stars. Among these was that no one should speak ill of any one with
whom he had dined, for a period proportionate to the importance of the
dinner. Each guest was provided with a menu in advance, of which the
contributions from outside sources to be adjudged formed only a part.
The dinner proper was prepared by the cordon-bleu of La Reynière. In
ease of inability to attend, an excuse was obligatory not later than
twenty-four hours before the time specified, while a failure to be
present after having accepted was punishable by a fine of five hundred
francs. This rule was inflexible, as Mlle. Mézeray found to her cost
when, having disregarded it, she was banished from the séances for
three years, returning, at the expiration of her sentence, only in time
to assist at the final meeting of the jury in May, 1812.
A quarter of an hour's grace was allowed with reference to the set time
of the dinner--not a moment more: a rule the modern host would do well
to imitate. Every minute after the prescribed hour for the repast that
one is forced to wait for tardy guests becomes a penance to those who
are punctual, besides the inconvenience it causes to the entertainer
and the cook. La Reynière's fifteen minutes of grace is all-sufficient.
During his reign, indeed, there were some who closed their doors to
all comers that failed to appear at the precise hour. For the use
and greater convenience of the jury, he invented the speaking-tube
communicating from the dining-room to the kitchen; the _table volante_,
as we have seen, was already in use, and the ascending and descending
slide was known.
Let it not be inferred, however, that he considered himself a
gourmand in the strict sense of the term, despite the title of the
work with which he is most closely associated, and the fact that the
weekly sittings of the gustatory jury occupied five hours. He would
doubtless have drawn the distinction between a gourmand and a gourmet
most sharply had such a possibility entered his mind as a dinner of
innumerable courses and water, compared with an extended repast of
scientifically prepared dishes and their complementary wines. In the
former case he could scarcely have projected, much less have completed,
the "Almanach," to say nothing of having overtaken his eightieth year.
For that matter, he is careful to state, in a letter to the Marquis
de Cussy, touching upon the light in which he was placed before the
public, that with pen in hand he was always a gourmand, but when the
fork took the place of the pen it was quite another matter.
It will prove interesting to know how the word "gourmand" was defined
by one who was most capable of interpreting it, the differentiation
"gourmet" being then much less marked than at present:
"The Gourmand is not only the being whom nature has endowed
with an excellent stomach and a vast appetite--all robust
and well-constituted men are in this category--but also he
who adds to these advantages an enlightened taste, whose
first characteristic resides in a singularly delicate palate
cultivated by long experience. With him all the senses should
be in constant accord with that of the taste, inasmuch as
he should criticise his dishes even before they approach
his lips. It is sufficient to say that his vision should be
penetrating, his ear alert, his touch fine, and his tongue
capable. Thus the gourmand whom the Academy paints for us
as a gross being is, on the contrary, by profession a person
gifted with extreme delicacy; with him health alone should be
vigorous."
Again, he says:
"It only requires a voracious appetite to be a glutton. It
demands an exquisite judgment, a profound knowledge of every
branch of the culinary art, a sensual and delicate palate, and
a thousand other qualities very difficult to combine, in order
to merit the title of Gourmand."
In still another reference to the epicure he would have him possess,
in addition, that jovial humour without which the best of repasts is
but a sad and solemn function--a person well equipped with anecdotes
and amusing stories with which he may fill up the spaces between the
services, so that the sober guests may forgive him his appetite.
Some may deem his definition includes more than the qualities usually
assigned to an amateur of dining, and that it touches too closely on
the realm of Gargantua. But it must not be lost sight of that his
cardinal mission was that of improving all manner of food preparations
and bringing the table to its acme of perfection. Without such
appreciative votaries, cookery must necessarily languish, and dining
prove merely an obligatory routine; it is to such as he that the art
owes its present superiority, and to whom mankind should be duly
thankful. As he has defined it, "gastronomy is an immense book ever
open to him who may read it aright, whose pages present a series of
mobile pictures, and whose horizon extends beyond one's view."
All the products of the animal and vegetable world were pronounced
upon by this supreme judge of succulencies, whose palate and appetite
never failed, and whose pen responded to the most delicate and fugitive
sensations of taste. The "Almanach" numbers eight small volumes, each
containing a characteristic dedication. Each volume also includes a
quaint and carefully engraved frontispiece executed under the direction
of the author, the subjects representing "The Library of a Gourmand of
the Nineteenth Century," "The Audiences of a Gourmand," "A Séance of
the Testing Jury," "The Meditations of a Gourmand," "The First Duty of
a Host," "The Dreams of a Gourmand," "The Levee of a Gourmand," and
"The Most Mortal Enemy of the Dinner."
The first volume is dedicated to M. Camerani, whose name is attached to
a famous soup of his own invention, and whom La Reynière terms one of
the most erudite epicures of France.
The second is inscribed to M. d'Aigrefeuille, than whom none could
better appreciate the merits of an artistic repast, and whose charms of
appetite and conversation were equally balanced.
The third is sacred to the memory of Carlin Bertinazzi, _dernier
Arlequin_ of the Comédie Italienne of Paris, an actor whose
distinguished talents served for forty years as the best of digestives
for all epicures.
The fourth is consecrated to the members of the Société des Mercredis,
who, by the finesse of their taste and the extent of their appetite,
have given such an impetus to the first of the arts, and whose
admirable tact has proved a stimulus to the greatest cooks.
The fifth has for its tribute the souvenir of Dr. Gastaldy,
Président-perpétuel of the _Jury dégustateur_, who united in the
highest degree all those qualities that combine to form the most
intrepid gastronomer, but who was finally vanquished by apoplexy while
attacking a pâté de foie gras.
The sixth immortalises Grimod de Verneuil, the worthy successor of Dr.
Gastaldy both in appetite and experience, whose head had never been
turned by the most copious libations of the finest wines of the world.
The seventh is dedicated to the memory of Albouis d'Azincourt, a
member of the _Jury dégustateur_ and a founder of the Société des
Mercredis--always equally honoured as host or guest.
The eighth and concluding volume pays a feeling panegyric to Vatel,
in whom the alimentary art recognises one of its greatest and most
unselfish masters.
Beginning with a dissertation on the various alimentary products
created for the delectation of man, each succeeding issue treats of
the subject in some of its numerous phases until the suspension of the
register in 1812. A great charm of the work consists in its magisterial
tone, as well as in its unbounded enthusiasm, humour, and originality.
The artistic presentation of a subject and the importance with which
it invests some seemingly trifling detail that in other hands might
have been unnoticed is also a characteristic feature, as, for instance,
the admirable references to _hors d'œuvres_ and "The Distractions
of the Table." Other topics, such as "Rural Hosts," "Indigestions,"
"Epicurean Visits," "Town Dinners," "Kitchen Utensils," "Of Wines," "Of
Hosts," "On the Placing of Guests at Table," etc., are handled with an
address and a comprehensiveness no less striking than the scenes which
form the frontispieces.
While no doubt the author understood the theory of the cuisine, we have
no reason to suppose that, like Dumas, he was a thoroughly practical
cook, or took pleasure in surprising his friends with some appetising
dish of his own preparation. It was his province to criticise the
productions of others, and to do this it was unnecessary to assume
the functions of a chef. The wine-taster who is most competent to
judge of the merits of a vintage does not need to be a viniculturist,
nor does the gastronomer necessarily require to be a practical cook.
In many branches of art the best teachers are frequently the poorest
practitioners. The most able critic of painting may never have held a
brush, and the maestro capable of evolving a Mario may often be lacking
in voice. Though a master of but a single instrument, the leader of
a great orchestra understands and guides all the vehicles of sound
under his command--from the plectrum of the harp and plaint of the
oboe to the diapason of viols and concord of horns--so intuitive is
his sense of harmonious accord. The virtuoso is such from his inherent
superiority--of sight, taste, touch, smell, or hearing, as the case may
be--aided by years of study and cultivation in his especial craft. The
epicure is he who, gifted with a hyper-susceptivity of taste and its
complementary sense, smell, as well as long familiarity with viands
and wines, may detect savours unappreciated by the ordinary palate,
and thus understandingly and authoritatively pronounce upon the merits
or demerits of a dish. "The 'Almanach,'" says the editor, "does not
profess to be a cook-book--its duty is to try to stimulate the appetite
of its readers; upon the artists of the kitchen devolves the duty of
satisfying it."
The home kitchen of the author, while not elaborate, was most carefully
looked after by a cordon-bleu. Its excellence is attested by Dumas, who
declares that one of the best dinners he ever had was when, in company
with Count d'Orsay, he dined impromptu with La Reynière a short time
previous to his death.
The frontispiece of the fourth year, entitled "Meditations of a
Gourmand," represents La Reynière in person seated at a writing-table
in his robe de chambre. He has evidently just suspended his labours
to reconsider the materials which are to form the subjects of his
homilies. The different objects of his contemplation are ranged
around him on various stands: a stuffed calf's head, a roasted capon,
a matelote of La Râpée, a Strassburg pâté de foie gras, a plate of
biscuits of Abbeville, etc., his attention being engrossed for the
moment by the calf's head. Various treatises on the alimentary art are
scattered about him, such as "La Pâtisserie de Santé," "Les Dons de
Comus," and "Le Confiseur Moderne." Upon the edicts he is to pronounce
hangs the fate of many a purveyor. Is his appetite keyed to the
requirements of his task? Will the samples to be tested respond to the
exactions of his critical palate? Or must his fealty be paid for by
an indigestion that may postpone his labours in behalf of the noblest
of the arts?
[Illustration: LES MÉDITATIONS D'UN GOURMAND
Frontispiece of the fourth year of the "Almanach des Gourmands"]
His mien is solemn and his attitude one of intense absorption, like
that of a great statesman pondering some weighty coup d'état. At the
end of the cabinet stands a tall buffet with numerous shelves laden
with savoury viands and appetising beverages: a boar's head of Troyes,
a timbale of red partridges _aux truffes_, eels of Melun, a cake of
Savoy, a _mortadelle_ of Lyons, a truffled turkey of Périgord, an
Italian cheese and sausages, a ham of Bayonne, a pâté of Périgueux,
various dainties of Provence, pastries and apple-jelly of Rouen, with
numerous varieties of wines and liqueurs. All of these articles,
gravely observes the editor in his explanation of the plate, are to be
successively passed in review by the gourmand, inasmuch as they are the
subjects of his literary work--no other objects of art decorate the
cabinet, as nothing should be allowed to distract the critic.
It would appear at first sight to the uninitiated that such a task
must prove beyond the capacities of the ordinary mortal. But this
contingency he has already explained at length in a chapter on
"Indigestion." "It is often much less to excess of eating than to
the quality of aliments that indigestion is due. One person may have
eaten ten times more than another without inconvenience, and another
find himself seriously disturbed from having partaken of a single dish
that did not agree. It is the place of the epicure to study the nature
of his stomach, in order to supply it with only such aliments as are
homogeneous. Milk foods, hot pastries, etc., which usually agree with
women, do not always agree with robust stomachs which may be able to
digest an ox, but quail before a little pot of cream. But where through
repeated experiences one has obtained a perfect knowledge of his
temperament he may trust to his appetite without fear."
Lack of sufficient variety in alimentation also counts for much in
stomachic derangements. "Hasty pudding and milk," Artemus Ward used
to say, "are a harmless diet if eaten moderately, but if you eat it
incessantly for six consecutive weeks it will produce instant death."
As the frontispiece of the fifth volume exhibits a splendidly appointed
kitchen, with its ranges and saucepans in full play, and the amphitryon
receiving the menu for the dinner from the Washington of his kitchen,
it may be assumed that the distinguished critic proved equal to the
occasion just described.
As, moreover, there is seen suspended from the chimney three hams of
Bayonne from the shops of M. Pouillan and M. de la Rouille, and on the
spits a chine of veal from Mme. Simon, sirloins from M. de Launey,
legs of mutton from M. Darras, venison from Mme. Chevet, fowls from
Mme. Biennet, etc., it may be further concluded that he had lost none
of his appetite and still remained a spur to the noble emprise of the
_Jury dégustateur_. That there are no wines visible on the pantry
shelves need not trouble the reader. No one who has scanned a volume of
the "Almanach" will doubt for a moment that the chef had an abundance
for himself, his aid, and the sauces that simmer in his pans, or that
numerous hampers of fine vintages from M. Tailleur were wanting to
wash down any repast at which the editor officiated.[21]
But these laudations, which form so notable a feature of the work
under consideration, were a part and portion of its inspiration and
existence. Without them it never would have been written, or at any
rate its career would have been greatly shortened. After all, who would
not envy the author his glorious appetite; or, with his exquisite
appreciation, who would censure his fondness for pâtés and his rigour
in maintaining their high standard?
With reference to the remarks on the testing of dishes, it may be
observed that it is comparatively easy to decide upon the respective
merits of two different alimentary preparations. It is far more
difficult to pronounce on wines of fine quality and compare those that
are closely allied. For here the sense of smell in particular is called
upon to exercise its most critical functions; and this sense, after
several essays at comparison or attempts to place the special aromas
and ethers that are evolved in the bouquet and _sève_ of a vintage,
becomes rapidly cloyed. Many other conditions also frequently arise to
interfere with absolute judgment. The temperature of the wine and mood
of the atmosphere, one's surroundings at the time, the state of one's
stomach and consequently of the palate, the nature of the viands that
accompany the wine--aye, the very glass in which its gold or rubies are
imprisoned--all exert their influence, and it is best not to assert
one's self too decisively in the case of a single testing or comparison.
Concerning a highly important topic--"The Health of Cooks"--the
"Almanach" discourses at length with its accustomed force and
originality:
"The index of a good cook should ply without ceasing from the
saucepans to the mouth, and it is only by thus momentarily
tasting his ragoûts that he may determine their precise point.
His palate, therefore, must be extremely delicate, virginal,
as it were, so that the least thing may stimulate it and
advise it of its faults.
"But the constant fumes of the fires, the necessity of
drinking frequently, and often poor wine, to moisten a parched
throat, the vapours of the charcoal, humours and biliousness,
all tend to impair the organs of taste. The palate becomes
crusted, as it were; it has no longer either that tact or
finesse, that exquisite sensibility on which depends the
susceptibility of the taste; it finally becomes excoriated and
as insensible as the conscience of an old judge.
"Le seul moyen de lui rendre cette fleur qu'il a perdue,
de lui faire reprendre sa souplesse, ses forces et sa
délicatesse, c'est de purger le Cuisinier, telle résistance
qu'il y oppose; car il en est qui, sourds à la voix de la
gloire, ne voient aucune nécessité de prendre une médecine
lorsqu'ils se portent bien."
Supplementing his essays on the health and the duties of the chef
and the requirements of the cuisinière is his treatise on the
maître-d'hôtel, wherein the qualifications of a steward are most
minutely set forth. Of all those whose labours have for their object
the satisfaction of our appetite and promotion of the culinary art, the
profession of the steward, he insists, calls for the greatest number
of virtues and the widest knowledge. A good maître-d'hôtel should be
at once an excellent cook, a fine _dégustateur_, a clever purveyor, a
skilful servitor, an exact calculator, a good conversationalist, and
an efficient and polished agent. He should be familiar not only with
the theory of the cuisine in all its ramifications, but, if necessary,
be able to turn his knowledge to practical account. For how may he
command the respect of the cook who is under his orders if he does
not thoroughly understand his art? How may he regulate the conduct of
the chef, control his ragoûts, and direct his work according to the
principles of the art and the special tastes of his employer if he is
not a very fine critic?
Equal competency is demanded with reference to his purchases, the
varying of his menus, anticipating the complaints of a jealous cook,
maintaining his authority over the other servants, and regulating
the financial part of the kitchen and household,--truly a difficult
combination to procure. As to his probity, the author reasons that
one may scarcely expect to find the phœnix, and that to the victor
naturally belong the spoils--that it is better to have a competent
officer, who can buy to advantage, than a novice who, gaining nothing
on his purchases, is imposed upon by the venders and cannot control his
household expenditures. "What difference does it make to the employer
if his steward help himself a little in serving him, provided he look
after his interests sufficiently and charge him only with the market
price of a commodity?"
Upon a good commissary in particular depends the success of a club or
a restaurant. Without a competent purchaser who combines most of the
qualities enumerated in the "Almanach," the chef must labour at a
disadvantage; and, in the case of a club, a house committee bear the
odium of a poor cuisine and the maledictions of the members.
The "Almanach" abounds in piquant aphorisms, some of which perhaps will
better serve to illustrate the spirit of the work than a more lengthy
abstract of many of the essays themselves:
"The kitchen is a country in which there are always
discoveries to be made.
"It is the entrées that cooks usually invest with their
greatest cunning, and it is principally through these that
they expect to be judged.
"An overturned salt-cellar is to be feared solely when it is
overturned in a good dish.
"The table is a magnet which not only draws to itself, but
joins together all those who approach it.
"It is as necessary that the master of the house should
understand how to carve well as it is for a young girl to
dance in order to secure a husband.
"Digestion is the business of the stomach, and indigestion
that of the doctors.
"The stomach of a true gourmand, like the casemates of a
besieged city, should be proof against bombs.
"Thirteen at table is a number to be dreaded when there is
only enough to go round for twelve.
"A good pastry-maker is as rare as a grand orator.
"It is especially at table that one should attend carefully to
the matter in hand and consider what one is about.
"True gourmands have always finished their dinner before the
dessert; that which is eaten after the roast is done only out
of pure politeness.
"Pastry is to the cuisine what figures of rhetoric are to
discourse. An oration without figures and a dinner without
pastry are equally insipid.
"There is a precise moment at which every dish should be
savoured, previous to which or after which it causes only an
imperfect sensation.
"Wine is the milk of the old, the balm of adults, and the
vehicle of the gourmand.
"Without sauces a dinner were as bare as a house that has been
levied on by the officers of the sheriff.
"The etymology of the word _faisander_ sufficiently proclaims
that the pheasant should be waited for as long as a pension
from the government by a man of letters who has never known
how to flatter any one.
"It is notorious that a dinner, however generous, has never
disturbed a person who has preceded or followed it by a walk
of five or six leagues; and that indigestions are virtually
unknown to great pedestrians.
"With many people a stomach that is proof against everything
is the principle of happiness, and with everybody this organ
exercises a greater influence than one imagines on the acts of
life.
"Life is so brief that we should not glance either too far
backwards or forwards in order to be happy. Let us therefore
study how to fix our happiness in our glass and on our plate.
"Un Amphitryon délicat no doit pas souffrir que la galanterie
dégénère chez lui en scandale; et s'il invite de jeunes et
jolies femmes ce doit toujours être avec leurs maris, et
jamais avec leurs amants."
Unfortunately, no menus of the _Jury dégustateur_ have been preserved,
though one is presented of the celebrated restaurant, the Rocher de
Cancale--a dinner of twenty-four covers, served November 28, 1809, at
a cost of one thousand francs. Considering the elaborateness of the
bill of fare, the price was assuredly extremely moderate, including, as
it did, four soups, four relevés, twelve entrées, four large pieces,
four roasts, and eight entremets, all served in the highest style of
the art.
In many of the best Parisian restaurants to-day no figures are
attached to the _carte_, so that one may dine without disturbing his
digestion by thinking of the expense. The awakening comes later, with
the _addition_, when, if one be an epicure with a partiality for rare
vintages, he will be apt to recall Béranger's "Voyage au Pays de
Cocagne" and its dénouement:
". . . . . .
Mais qui vient détruire (But who would dispel
Ce rêve enchanteur? This dream all-divine?
Amis, j'en ai honte, Friends, to my shame,
C'est quelqu'un qui monte 'Tis the restaurant's claim--
Apporter le compte The bill of the entrées
Du restaurateur." And score of the wine.)
The menu of the dinner at the Rocher will prove attractive reading--in
marked contrast to the average bill of fare, which is so often made
up for the eye and is generally without originality or distinction.
What an embarrassment of riches in the entrées! how imposing the large
pieces! what a pageant of delectable entremets! How majestically the
bisque of crabs leads off the fête, and pike and turbot proudly stem
the tide! The comparative absence of vegetables need not be criticised,
as these naturally figure as garnishes of several of the dishes. The
asparagus, too, would take the place of a salad which is not included;
and with so varied a programme oysters may well have been dispensed
with for lack of sufficient space. That each individual dish was a
triumph we may rest assured, or some word of depreciation for future
guidance would certainly have appeared in the "Almanach."
Menu de 24 Couverts, pour le Jeudi
28 Novembre, 1809.