Brillat-Savarin, who has discoursed on gastronomy with all the
knowledge and discursiveness, with all the verve and raciness displayed
by Ninon de l'Enclos in descanting on love in her letters to the
Marquis de Sévigné. He is at once the corypheus of good cheer and its
most refined exponent. Few subjects are as difficult to treat without
grossness as those relating to the gratification of the appetite,
the pleasures of eating and drinking, which he has handled with such
felicitous skill. Accompanying him along his alluring ambages, whose
aisles are redolent of truffles and vol-au-vents in lieu of balsams
and flowers, all other arts appear secondary to that of gastronomy; for
through it alone, it becomes obviously manifest, may its sister arts
receive their proper inspiration and man attain that hygienic beatitude
which is essential to the greatest creative genius.
Whether he was as accomplished in reality as he appears upon the
printed page, whether his practice was equal to his theory,--a question
some of his contemporaries have disputed,--is of trivial moment in view
of the abiding attractiveness of the "Physiologie du Goût." In his
essay the distinction of a gourmand and a gourmet was first distinctly
set forth, and throughout its length and breadth the topic is discussed
with the dexterity that the author would observe in the preparation
of his favourite _fondue_. Rarely has a subject found a writer whose
qualities so eminently fitted him for its elaboration. With a touch
light as gossamer, he has run the entire gamut of taste, investing his
theme with new and subtle harmonies. The pheasant and the turkey have
gained in savour since he has passed them under review, and the truffle
derived an added flavour through the sixth Meditation.
In viewing the portrait of Savarin, we see before us a man of imposing
presence, full-faced and florid, large, massive, robust, with bright
eyes, rounded chin, and sensuous mouth. The high, broad forehead and
protuberances above the eyebrows denote the reasoning and imaginative
mind, while the full nostrils and lips point to a highly developed
physical organism--to one who might be a lawyer, physician, banker,
or diplomat, but whose features in any event proclaim the genial
companion, the ready raconteur, and one upon whom the pleasures of the
senses exercise an important influence. It was this nice adjustment of
the mental and physical, this happy balance of mind and being, that
combined to produce a work which may justly be classed among the most
original of the nineteenth century.
"To fulfil the task I propose to myself," observes the author in his
preface, "it was necessary to be a physician, a physiologist, and
even more or less of a classical scholar." To these qualifications
he added those of a thorough man of the world, a natural epicure, a
keen observer, a metaphysician, and a writer unusually gifted with
style and sententiousness of expression. Impressed by his masterly
grasp of his subject, La Reynière, on reading the volume for the first
time, immediately proclaimed its supremacy, asserting that it should
open the doors of the Academy if they were to be opened by a superior
mind. Among the many recognitions of the writer's genius none is more
appreciative than that of Balzac, whose "Physiology of Marriage"
was inspired by the "Physiology of Taste." Treatises innumerable
on gastronomy have since appeared, but few are worthy of serious
consideration, the majority being more or less offensive or mere echoes
of a familiar strain.
With Savarin gastronomy became an all-absorbing enthusiasm--a prolific
vein that hitherto had been imperfectly explored. It was, above all, an
art, a potent factor in the pleasures of life, a valuable auxiliary to
health, a means of advancing the amenities of existence--a _finesse_,
in short, of which he was to be the analyst and interpreter, the La
Bruyère and the Sainte-Beuve. Like the sprightly Ninon in her letters,
who at eighty was still able to captivate and charm, Savarin might have
written of the meditations of his advanced age: "We are not indulging
in what is termed fine conversation--we are philosophising."
The reader who will look to the "Physiology" for practical directions
on cookery will be disappointed. In place of a cook-book he will find
a reflective dissertation on the æsthetics of the table, replete with
wit, humour, and anecdote; a treatise dealing more with physical
functions than the fashioning of sauces, and with the fork and
wine-glass rather than with the chef and casserole.
Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, or Brillat de Savarin, was born at Belley, in
the department of the Ain, in 1755, the "Physiologie du Goût" appearing
in 1825, a year previous to his death. The volume was the outcome of
a lifetime of preparation for which his temperament and circumstances
afforded abundant opportunity. Like La Reynière, he was a lawyer by
profession, and, like him, he became an exile for a considerable
period. He had received a careful education, the early part of his life
being devoted to his legal practice, medical and chemical studies,
and epicurean pleasures. He was fond of music, the fair sex, and good
dinners, this triple penchant revealing itself frequently in his
anecdotes. When thirty-eight years of age, he was elected mayor of
Belley. Later, after sojourning in Switzerland, he visited the United
States for a period of three years to introduce to New England the
_fondue_--a dish which he proclaims of Swiss origin and from which
the "Welsh rarebit" was derived. On his return to France he became
a commissary of the government in the department of Seine-et-Oise,
afterwards being appointed a counsellor in the Court of Cassation, a
position he occupied during the remainder of his life. While engaged in
this tribunal, his volume was leisurely composed.
Lyons, celebrated for its _cervelas_, chestnuts, beer, and _vin de
Rivage_, was but a short distance from his native place, and it may be
assumed that when tired of home fare he availed himself occasionally of
its numerous markets and restaurants, and enjoyed the hospitality of
its _bons-vivants_. Game was abundant in the Ain, a region he describes
as "a charming country of high mountains, hills, rivers, limpid brooks,
and cascades." Nor were trout wanting in its crystal waters--a delicacy
that often graced his table and furnished him with one of his most
picturesque recipes. He is speaking in his oracular way to his chef,
in the admirable Meditation entitled "The Theory of Frying," a chapter
that every cook should learn by heart:
"I say nothing about choosing oils or fats, because the
various cook-books which I have placed in your library give
sufficient information on that hand. Do not forget, however,
when you have any of those trout weighing scarcely more than
a quarter of a pound and caught in running brooks that murmur
far from the capital--do not forget, I say, to fry them in the
very finest olive oil you have. This simple dish, properly
sprinkled and served up with slices of lemon, is worthy of
being offered to a cardinal."
One can almost hear the music of the stream as it purls over its pebbly
bed and whispers to the overhanging alders, while one marks the leap
and glitter of trout and their prompt transition to the basket and the
frying-pan. And lest these lovely denizens of spring-fed waters be
overlooked in a subsequent chapter, it will be well to attach at once
the instructions as to their mode of cooking of another author, in whom
one is sure of an admirable guide, philosopher, and friend:
"They are so perfumed, these little trout," says Baron
Brisse, "that it is sufficient to cook them in a light
_court-bouillon_, and as soon as they are perfectly cold to
eat them _au naturel_; all seasonings detracting from their
savour. _Truites au court-bouillon._ Clean the trout by the
gills, dry them carefully, tie up the heads, then cook them in
a _court-bouillon_ made of white wine seasoned with slices of
onion, sprigs of parsley, thyme, bay-leaf, and salt, adding a
little bouillon; let them simmer until completely done, dry
them, and serve on a napkin garnished with parsley. If a sauce
is desired, mix a part of the _court-bouillon_ with butter and
flour, reduce one half on a lively fire, and serve. _Truites
à la Vosgienne._ After dressing the trout, sprinkle with
salt and let them stand an hour. Then place them on the fire
with the necessary quantity of white wine for their cooking,
seasoning with onions, cloves, a _bouquet-garni_, a clove of
garlic, salt, pepper, and butter mixed with flour; cook on a
lively fire, lay out the trout on a platter, and mask them
with the sauce passed through a sieve."
These modes of preparation, all of which are delicious, will not
interfere with preparing them _à la matelote_ and _au gratin_, or the
more common manner of frying them in butter, with a thin slice or two
of salt pork and a dash of lemon and sprinkling of chopped parsley
added to the sauce of the cooking. The best of sauces, however, is the
sauce of catching the trout one's self--to hear with one's own ear the
cool lapse of streams "that murmur far from the capital," and view the
rubies at first hand as they flash from the _Salmo's_ roseate sides.
If, as was stated by the Marquis de Cussy, Brillat-Savarin "ate
copiously and ill, chose little, talked dully, and was preoccupied
at the end of a repast," no fault can be found by the most captious
critic with the conversationalist and host of the "Physiology." There
is not a dull line within its covers, or a page unmarked by brilliancy.
Beginning with a dissertation on the senses in general, he proceeds
with a most recondite analysis of the senses relating to taste. He
explains that the empire of taste has its blind and its deaf, that the
sensation of taste resides principally in the papillæ of the tongue,
though every tongue has not the same number of papillæ, but that in
some there are thrice as many as in others. Hence, with two persons
sitting at the same table, one may be deliciously affected by the
viands and wines, whereas the other will seem to partake of them with
restraint. Taste, he maintains, is a sense that, all things considered,
procures us the greatest number of enjoyments:
"1st. Because the pleasure of eating is the only one that,
taken in moderation, is never followed by fatigue;
"2d. Because it belongs to all times, to all ages, and to all
conditions;
"3d. Because it occurs necessarily at least once a day, and
may be repeated without inconvenience two or three times in
this space of time;
"4th. Because it may be combined with all our other pleasures
and even console us for their absence;
"5th. Because the impressions it receives are at the same time
more durable and more dependent on our will;
"6th. Because in eating we receive a certain indefinable and
special comfort which arises from the intuitive consciousness
that we repair our losses and prolong our existence by the
food we eat.
"Lastly," he asserts, "the tongue of man, by the delicacy
of its texture and the various membranes which environ it,
sufficiently indicates the sublimity of the operations for
which it is destined. It contains at least three movements
unknown to animals, which he terms spication, rotation, and
verrition. The first is when the tongue in a conical shape
comes from between the lips that compress it; the second, when
the tongue moves circularly in the space comprised between
the interior of the cheeks and the palate; the third, when
the tongue, curving upwards or downwards, gathers anything
remaining in the semicircular canal formed by the lips and the
gums."
Like the seasoned and thoroughbred hunter who is sure of his sinew and
his stride, and before whom the stile, the ditch, and the five-barred
gate present no obstacles, so may Savarin be freely allowed his head
and be followed over the fragrant fields of taste, with no fear
that anything appertaining to its province will prove impossible or
difficult for him to surmount.
The influence of smell on taste is closely analysed:
"For myself, I am not only persuaded that without the
participation of smell there is no perfect taste, but I am
even tempted to believe that smell and taste form only one
sense, of which the mouth is the laboratory and the nose the
chimney; or, to speak more exactly, that the tongue tastes
tactile substances, and the nose gases. This theory may be
vigorously defended.
"All sapid bodies must be necessarily odorous, which places
them as well in the empire of smell as in the empire of taste.
"We eat nothing without smelling it with more or less
consciousness; and for unknown foods the nose acts always as a
sentinel, and cries, 'Who goes there?'
"When smell is interrupted, taste is paralysed. This is proved
by three experiments, which any one may make successfully:
_First_, when the nasal mucous membrane is irritated by a
violent cold in the head, taste is entirely obliterated.
In anything we swallow there is no taste. The tongue,
nevertheless, remains in its normal state. _Second_, if we
eat whilst holding tight our nose, we are much astonished
to experience the sensation of taste only in an obscure and
imperfect manner. By this means the most nauseous medicines
are swallowed almost without tasting them. _Third_, we see the
same effect if, at the moment we have swallowed, instead of
bringing back the tongue to its usual place, we keep it close
to the palate. In this case the circulation of the air is
intercepted, the organs of smell are not affected, and taste
does not occur. These different effects depend upon the same
cause, the lack of coöperation of the smell, which makes the
sapid body to be appreciated only on account of its juice, and
not for the odoriferous gas that emanates from it.
"These principles being thus laid down, I regard it as certain
that taste gives rise to sensations of three different
orders, namely: _direct_ sensation, _complete_ sensation, and
_reflex_ sensation. Direct sensation is that first perception
which arises from the immediate operation of the organs of
the mouth, whilst the appreciable body is yet found on the
point of the tongue. Complete sensation is that which is
composed of this first perception and of the impression which
originates when the food abandons this first position, passes
into the back part of the mouth, and impresses the whole organ
with both taste and perfume. Reflex sensation is the judgment
of the mind upon the impressions transmitted to it by the
organ."
To no other writer may one turn so satisfactorily for an interpretation
of the word "gastronomy," a word which belongs by right to him.
Previous to his exegesis, gluttony and gastronomy had been more or
less confounded. It is true that the poem of Berchoux is entitled "La
Gastronomie," but the term was not defined by the poet, nor do the
piquant pages of the "Almanach" refer to the art "of having excellent
cheer" under that term. The true epicure, as distinguished from the
gross eater, had long stood in need of the definition and distinction.
"The gastronomer is nearly always a sage," it has been observed--a
statement borne out by the "Dictionnaire de la Conversation," which
characterises this science as "the art of living, of eating worthily,
properly, as a man of taste, character, and judgment." It will prove of
interest, therefore, to those who are unfamiliar with the "Physiology"
to refer to the third Meditation, and note the French savant's
elaborate analysis of the word:
"Gastronomy is the rational knowledge of all that relates to
man as an eater.
"Its object is to watch over the preservation of men by means
of the best nourishment possible.
"It arrives thereat by laying down certain principles to
direct those who look for, furnish, or prepare the things
which may be converted into food.
"Thus it is gastronomy that sets in motion farmers,
vine-growers, fishers, hunters, and the numerous family
of cooks, whatever may be their title, or under whatever
qualification they may disguise their occupation of preparing
food.
"Gastronomy is connected--
"With natural history, by its classification of alimentary
substances.
"With physics, by the investigation of their composition and
their qualities;
"With chemistry, by the different analyses and decompositions
which it makes them undergo;
"With cookery, by the art of preparing food and rendering it
more agreeable to taste;
"With commerce, by the search for means to buy at the cheapest
rate possible what is consumed by it, and selling to the
greatest advantage that which is presented for sale;
"Lastly, with political economy, by the resources which it
furnishes to the authorities for taxation, and by the means of
exchange it establishes among nations.
"Some knowledge of gastronomy is needed by all men, since it
tends to increase the allotted sum of human happiness; and the
more easy a man's circumstances, the more advantages does he
gain from such knowledge."
Summing up, he pronounces its material subject to be everything that
may be eaten; its direct object, the preservation of individuals; and
its means of execution, cultivation which produces, commerce which
exchanges, industry which prepares, and experience which invents the
means of turning everything to the best account.
It will thus be perceived how little understood, even at this
advanced age, is the term in question, and how few, comparatively,
there are who comprehend the true significance of the pleasures of
the table--pleasures where grossness does not enter, but where taste,
refinement, the amenities, and hygiene assert their sway. Life is short
at its longest; but who shall harvest its sweetnesses so fully as the
accomplished gastronomer! The rustling forest glades, radiant in the
pomp of October, may be summoned by the appearance of a finely larded
grouse; the tinkle of liberated brooks be heard with the advent of the
first April trout; the flute of the whitethroat be recalled by the
floral tributes to the table; and all that is sunshine in nature be
distilled when the cork sets free a noble vintage of the Médoc or the
Marne.
If the term "gastronomy" was imperfectly understood until the
definition in the "Physiology," as much may be said of the word
_gourmandise_, which oftener served as a designation of gluttony than
as a synonym of refined epicureanism.
_Gourmandise_, Savarin defines as "an impassioned, rational, and
habitual preference for all objects which flatter the sense of taste.
It is opposed to excess in eating and drinking. Physically, it is an
indication of the wholesome state of the organs on which nutrition
depends, and, morally, it marks implicit resignation to the commands
of the Creator, who, in ordering man to eat that he may live, invites
him to do so by appetite, encourages him by flavour, and rewards him
by pleasure. It is, moreover, most favourable to beauty, imparting
more brilliancy to the eye, freshness to the skin, more support to
the muscles; and as it is certain in physiology that it is the
depression of muscles that causes wrinkles, those formidable enemies of
beauty, it is equally true that, all things being equal, those who know
how to eat are comparatively ten years younger than those ignorant of
that science." It was also left for him to discover that _gourmandise_,
when it is shared, has a marked influence on the happiness which may be
found in the conjugal state.
[Illustration: "POUR VOIR DE BONS REFRAINS ÉCLORE, BUVONS ENCORE!"
Frontispiece of "Le Caveau Moderne" (1807)]
Let us follow the accomplished chancellor farther in his physiological
studies, and refer to the thirteenth Meditation, which treats of
"gastronomic tests." In a previous chapter a famous bill of fare of
the renowned Rocher de Cancale has been presented, which it may be
well to compare with what approaches nearest to a menu or series of
menus in the "Physiology." It will then be for the reader to decide
whether he would rather have assisted at the feast of the Rocher
alluded to, or at that prescribed by Savarin for an income of thirty
thousand francs in the early part of the century. In both instances
the list of accompanying wines is wanting, and therefore the menus are
necessarily incomplete as a dinner chronicle of the times. Happily, the
long and heavy dinners of former days have given place to repasts of
a far more simple nature, as the heavy wines of Oporto and the South
and the highly saccharine products of the vine have been replaced by
lighter and more wholesome kinds. It is possible now to dine well
and generously and escape a headache or an indigestion the following
morning.
By "gastronomic tests," which the author claims as a personal discovery
that will honour the nineteenth century, he understands dishes of
acknowledged flavour, of an excellence so undoubted that the mere sight
of them ought to move, in a well-organised man, every faculty of taste;
so that all those whose faces under such circumstances neither flash
with desire nor beam with ecstasy may justly be noted as unworthy of
the honours of the banquet and its attending pleasures. A test destined
for a man of limited means, he explains, would have little reference to
a head clerk, and would scarcely be perceived when a select few dine
together at a capitalist's or a diplomatist's. Should such dishes as a
truffled turkey seem out of keeping for an income of fifteen thousand
francs, and the list of the "third series" appear too elaborate for an
income of double that sum, due consideration should be taken of the
value of the franc at the period to which the author refers. It is also
to be presumed that such a bill of fare was not often served by any one
person, and was therefore more highly prized and more easily digested.
Gastronomic Tests.
First Series.
For a Presumed Income of 5000 Francs a Year (Mediocrity).
A large fillet of veal, well larded with bacon, done in its
own gravy.
A country-fed turkey stuffed with Lyons chestnuts.
Fattened pigeons larded and cooked to a turn.
Eggs _dressed à la neige_.
A dish of Sauerkraut bristling with sausages and crowned with
Strassburg bacon.
_Remarks._--"Bless me! that looks all right! Come on! let us
do honour to it!"
Second Series.
For a Presumed Income of 15,000 Francs (Comfort).
A fillet of beef underdone in the middle, larded and done in
its own gravy.
A haunch of venison, accompanied by a gherkin sauce.
A boiled turbot.
A leg of mutton _présalé_, done _à la provençale_.
A truffled turkey.
Early green peas.
_Remarks._--"Ah, my dear friend, what a delightful sight! This
is truly a wedding-feast."
Third Series.
For a Presumed Income of 30,000 Francs or more (Riches).
A fowl of about seven pounds stuffed with truffles till it
becomes almost round.
An enormous Strassburg _pâté de foie gras_, in the shape of a
bastion.
A large Rhein _carp à la Chambord_, richly dressed and
decorated.
Truffled quails, with marrow, spread on buttered toast _au
basilic_.
A river pike larded, stuffed, and smothered in a cream of
crayfish _secundum artem_.
A pheasant done to perfection, with his tail-feathers stuck
in, lying on toast _à la Sainte-Alliance_.
A hundred early asparagus, each half an inch thick, with sauce
_à l'osmazôme_.
Two dozen ortolans _à la provençale_, as described in some of
the cookery-books already mentioned.
A pyramid of vanilla and rose meringues--a test sometimes
useless unless in the case of ladies and abbés.
_Remarks._--"Ah, my dear sir (or my lord), what a genius that
cook of yours is! It is only at your table that one meets such
dishes."
In order that any test should produce its full effect, the author
advises that it be served plenteously, the rarest of dishes losing its
influence when not in abundant proportion, as the first impression
it produces on the guests is naturally checked by the fear of being
stingily served, or, in certain cases, of being obliged to refuse
out of politeness--a conclusion one may see verified frequently at a
European table-d'hôte when the parsimonious though perhaps extortionate
landlord deals out the roast or the fish through the intermedium of the
maligned garçon or Kellner. There are certain dishes, nevertheless,
whose zest consists in their very daintiness and lack of exuberance,
such as numerous entrées, in the savouring of which even the forks and
knives should be small and the proportions of the dish be restricted
rather than augmented. But the rules in the "Physiology" as to a
perfect dinner still hold good in the main, and will well bear
reiteration: