Phyllis, I have a cask full of Albanian wine upwards of nine
years old; I have parsley in the garden for the weaving of
chaplets. The house shines cheerfully with plate; all hands
are busy. HORACE, _Ode XI_.
Some old French wit spoke of an "idea which could be canonized."
Perhaps yet we may have a Saint Table-Cloth. There have been worse
saints than Saint Table-Cloth and clean linen, since the days of Louis
XIII!
We notice in the old pictures of feasting that the table-cloth was of
itself a picture,--lace, in squares, blocks, and stripes, sometimes
only lace over a colour, but generally mixed with linen.
It was the highest ambition of the Dutch housewife to have much double
damask of snowy whiteness in her table-linen chest. That is still the
grand reliable table-linen. No one can go astray who uses it.
Table-linen is now embroidered in coloured cottons, or half of its
threads are drawn out and it is then sewed over into lace-work. It is
then thrown over a colour, generally bright red. But pale lilac is
more refined, and very becoming to the lace-work.
Not a particle of coarse food must go on that table-cloth. Everything
must be brought to each guest from the broad, magnificent buffet; all
must be served _à la Russe_ from behind a grand, impenetrable
screen, which should fence off every dining-room from the butler's
pantry and the kitchen. All that goes on behind that screen is the
butler's business, and not ours. The butler is a portly man,
presumably, with a clean-shaven face, of English parentage. He has the
key of the wine-cellar and of the silver-chest, two heavy
responsibilities; for nowadays, not to go into the question of the
wines, the silver-chest is getting weighty. Silver and silver-gilt
dishes, banished for some years, are now reasserting their pre-eminent
fitness for the dinner-table: The plates may be of solid silver; so
are the high candlesticks and the salt-cellars, of various and
beautiful designs after Benvenuto Cellini.
Old silver is reappearing, and happy the hostess who has a real Queen
Anne teapot. The soup-tureen of silver is again used, and so are the
old beer-mugs. Our Dutch ancestors were much alive to good silver; he
may rejoice who, joking apart, had a Dutch uncle. I, for one, do not
like to eat off a metallic plate, be it of silver or gold. It is
disagreeable to hear the knife scrape on it, even with the delicate
business of cutting a morsel of red canvas-back. Gastronomic
gratification should be so highly refined that it trembles at a
crumpled rose-leaf. Porcelain plates seem to be perfect, if they have
not on them the beautiful head of Lamballe. Nobody at a dinner desires
to cut her head off again, or to be reminded of the French Revolution.
Nor should we hurry. A master says, "I have arrived at such a point
that if the calls of business or pleasure did not interpose, there
would be no fixed date for finding what time might elapse between the
first glass of sherry and the final Maraschino."
However, the pleasures of a dinner may be too prolonged. Men like to
sit longer eating and drinking than women; so when a dinner is of both
sexes it should not continue more than one hour and a half. Horace,
that prince of diners, objected to the long-drawn-out meal. "Then we
drank, each as much as he felt the need," meant no orgy amongst the
Greeks.
But if the talk lingers after the biscuit and cheese the hostess need
not interrupt it.
Talleyrand is said to have introduced into France the custom of taking
Parmesan with the soup, and the Madeira after it.
There are many conflicting opinions about the proper place for the
cheese in order of serving. The old fashion was to serve it last. It
is now served with, or after, the salad. "A dessert without cheese is
like a beautiful woman with one eye," says an old gourmet.
"Eat cheese after fruit, to prepare the palate for fresh wine," says
another.
"After melon, wine is a felon."
If it is true that "an American devours, an Englishman eats, and a
Frenchman dines," then we must take the French fashion and give the
cheese after the salad.
Toasted cheese savouries are very nice. The Roman punch should be
served just before the game. It is a very refreshing interlude. Some
wit called it at Mrs. Hayes' dinners "the life-saving station."
When the ices are removed a dessert-plate of glass, with a
finger-bowl, is placed before each person, with two glasses, one for
sherry, one for claret, or Burgundy; and the grapes, peaches, pears,
and other fruits are then passed.
The hostess makes the sign for retiring to a _salon_ perhaps rich
with magnificent hangings of old gold, with pictures, with vases of
Dresden, of Sèvres, of Kiota, with statuary, and specimens of Capo di
Monti. There coffee may be brought and served by the footmen in cups
which Catherine of Russia might have given to Potemkin. The gentlemen,
in England and America, remain behind to smoke.
There is much exquisite porcelain in use in the opulent houses of
America. It is getting to be a famous fad with us, and nothing adds
more to one's pleasure in a good dinner than to have it served on
pretty plates. And let us learn to say "footman," and not "waiter;"
the latter personage belongs to a club or a hotel. It would prevent
disagreeable mistakes if we would make this correction in our ordinary
conversation.
In the arrangement of a splendid dinner let us see what should be the
bill of fare.
This is hard to answer, as the delicacies vary with the season. But we
will venture on one:--
Oysters on the half-shell.
Sherry. Soups:
_Crème d'Asperges_, Julienne.
Fish: Chablis.
Fried Smelts, or Salmon.
Fresh Cucumbers.
Champagne. _Filet de Boeuf_, with Truffles Claret.
and Mushrooms.
Fried Potatoes.
Entrées:
_Poulet à la Maréchale_. _Petits Pois._
_Timbale de Macaroni_.
Sweetbreads.
Vegetables. Artichokes.
Sorbet. Roman Punch.
Steinberger. Game:
Canvas-back or Wild Duck with Currant Jelly.
Quail with Water-Cresses.
Salad of Lettuce. Salad of Tomato.
Rudesheimer. _Pâté de foie gras._
Hot dessert:
Cabinet Pudding.
Cold dessert:
_Crème glacée aux tutti frutti._
_Marron glacés._ Cakes. Preserved ginger.
Madeira. Cheese. Port.
Café. Cordials.
I apologize to my reader for mixing thus French and English. It is a
vulgar habit, and should be avoided. But it is almost impossible to
avoid it when speaking of a dinner; the cooks being French, the
_menus_ are written in French, and the names of certain dishes are
usually written in French. Now all people understand French, or should
do so. If they do not, it is very easy to learn that the "_vol au vent
de volaille_" is simply chicken pie, that potatoes are still potatoes
under whatever alias they are served, and so on.
No such dinner as this can be well served in a private house unless
the cook is a _chef_, a _cordon bleu_,--here we must use French
again,--and unless the service is perfect this dinner will be a
failure. It is better to order such a dinner from Delmonico's or
Sherry's or from the best man you can command. Do not attempt and
fail.
But the little dinners given by housekeepers whose service is perfect
are apt to be more eatable and palatable than the best dinner from a
restaurant, where all the food is cooked by gas, and tastes alike.
The number of guests is determined by the size of the room. The
etiquette of entering the dining-room is this: the host goes first,
with the most distinguished lady. The hostess follows last, with the
most distinguished gentleman.
Great care and attention must be observed in seating the guests. This
is the province of the hostess, who must consider the subject
carefully. All this must be written out, and a diagram made of the
table. The name of each lady is written on a card and enclosed in an
envelope, on the outside of which is inscribed the name of the
gentleman who has the honour to take her in. This envelope must be
given each man by the servant in the dressing-room, or he must find it
on the hall table. Then, with the dinner-card at each place, the
guests find their own places.
The lady of the house should be dressed and in the drawing-room at
least five minutes before the guests are to arrive, which should be
punctually. How long must a hostess wait for a tardy guest? Only
fifteen minutes.
It is well to say to the butler, "Dinner must be served at half-past
seven," and the guests may be asked at seven. That generally ensures
the arrival of all before the fish is spoiled. Let the company then go
in to dinner, allowing the late-comer to follow. He must come in
alone, blushing for his sins. These facts may help a hostess: No great
dinner in Europe waits for any one; royalty is always punctual. In
seating your guests do not put husband and wife, sisters or relatives
together.