage a great deal of the
manufactured stuff now drunk in England is more than probable. At present
the prices are too high for Australian wines to find any large market at
home. Although it is of course an exceptional case, there is an Adelaide
madeira which fetches as much as 63s. per dozen within two miles of the
vineyard. Nothing now obtainable in Australia under 15s. a dozen would be
worth sending home, and by the time freight and duty is added to that,
the London price would be considerable.
I have already made allusion to that peculiar phase of Australian
life--nobblerising; but, if I am not mistaken, the impression left on
your mind will be that the nobbler is either of aristocratic champagne or
plebeian beer. But there are two other liquids--whisky and brandy--which
play an important part in nobblerising. The quantity of spirits drunk in
Australia is appalling. Whisky is the favourite spirit, then brandy, and
rarely Schiedam, schnapps, or gin. And what about drunkenness?
Statistically it is not very much worse than in England, but the
difference lies in the class who get drunk. Here it is not merely the
lower classes, but everybody that drinks. Not a few of the wealthiest and
most leading citizens are well-known to be frequently drunk, though their
names do not, of course, appear in the papers or in the police reports.
The state of public feeling on the subject, though improving, is much as
it was in England twenty or thirty years ago. Society says, 'Capital
fellow, Jones; pity he drinks!' but no social reprobation attaches to
Jones. He may be known to be carried to bed every night, for all it
affects his reputation as a respectable and respected citizen. But with
the advance of civilization better times are coming in these matters. It
is no more so absolute a necessity to take a nobbler as it was ten years
ago. Drunkenness, if not reprobated, is no longer considered a
'gentlemanly vice.' A man who drinks is pitied. This is the first step.
Before long blame will tread in the steps of pity.
But enough of drinking. It is not a pleasant subject. Besides, I have not
yet described the food of any but the working-class. And if they live ten
times better than their fellows at home, it is equally true that the
middle, and especially the upper, class live ten times worse. It requires
the tongue and the pen of a Brillat-Savarin to give flavour to a
Barmecide's feast; but as victualling is as necessary a condition of
existence here as anywhere else, I must do my best to enlighten you as to
our situation in this respect. May you never have practical experience
thereof! If it be true that, while the French eat, the English only feed,
we may fairly add that the Australians 'grub'. Nor could it well be
otherwise under the circumstances. It is not merely because it is
difficult to entice a good cook to come out here. If he really wants a
thing, the wealthy colonist will not spare money to get it; but how can
you expect a man who--for the greater part of his life--has been eating
mutton and damper, and drinking parboiled tea three times a day, to
understand the art of good living? Even if he does, he finds it
unappreciated by those around him; and there are few men fond enough of
the luxuries of life to be singular in their enjoyment. It takes a lot of
trouble to get and keep a good cook, and there is nothing the Australian
abhors like trouble. Consequently--I am now speaking only of the
wealthy--he adopts one of two courses.
Either he gives occasional grand dinners, in which case he imagines he
has got a good cook because he is paying £60 or £70 a year for him--no
very large salary even in England for a _chef_; or he is contented to
live anyhow. In the latter case he dines at his club (where, by the way,
he gets a very fair meal) in the middle of the day, and has meat-tea in
the evening. In both cases the family dinner is much the same. No. 1
cannot see the use of having what he would call a 'spread' for his own
selfish benefit, and leaves his grand cook unemployed the greater part of
the week. The dinner consists of beef or mutton, roast or boiled,
potatoes and greens, bread-and-butter pudding, and cheese. The details
change, but the type is always the same--what his wife calls 'a good
plain English dinner, none of your unwholesome French kickshaws,' which
are reserved for company. Fortunately his cook, if not very expert in the
'foreign' dishes required to be concocted for company, has generally
pretty correct notions within the limits of the family dinner.
But it is not so with No. 2, and with the large middle class who all live
in the same way. The usual female cook at 12s. a week is not even capable
of sending up a plain meal properly. Her meat is tough, and her potatoes
are watery. Her pudding-range extends from rice to sago, and from sago to
rice, and in many middle-class households pudding is reserved for Sundays
and visitors. A favourite summer dish is stewed fruit, and, as it is not
easy to make it badly, there is a great deal to commend in it. At the
worst, it is infinitely preferable to fruit tart with an indigestible
crust.
Ye gentlemen of England, who sit at home at ease, how astonished you
would be to see your daughter Maud, whose husband is a well-to-do lawyer
in considerable practice, setting the table herself because she cannot
rely upon her servant doing it properly! And then she goes into the
kitchen, and teaches cook how to make pie-crust. If children are
numerous, or her husband is not getting on quite so well as could be
wished, she will not be able to have a servant to wait at table. What
wonder, then, if she gives up late dinner and has a meat-tea, at which
everything can be put on the table at once. A colonial-bred lady has
generally learnt something of good plain cooking, but the English
mistress often breaks down before the serious and multifarious nature of
her duties. It is by no means uncommon for her to be suddenly left
servantless for two or three days; and if she does not possess great
adaptability of disposition, the whole house is bound to be at
sixes-and-sevens, and all its occupants, including herself, in anything
but a pleasant state of mind. If a woman is worth her salt, she will not
mind these things, or rather she will make the best of them; but it is
not every English young lady whose love for her husband, present or
future, will carry her through these domestic hurricanes; and, if not,
she had better not come out here, although husbands are plentiful. Except
amongst a very small class who can afford luxuries, the
girl-of-the-period is out of place in Australia.