nevertheless knew the secret of enlarging the liver of the goose; but
with the relapse into barbarism the secret became lost, to remain
undiscovered until the beginning of the seventeenth century. Alsace is
the chosen home of the goose, and this fowl has rendered its capital
more celebrated than the siege of 1870 or the marvellous façade and
clock of its Münster. "My idea of heaven," said the Rev. Sydney Smith,
referring to the Strassburg product, "is eating foies gras to the sound
of trumpets!" For although the pâté is produced in numerous localities
on the Continent, in no other place does it attain the superlative
bloom and delicacy that it does in the more important manufactories of
the historic city on the Ill. To think of Strassburg is to think of
Doyen and his confrères and their incomparable productions, around
which rise the Gothic glories of the mediæval fane, the quaintly gabled
houses embellished by the craft of the wood-carver, the statues of
Gutenberg and Kleber, and the town's great girdles of fortifications
and inner ramparts.
It is said the pâté de foie gras is the invention of a Norman cook
named Close, who was in the employ of the Maréchal de Contades,
military commandant of the province from 1762 to 1788. On the
retirement of the maréchal, his cook remained in Strassburg, and
began the manufacture of the dish which had rendered the table of his
employer famous. There were truffles in the Wasgenwald, with trained
dogs to hunt them; the goose everywhere stood ready for sacrifice;
while the near-by vineyards of Neuwiller, Morsbrunn, and Westhausen
contributed their wines in abundance as its fluid concomitant. But the
pâté did not reach its highest excellence until some time afterwards,
when Doyen, a pastry-cook of great genius, already celebrated for
his _chaussons_ of veal and inimitable apple-puffs, substituted the
blacker, larger, and more fragrant truffle of Périgord, adding a
_bouquet-garni_ composed of numerous spices. Upon the proper blending
of these depends to a large extent the success of the dish, just as
the special flavour of a brand of champagne results from the precise
adjustment of its liqueur.
All through Alsace, wherever ponds or streams exist, may be seen
daily vast flocks of geese during the summer and autumn, screaming,
splashing, and diving in the water. The landscape is white with them,
and the plain resounds with their clamour. Each flock, which often
numbers a thousand, has its goose-herd and goose-dog. At dawn the
herder sounds his reveille, beginning to assemble his charges from
the most remote part of the village or hamlet. These take their place
in the procession of their own accord, until the ranks are complete,
and they eagerly wend their way to the coveted goal. Here they remain
until evening, when, at a summons from the herder, the return journey
is accomplished, each individual flock leaving the phalanx on arriving
near its home. Less idyllic is the life of the town goose, when large
ponds and succulent herbage are not readily accessible, the birds
being confined in yards where, in place of a daily round of bathing
and gossiping, they are compelled to watch the flight of the storks
overhead and mark the monotonous passing of the hours as they are
tolled from the Rathhaus tower. Nearly every other house or yard of the
poorer classes has its geese, the young fowls alone being utilised for
their livers. In late October or early November the fattening begins, a
process lasting usually from two to three weeks, the prized livers--the
true "golden egg" of the bird of St. Michael--then weighing from two to
three pounds.
[Illustration: THE BIRD OF ST. MICHAEL
From the etching by Birket-Foster, R.A.]
The humanitarian will protest against the cruelty of gorging the fowl
to repletion, depriving it of drink, and imprisoning it in close
cages to gratify the voracity of man. Yet it must be admitted that
hitherto everything possible to the maintenance of the health and
pleasure of the subject has been lavishly supplied, and that a brief
span at most would elapse ere time must claim its victim. The fox and
the goose have always been closely associated, and what applies to
one may well apply to the other. "Certainly," reasons Bulwer, "in the
chase itself all my sympathies are on the side of the fox. But if all
individuals are to give way to the happiness of the greatest number,
we must set off against the painful fate of the fox the pleasurable
sensation in the breasts of numbers which his fate has the honourable
privilege to excite." Without the inconveniences that the Strassburg
goose is compelled to undergo in behalf of the metamorphosis of its
liver, the list of _plats de prédilection_ were shorn of one of its
greatest attractions, and a city now of world-wide fame must soon drag
out a monotonous existence and be forgotten unless by the student of
architecture--a fact duly set forth in the following stanza:
"Strasbourg tire vanité
De ses pâtés de foie;
Cette superbe cité
Ne doit sa prospérité
Qu'aux oies!"
(Can roasted Philomel a liver
Fit for a pie produce?--
Fat pies that on the Rhein's sweet river
Fair Strassburg bakes. Pray, who's the giver?
A goose!)[25]
One should taste a pâté in Strassburg itself on a crisp November day,
after a protracted stroll through the sleepy town. Then one may saunter
anew through its mediæval streets and labyrinthine corridors to view
the Münster whose gargoyles glower so weirdly in the moonlight, ere
pausing at the Luxhof or the Spaten, where cool fountains of Münchner
continually flow.
That the pâté de foie gras is a factor of gout and a prolific cause
of indigestion, as is commonly asserted, is true to the same extent
that holds good with many other viands when inordinately indulged in
or partaken of too frequently. It was never intended to be eaten by
the "terrine," and much also depends upon its freshness and the source
of its manufacture. A generous slice of a fresh authentic Strassburg
pâté, eaten with bread, need hold no terrors for a healthy digestion,
or prove other than a source of the most delightsome recollections.
Savouring it, one may again summon the surroundings of its native
land--the verdant meads of the Alsace plain, the herder tending his
argent flocks, the soft contours of the Vosges outlined against the
distant sky.
But the alimentary resources of Germany are nowhere revealed to greater
advantage than in the innumerable forms of the sausage, and it may well
be questioned whether the songs of the Lorelei are not, after all,
inspired by the perfection of this product, rather than called forth by
the beauties of the Lurlenberg or the merits of the vineyards of the
Rheingau.
To become a connoisseur of sausages in all their protean phases is no
simple task. Only a German may analyse intelligently all the species
and varieties, from the huge Cervelat of Braunschweig and goose-liver
Trüffelwurst of Strassburg to the Salamis of Gotha and Blutwurst of
Schwaben. And as the sausage is fashioned with a special view to its
harmonious combination with beer, it is self-evident that one must be
a beer-drinker of experience in order to pronounce upon the virtues
of a given kind. "Wurst" and "Durst," Uhland long since pointed out,
not only rhyme, but belong together in a material way. But by this he
in no wise implied that one might choose a variety at random, with no
thought of consonance as regards its liquid accompaniment, or even
that one should be unmindful of climatic conditions. Thus the variety
that blends best with the dark, potent Gerstensaft of Nürnberg as
one quaffs it in great Seidels thick with its head of creamy foam
in the Mohrenkeller, or in cool Steins in the Bratwurst-Glöcklein,
would be entirely out of place as a complement to the amber Pilsener
of Austria, the Weiss beer of Berlin, or even the many malt extracts
of Württemberg. It is likewise equally easy to understand that a
particular sausage which might appeal to one in Hanover might be
utterly incongruous to the climate of the Elbe or the Neckarthal.
The delicate Bockwurst, composed of veal and pork, should be used with
Bock beer, for which it was especially designed. The juicy Knackwurst,
with its flavour of garlic, which belongs to the family of the
Frankfurt and Wienerwurst, is eminently worthy its exalted place as a
garnish to Sauerkraut, where the Mettwurst and the Schwartenmagen would
sound a discordant note. To determine the precise kind that should be
taken with the Münchner Hof-Bräu, as it is dispensed in the Café and
Garten of the Hotel Royal at Stuttgart, where the regal beer of Munich
reaches its apotheosis, would require a more extended experience than
might be contributed by the writer. A Knackwurst, possibly, may be
suggested during the summer, and a Bratwurst in winter. And yet this
would depend largely upon the hour of the evening, as well as on the
recommendations of the Kellnerin. Not more dissimilar are the hams of
the thick-jowled swine of Westphalia and those of the long-snouted
brindled hogs of Rothenburg an der Tauber, than are the various
sausages of different districts. Indeed, with the sausage alone Germany
might form a rampart round the world, and float a navy upon her daily
tide of beer.
Of the innumerable varieties, the well-known Cervelat is the largest,
and of these the most colossal come from Braunschweig, which also
produces the finest Knack-and Zungenwürste, the finest truffled
geese-liver as well as calves'-liver sausages coming from Strassburg.
Although the Plockwurst, the diminutive Wienerbrühwürstchen, the tiny
Lübecker Saucisschen, the Schlackwurst, and very many other kinds are
not included in the subjoined list relating to this specialty, its
perusal will be found of absorbing interest by the connoisseur, and
its study remind the too unobservant traveller who has sojourned in
Germany of, alas! how many neglected opportunities. The quotations are
given in marks and kilograms, the mark equalling twenty-five cents and
the kilogram being equivalent to a little over two pounds. The record
being that of a north-German shop, southern Germany is only meagrely
represented, and the list sounds its own praises too well to call for
comment:
_Preis Verzeichniss._
_Per Kilo._
_Braunschweiger._ _M._ _Pf._
Cervelatwurst 4.
Mettwurst 3. 60
Trüffelleberwurst 4.
Sardellenleberwurst 3. 60
Feine Leberwurst 3.
Zungenblutwurst 3. 20
Blutwurst, geräuchert 2. 40
Frische Sulze in Blase
Blut- und Leberwürste, Stück 25
_Gothaer._
Cervelatwurst I 3. 60
" II
" homöopatische
" Grobschnitt
Salamis 4.
Mortadella gekocht 4.
_Göttinger._
Mettwurst
_Colmar._
Gänselebertrüffelwurst 7
_Gothaer._
Feine Leberwurst, geräuchert 3. 60
Knackwürste, Paar 35
Jagdwürste 65
Zungenblutwurst 3. 20
Blutwurst 2. 80
Paaszsülze 3. 60
_Thüringer._
Cervelatwurst
Schwartenmagen 2. 80
Blutwurst, frische, haussch 2. 80
Knackwürste, Paar 40
_Westfälischer._
Schinkenroulade 4.
_Strassburger._
Gänselebertrüffelwurst 7.
Kalbslebertrüffelwurst 4.
Salamis di Verona
Mortadella di Bologna
_Wiener._
Selchwürstchen, Paar 25
Saucisschen 13
_Frankfurter._
Bratwürste, Paar 45
_Janer'sche._
Bratwürste, Paar 45
_Regensburger._
Wurst, Paar
_Berliner._
Erbswurst, Stück 65
_Schomberger._
Delikatesswürstchen
How they shine in their silken skins, these triumphs of the
_Metzgerei_, seen through the plate-glass of a Delikatessen shop--ebon
and bronze, russet and red, blonde and grey, mottled and veined, of
all hues and all sizes: long and slender, plump and fat, curved like a
crescent, round-barrelled and egg-shaped, as if their juices and spices
were eager to be set free; some that gain in succulence by time; others
that, like the rose, have but their hour in which to be plucked.
An essentially south-German dish is the Metzelsuppe--the
"bouillabaisse" of Swabia--in which the sausage plays an important
role, but which, to be appreciated, requires an essentially German
taste as well as a digestion without limit. This consists of several
preparations of freshly killed pork, including soup, bacon, and
sausages with Sauerkraut, the sausages usually being the Leber and the
Blutwurst. It has found its Thackeray in Uhland, whose poem has become
a classic, although, with the possible exception of the bacon and
Sauerkraut, the alien will find the poem preferable to the dish.
With a choice of a different soup for every day in the year, the German
does not lack for variety in the stepping-stone of the dinner. With all
of these the stranger may not be in sympathy, and in none of them will
he find the equal, as an all-round preface to the principal repast, of
a perfect Julienne. But the potato soup, the native pot-au-feu, and
even the soup in which beer is an important ingredient, have their
merits when well prepared. Nor is the boiled beef with horseradish
sauce, which usually follows the soup, to be despised, notably in
warm weather, when rich and heavy viands cloy. One would be equally
lacking in appreciation were he to lose sight of another dish we owe
to Germany, the "marinirte," or sour-spiced herring--that offset to
_Katzenjammer_ and noon-restorer of a jaded appetite and a parched
tongue. The Schmierkäse, or whey-cheese, when cream is employed in
its composition and the green of fresh chives enters as an adjunct to
please the eye and the palate, surely requires no praises, whatever may
be said to the contrary of the variety whose very name one thinks of in
a whisper.
Such dishes as Szegediner Schwein's Goulash mit Sauerkraut, Paprica
Schnitzel mit Ungarischem Kraut, and Ungarisches Goulash mit
Spätzle--triumphs of the Hungarian and Viennese _Kochkunst_--seldom
turn out satisfactory in alien hands. The Spätzle and Nudel are two
farinaceous dishes that also call for a native cook to serve in
perfection. The Spätzle is of south-German origin, and tastes best when
it flanks a viand with a tart sauce and has a Rhein wine to keep it
company. This observation applies more strictly to its native home,
the virtues of German dishes and German cigars being most apparent
amid their natural atmosphere. Indeed, who shall say that the "Pfarrer
von Kirchfeld" or the colourful strains of "Sataniel" would seem the
same if transported oversea? Climate, the hour, the environment--all
the conditions of the _entourage_ exercise a marked influence on many
things, especially on the pleasures of taste. The Zeller that seems
so delicious with the chicken in a south-German restaurant is apt
to prove a delusion elsewhere; and even the best of Affenthaler and
Assmanshäuser, of which one may retain a pleasant remembrance, must
fade before a good Bordeaux. The beer of Germany, when properly cared
for and when allowed to rush swiftly from the wood, alone preserves
a large portion of its delicious tonical freshness wherever partaken
of. Like an omelette soufflé, beer has its moment, and once started
towards the Seidel or Stein, its flow should be as uninterrupted as the
course of a mountain brook that, with music and song and freighted with
coolness, comes dancing down from the distant hills to slake the thirst
of the vale below.
Of game, the hare and the partridge have always been held in great
esteem by the Germans; and while the native Rebhuhn may not compare
with our own prince of feathered game-birds, the ruffed grouse, the
German hare has unquestionable merits when prepared as the favourite
Hasenbraten, Hasenpfeffer, and Hasenrücken gespickt with Sahnen sauce.
Even Goethe sounds a "Hoch!" when he thinks of the game he has
secured, and smacks his lips in anticipation of its appearance on the
table.[26]
The mysteries of the sandwich in all its possibilities are unknown
to Germany. But amends are made by the attractions of the Kalter
Aufschnitt which takes its place, where slices of veal are surrounded
by slices of Cervelat, ham, and tongue, and thin cuts of Leberwurst
with pickles and hard-boiled eggs cut in rounds to form a frame,
and rye bread and mustard _à discretion_. As for the Kuchen--light,
wholesome, and inviting--its forms are legion, though these belong more
strictly to the supper-table or to that phase of feminine entertainment
termed "The Coffee." The common and often excessive use of the
caraway-seed in cakes and breadstuffs is nevertheless to be deplored,
however great its merits as a carminative.
Dumas tells the story of the excellent cake called madeleine, an
entremets which all who have been in France will remember. Is it a
flower of the Vosges, indigenous to Alsace, that has been transplanted
across the border?--it must have been the invention of the German
_Kuchenkunst_. This is the account of the madeleine as it appears in
the "Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine":
"A tourist-friend who was at Strassburg, and who started
out on his travels a little late, expecting to reach the
next village before dark, was unsuccessful in finding a
shelter until nearly midnight, when he perceived the spire
of a distant church, and soon afterwards the welcome rays of
a light that seemed to emerge from some subterranean abode.
Knocking at the door, a gruff voice demanded:
"'Who is it, and what do you want?'
"'I am a traveller, weary and worn, and well-nigh starved. For
heaven's sake, let me in.'
"With this the door was unbarred by a man of savage aspect
whose hair and beard were covered with flour, and who was
naked to the waist.
"'Come in, and make haste,' he said in a cavernous voice; and
a large room was disclosed to the traveller the interior of
which was lighted by the fires of an immense oven. The door
was then re-barred by the forbidding-looking occupant.
"'Pardon, Monsieur,' said the traveller, little at ease. 'I
have just completed sixteen or eighteen leagues with scarcely
a mouthful; cannot I buy something to appease my hunger, and
have a couch to lie on?'
"'I have only my own bed,' replied the man, in his gruff
voice; 'as to something to eat, that is not wanting--it
remains to be seen if it will please you.'
"And opening a cupboard, he produced a basket containing a
dozen or so of oval-shaped cakes of a fine golden hue.
"'Try these,' he said to the traveller, 'and tell me what you
think of them.'
"When the basket was emptied, he asked, 'What do you think of
my madeleines?'
"'Something to drink first,' muttered the traveller in a
strangled voice.
"The cupboard was opened anew, and uncorking a bottle covered
with dust, the baker filled two glasses, passing one to the
stranger.
"'Drink,' he said; 'I don't wish my cakes to choke you.'
"The glass was emptied at a draught, when the visitor passed
it to be refilled,--it was an excellent Bordeaux.
"'Your health, my friend; you have given me one of the most
delicious repasts that I have ever had. But tell me what do
you call these lovely cakes?'
"'What! don't you know the madeleines of Commercy?'
"'You mean to say I am at Commercy?'
"'Yes, and, without knowing it, you have eaten the best cakes
in the world.'"
_Se non è vero è ben trovato_--the madeleine still remains to gladden
the traveller. They bring it now in little boxes of a dozen--flat on
the top and grooved like a shell underneath, the colour a rich golden
brown--as the train halts for a moment at the town on the Meuse where
Cardinal de Retz wrote his memoirs.
One of the earliest of German cook-books, published at Strassburg
in 1516, and now of the utmost rarity, bears for its title
"Kuchenmeisterey," or the mastery of cake-making. Perchance were one
to turn its faded Gothic leaves, some forgotten master-stroke of the
baker might reveal itself, to vie with the madeleine in popularity
and add to the already endless list of farinaceous _Leckerbissen_ and
_Frauenessen_, wherein the Germans have no superiors.
The story of the madeleine suggests that of the Vienna roll, which,
it is said, owes its origin to the investment of Vienna by the Turks.
During the protracted siege of the city, when the town had become
almost reduced to starvation and the position of the enemy was unknown,
a baker was making his last batch of bread. His little son, who had
been amusing himself with his marbles and drum, had gone to bed,
leaving a marble on the drum-head. The baker kept on with his baking
and attending to his ovens, sitting down between times to meditate
on his probable fate when the final loaf was gone, and gleaming
cangiars and ferocious janizaries had begun their work of carnage.
Suddenly his attentive ear was arrested by an unaccustomed vibratory
sound proceeding from the drum, while his eye perceived a continuous
dancing movement of the marble. Soon it became apparent to him that
the vibration was caused by forces working on the fortifications
without--the steady pounding of mattock and pickaxe--and that the
undermining of the walls had begun almost at his door. At once his
loaves were forgotten, and, hastening to spread the alarm, the enemy
was attacked unawares and successfully routed. The following day the
baker was summoned before the emperor.
"What reward do you claim for your services?--you have saved the city,"
said the emperor.
"I would serve the bread for the palace," replied the artist of the
loaves, "and I would have my rolls shaped like the Crescent we have
conquered."
A favourite convivial song of the Fatherland, with its rollicking
strain, may not be omitted from a German Speisekarte. The words are
by a former minister of education, von Muehler, of Prussia; the music
that of the dance "La Madrilena." It should be sung in chorus and led
by one who is light on his feet and a master of the side-step, with
the sonorous instrumentation of viols and horns to lend it additional
spirit and swing:
BEDENKLICHKEITEN
(Heinrich von Muehler, 1842. Bis 1872 Preussischer Cultusminister.)
[Illustration:
_Munter._ Spanischer Tanz: La Madrilena.
1. Grad' aus dem Wirthshaus nun komm' ich her-aus;...
Stra-sse, wie wun-der-lich siehst du mir aus!...
Rech-ter Hand, lin-ker Hand, bei-des ver-tauscht:
Stra-sse, ich mer-ke wohl, du bist be-rauscht!
2. Was für ein schief Gesicht, Mond, machst denn du?
Ein Au-ge hat er auf, eins hat er zu?...
Du wirst be-trun-ken sein, das seh' ich hell:...
Schä-me dich, schäme dich, al-ter Ge-sell!
3. Und die La-ter-nen erst, was muss ich sehn!
Die kön-nen al-le nicht gra-de mehr stehn;...
Wa-ckeln und fa-ckeln die Kreuz und die Quer:...
Schei-nen be-trun-ken mir al-le-sammt schwer!
4. Al-les im Stur-me rings, Gro-sses und Klein;
Wag' ich dar-un-ter mich, nüch-tern al-lein?...
Das scheint be-denk-lich mir ein Wa-ge-stück!
Da geh' ich lie-ber in's Wirthshaus zu-rück!
]
While the Germans have not yet adopted applesauce with green goose or
cranberries with turkey, no fault can be found with their admirable
choice of the "Compot" in general as an accessory and grace-note to
the roast. One may even forgive them the taste which permits them to
serve the noted hams of Westphalia uncooked, in view of the excellence
of their beer, their admirable Kuchen, and the merits of their rolls
and sweets. Besides cakes innumerable, the larder of the Hausfrau
fairly groans with "Compots," some form of which is invariably served
with roast meats, poultry, or game. And inasmuch as woman in Germany
is created for the special purpose of ministering to the comforts,
the tastes, and the selfish wishes of man, independent of her own
inclinations, it may be assumed that her natural fondness for sweets is
shared equally by the opposite sex.
One may or may not be impressed with the merits of the German
_Kochkunst_ in all its branches, which perhaps requires a native or
a seasoned taste to be estimated at its just and proper worth. But
that it comports with those whom it chiefly concerns, and that it is
appreciated by all true sons of the Fatherland, will admit of little
doubt when one considers the national _Gemüthlichkeit_, or views the
profound deliberation that the perusal of a Speisekarte always evokes
from the Gast, the Wirth, and the Herr Oberkellner.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: PROMENADE NUTRITIVE
Frontispiece of "Le Gastronome Français" (1828)]
[Illustration]
THE SCHOOL OF SAVARIN
"Depuis longtemps j'avais un mot à dire de Brillat-Savarin.
Cette figure, souriante plutôt que riante, ce demi-ventre, cet
esprit et cet estomac de bon ton, me tentait."
CHARLES MONSELET.