mangeur_ and a worthy gastronomic successor to Louis XV. It was his
custom, for instance, to have his chops and cutlets broiled not only
on the grill, but between two other cutlets, in order to preserve
their juices. His ortolans and small birds were also cooked inside
of partridges stuffed with truffles, so that he often hesitated in
choosing between the delicate bird and the fragrant esculent. The
ortolan was termed by him _la bouchée du gourmand_, as it was never to
be eaten in two mouthfuls. He had even established a testing-jury for
the fruit that was served at the royal table, M. Petit-Radel, librarian
of the Institute, being the tester of peaches and nectarines.
One day a new variety of peach produced by a gardener of Montreuil
having matured, the raiser was anxious to submit it to the king. To
do this, however, it was necessary to pass the _Jury dégustateur_.
Accordingly, he presented himself at the library of the Institute, and,
holding in his hand a plate of four magnificent peaches, he inquired
for the librarian. On being informed that he was busily engaged on
some very important work, the gardener insisted, asking only that he
be allowed to pass the plate, the fruit, and his arm through the door.
Arrested by the partial opening of the door, M. Petit-Radel raised his
eyes from a Gothic manuscript he was studying, to discover the peaches
and to exclaim twice, with emphasis, "Come in! Come in!"
Then, explaining the object of his visit, the gardener asked for a
silver knife, and, quartering a peach, offered one of the portions to
the tester, with these words:
"Taste the juice."
With half-shut eyes and impassible features, M. Radel tasted the juice.
"Good, very good, my friend," was his only remark, after a minute's
silence.
Whereupon the gardener tendered him the second quarter, saying in a
more assured tone:
"Taste the flesh."
Again the judge proceeded with his testing, maintaining a similar
silence, until, with an inclination of his head, he remarked:
"Ah! very good! very good!"
"Now savour the aroma," said the gardener.
On this being found worthy of the juices and the flesh, the gardener
presented the last morsel.
"Now," said he, "taste all!"
Then, with eyes humid with emotion and a radiant smile upon his lips,
M. Radel advanced towards his visitor, and, seizing his hands with
the same fervour that he would have manifested in the ease of a great
artist, he exclaimed:
"Ah, my friend, the peach is perfection itself! You are to be
profoundly complimented, and after to-morrow your peaches will be
served at the royal table."
And, carefully removing its three companions from the plate, the
gardener was ushered out and the peaches placed by the side of the
Gothic manuscript.
During the last years of the reign of Louis XVIII, it was with regret
that he perceived signs of the decadence of cookery. "Gastronomy is
passing," were his words to Dr. Corvisart, "and with it the last
remains of the old civilisation. It belongs to organised bodies, such
as physicians, to direct all their energies towards preventing the
disruption of society. Formerly France was filled with gastronomers
because it numbered so many corporations, the members of which have
been annihilated or dispersed. There are now no more farmer-generals,
no more abbés, no more monks: the life of gastronomy resides in
physicians like you, who are epicures by predestination. It is for you
to hear with still greater firmness the weight with which you are laden
by destiny. May you wipe out the fate of the Spartans at the pass of
Thermopylae!"
But the cry of the decadence of cookery is an ancient one, and occurs
periodically, like that of the failure of vintages. It has always
existed, and always will exist. It is the old burden, with Ronsard's
modification:
"Le temps s'en va, le temps s'en va, ma dame;
Las! le temps non, mais nous nous en-allons."
(Time hast'neth on, time hast'neth on, my dear;
Nay, Time doth stay, and we the journeyers here.)
Age and circumstances, surroundings and lack of hygienic observances,
may dull the susceptibility of the most appreciative palate; the sense
of taste also has its decrepitude. Celebrated chefs pass away, and with
them passes the celebrity of famous restaurants. But other artists
appear, and fresh successes are achieved--
"Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold;
New things succeed as former things grow old."[15]
[Illustration]
OLD ENGLISH DISHES
"In the olde time,
* * * * *
When Beefe, Bread & Beere,
Was honest mens cheere,
and welcome and spare not;
And John and his Joane,
Did live of their owne,
full merily, though but all meanely."
COBBES PROPHECIES, HIS SIGNES AND TOKENS, 1614.
The main attraction of the very early English cook-book, it must be
confessed, is its rarity, to which may be added its quaint title-page
and foreword, and sometimes its frontispiece and woodcuts. No new
salads will be discovered in its repertory to tempt the epicure, or few
dishes that will provoke his appetite. The text is usually difficult to
interpret, and, beyond singular alimentary mixtures which attest the
remarkable receptive qualities of our forefathers, it contains little
to interest the average reader. In this respect it differs largely
from the olden works on gardening, through whose leaves still wantons
the breeze of June, and chaffinch, cushat, and throstle sing. The fact
is, it requires a master to render even a modern culinary treatise
entertaining; the majority of ancient cook-books are for the most part
mere curiosities. There is no Andrew Marvell of eating, or Parkinson
of dining. "The reflection that appreciates, applied to the science
that improves," as M. de Borose has aptly defined gastronomy, is a
comparatively recent product, an outcome of advancement and civilising
influences, and therefore it is hardly to be looked for in primitive
compilations.
[Illustration: FIRST OF SEPTEMBER
From the engraving after A. Cooper, R.A.]
A poetical cook-book might have been composed by Walton had he devoted
as much attention to the saucepans as he did to the rod; for the
"Compleat Angler" shows him to have been fond of a good repast as
it was then understood, even to preparing the fish himself with the
limited conveniences available at the Thatched House. As it is, some
of his numerous recipes and his allusions to barley-wine are poetical
in an eminent degree, and cause one to regret that he is not also the
author of a "Compleat Housewife." No modern, it is true, would wish
to experiment with his prescripts for cooking trout and chavender,
unless by proxy; like most of the recipes of the olden school, they
are infinitely more amusing to read than they would prove pleasing to
savour.
Earliest of the English works on cookery is Alexander Neckam's "De
Utensilibus, or Treatise on Utensils," written at the close of the
twelfth century, two hundred years anterior to the introduction of
parsley in flavouring. In this treatise, which purports to instruct
young housekeepers in maintaining a well-ordered establishment, Latin
and Norman French are the languages almost exclusively employed. Of
other very old works may be enumerated "The Forme of Cury," with its
one hundred and ninety-six recipes, compiled by the chief cooks of
Richard II; the "Liber Cure Cocorum"; the "Kalendare de Potages dyuers
and Leche Metys," dating about 1430; John Russell's "Boke of Nurture,"
composed about 1450; "The Noble Boke of Cookry," first printed in 1500;
"The Boke of Keruynge," or Book of Carving, a small manual printed by
Wynkyn de Worde in 1508; and the "Via Recta ad Vitam Longam," or The
Right Way to Long Life, of Tobias Venner, a physician of Shakespeare's
time. Over any and all of these, some of which exist only in
manuscript, the student may burn the midnight oil; black-letter Chaucer
being easy sailing compared with the breakers of old cookery books.
Much of the so-called scientific cookery of early England was French,
though many of the French titles become strangely perverted and are
frequently difficult to recognise; as, for instance, "let" for _lait_,
"vyaunt" for _viande_, "fryit," for _froide_, "sauke" for _sauce_, etc.
The first works that may be termed English date only from the latter
half of the seventeenth century.
The English, four and five hundred years ago, had four meals
daily,--breakfast at seven, dinner at ten, supper at four, and livery
at eight. Since then, from an early hour in the morning the principal
daily meal has advanced equally in France and England through every
hour from ten in the forenoon until ten at night. In France in the
thirteenth century nine in the morning was the dinner-hour. Henry VII
dined at eleven. In Cromwell's time, one o'clock had come to be the
fashionable hour, and in Addison's day two o'clock, which gradually
became adjourned until four. Pope found fault with Lady Suffolk for
dining so late as four, saying young people might become inured to
such things, but as for himself, if she would adopt such unreasonable
practices he must absent himself from Marble Hill. Four and five
continued to be the popular dining-hour among the better classes until
the second decade of the century, when dinner was further postponed,
from which period it has steadily continued to encroach upon the
evening.
The strong stomach of the early Briton, fortified by abundant
out-of-door exercise, was proof against dyspepsia, and was enabled to
digest the coarsest and most strongly seasoned foods. Whale, porpoise,
seal, and grampus were common dishes. Besides such seasonings as
ginger, cinnamon, galingale, cloves, garlic, and vinegar, copiously
used in preparations where they would seem most incongruous, ale was
generously employed. Almond-milk was also a common ingredient, while
marrow was in great favour. Of breadstuffs the fifteenth century had an
abundant variety,--pain-main, or bread of very fine flour, wheat-bread,
barley-meal bread, bran-bread, pease-bread, oat-bread or oat-cakes,
hard-bread, and unleavened bread. The poor often used a mixture of rye,
lentils, and oatmeal, varied according to the season and district.
The author of the "Book of Nurture" describes himself as usher and
marshal to Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, delighting in his work and
desirous of training worthy successors in the mysteries of managing a
well-appointed household:
"An vsshere y Am | ye may beholde | to a prynce of highe degre,
that enioyethe to informe & teche | alle tho that will thrive &
thee."
This exordium is followed by minute directions for carving meats, fish,
and fowls; rules for general behaviour; a disquisition on wines, meats,
soups, and sauces; a recipe for hippocras; hints to the chamberlain,
butler, taster, dinner arranger, etc. The work is both ambitious and
elaborate, thoroughly covering the subject as it was comprehended by
the writer's predecessors and his own inventive genius. A passage or
two from the chapters headed "Diuerce Sawces" and "Sawce for Fische"
will give one an idea of the style of his treatise:
"Also to know youre sawces for flesche conveniently,
hit provokithe a fyne apetide if sawce youre meat be bie;
to the lust of youre lord look that ye haue ther redy
suche sawce as hym likethe | to make him glad & mery.
"Mustard is meete for brawne | beef or powdred motoun;
verdius to boyled capoun | veel | chiken | or bakon;
And to signet | & swan, convenyant is the chawdon,
Roost beeff | & goos | with garlek, vinegre, or pepur, in
conclusioun.
"Gynger sawce to lambe, to kyd | pigge, or fawn | in fere;
to feysand, partriche, or cony | mustard with the sugure;
Sawce gamelyn to heyron-sewe | egret | crane | & plovere;
also | brewe | Curlew | sugre & salt | with watere of the
ryvere...."
It will be seen from this brief extract that Russell's larder was in
no wise wanting for the gustatory entertainment of his lordship, his
resources being yet more apparent in the chapter relative to the proper
sauces for fish:
"Yowre sawces to make y shalle geue yow lerynge:
Mustard | is metest with alle maner salt herynge,
Salt fysche, salt Congur, samoun, with sparlynge,
Salt ele, salt makerelle, & also withe merlynge.
"Vynegur is good to salt purpose & torrentyne,
Salt sturgeon, salt swyrd-fysche savery & fyne.
Salt Thurlepolle, salt whale, is good with egre wyne,
Withe powdur put ther-on shalle cawse oon welle to dyne.
"Playce with wyne; & pike withe his reffett;
the galantyne for the lamprey | where they may be gete;
verdius to roche | darce | breme | soles | & molett;
Baase, flowndurs | Carpe | Cheven | Synamome ye ther-to sett...."
In like manner, the first page or introduction to "The Boke of
Keruynge" will present at a glance many of the forms of food that were
in use at the time, especial reference being made to the terms employed
by the English carver. The writer attacks his subject boldly--much as
an old angling-master describes a trout rushing for the palmer-fly
at night--and is apparently thoroughly acquainted with his important
function:
¶ Here begynneth the boke of Keruynge and sewynge | and all
the feestes in the yere, for the seruyce of a prynce or ony
other estate, as ye shall fynde eche offyce, the seruyce
accordynge, in this boke folowynge.
¶ Terms of a Keruer
Breke that dere
lesche yt brawne
rere that goose
lyft that swanne
sauce that capo
spoyle that henne
frusshe that chekyn
vnbrace that malarde
vnlace that cony
dysmember that heron
dysplaye that crane
dysfygure that pecocke
vnioynt that bytture
vntache that curlewe
alaye that fesande
wynge that partryche
wynge that quayle
mynce that plouer
thye that pegyon
border that pasty
thye that wodcocke
thye all maner of small byrdes
tymbre that fyre
tyere that egge
chyne that samon
strynge that lampraye
splatte that pyke
sauce that playce
sauce that tenche
splay that breme
syde that haddocke
tuske that barbell
culpon that troute
fynne that cheuen
traussene that ele
traunche that sturgyon
vndertraunche yt purpos
tayme that crabbe
barbe that lopster
¶ Here hendeth the goodly termes.
¶ Here begynneth Butler and Panter.
On the title-page of the volume is a picture of two ladies and two
gentlemen at dinner, with an attendant bringing a dish, two servants
at a side-table, and a jester. The dish was doubtless well spiced with
ginger, and washed down with malmsey, clarrey, or renysshe wine, if not
with ypocras or some other potent liquid accompaniment.
The expressions "vnbrace that malarde" and "dysmember that heron"
assure one that a wild fowl, however coriaceous, must have quickly
succumbed to the manipulation of his glittering steel. In no form of
carving, whether of meats, poultry, or game, does the skill of the
carver appear to greater advantage than in disjointing wild fowl.
This indeed calls for a trenchant blade and a thoroughly competent
practitioner. Witness the artist who follows every joint and ligament
as a stream follows its varying curves, and who lays out the rosy
breast just as if it had stopped beating in its flight. The ghosts of
many a mallard, broad-bill, and teal must quake in horror when they
remember the fate that awaited their earthly lot after their course had
been checked by the fowler and they fell into hands unworthy to conduct
their post-mortem. But the duck has been avenged by an anonymous bard
who has execrated the ruthless matador as he deserves:
"We all look on with anxious eyes
When father carves the duck,
And mother almost always sighs
When father carves the duck.
Then all of us prepare to rise
And hold our bibs before our eyes
And be prepared for some surprise
When father carves the duck.
"He braces up and grabs a fork
Whene'er he carves a duck,
And won't allow a soul to talk
Until he's carved the duck.
The fork is jabbed into the sides,
Across the breast the knife he slides,
And every careful person hides
From flying chips of duck.
"The platter always seems to slip
When father carves a duck,
And how it makes the dishes skip,
Potatoes fly amuck--
The squash and cabbage leap in space,
We get some gravy on our face,
And father mutters Hindu grace
Whene'er he carves a duck.
"We thus have learned to walk around
The dining-room, and pluck
From off the window-sills and walls
Our share of father's duck;
While father growls and blows and jaws,
And swears the knife was full of flaws,
And mother jaws at him because
He couldn't carve a duck."
In the "Kalendare de Potages dyuers" appears this recipe for _A goos in
hogepotte_: "Take a Goos, & make hure clene, & hacke hyre to gobettys,
& put yn a potte, & Water to, & sethe togederys; than take Pepir &
Brennyd brede or Blode y-boylyd, & grynd y-fere Gyngere & Galyngale &
Comyn, & temper vppe with Ale, and putte it ther-to; & mynce Oynonys, &
frye hem in freysshe grece, & do ther-to a porcyon of Wyne."
A strange entremets was one termed _Vyolette_, accompanied by these
directions: "Take Flourys of Vyolet, boyle hem, presse hem, bray hem
smal, temper hem vppe with Almaunde mylke, or gode Cowe Mylke, a-lye
it with Amyndown or Flowre of Rys; take Sugre y-now, an putte ther-to,
or hony in defaute; coloure it with the same that the flowrys be on
y'peynted a-boue."
That excellent dish civet of hare was termed Harys in Cyueye, saffron,
ale, and vinegar being then utilised in its preparation. _Pain perdu_
figured as Payn pur-dew, and may have been as useful then as now
for a simple dessert where a saving of time and material entered
into consideration, the olden recipe being not unlike that of modern
times. Oysters are presented as Oystres in cevey, Oystres in grauey
bastard, and Oystres in bruette. There are also Fylettys en Galentyne,
Lange Wortys de chare, Blamanger of Fysshe, Ruschewys of Marw,
Pety permantes, Chawettys a-forsed, Flathonys, and similar curious
compounds. Meat- and fish-pies were known by the French appellation
"crustade," the favourite English pork-pie being apparently unfamiliar
to very olden writers, or else so disguised as to be unrecognisable.
Boar-pies were known, however, in Elizabeth's era, when they were
esteemed a great dainty. A consignment of these, it is related, was
sent by Sir Robert Sydney, while governor of Flushing in The Hague, to
his wife as a bait to propitiate the ministers to grant him a leave of
absence. The pies were duly presented by Lady Sydney to Lord Essex
and my Lord Treasurer, and proved so excellent that the next time the
petition of Sir Robert was presented to her Majesty the secretary knelt
down, beseeching her to hear him in behalf of her homesick ambassador,
and to license his return for six weeks. It is probable that the
queen herself did not share in the presents, inasmuch as she remained
obdurate to the pleadings of the ministers and the ladies of the court.
Under the rule of Elizabeth, fish formed an important article of diet,
statute laws being established for their consumption, with heavy
penalties to the offender--a measure adopted for the better maintenance
of shipping interests and the lesser consumption of flesh food.
Besides the usual Lenten obligations to Neptune, Friday and Saturday
of each week were additionally set apart for fish days, an alimentary
compulsion which soon became extremely distasteful.
Numerous bills of fare of banquets are given in the "Kalendare,"
including that of the coronation of Henry IV and the banquet of his
second marriage in 1404. It would appear that the ecclesiasts were
among the most princely entertainers, as evidenced by the bills of
fare of the feast of Richard Fleming, Bishop of Lincoln; a dinner
given by John Chandler, Bishop of Salisbury; an entertainment held in
1424 on the occasion of the funeral of Nicholas Budwith, Bishop of
Bath and Wells; and several others. In point of variety these feasts
might rank with those of ancient Rome. Venison, boar's head, veal,
oxen, and various pieces of roast figure in the courses. Among the
birds and wild fowl were capons, herons, cranes, peacocks, swans,
pheasants, and wild geese, together with innumerable smaller kinds,
such as plover, fieldfares, partridges, quail, snipe, teal, curlew,
woodcock, and larks. But the elaborate banquet where as many as a
hundred and four peacocks dressed in their plumage were included among
the "subtleties" was by no means a common occurrence, and the accounts
of these entertainments, together with the lavish festivities of
Christmas, should not be accepted as a criterion of the usual mode of
English living among the wealthy. The division line between the rich
and the poor, besides, was far more marked than at present, and it is
questionable whether even the higher classes, despite their occasional
excessive prodigality, maintained the same luxurious state of service
the year round as their modern successors.
The many carols on the boar's head and on ale which have come down to
us from old MSS. show in what request the one stood as a viand and the
other as a beverage. At certain seasons it was the habitual custom to
serve a particular dish first, as a boar's head at Christmas,--
"Furst set forthe mustard & brawne of boore, the wild swyne,"--
a goose at Michaelmas, and a gammon of bacon at Easter. The boar's
head was set upon its neck upon the platter, with an apple or a lemon
in its mouth and sprigs of rosemary in its ears and nose, the platter
being additionally decorated with garlands. Thus garnished and heralded
by trumpets, it was borne to the king's table on a salver of gold or
silver by the server, followed by a procession of nobles, knights, and
ladies. In Scotland it was sometimes brought to table surrounded by
banners displaying the colours and achievements of the baron at whose
board it was served. From time immemorial the double loin or baron of
beef has been a royal dish, and one especially selected is always sent
from Windsor to Osborne to appear at the dinner-table, accompanied by
that other Christmas dish, the boar's head, sent of late from Germany.
The oldest carol on the boar's head is probably that of the Balliol
MS., of which there are numerous versions:
_"Caput Apri Refero_
_Resonens laudes domino._
The boris hed In hondis I brynge
with garlondis gay & byrdis syngynge:
I pray you all helpe me to synge,
_Qui estis in convinio_.
"The boris hede, I understonde,
ys cheffe seruyce in all this londe:
wher-so-ever it may be fonde,
_Scruitur cum sinapio_.
"The boris hede, I dare well say,
anon after the xijth day
he taketh his leve and goth a-way.
_Exiuit tunc de patria._"
An olden Christmas feast wherein the wild boar forms the pièce de
résistance is also figured in King's "Art of Cookery," the only
English work except "The Philosopher's Banquet," by "W. B.," that has
discoursed on gastronomy to any considerable extent in verse:
"At Christmas time be careful of your fame;
See the old tenant's table be the same.
Then if you would send up the brawner's head,
Sweet rosemary and bays around it spread!
His foaming tusks let some large pippin grace,
Or midst those thund'ring spears an orange place,
Sauce like himself, offensive to its foes,
The roguish mustard, dang'rous to the nose.
Sack and the well spiced Hippocras the wine,
Wassail the bowl with ancient ribbands fine,
Porridge with plumbs, and turkeys with the chine."
The seventeenth century was prolific of cook-books, most of which
continued to republish the ancient recipes, with but slight
augmentations or changes. Many of the old-fashioned dishes still
appear in "The Art of Cookery Refined and Augmented," a treatise
published in 1654 by Joseph Cooper, former kitchener of Charles I.
These indigestibilities abound in "The English Housewife" of Gervaise
Markham, an early production of the century, which reached its eighth
edition in 1675, "much augmented, purged, and made most profitable and
necessary for all men, and the general good of this Nation."[16]