INTRODUCTION.

The following receipts are not a mere marrowless collection of shreds and patches, and cuttings and pastings, but a bonâ fide register of practical facts,--accumulated by a perseverance not to be subdued or evaporated by the igniferous terrors of a roasting fire in the dog-days,--in defiance of the odoriferous and calefacient repellents of roasting, boiling, frying, and broiling;--moreover, the author has submitted to a labour no preceding cookery-book-maker, perhaps, ever attempted to encounter,--having _eaten_ each receipt before he set it down in his book. They have all been heartily welcomed by a sufficiently well-educated palate, and a rather fastidious stomach:--perhaps this certificate of the reception of the respective preparations, will partly apologize for the book containing a smaller number of them than preceding writers on this gratifying subject have transcribed--for the amusement of "every man's master," the STOMACH.[15-*] Numerous as are the receipts in former books, they vary little from each other, except in the name given to them; the processes of cookery are very few: I have endeavoured to describe each, in so plain and circumstantial a manner, as I hope will be easily understood, even by the amateur, who is unacquainted with the practical part of culinary concerns. OLD HOUSEKEEPERS may think I have been tediously minute on many points which may appear trifling: my predecessors seem to have considered the RUDIMENTS of COOKERY quite unworthy of attention. These little delicate distinctions constitute all the difference between a common and an elegant table, and are not trifles to the YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS who must learn them either from the communication of others or blunder on till their own slowly accumulating and dear-bought experience teaches them. A wish to save time, trouble and money to inexperienced housekeepers and cooks, and to bring the enjoyments and indulgences of the opulent within reach of the middle ranks of society, were my motives for publishing this book. I could accomplish it only by supposing the reader (when he first opens it) to be as ignorant of cookery as I was, when I first thought of writing on the subject. I have done my best to contribute to the comfort of my fellow-creatures: by a careful attention to the directions herein given, the most ignorant may easily learn to prepare food, not only in an agreeable and wholesome, but in an elegant and economical manner. This task seems to have been left for me; and I have endeavoured to collect and communicate, in the clearest and most intelligible manner, the whole of the heretofore abstruse mysteries of the culinary art, which are herein, I hope, so plainly developed, that the most inexperienced student in the occult art of cookery, may work from my receipts with the utmost facility. I was perfectly aware of the extreme difficulty of teaching those who are entirely unacquainted with the subject, and of explaining my ideas effectually, by mere receipts, to those who never shook hands with a stewpan. In my anxiety to be readily understood, I have been under the necessity of occasionally repeating the same directions in different parts of the book; but I would rather be censured for repetition than for obscurity, and hope not to be accused of affectation, while my intention is perspicuity. Our neighbours of France are so justly famous for their skill in the affairs of the kitchen, that the adage says, "As many Frenchmen as many cooks:" surrounded as they are by a profusion of the most delicious wines, and seducing _liqueurs_ offering every temptation to render drunkenness delightful, yet a tippling Frenchman is a "_rara avis_." They know how so easily to keep life in sufficient repair by good eating, that they require little or no screwing up with liquid stimuli. This accounts for that "_toujours gai_," and happy equilibrium of the animal spirits which they enjoy with more regularity than any people: their elastic stomachs, unimpaired by spirituous liquors, digest vigorously the food they sagaciously prepare and render easily assimilable, by cooking it sufficiently,--wisely contriving to get half the work of the stomach done by fire and water, till "The tender morsels on the palate melt, And all the force of cookery is felt." See Nos. 5 and 238, &c. The cardinal virtues of cookery, "CLEANLINESS, FRUGALITY, NOURISHMENT, AND PALATABLENESS," preside over each preparation; for I have not presumed to insert a single composition, without previously obtaining the "_imprimatur_" of an enlightened and indefatigable "COMMITTEE OF TASTE," (composed of thorough-bred GRANDS GOURMANDS of the first magnitude,) whose cordial co-operation I cannot too highly praise; and here do I most gratefully record the unremitting zeal they manifested during their arduous progress of proving the respective recipes: they were so truly philosophically and disinterestedly regardless of the wear and tear of teeth and stomach, that their labour appeared a pleasure to them. Their laudable perseverance has enabled me to give the inexperienced amateur an unerring guide how to excite as much pleasure as possible on the palate, and occasion as little trouble as possible to the principal viscera, and has hardly been exceeded by those determined spirits who lately in the Polar expedition braved the other extreme of temperature, &c. in spite of whales, bears, icebergs, and starvation. Every attention has been paid in directing the proportions of the following compositions; not merely to make them inviting to the appetite, but agreeable and useful to the stomach--nourishing without being inflammatory, and savoury without being surfeiting. I have written for those who make nourishment the chief end of eating,[17-*] and do not desire to provoke appetite beyond the powers and necessities of nature; proceeding, however, on the purest epicurean principles of indulging the palate as far as it can be done without injury or offence to the stomach, and forbidding[18-*] nothing but what is absolutely unfriendly to health. ----"That which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite."--MILTON. This is by no means so difficult a task as some gloomy philosophers (uninitiated in culinary science) have tried to make the world believe; who seem to have delighted in persuading you, that every thing that is nice must be noxious, and that every thing that is nasty is wholesome. "How charming is divine philosophy? Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns."--MILTON. Worthy William Shakspeare declared he never found a philosopher who could endure the toothache patiently:--the Editor protests that he has not yet overtaken one who did not love a feast. Those _cynical_ slaves who are so silly as to suppose it unbecoming a wise man to indulge in the common comforts of life, should be answered in the words of the French philosopher. "Hey--what, do you philosophers eat dainties?" said a gay Marquess. "Do you think," replied DESCARTES, "that God made good things only for fools?" Every individual, who is not perfectly imbecile and void of understanding, is an _epicure_ in his own way. The epicures in boiling of potatoes are innumerable. The perfection of all enjoyment depends on the perfection of the faculties of the mind and body; therefore, the temperate man is the greatest epicure, and the only true voluptuary. THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE have been highly appreciated and carefully cultivated in all countries and in all ages;[19-*] and in spite of all the stoics, every one will allow they are the first and the last we enjoy, and those we taste the oftenest,--above a thousand times in a year, every year of our lives! THE STOMACH is the mainspring of our system. If it be not sufficiently wound up to warm the heart and support the circulation, the whole business of life will, in proportion, be ineffectively performed: we can neither _think_ with precision, _walk_ with vigour, _sit down_ with comfort, nor _sleep_ with tranquillity. There would be no difficulty in proving that it influences (much more than people in general imagine) all our actions: the destiny of nations has often depended upon the more or less laborious digestion of a prime minister.[19-+] See a very curious anecdote in the memoirs of COUNT ZINZENDORFF in Dodsley's Annual Register for 1762. 3d edition, p. 32. The philosopher Pythagoras seems to have been extremely nice in eating; among his absolute injunctions to his disciples, he commands them to "abstain from beans." This ancient sage has been imitated by the learned who have discoursed on this subject since, who are liberal of their negative, and niggardly of their positive precepts--in the ratio, that it is easier to tell you not to do this, than to teach you how to do that. Our great English moralist Dr. S. JOHNSON, his biographer Boswell tells us, "was a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery," and talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction. "Some people," said he, "have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat; for my part, I mind my belly very studiously and very carefully, and I look upon it that he who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind any thing else." The Dr. might have said, _cannot_ mind any thing else. The energy of our BRAINS is sadly dependent on the behaviour of our BOWELS.[20-*] Those who say, 'Tis no matter what we eat or what we drink, may as well say, 'Tis no matter whether we eat, or whether we drink. The following anecdotes I copy from Boswell's life of Johnson. _Johnson._--"I could write a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should be a book on philosophical principles. I would tell what is the best butcher's meat, the proper seasons of different vegetables, and then, how to roast, and boil, and to compound." _Dilly._--"_Mrs. Glasse's cookery_, which is the best, was written by Dr. Hill." _Johnson._--"Well, Sir--this shows how much better the subject of cookery[20-+] may be treated by a philosopher;[20-++] but you shall see what a book of cookery I shall make, and shall agree with Mr. Dilly for the copyright." _Miss Seward._--"That would be Hercules with the distaff indeed!" _Johnson._--"No, madam; women can spin very well, but they cannot make a good book of cookery." See vol. iii. p. 311. Mr. B. adds, "I never knew a man who relished good eating more than he did: when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment: nor would he, unless in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, until he had satisfied his appetite." The peculiarities of his constitution were as great as those of his character: luxury and intemperance are relative terms, depending on other circumstances than mere quantity and quality. Nature gave him an excellent palate, and a craving appetite, and his intense application rendered large supplies of nourishment absolutely necessary to recruit his exhausted spirits. The fact is, this great man had found out that animal and intellectual vigour,[21-*] are much more entirely dependent upon each other than is commonly understood; especially in those constitutions whose digestive and chylopoietic organs are capricious and easily put out of tune, or absorb the "_pabulum vitæ_" indolently and imperfectly: with such, it is only now and then that the "_sensorium commune_" vibrates with the full tone of accurately considerative, or creative energy. "His favourite dainties were, a leg of pork boiled till it dropped from the bone, a veal-pie, with plums and sugar, or the outside cut of a salt buttock of beef. With regard to _drink_, his liking was for the strongest, as it was not the _flavour_, but the _effect_ that he desired." Mr. Smale's Account of Dr. Johnson's Journey into Wales, 1816, p. 174. Thus does the HEALTH always, and very often the LIFE of invalids, and those who have weak and infirm STOMACHS, depend upon the care and skill of the COOK. Our forefathers were so sensible of this, that in days of yore no man of consequence thought of making a day's journey without taking his "MAGISTER COQUORUM" with him. The rarity of this talent in a high degree is so well understood, that besides very considerable pecuniary compensation, his majesty's first and second cooks[22-*] are now esquires by their office. We have every reason to suppose they were persons of equal dignity heretofore. In Dr. Pegge's "Forme of Cury," 8vo. London, 1780, we read, that when Cardinal Otto, the Pope's legate, was at Oxford, A. D. 1248, his brother officiated as "MAGISTER COQUINÆ." This important post has always been held as a situation of high trust and confidence; and the "MAGNUS COQUUS," Anglicè, the _Master Kitchener_, has, time immemorial, been an officer of considerable dignity in the palaces of princes. The cook in PLAUTUS (_pseudol_) is called "_Hominum servatorem_," the preserver of mankind; and by MERCIER "_un médecin qui guérit radicalement deux maladies mortelles, la faim et la soif_." The Norman conqueror WILLIAM bestowed several portions of land on these highly-favoured domestics, the "COQUORUM PRÆPOSITUS," and "COQUUS REGIUS;" a manor was bestowed on Robert Argyllon the "GRAND QUEUX," to be held by the following service. See that venerable record, the doomsday book. "Robert Argyllon holdeth one carucate of land in Addington in the county of Surrey, by the service of making one mess in an earthen pot in the kitchen of our Lord the KING, on the day of his coronation, called _De la Groute_," i. e. a kind of plum-porridge, or water-gruel with plums in it. This dish is still served up at the royal table at coronations, by the Lord of the said manor of Addington. At the coronation of King George IV., Court of Claims, July 12, 1820: "The petition of the Archbishop of CANTERBURY, which was presented by Sir G. Nayler, claiming to perform the service of presenting a dish of _De la Groute_ to the King at the banquet, was considered by the Court, and decided to be allowed." A good dinner is one of the greatest enjoyments of human life; and as the practice of cookery is attended with so many discouraging difficulties,[22-+] so many disgusting and disagreeable circumstances, and even dangers, we ought to have some regard for those who encounter them to procure us pleasure, and to reward their attention by rendering their situation every way as comfortable and agreeable as we can. He who preaches _integrity_ to those in the kitchen, (see "_Advice to Cooks_,") may be permitted to recommend _liberality_ to those in the parlour; they are indeed the sources of each other. Depend upon it, "True self-love and social are the same;" "Do as you would be done by:" give those you are obliged to trust every inducement to be honest, and no temptation to play tricks. When you consider that a good servant eats[23-*] no more than a bad one, how much waste is occasioned by provisions being dressed in a slovenly and unskilful manner, and how much a good cook (to whom the conduct of the kitchen is confided) can save you by careful management, no housekeeper will hardly deem it an unwise speculation (it is certainly an amiable experiment), to invite the _honesty_ and _industry_ of domestics, by setting them an example of _liberality_--at least, show them, that "According to their pains will be their gains." Avoid all approaches towards _familiarity_; which, to a proverb, is accompanied by _contempt_, and soon breaks the neck of obedience. A lady gave us the following account of the progress of a favourite. "The first year, she was an excellent servant; the second, a kind mistress; the third, an intolerable tyrant; at whose dismissal, every creature about my house rejoiced heartily." However, servants are more likely to be praised into good conduct, than scolded out of bad. Always commend them when they do right. To cherish the desire of pleasing in them, you must show them that you are pleased:-- "Be to their faults a little blind, And to their virtues very kind." By such conduct, ordinary servants may be converted into good ones: few are so hardened, as not to feel gratified when they are kindly and liberally treated. It is a good maxim to select servants not younger than THIRTY:--_before_ that age, however comfortable you may endeavour to make them, their want of experience, and the _hope_ of something still _better_, prevents their being satisfied with their present state; _after_, they have had the benefit of experience: if they are tolerably comfortable, they will endeavour to deserve the smiles of even a moderately kind master, for _fear_ they may change for the _worse_. Life may indeed be very fairly divided into the seasons of HOPE and FEAR. In YOUTH, _we hope every thing may be right_: in AGE, _we fear every thing will be wrong_. Do not discharge a good servant for a slight offence:-- "Bear and forbear, thus preached the stoic sages, And in two words, include the sense of pages."--POPE. HUMAN NATURE IS THE SAME IN ALL STATIONS: if you can convince your servants that you have a generous and considerate regard for their health and comfort, why should you imagine that they will be insensible to the good they receive? Impose no commands but what are reasonable, nor reprove but with justice and temper: the best way to ensure which is, never to lecture them till at least one day after they have offended you. If they have any particular hardship to endure in your service, let them see that you are concerned for the necessity of imposing it. _If they are sick_, remember you are their patron as well as their master: remit their labour, and give them all the assistance of food, physic, and every comfort in your power. Tender assiduity about an invalid is half a cure; it is a balsam to the mind, which has a most powerful effect on the body, soothes the sharpest pains, and strengthens beyond the richest cordial. Ye who think that to protect and encourage virtue is the best preventive from vice, reward your female servants liberally. CHARITY SHOULD BEGIN AT HOME. Prevention is preferable to cure--but I have no objection to see your names ornamenting the lists of subscribers to foundling hospitals and female penitentiaries.[25-*] Gentle reader, for a definition of the word "_charity_," let me refer you to the 13th Chapter of St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians. "To say nothing of the deleterious vapours and pestilential exhalations of the charcoal, which soon undermine the health of the heartiest, the glare of a scorching fire, and the smoke so baneful to the eyes and the complexion, are continual and inevitable dangers: and a cook must live in the midst of them, as a soldier on the field of battle surrounded by bullets, and bombs, and CONGREVE'S rockets; with this only difference, that for the first, every day is a fighting day, that her warfare is almost always without glory, and most praiseworthy achievements pass not only without reward, but frequently without thanks: for the most consummate cook is, alas! seldom noticed by the master, or heard of by the guests; who, while they are eagerly devouring his turtle, and drinking his wine, care very little who dressed the one, or sent the other."--_Almanach des Gourmands._ This observation applies especially to the SECOND COOK, or first kitchen maid, in large families, who have by far the hardest place in the house, and are worse paid, and truly verify the old adage, "the more work, the less wages." If there is any thing right, the cook has the praise--when there is any thing wrong, as surely the _kitchen maid_ has the blame. Be it known, then, to honest JOHN BULL, that this humble domestic is expected by the cook to take the entire management of all ROASTS, BOILS, FISH, and VEGETABLES; i. e. the principal part of an Englishman's dinner. The master, who wishes to enjoy the rare luxury of a table regularly well served in the best style, must treat his cook as his friend--watch over her health[26-*] with the tenderest care, and especially be sure her taste does not suffer from her stomach being deranged by bilious attacks. Besides understanding the management of the spit, the stewpan, and the rolling-pin, a COMPLETE COOK must know how to go to market, write legibly, and keep accounts accurately. In well-regulated private families the most convenient custom seems to be, that the cook keep a house-book, containing an account of the miscellaneous articles she purchases; and the butcher's, baker's, butterman's, green-grocer's, fishmonger's, milkman's, and washing bills are brought in every Monday; these it is the duty of the cook to examine, before she presents them to her employer every Tuesday morning to be discharged. The advantage of paying such bills weekly is incalculable: among others the constant check it affords against any excess beyond the sum allotted for defraying them, and the opportunity it gives of correcting increase of expense in one week by a prudent retrenchment in the next. "If you would live _even_ with the world, calculate your expenses at _half_ your income--if you would grow _rich_, at _one-third_." It is an excellent plan to have a table of rules for regulating the ordinary expenses of the family, in order to check any innovation or excess which otherwise might be introduced unawares, and derange the proposed distribution of the annual revenue. To understand the economy of household affairs is not only essential to a woman's proper and pleasant performance of the duties of a wife and a mother, but is indispensable to the comfort, respectability, and general welfare of all families, whatever be their circumstances. The editor has employed some leisure hours in collecting practical hints for instructing inexperienced housekeepers in the useful _Art of providing comfortably for a family;_ which is displayed so plainly and so particularly, that a young lady may learn the delectable arcana of domestic affairs, in as little time as is usually devoted to directing the position of her hands on a _piano-forte_, or of her feet in a _quadrille_--this will enable her to make the cage of matrimony as comfortable as the net of courtship was charming. For this purpose he has contrived a Housekeeper's Leger, a plain and easy plan of keeping accurate accounts of the expenses of housekeeping, which, with only one hour's attention in a week, will enable you to balance all such accounts with the utmost exactness; an acceptable acquisition to all who admit that order and economy are the basis of comfort and independence. It is almost impossible for a cook in a large family, to attend to the business of the kitchen with any certainty of perfection, if employed in other household concerns. It is a service of such importance, and so difficult to perform even tolerably well, that it is sufficient to engross the entire attention of one person. "If we take a review of the qualifications which are indispensable in that highly estimable domestic, a GOOD COOK, we shall find that very few deserve that name."[27-*] "The majority of those who set up for professors of this art are of mean ability, selfish, and pilfering every thing they can; others are indolent and insolent. Those who really understand their business (which are by far the smallest number), are too often either ridiculously saucy, or insatiably thirsty; in a word, a good subject of this class is a _rara avis_ indeed!" "God sends meat,"--who sends cooks?[28-*] the proverb has long saved us the trouble of guessing. Vide _Almanach des Gourmands_, p. 83. Of what value then is not this book, which will render every person of common sense a good cook in as little time as it can be read through attentively! If the masters and mistresses of families will sometimes condescend to make an amusement of this art, they will escape numberless disappointments, &c. which those who will not, must occasionally inevitably suffer, to the detriment of both their health and their fortune. I did not presume to offer any observations of my own, till I had read all that I could find written on the subject, and submitted (with no small pains) to a patient and attentive consideration of every preceding work, relating to culinary concerns, that I could meet with. These books vary very little from each other; except in the preface, they are "Like in all else as one egg to another." "_Ab uno, disce omnes_," cutting and pasting have been much oftener employed than the pen and ink: any one who has occasion to refer to two or three of them, will find the receipts almost always "_verbatim et literatim_;" equally unintelligible to those who are ignorant, and useless to those who are acquainted with the business of the kitchen. I have perused not fewer than 250 of these volumes. During the Herculean labour of my tedious progress through these books, few of which afford the germ of a single idea, I have often wished that the authors of them had been satisfied with giving us the results of their own practice and experience, instead of idly perpetuating the errors, prejudices, and plagiarisms of their predecessors; the strange, and unaccountable, and uselessly extravagant farragoes and heterogeneous compositions which fill their pages, are combinations no rational being would ever think of either dressing or eating; and without ascertaining the practicability of preparing the receipts, and their fitness for food when done, they should never have ventured to recommend them to others: the reader of them will often put the same _quære_, as _Jeremy_, in Congreve's comedy of "_Love for Love_," when _Valentine_ observes, "There's a page doubled down in Epictetus that is a feast for an emperor.--_Jer._ Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?" Half of the modern cookery books are made up with pages cut out of obsolete works, such as the "Choice Manual of Secrets," the "True Gentlewoman's Delight," &c. of as much use, in this age of refinement, as the following curious passage from "The Accomplished Lady's Rich Closet of Rarities, or Ingenious Gentlewoman's Delightful Companion," 12mo. London, 1653, chapter 7, page 42; which I have inserted in a note,[29-*] to give the reader a notion of the barbarous manners of the 16th century, with the addition of the arts of the confectioner, the brewer, the baker, the distiller, the gardener, the clear-starcher, and the perfumer, and how to make pickles, puff paste, butter, blacking, &c. together with my _Lady Bountiful's_ sovereign remedy for an inward bruise, and other ever-failing nostrums,--_Dr. Killemquick's_ wonder-working essence, and fallible elixir, which cures all manner of incurable maladies directly minute, _Mrs. Notable's_ instructions how to make soft pomatum, that will soon make more hair grow upon thy head, "than Dobbin, thy thill-horse, hath upon his tail," and many others equally invaluable!!!--the proper appellation for which would be "a dangerous budget of vulgar errors," concluding with a bundle of extracts from "the Gardener's Calendar," and "the Publican's Daily Companion." Thomas Carter, in the preface to his "City and Country Cook," London, 1738, says, "What I have published is almost the only book, one or two excepted, which of late years has come into the world, that has been the result of the author's own practice and experience; for though very few eminent practical cooks have ever cared to publish what they knew of the art, yet they have been prevailed on, for a small premium from a bookseller, to lend their names to performances in this art unworthy their owning." Robert May, in the introduction to his "Accomplished Cook," 1665, says, "To all honest and well-intending persons of my profession, and others, this book cannot but be acceptable, as it plainly and profitably discovers the mystery of the whole art; for which, though I may be envied by some, that only value their private interests above posterity and the public good; yet (he adds), God and my own conscience would not permit me to bury these, my experiences, with my silver hairs in the grave." Those high and mighty masters and mistresses of the alimentary art, who call themselves "_profess_" cooks, are said to be very jealous and mysterious beings; and that if, in a long life of laborious stove-work, they have found out a few useful secrets, they seldom impart to the public the fruits of their experience; but sooner than divulge their discoveries for the benefit and comfort of their fellow-creatures, these silly, selfish beings will rather run the risk of a reprimand from their employers, and will sooner spoil a good dinner, than suffer their fellow-servants to see how they dress it!!! The silly selfishness of short-sighted mortals, is never more extremely absurd than in their unprofitable parsimony of what is of no use to them, but would be of actual value to others, who, in return, would willingly repay them tenfold. However, I hope I may be permitted to quote, in defence of these culinary professors, a couple of lines of a favourite old song: "If you search the world round, each profession, you'll find, Hath some snug little secrets, which the Mystery[30-*] they call." MY RECEIPTS are the results of experiments carefully made, and accurately and circumstantially related; The TIME requisite for dressing being stated; The QUANTITIES of the various articles contained in each composition being carefully set down in NUMBER, WEIGHT, and MEASURE. The WEIGHTS are _avoirdupois_; the MEASURE, _Lyne's_ graduated glass, i. e. a wine-pint divided into sixteen ounces, and the ounce into eight drachms. By a _wine-glass_ is to be understood two ounces liquid measure; by a large or _table-spoonful_, half an ounce; by a small or _tea-spoonful_, a drachm, or half a quarter of an ounce, i. e. nearly equal to two drachms avoirdupois. At some glass warehouses, you may get measures divided into tea and table-spoons. No cook should be without one, who wishes to be regular in her business. This precision has never before been attempted in cookery books, but I found it indispensable from the impossibility of _guessing_ the quantities intended by such obscure expressions as have been usually employed for this purpose in former works:-- For instance: a bit of this--a handful of that--a pinch of t'other--do 'em over with an egg--and a sprinkle of salt--a dust of flour--a shake of pepper--a squeeze of lemon,--or a dash of vinegar, &c. are the constant phrases. Season it to your palate, (meaning the cook's,) is another form of speech: now, if she has any, (it is very unlikely that it is in unison with that of her employers,) by continually sipping _piquante_ relishes, it becomes blunted and insensible, and loses the faculty of appreciating delicate flavours, so that every thing is done at random. These culinary technicals are so very differently understood by the learned who write them, and the unlearned who read them, and their "_rule of thumb_" is so extremely indefinite, that if the same dish be dressed by different persons, it will generally be so different, that nobody would imagine they had worked from the same directions, which will assist a person who has not served a regular apprenticeship in the kitchen, no more than reading "Robinson Crusoe" would enable a sailor to steer safely from England to India.[32-*] It is astonishing how cheap _cookery books_ are held by practical cooks: when I applied to an experienced artist to recommend me some books that would give me a notion of the rudiments of cookery, he replied, with a smile, "You may read _Don Quixote_, or _Peregrine Pickle_, they are both very good books." Careless expressions in cookery are the more surprising, as the confectioner is regularly attentive, in the description of his preparations, to give the exact quantities, though his business, compared to cookery, is as unimportant as the ornamental is inferior to the useful. The maker of blanc-mange, custards, &c. and the endless and useless collection of puerile playthings for the palate (of first and second childhood, for the vigour of manhood seeketh not to be sucking sugar, or sipping turtle), is scrupulously exact, even to a grain, in his ingredients; while cooks are unintelligibly indefinite, although they are intrusted with the administration of our FOOD, upon the proper quality and preparation of which, all our powers of body and mind depend; their energy being invariably in the ratio of the performance of the restorative process, i. e. the quantity, quality, and perfect digestion of what we eat and drink. Unless _the stomach_ be in good humour, every part of the machinery of _life_ must vibrate with languor: can we then be too attentive to its adjustment?!! CULINARY CURIOSITIES. The following specimen of the unaccountably whimsical harlequinade of foreign kitchens is from "La Chapelle" Nouveau Cuisinier, Paris, 1748. "A turkey," in the shape of "_football_," or "_a hedge-hog_." A "shoulder of mutton," in the shape of a "_bee-hive_."--"Entrée of pigeons," in the form of a "_spider_," or _sun_-fashion, or "in the form of a _frog_," or, in "the form of the _moon_."--Or, "to make a pig taste like a wild boar;" take _a living pig_, and _let him_ swallow the following drink, viz. boil together in vinegar and water, some rosemary, thyme, sweet basil, bay leaves, and sage; when you have _let him_ swallow this, _immediately whip him to death_, and roast him forthwith. How "to still a cocke for a weak bodie that is consumed,--take a red cocke that is not too olde, and beat him to death."--See THE BOOKE OF COOKRYE, very necessary for all such as delight therein. Gathered by A. W., 1591, p. 12. How to ROAST _a pound of_ BUTTER, curiously and well; and to _farce_ (the culinary technical for _to stuff_) a boiled leg of lamb with red herrings and garlic; with many other receipts of as high a relish, and of as easy digestion as the _devil's venison_, i. e. a roasted tiger stuffed with tenpenny nails, or the "_Bonne Bouche_," the rareskin Rowskimowmowsky offered to Baron Munchausen, "a fricassee of pistols, with gunpowder and alcohol sauce."--See the _Adventures of Baron Munchausen_, 12mo. 1792, p. 200; and _the horrible but authentic account of_ ARDESOIF, in MOUBRAY'S _Treatise on Poultry_, 8vo. 1816, p. 18. But the most extraordinary of all the culinary receipts that have been under my eye, is the following diabolically cruel directions of Mizald, "_how to roast and eat a goose alive_." "Take a GOOSE or a DUCK, or some such _lively creature_, (but a goose is best of all for this purpose,) pull off all her feathers, only the head and neck must be spared: then make a fire round about her, not too close to her, that the smoke do not choke her, and that the fire may not burn her too soon; nor too far off, that she may not escape free: within the circle of the fire let there be set small cups and pots full of water, wherein salt and honey are mingled: and let there be set also chargers full of sodden apples, cut into small pieces in the dish. The goose must be all larded, and basted over with butter, to make her the more fit to be eaten, and may roast the better: put then fire about her, but do not make too much haste, when as you see her begin to roast; for by walking about, and flying here and there, being cooped in by the fire that stops her way out, the unwearied goose is kept in; she will fall to drink the water to quench her thirst and cool her heart, and all her body, and the apple-sauce will make her dung, and cleanse and empty her. And when she roasteth, and consumes inwardly, always wet her head and heart with a wet sponge; and when you see her giddy with running, and begin to stumble, her heart wants moisture, and she is roasted enough. Take her up, set her before your guests, and she will cry as you cut off any part from her, and will be almost eaten up before she be dead; it is mighty pleasant to behold!!"--See WECKER'S _Secrets of Nature_, in folio, London, 1660, p. 148. 309.[33-*] "We suppose Mr. Mizald stole this receipt from the kitchen of his infernal majesty; probably it might have been one of the dishes the devil ordered when he invited Nero and Caligula to a feast."--_A. C., Jun._ This is also related in BAPTISTA PORTA'S _Natural Magicke_, fol. 1658, p. 321. This very curious (but not scarce) book contains, among other strange tricks and fancies of "the Olden Time," directions, "_how to_ ROAST _and_ BOIL _a fowl at the same time, so that one-half shall be_ ROASTED _and the other_ BOILED;" and "_if you have a lacke of cooks, how to persuade a goose to roast himselfe_!!"--See a second act of the above tragedy in page 80 of the Gentleman's Magazine for January, 1809. Many articles were in vogue in the 14th century, which are now obsolete. We add the following specimens of the CULINARY AFFAIRS OF DAYS OF YORE. _Sauce for a goose, A.D. 1381._ "Take a faire panne, and set hit under the goose whill she rostes; and kepe clene the grese that droppes thereof, and put thereto a godele (good deal) of Wyn, and a litel vinegur, and verjus, and onyons mynced, or garlek; then take the gottes (gut) of the goose and slitte hom, and scrape hom clene in water and salt, and so wash hom, and hack hom small, then do all this togedur in a piffenet (pipkin), and do thereto raisinges of corance, and pouder of pepur and of ginger, and of canell and hole clowes and maces, and let hit boyle and serve hit forthe." "That unwieldy marine animal the PORPUS was dressed in a variety of modes, salted, roasted, stewed, &c. Our ancestors were not singular in their partiality to it; I find, from an ingenious friend of mine, that it is even now, A. D. 1790, sold in the markets of most towns in Portugal; the flesh of it is intolerably hard and rancid."--WARNER'S _Antiq. Cul._ 4to. p. 15. "The SWAN[33-+] was also a dish of state, and in high fashion when the elegance of the feast was estimated by the magnitude of the articles of which it was composed; the number consumed at the Earl of Northumberland's table, A. D. 1512, amounted to twenty."--_Northumberland Household-book_, p. 108. "The CRANE was a darling dainty in _William the Conqueror's_ time, and so partial was that monarch to it, that when his prime favourite, William Fitz-Osborne, the steward of the household, served him with a crane scarcely half roasted, the king was so highly exasperated, that he lifted up his fist, and would have strucken him, had not _Eudo_ (appointed _Dapifer_ immediately after) warded off the blow."--WARNER'S _Antiq. Cul._ p. 12. SEALS, CURLEWS, HERONS, BITTERNS, and the PEACOCK, that noble bird, "the food of lovers and the meat of lords," were also at this time in high fashion, when the baronial entertainments were characterized by a grandeur and pompous ceremonial, approaching nearly to the magnificence of royalty; there was scarcely any royal or noble feast without PECOKKES, which were stuffed with spices and sweet herbs, roasted and served up whole, and covered after dressing with the skin and feathers; the beak and comb gilt, and the tail spread, and some, instead of the feathers, covered it with leaf gold; it was a common dish on grand occasions, and continued to adorn the English table till the beginning of the seventeenth century. In Massinger's play of "The City Madam," Holdfast, exclaiming against city luxury, says, "three fat wethers bruised, to make sauce for a single peacock." This bird is one of those luxuries which were often sought, because they were seldom found: its scarcity and external appearance are its only recommendation; the meat of it is tough and tasteless. Another favourite dish at the tables of our forefathers, was a PIE of stupendous magnitude, out of which, on its being opened, a flock of living birds flew forth, to the no small surprise and amusement of the guests. "Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie; When the pie was open'd, the birds began to sing-- Oh! what a dainty dish--'t is fit for any king." This was a common joke at an old English feast. These _animated_ pies were often introduced "to set on," as Hamlet says, "a quantity of barren spectators to laugh;" there is an instance of a dwarf undergoing such an _incrustation_. About the year 1630, king Charles and his queen were entertained by the duke and dutchess of Buckingham, at Burleigh on the Hill, on which occasion JEFFERY HUDSON, _the dwarf_, was served up in a cold pie.--See WALPOLE'S _Anecdotes of Painting_, vol. ii. p. 14. The BARON OF BEEF was another favourite and substantial support of old English hospitality. Among the most polished nations of the 15th and 16th centuries, the _powdered_ (salted) _horse_, seems to have been a dish in some esteem: _Grimalkin_ herself could not escape the undistinguishing fury of the cook. Don Anthony of Guevera, the chronicler to Charles V., gives the following account of a feast at which he was present. "I will tell you no lye, I sawe such kindes of meates eaten, as are wont to be sene, but not eaten--_as a_ HORSE _roasted_--a CAT _in gely_--LYZARDS in hot brothe, FROGGES fried," &c. While we are thus considering the curious dishes of olden times, we will cursorily mention the _singular diet_ of two or three nations of antiquity, noticed by _Herodotus_, lib. iv. "The _Androphagi_ (the cannibals of the ancient world) greedily devoured the carcasses of their fellow-creatures; while the inoffensive _Cabri_ (a Scythian tribe) found both food and drink in the agreeable nut of the Pontic tree. The _Lotophagi_ lived entirely on the fruit of the _Lotus tree_. The savage _Troglodyte_ esteemed a _living serpent_ the most delicate of all morsels; while the capricious palate of the _Zyguntini_ preferred the _ape_ to every thing."--Vide WARNER'S _Antiq. Cul._ p. 135. "The Romans, in the luxurious period of their empire, took five meals a day; a breakfast (_jentaculum_;) a dinner, which was a light meal without any formal preparation (_prandium_); a kind of _tea_, as we should call it, between dinner and supper (_merenda_); a supper (_cæna_), which was their great meal, and commonly consisted of two courses; the first of meats, the second, what we call a dessert; and a posset, or something delicious after supper (_commissatio_)."--ADAM'S _Rom. Antiq._ 2d edition, 8vo. 1792, p. 434 and 447. "The Romans usually began their entertainments with eggs, and ended with fruits; hence, AB OVO USQUE AD MALA, from the beginning to the end of supper, _Horat. Sat._ i. 3. 6; _Cic. Fam._ ix. 20. "The dishes (_edulia_) held in the highest estimation by the Romans, are enumerated, _Gell._ vii. 16, _Macrob. Sat._ ii. 9, _Martial._ v. 79, ix. 48, xi. 53, &c., a peacock (PAVO), _Horat. Sat._ ii. 2. 23, _Juvenal._ i. 143, first used by Hortensius, the orator, at a supper, which he gave when admitted into the college of priests, (_aditiali cænd sacerdotii_,) Plin. x. 20, s. 23; a pheasant, (PHASIANA, _ex_ Phasi. _Colchidis fluvio_,) Martial. iii. 58, xiii. 72, Senec. ad Helv. 9, Petron. 79, Manil. v. 372; a bird called _Attagen_ vel-_ena_, from Ionia or Phrygia, _Horat. Epod._ ii. 54, _Martial._ xiii. iii. 61, a guinea-hen, (_avis Afra_, Horat. ib. _Gallina Numidica_ vel _Africana_, Juvenal, xi. 142, Martial, xiii. 73); a Melian crane; an Ambracian kid; nightingales, _lusciniæ_; thrushes, _turdi_; ducks, geese, &c. TOMACULUM, (~a temnô~,) _vel_ ISICIUM, (ab _inseco_;) sausages or puddings, _Juvenal._ x. 355. _Martial._ 42. 9, _Petron._ 31."--Vide _ibid._ p. 447. That the English reader may be enabled to form some idea of the heterogeneous messes with which the Roman palate was delighted, I introduce the following receipt from _Apicius_. "THICK SAUCE FOR A BOILED CHICKEN.--Put the following ingredients into a mortar: aniseed, dried mint, and lazar-root (similar to assafoetida), cover them with vinegar; add dates; pour in liquamen, oil, and a small quantity of mustard seeds; reduce all to a proper thickness with port wine warmed; and then pour this same over your chicken, which should previously be boiled in anise-seed water." _Liquamen_ and _Garum_ were synonymous terms for the same thing; the former adopted in the room of the latter, about the age of _Aurelian_. It was a liquid, and thus prepared: the _guts_ of large fish, and a variety of small fish, were put into a vessel and well salted, and exposed to the sun till they became putrid. A liquor was produced in a short time, which being strained off, was the _liquamen_.--Vide LISTER _in Apicium_, p. 16, notes. _Essence of anchovy_, as it is usually made for sale, when it has been opened about ten days, is not much unlike the Roman _liquamen_. See No. 433. Some suppose it was the same thing as the Russian _Caviar_, which is prepared from the roe of the sturgeon. The BLACK BROTH of _Lacedæmon_ will long continue to excite the wonder of the philosopher, and the disgust of the epicure. What the ingredients of this sable composition were, we cannot exactly ascertain. _Jul. Pollux_ says, the Lacedæmonian black broth was _blood_, thickened in a certain way: Dr. LISTER (_in Apicium_) supposes it to have been _hog's blood_; if so, this celebrated Spartan dish bore no very distant resemblance to the _black-puddings_ of our days. It could not be a very _alluring_ mess, since a citizen of _Sybaris_ having tasted it, declared it was no longer a matter of astonishment with him, why the _Spartans_ were so fearless of death, since any one in his senses would much rather die, than exist on such execrable food.--Vide _Athenæum_, lib. iv. c. 3. When Dionysius the tyrant had tasted the _black broth_, he exclaimed against it as miserable stuff; the cook replied--"It was no wonder, for the sauce was wanting." "What sauce?" says Dionysius. The answer was,--"_Labour and exercise, hunger and thirst, these are the sauces we Lacedæmonians use_," and they make the coarsest fare agreeable.--CICERO, 3 Tuscul. FOOTNOTES: [15-*] "The STOMACH is the grand organ of the human system, upon the state of which all the powers and feelings of the individual depend."--_See_ HUNTER'S _Culina_, p. 13. "The faculty the stomach has of communicating the impressions made by the various substances that are put into it, is such, that it seems more like a nervous expansion of the brain, than a mere receptacle for food."--Dr. WATERHOUSE'S _Lecture on Health_, p. 4. [17-*] I wish most heartily that the restorative process was performed by us poor mortals in as easy and simple a manner as it is in "_the cooking animals in the moon_," who "lose no time at their meals; but open their left side, and place the whole quantity at once in their stomachs, then shut it, till the same day in the next month, for they never indulge themselves with food more than twelve times in a year."--_See_ BARON MUNCHAUSEN'S _Travels_, p. 188. Pleasing the palate is the main end in most books of cookery, but _it is my aim to blend the toothsome with the wholesome_; but, after all, however the hale gourmand may at first differ from me in opinion, the latter is the chief concern; since if he be even so entirely devoted to the pleasure of eating as to think of no other, still the care of his health becomes part of that; if he is sick he cannot relish his food. "The term _gourmand_, or EPICURE, has been strangely perverted; it has been conceived synonymous with a glutton, '_né pour la digestion_,' who will eat as long as he can sit, and drink longer than he can stand, nor leave his cup while he can lift it; or like the great eater of Kent whom FULLER places among his worthies, and tells us that he did eat with ease _thirty dozens of pigeons_ at one meal; at another, _fourscore rabbits_ and _eighteen yards of black pudding_, London measure!--or a fastidious appetite, only to be excited by fantastic dainties, as the brains of _peacocks_ or _parrots_, the tongues of _thrushes_ or _nightingales_, or the teats of a lactiferous _sow_. "In the acceptation which I give to the term EPICURE, it means only the person who has good sense and good taste enough to wish to have his food cooked according to scientific principles; that is to say, so prepared that the palate be not offended--that it be rendered easy of solution in the stomach, and ultimately contribute to health; exciting him as an animal to the vigorous enjoyment of those recreations and duties, physical and intellectual, which constitute the happiness and dignity of his nature." For this illustration I am indebted to my scientific friend _Apicius Cælius, Jun._, with whose erudite observations several pages of this work are enriched, to which I have affixed the signature _A. C., Jun._ [18-*] "Although AIR is more immediately necessary to life than FOOD, the knowledge of the latter seems of more importance; it admits certainly of great variety, and a choice is more frequently in our power. A very spare and simple diet has commonly been recommended as most conducive to health; but it would be more beneficial to mankind if we could show them that a pleasant and varied diet was equally consistent with health, as the very strict regimen of Arnard, or the miller of Essex. These, and other abstemious people, who, having experienced the greatest extremities of bad health, were driven to temperance as their last resource, may run out in praises of a simple diet; but the probability is, that nothing but the dread of former sufferings could have given them the resolution to persevere in so strict a course of abstinence, which persons who are in health and have no such apprehension could not be induced to undertake, or, if they did, would not long continue. "In all cases, great allowance must be made for the weakness of human nature: the desires and appetites of mankind must, to a certain degree, be gratified, and the man who wishes to be most useful will imitate the indulgent parent, who, while he endeavours to promote the true interests of his children, allows them the full enjoyment of all those innocent pleasures which they take delight in. If it could be pointed out to mankind that some articles used as food were hurtful, while others were in their nature innocent, and that the latter were numerous, various, and pleasant, they might, perhaps, be induced to forego those which were hurtful, and confine themselves to those which were innocent."--_See_ Dr. STARK'S _Experiments on Diet_, pp. 89 and 90. [19-*] See a curious account in COURS GASTRONOMIQUE, p. 145, and in Anacharsis' Travels, Robinson, 1796, vol. ii. p. 58, and _Obs._ and note under No. 493. [19-+] See the 2d, 3d, and 4th pages of Sir WM. TEMPLE'S _Essay on the Cure of the Gout by Moxa_. [20-*] "He that would have a _clear head_, must have a _clean stomach_."--Dr. CHEYNE _on Health_, 8vo. 1724, p. 34. "It is sufficiently manifest how much uncomfortable feelings of the bowels affect the nervous system, and how immediately and completely the general disorder is relieved by an alvine evacuation."--p. 53. "We cannot reasonably expect tranquillity of the nervous system, while there is disorder of the digestive organs. As we can perceive no permanent source of strength but from the digestion of our food, it becomes important on this account that we should attend to its quantity, quality, and the periods of taking it, with a view to ensure its proper digestion."--ABERNETHY'S _Sur. Obs._ 8vo. 1817, p. 65. [20-+] "If science can really contribute to the happiness of mankind, it must be in this department; the real comfort of the majority of men in this country is sought for at their own fireside; how desirable does it then become to give every inducement to be at home, by directing all the means of philosophy to increase domestic happiness!"--SYLVESTER'S _Philosophy of Domestic Economy_, 4to. 1819, p. 17. [20-++] The best books of cookery have been written by physicians.--Sir KENELME DIGBY--Sir THEODORE MAYERNE.--See the last quarter of page 304 of vol. x. of the _Phil. Trans._ for 1675.--Professor BRADLEY--Dr. HILL--Dr. LE COINTE--Dr. HUNTER, &c. "To understand the THEORY OF COOKERY, we must attend to the action of heat upon the various constituents of alimentary substances as applied directly and indirectly through the medium of some fluid, in the former way as exemplified." In the processes of ROASTING and BOILING, the chief constituents of animal substances undergo the following changes--the _fibrine_ is corrugated, the _albumen_ coagulated, the _gelatine_ and _osmazome_ rendered more soluble in water, the _fat_ liquefied, and the _water_ evaporated. "If the heat exceed a certain degree, the surface becomes first brown, and then scorched. In consequence of these changes, the muscular fibre becomes opaque, shorter, firmer, and drier; the tendons less opaque, softer, and gluey; the fat is either melted out, or rendered semi-transparent. Animal fluids become more transparent: the albumen is coagulated and separated, and they dissolve gelatine and osmazome. "Lastly, and what is the most important change, and the immediate object of all cookery, the meat loses the vapid nauseous smell and taste peculiar to its raw state, and it becomes savoury and grateful. "Heat applied through the intervention of boiling oil, or melted fat, as in FRYING, produces nearly the same changes; as the heat is sufficient to evaporate the water, and to induce a degree of scorching. "But when water is the medium through which heat is applied--as in BOILING, STEWING, and BAKING, the effects are somewhat different, as the heat never exceeds 212°, which is not sufficient to commence the process of browning or decomposition, and the soluble constituents are removed by being dissolved in the water, forming soup or broth; or, if the direct contact of the water be prevented, they are dissolved in the juices of the meat, and separate in the form of gravy." Vide Supplement to _Encyclop. Brit. Edin._ vol. iv. p. 344, the article "FOOD," to which we refer our reader as the most scientific paper on the subject we have seen. [21-*] "Health, beauty, strength, and spirits, and I might add all the faculties of the mind, depend upon the organs of the body; when these are in good order, the thinking part is most alert and active, the contrary when they are disturbed or diseased."--Dr. CADOGAN _on Nursing Children_, 8vo. 1757, p. 5. [22-*] "We have some good families in England of the name of _Cook_ or _Coke_. I know not what they may think; but they may depend upon it, they all originally sprang from real and professional cooks; and they need not be ashamed of their extraction, any more than the _Parkers, Butlers, &c._"--Dr. PEGGE'S _Forme of Cury_, p. 162. [22-+] It is said, there are SEVEN _chances against even the most simple dish being presented to the mouth in absolute perfection_; for instance, A LEG OF MUTTON. 1st.--The mutton must be _good_. 2d.--Must have been kept a _good_ time. 3d.--Must be roasted at a _good_ fire. 4th.--By a _good_ cook. 5th.--Who must be in _good_ temper. 6th.--With all this felicitous combination you must have _good_ luck; and, 7th.--_Good_ appetite.--The meat, and the mouths which are to eat it, must be ready for action at the same moment. [23-*] To guard against "_la gourmandise_" of the second table, "provide each of your servants with a large pair of spectacles of the highest magnifying power, and never permit them to sit down to any meal without wearing them; they are as necessary, and as useful in a kitchen as pots and kettles: they will make a _lark_ look as large as a FOWL, a _goose_ as big as a SWAN, a leg of mutton as large as a hind quarter of beef; a twopenny loaf as large as a quartern;" and as philosophers assure you that pain even is only imaginary, we may justly believe the same of hunger; and if a servant who eats no more than one pound of food, imagines, by the aid of these glasses, that he has eaten three pounds, his hunger will be as fully satisfied--and the addition to your optician's account, will soon be overpaid by the subtraction from your butcher's and baker's. [25-*] Much real reformation might be effected, and most grateful services obtained, if families which consist wholly of females, would take servants recommended from the MAGDALEN--PENITENTIARY--or GUARDIAN--who seek to be restored to virtuous society. "_Female servants_ who pursue an honest course, have to travel, in their peculiar orbit, through a more powerfully resisting medium than perhaps any other class of people in civilized life; they should be treated with something like Christian kindness: for want of this, a fault which might at the time have been easily amended has become the source of interminable sorrow." "By the clemency and benevolent interference of two mistresses known to the writer, two servants have become happy wives, who, had they been in some situations, would have been literally outcasts." A most laudable SOCIETY for the ENCOURAGEMENT of FEMALE SERVANTS, by a gratuitous registry, and by rewards, was instituted in 1813; plans of which may be had _gratis_ at the Society's House, No. 10, Hatton Garden. The above is an extract from the REV. H. G. WATKINS'S _Hints to Heads of Families_, a work well deserving the attentive consideration of inexperienced housekeepers. [26-*] The greatest care should be taken by the man of fashion, that his cook's health be preserved: one hundredth part of the attention usually bestowed on his dog, or his horse, will suffice to regulate her animal system. "Cleanliness, and a proper ventilation to carry off smoke and steam, should be particularly attended to in the construction of a kitchen; the grand scene of action, the fire-place, should be placed where it may receive plenty of light; hitherto the contrary has prevailed, and the poor cook is continually basted with her own perspiration."--_A. C., Jun._ "The most experienced artists in cookery cannot be certain of their work without tasting: they must be incessantly tasting. The spoon of a good cook is continually passing from the stewpan to his tongue; nothing but frequent tasting his sauces, ragoûts, &c. can discover to him what progress they have made, or enable him to season a soup with any certainty of success; his palate, therefore, must be in the highest state of excitability, that the least fault may be perceived in an instant. "But, alas! the constant empyreumatic fumes of the stoves, the necessity of frequent drinking, and often of bad beer, to moisten a parched throat; in short, every thing around him conspires quickly to vitiate the organs of taste; the palate becomes blunted; its quickness of feeling and delicacy, on which the sensibility of the organs of taste depends, grows daily more obtuse; and in a short time the gustatory nerve becomes quite unexcitable. "IF YOU FIND YOUR COOK NEGLECT HIS BUSINESS--that his _ragoûts_ are too highly spiced or salted, and his cookery has too much of the '_haut goût_,' you may be sure that _his index of taste_ wants regulating; his palate has lost its sensibility, and it is high time to call in the assistance of the apothecary. "'_Purger souvent_' is the grand maxim in all kitchens where _le Maître d'Hôtel_ has any regard for the reputation of his table. _Les Bons Hommes de Bouche_ submit to the operation without a murmur; to bind others, it should be made the first condition in hiring them. Those who refuse, prove they were not born to become masters of their art; and their indifference to fame will rank them, as they deserve, among those slaves who pass their lives in as much obscurity as their own stewpans." To the preceding observations from the "_Almanach des Gourmands_," we may add, that the _Mouthician_ will have a still better chance of success, if he can prevail on his master to observe the same _régime_ which he orders for his cook; or, instead of endeavouring to awaken an idle appetite by reading the index to a cookery book, or an additional use of the pepper-box and salt-cellar, rather seek it from abstinence or exercise;--the philosophical _gourmand_ will consider that the edge of our appetite is generally keen, in proportion to the activity of our other habits; let him attentively peruse our "PEPTIC PRECEPTS," &c. which briefly explain the art of refreshing the gustatory nerves, and of invigorating the whole system. See in the following chapter on INVITATIONS TO DINNER--A recipe to make FORTY PERISTALTIC PERSUADERS. [27-*] "She must be quick and strong of sight; her hearing most acute, that she may be sensible when the contents of her vessels bubble, although they be closely covered, and that she may be alarmed before the pot boils over; her auditory nerve ought to discriminate (when several saucepans are in operation at the same time) the simmering of one, the ebullition of another, and the full-toned wabbling of a third. "It is imperiously requisite that her organ of smell be highly susceptible of the various effluvia, that her nose may distinguish the perfection of aromatic ingredients, and that in animal substances it shall evince a suspicious accuracy between tenderness and putrefaction; above all, her olfactories should be tremblingly alive to mustiness and empyreuma. "It is from the exquisite sensibility of her palate, that we admire and judge of the cook; from the alliance between the olfactory and sapid organs, it will be seen that their perfection is indispensable."--_A. C., Jun._ [28-*] A facetious _gourmand_ suggests that the old story of "lighting a candle to the devil," probably arose from this adage--and was an offering presented to his infernal majesty by some epicure who was in want of a cook. [29-*] "A gentlewoman being at table, abroad or at home, must observe to keep her body straight, and lean not by any means with her elbows, nor by ravenous gesture discover a voracious appetite: talk not when you have _meat_ in your _mouth_; and do not smack like _a pig_, nor venture to eat _spoonmeat_ so hot that the tears stand in your eyes, which is as unseemly as the _gentlewoman_ who pretended to have as little a _stomach_ as she had a _mouth_, and therefore would not swallow her _pease_ by spoonfuls; but took them one by one, and cut them in two before she would eat them. It is very uncomely to drink so large a _draught_ that your _breath_ is almost gone--and are forced to blow strongly to recover yourself--throwing down your _liquor_ as into a _funnel_ is an action fitter for a juggler than a _gentlewoman_: thus much for your observations in general; if I am defective as to particulars, your own _prudence, discretion, and curious observations_ will supply." "In CARVING at your own _table_, distribute the best pieces first, and it will appear very comely and decent to use a _fork_; so touch no piece of _meat_ without it." "_Mem._ The English are indebted to TOM CORYAT for introducing THE FORK, for which they called him _Furcifer_."--See his _Crudities_, vol. i. p. 106.--Edit. 1776, 8vo. [30-*] "Almost all arts and sciences are more or less encumbered with vulgar errors and prejudices, which avarice and ignorance have unfortunately sufficient influence to preserve, by help (or hindrance) of mysterious, undefinable, and not seldom unintelligible, technical terms--Anglicè, nicknames--which, instead of enlightening the subject it is professedly pretended they were invented to illuminate, serve but to shroud it in almost impenetrable obscurity; and, in general, so extravagantly fond are the professors of an art of keeping up all the pomp, circumstance, and mystery of it, and of preserving the accumulated prejudices of ages past undiminished, that one might fairly suppose those who have had the courage and perseverance to overcome these obstacles, and penetrate the veil of science, were delighted with placing difficulties in the way of those who may attempt to follow them, on purpose to deter them from the pursuit, and that they cannot bear others should climb the hill of knowledge by a readier road than they themselves did: and such is _l'esprit de corps_, that as their predecessors supported themselves by serving it out _gradatim et stillatim_, and retailing with a sparing hand the information they so hardly obtained, they find it convenient to follow their example: and, willing to do as they have been done by, leave and bequeath the inheritance undiminished to those who may succeed them."--See p. 10 of Dr. KITCHINER _on Telescopes_, 12mo. 1825, printed for Whittaker, Ave Maria Lane. [32-*] "In the present language of cookery, there has been a woful departure from the simplicity of our ancestors,--such a farrago of unappropriate and unmeaning terms, many corrupted from the French, others disguised from the Italian, some misapplied from the German, while many are a disgrace to the English. What can any person suppose to be the meaning of _a shoulder of lamb in epigram_, unless it were a poor dish, for a pennyless poet? _Aspect of fish_, would appear calculated for an astrologer; and _shoulder of mutton surprised_, designed for a sheep-stealer."--_A. C., Jun._ [33-*] See note to No. 59 how to plump the liver of a goose. [33-+] "It is a curious illustration of the _de gustibus non eat disputandum_, that the ancients considered the _swan_ as a high delicacy, and abstained from the flesh of the _goose_ as impure and indigestible."--MOUBRAY _on Poultry_, p. 36. INVITATIONS TO DINNER In "the affairs of the mouth" the strictest punctuality is indispensable; the GASTRONOMER ought to be as accurate an observer of time, as the ASTRONOMER. The least delay produces fatal and irreparable misfortunes. Almost all other ceremonies and civil duties may be put off for several hours without much inconvenience, and all may be postponed without absolute danger. A little delay may try the patience of those who are waiting; but the act itself will be equally perfect and equally valid. Procrastination sometimes is rather advantageous than prejudicial. It gives time for reflection, and may prevent our taking a step which would have made us miserable for life; the delay of a courier has prevented the conclusion of a convention, the signing of which might have occasioned the ruin of a nation. If, from affairs the most important, we descend to our pleasures and amusements, we shall find new arguments in support of our assertions. The putting off of a rendezvous, or a ball, &c. will make them the more delightful. To _hope_ is to _enjoy_. "Man never is, but always to be blest." The anticipation of pleasure warms our imagination, and keeps those feelings alive, which possession too often extinguishes. "'Tis _expectation_ only makes us blest; _Enjoyment_ disappoints us at the best." Dr. Johnson has most sagaciously said; "Such is the state of life, that none are happy, but by the anticipation of change: the change itself is nothing: when we have made it, the next wish is, immediately to change again." However singular our assertions may have at first appeared to those who have not considered the subject, we hope by this time we have made converts of our readers, and convinced the "_Amateurs de Bonne Chère_" of the truth and importance of our remarks; and that they will remember, that DINNER is the only act of the day which cannot be put off with impunity, for even FIVE MINUTES. In a well-regulated family, all the clocks and watches should agree; on this depends the fate of the dinner; what would be agreeable to the stomach, and restorative to the system, if served at FIVE o'clock, will be uneatable and innutritive and indigestible at A QUARTER PAST. The dining-room should be furnished with a good-going clock; the space over the kitchen fire-place with another, vibrating in unison with the former, so placed, that the cook may keep one eye on the clock, and the other on the spit, &c. She will calculate to a minute the time required to roast a large capon or a little lark, and is equally attentive to the degree of heat of her stove, and the time her sauce remains on it, when to withdraw the bakings from the oven, the roast from the spit, and the stew from the pan. With all our love of punctuality, the first consideration must still be, that the dinner "be well done, when 't is done." It is a common fault with cooks who are anxious about time, to overdress every thing--the guests had better wait than the dinner--a little delay will improve their appetite; but if the dinner waits for the guests, it will be deteriorated every minute: the host who wishes to entertain his friends with food perfectly well dressed, while he most earnestly endeavours to impress on their minds the importance of being punctual to the appointed hour, will still allow his cook a quarter of an hour's grace. The old adage that "the eye is often bigger than the belly," is often verified by the ridiculous vanity of those who wish to make an appearance above their fortune. Nothing can be more ruinous to real comfort than the too common custom of setting out a table, with a parade and a profusion, unsuited not only to the circumstances of the hosts, but to the number of the guests; or more fatal to true hospitality, than the multiplicity of dishes which luxury has made fashionable at the tables of the great, the wealthy, and the ostentatious, who are, often, neither great nor wealthy. Such pompous preparation, instead of being a compliment to our guests, is nothing better than an indirect offence; it is a tacit insinuation, that it is absolutely necessary to provide such delicacies to bribe the depravity of their palates, when we desire the pleasure of their company; and that society now, must be purchased, at the same price SWIFT told POPE he was obliged to pay for it in Ireland. "I should hardly prevail to find one visiter, if I were not able to hire him with a bottle of wine." Vide Swift's letters to Pope, July 10th, 1732. When twice as much cooking is undertaken as there are servants, or conveniences in the kitchen to do it properly, dishes must be dressed long before the dinner hour, and stand by spoiling--the poor cook loses her credit, and the poor guests get indigestions. Why prepare for eight or ten friends, more than sufficient for twenty or thirty visiters? "Enough is as good as a feast," and a prudent provider, who sensibly takes measure of the stomachic, instead of the SILLY ocular, appetite of his guests, may entertain his friends, three times as often, and ten times as well. It is your SENSELESS SECOND COURSES--ridiculous variety of WINES, LIQUEURS, ICES,[38-*] DESSERTS, &c.--which are served up merely to feed the eye, or pamper palled appetite, that _overcome the stomach and paralyze digestion_, and seduce "children of a larger growth" to sacrifice the health and comfort of several days, for the baby-pleasure of tickling their tongue for a few minutes, with trifles and custards!!! &c. &c. "INDIGESTION will sometimes overtake the most experienced epicure; when the gustatory nerves are in good humour, hunger and savoury viands will sometimes seduce the tongue of a '_grand gourmand_' to betray the interests of his stomach in spite of his brains. "On such an unfortunate occasion, when the stomach sends forth eructant[38-+] signals of distress, the _peristaltic persuaders_ are as agreeable and effectual assistance as can be offered; and for delicate constitutions, and those that are impaired by age or intemperance, are a valuable panacea. "They derive, and deserve this name, from the peculiar mildness of their operation. One or two very gently increase the action of the principal viscera, help them to do their work a little faster, and enable the stomach to serve with an ejectment whatever offends it, and move it into the bowels. "Thus _indigestion_ is easily and speedily removed, _appetite_ restored, the mouths of the absorbing vessels being cleansed, _nutrition_ is facilitated, and _strength_ of body, and _energy_ of mind, are the happy results." See "PEPTIC PRECEPTS," from which we extract the following prescription-- To make FORTY PERISTALTIC PERSUADERS, Take Turkey rhubarb, finely pulverized, two drachms, Syrup (by weight), one drachm, Oil of carraway, ten drops (minims), Made into pills, each of which will contain _three grains of rhubarb_. "The DOSE OF THE PERSUADERS must be adapted to the constitutional peculiarity of the patient. When you wish to accelerate or augment the alvine exoneration, take two, three, or more, according to the effect you desire to produce. _Two pills_ will do as much for one person, as _five or six_ will for another: they will generally very regularly perform what you wish to-day, without interfering with what you hope will happen to-morrow; and are therefore as convenient an argument against constipation as any we are acquainted with. "The most convenient opportunity to introduce them to the stomach, is early in the morning, when it is unoccupied, and has no particular business of digestion, &c. to attend to--i. e. at least half an hour before breakfast. Physic must never interrupt the stomach, when it is busy in digesting food. "From two to four persuaders will generally produce one additional motion, within twelve hours. They may be taken at any time by the most delicate females, whose constitutions are so often distressed by constipation, and destroyed by the drastic purgatives they take to relieve it." The cloth[39-*] should be laid in the parlour, and all the paraphernalia of the dinner-table completely arranged, at least half an hour before dinner-time. The cook's labour will be lost, if the parlour-table be not ready for action, and the eaters ready for the eatables, which the least delay will irreparably injure: therefore, the GOURMAND will be punctual for the sake of gratifying his ruling passion; the INVALID, to avoid the danger of encountering an _indigestion_ from eating ill-dressed food; and the RATIONAL EPICURE, who happily attends the banquet with "_mens sana in corpore sano_," will keep the time not only for these strong reasons, but that he may not lose the advantage of being introduced to the other guests. He considers not only what is on the table, but who are around it: his principal inducement to leave his own fireside, is the charm of agreeable and instructive society, and the opportunity of making connexions, which may augment the interest and enjoyment of existence. It is the most pleasing part of the duty of the master of the feast (especially when the guests are not very numerous), to take advantage of these moments to introduce them to one another, naming them individually in an audible voice, and adroitly laying hold of those ties of acquaintanceship or profession which may exist between them. This will much augment the pleasures of the festive board, to which it is indeed as indispensable a prelude, as an overture is to an opera: and the host will thus acquire an additional claim to the gratitude of his guests. We urge this point more strongly, because, from want of attention to it, we have seen more than once persons whom many kindred ties would have drawn closely together, pass an entire day without opening their lips to each other, because they were mutually ignorant of each other's names, professions, and pursuits. To put an end at once to all ceremony as to the order in which the guests are to sit, it will save much time and trouble, if the mistress of the mansion adopts the simple and elegant method of placing the name of each guest in the plate which is intended for him. This proceeding will be of course the result of consideration, and the host will place those together whom he thinks will harmonize best. _Le Journal des Dames_ informs us, that in several fashionable houses in Paris, a new arrangement has been introduced in placing the company at a dinner-table. "The ladies first take their places, leaving intervals for the gentlemen; after being seated, each is desired to call on a gentleman to sit beside her; and thus the lady of the house is relieved from all embarrassment of _étiquette_ as to rank and pretensions," &c. But, without doubt, says the Journalist, this method has its inconveniences. "It may happen that a bashful beauty dare not name the object of her secret wishes; and an acute observer may determine, from a single glance, that the _elected_ is not always the _chosen_." If the party is large, the founders of the feast may sit in the middle of the table, instead of at each end, thus they will enjoy the pleasure of attending equally to all their friends; and being in some degree relieved from the occupation of carving, will have an opportunity of administering all those little attentions which contribute so much to the comfort of their guests. If the GUESTS have any respect for their HOST, or prefer a well-dressed dinner to one that is spoiled, instead of coming half an hour after, they will take care to make their appearance a quarter of an hour before the time appointed. The operations of the cook are governed by the clock; the moment the roasts, &c. are ready, they must go to the table, if they are to be eaten in perfection. An invitation to come at FIVE o'clock seems to be generally understood to mean _six_; FIVE PRECISELY, _half past five_; and NOT LATER THAN FIVE (so that dinner may be on the table within five minutes after, allowing this for the variation of watches), FIVE O'CLOCK EXACTLY. Be it known to all loyal subjects of the empire of good-living, that the COMMITTEE OF TASTE have unanimously resolved, that "an invitation to ETA. BETA. PI. must be in writing, and sent at least ten days before the banquet; and must be answered in writing (as soon as possible after it is received), within twenty-four hours at least," especially if it be not accepted: then, in addition to the usual complimentary expressions of thanks, &c. the best possible reasons must be assigned for the non-acceptance, as a particular pre-engagement, or severe indisposition, &c. Before the bearer of it delivers it, he should ascertain if the person it is directed to is at home; if he is not, when he will be; and if he is not in town, to bring the summons back. Nothing can be more disobliging than a refusal which is not grounded on some very strong and unavoidable cause,--except not coming at the appointed hour;--"according to the laws of conviviality, a certificate from a sheriff's officer, a doctor, or an undertaker, are the only pleas which are admissible. The duties which invitation imposes do not fall only on the persons invited, but, like all other social duties, are reciprocal. "As he who has accepted an invitation cannot disengage himself from it; the master of the feast cannot put off the entertainment on any pretence whatever. Urgent business, sickness, not even death itself, can dispense with the obligation which he is under of giving the entertainment for which he has sent out invitations, which have been accepted; for in the extreme cases of compulsory absence, or death, his place may be filled by his friend or executor."--_Vide le Manuel des Amphitryons_, 8vo. _Paris_, 1808; and _Cours Gastronomique_, 1809; to which the reader is referred for farther instructions. It is the least punishment that a blundering, ill-bred booby can receive, who comes half an hour after the time he was bidden, to find the soup removed, and the fish cold: moreover, for such an offence, let him also be _mulcted_ in a pecuniary penalty, to be applied to the FUND FOR THE BENEFIT OF DECAYED COOKS. This is the least punishment that can be inflicted on one whose silence, or violation of an engagement, tends to paralyze an entertainment, and to draw his friend into useless expense. BOILEAU, the French satirist, has a shrewd observation on this subject. "I have always been punctual at the hour of dinner," says the bard; "for I knew, that all those whom I kept waiting at that provoking interval, would employ those unpleasant moments to sum up all my faults.--BOILEAU is indeed a man of genius, a very honest man; but that dilatory and procrastinating way he has got into, would mar the virtues of an angel." There are some who seldom keep an appointment: we can assure them they as seldom "'scape without whipping," and exciting those murmurs which inevitably proceed from the best-regulated stomachs, when they are empty, and impatient to be filled. The most amiable animals when hungry become ill-tempered: our best friends employ the time they are kept waiting, in recollecting and repeating any real faults we have, and attributing to us a thousand imaginary ones. Ill-bred beings, who indulge their own caprice, regardless how they wound the feelings of others, if they possess brilliant and useful talents, may occasionally be endured as convenient tools; but deceive themselves sadly, even though they possess all the wisdom, and all the wit in the world, if they fancy they can ever be esteemed as friends. Wait for no one: as soon as the clock strikes, say grace, and begin the business of the day, "And good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both." MANNERS MAKE THE MAN. Good manners have often made the fortune of many, who have had nothing else to recommend them: Ill manners have as often marred the hope of those who have had every thing else to advance them. These regulations may appear a little rigorous to those phlegmatic philosophers, "Who, past all pleasures, damn the joys of sense, With rev'rend dulness and grave impotence," and are incapable of comprehending the importance (especially when many are invited) of a truly hospitable entertainment: but genuine _connoisseurs_ in the science of good cheer will vote us thanks for our endeavours to initiate well-disposed _amateurs_. CARVING. Ceremony does not, in any thing, more commonly and completely triumph over comfort, than in the administration of "the honours of the table." Those who serve out the loaves and fishes seldom seem to understand that he is the best carver who fills the plates of the greatest number of guests, in the least portion of time. To effect this, fill the plates and send them round, instead of asking each individual if they choose soup, fish, &c. or what particular part they prefer; for, as they cannot all be choosers, you will thus escape making any invidious distinctions. A dexterous CARVER[43-*] (especially if he be possessed with that determined enemy to ceremony and sauce, a keen appetite,) will help half a dozen people in half the time one of your would-be-thought polite folks wastes in making civil faces, &c. to a single guest. It would save a great deal of time, &c. if POULTRY, especially large turkeys and geese, were sent to table ready cut up. (No. 530.*) FISH that is fried should be previously divided into such portions as are fit to help at table. (See No. 145.) A prudent carver will cut fair,[43-+] observe an equitable distribution of the dainties he is serving out, and regulate his helps, by the proportion which his dish bears to the number he has to divide it among, taking into this reckoning the _quantum_ of appetite the several guests are presumed to possess. "Study their genius, caprices, _goût_-- They, in return, may haply study you: Some wish a pinion, some prefer a leg, Some for a merry-thought, or sidesbone beg, The wings of fowls, then slices of the round The trail of woodcock, of codfish the sound. Let strict impartiality preside, Nor freak, nor favour, nor affection guide." _From the_ BANQUET. The guest who wishes to ensure a hearty welcome, and frequent invitation to the board of hospitality, may calculate that the "easier he is pleased, the oftener he will be invited." Instead of unblushingly demanding of the fair hostess that the prime "_tit-bit_" of every dish be put on your plate, receive (if not with pleasure, or even content) with the liveliest expressions of thankfulness whatever is presented to you, and forget not to praise the cook, and the same shall be reckoned unto you even as the praise of the mistress. The invalid or the epicure, when he dines out, to save trouble to his friends, may carry with him a portable MAGAZINE OF TASTE. (See No. 462.) "If he does not like his fare, he may console himself with the reflection, that he need not expose his mouth to the like mortification again: mercy to the feelings of the mistress of the mansion will forbid his then appearing otherwise than absolutely delighted with it, notwithstanding it may be his extreme antipathy." "If he likes it ever so little, he will find occasion to congratulate himself on the advantage his digestive organs will derive from his making a moderate dinner, and consolation from contemplating the double relish he is creating for the following meal, and anticipating the (to him) rare and delicious zest of (that best sauce) good appetite, and an unrestrained indulgence of his gormandizing fancies at the chop-house he frequents." "Never intrust a _cook-teaser_ with the important office of CARVER, or place him within reach of _a sauce-boat_. These chop-house cormorants, who 'Critique your wine, and analyze your meat, Yet on plain pudding deign at home to eat,' are, generally, tremendously officious in serving out the loaves and fishes of other people; for, under the notion of appearing exquisitely amiable, and killingly agreeable to the guests, they are ever on the watch to distribute themselves the dainties which it is the peculiar part of the master and mistress to serve out, and is to them the most pleasant part of the business of the banquet: the pleasure of helping their friends is the gratification, which is their reward for the trouble they have had in preparing the feast. Such gentry are the terror of all good housewives: to obtain their favourite cut they will so unmercifully mangle your joints, that a dainty dog would hardly get a meal from them after; which, managed by the considerative hands of an old housekeeper, would furnish a decent dinner for a large family."--Vide "_Almanach des Gourmands_." I once heard a gentle hint on this subject, given to a _blue-mould fancier_, who by looking too long at a Stilton cheese, was at last completely overcome, by his eye exciting his appetite, till it became quite ungovernable; and unconscious of every thing but the _mity_ object of his contemplation, he began to pick out, in no small portions, the primest parts his eye could select from the centre of the cheese. The good-natured founder of the feast, highly amused at the ecstasies each morsel created in its passage over the palate of the enraptured _gourmand_, thus encouraged the perseverance of his guest--"Cut away, my dear sir, cut away, use no ceremony, I pray: I hope you will pick out all the best of my cheese. _Don't you think_ that THE RIND _and the_ ROTTEN _will do very well for my wife and family!!_" There is another set of terribly _free and easy_ folks, who are "fond of taking possession of the throne of domestic comfort," and then, with all the impudence imaginable, simper out to the ousted master of the family, "Dear me, I am afraid I have taken your place!" _Half the trouble of_ WAITING AT TABLE _may be saved_ by giving each guest two plates, two knives and forks, two pieces of bread, a spoon, a wine-glass, and a tumbler, and placing the wines and sauces, and the MAGAZINE OF TASTE, (No. 462,) &c. as a _dormant_, in the centre of the table; one neighbour may then help another. Dinner-tables are seldom sufficiently lighted, or attended. An active waiter will have enough to do to attend upon half a dozen active eaters. There should be about half as many candles as there are guests, and their flame be about eighteen inches above the table. Our foolish modern pompous candelabras seem intended to illuminate the ceiling, rather than to give light on the plates, &c. Wax lights at dinner are much more elegant, and not so troublesome and so uncertain as lamps, nor so expensive; for to purchase a handsome lamp will cost you more than will furnish you with wax candles for several years. FOOTNOTES: [38-*] Swilling cold _soda water_ immediately after eating a hearty dinner, is another very unwholesome custom--take good ginger beer if you are thirsty, and don't like Sir John Barleycorn's cordial. [38-+] _Strong peppermint or ginger lozenges_ are an excellent help for that flatulence with which some aged and dyspeptic people ate afflicted three or four hours after dinner. [39-*] _Le Grand Sommelier_, or CHIEF BUTLER, in former times was expected to be especially accomplished in the art of folding table linen, so as to lay his napkins in different forms every day: these transformations are particularly described in ROSE'S Instructions for the Officers of the Mouth, 1682, p. 111, &c. "To pleat a napkin in the form of a cockle-shell double"--"in the form of hen and chickens"--"shape of two capons in a pye"--or "like a dog with a collar about his neck"--and many others equally whimsical. [43-*] In days of yore "_Le Grand Ecuyer Tranchant_," or the MASTER CARVER, was the next officer of the mouth in rank to the "_Maître d'Hôtel_," and the technical terms of his art were as singular as any of those which ornament "Grose's Classical Slang Dictionary," or "The Gipsies' Gibberish:" the only one of these old phrases now in common use is, "cut up the TURKEY:"--we are no longer desired to "disfigure a PEACOCK"--"unbrace a DUCK"--"unlace a CONEY"--"tame a CRAB"--"tire an EGG"--and "spoil the HEN," &c.--See _Instructions for the Officers of the Mouth_, by ROSE, 1682. [43-+] Those in the parlour should recollect the importance of setting a good example to their friends at the second table. If they cut _bread_, _meat_, _cheese_, &c. FAIRLY, it will go twice as far as if they hack and mangle it, as if they had not half so much consideration for those in the kitchen as a good sportsman has for his dogs. FRIENDLY ADVICE TO COOKS,[46-*] AND OTHER SERVANTS On your first coming into a family, lose no time in immediately getting into the good graces of your fellow-servants, that you may learn from them the customs of the kitchen, and the various rules and orders of the house. Take care to be on good terms with the servant who waits at table; make use of him as your sentinel, to inform you how your work has pleased in the parlour: by his report you may be enabled in some measure to rectify any mistake; but request the favour of an early interview with your master or mistress: depend as little as possible on second-hand opinions. Judge of your employers from YOUR OWN observations, and THEIR behaviour to you, not from any idle reports from the other servants, who, if your master or mistress inadvertently drop a word in your praise, will immediately take alarm, and fearing your being more in favour than themselves, will seldom stick at trifles to prevent it, by pretending to take a prodigious liking to you, and poisoning your mind in such a manner as to destroy all your confidence, &c. in your employers; and if they do not immediately succeed in worrying you away, will take care you have no comfort while you stay: be most cautious of those who profess most: not only beware of believing such honey-tongued folks, but beware as much of betraying your suspicions of them, for that will set fire to the train at once, and of a doubtful friend make a determined enemy. If you are a good cook, and strictly do your duty, you will soon become a favourite domestic; but never boast of the approbation of your employers; for, in proportion as they think you rise in their estimation, you will excite all the tricks, that envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness can suggest to your fellow-servants; every one of whom, if less sober, honest, or industrious, or less favoured than yourself, will be your enemy. While we warn you against making others your enemies, take care that you do not yourself become your own and greatest enemy. "Favourites are never in greater danger of falling, than when in the greatest favour," which often begets a careless inattention to the commands of their employers, and insolent overbearance to their equals, a gradual neglect of duty, and a corresponding forfeiture of that regard which can only be preserved by the means which created it. "Those arts by which at first you gain it, You still must practise to maintain it." If your employers are so pleased with your conduct as to treat you as a friend rather than a servant, do not let their kindness excite your self-conceit, so as to make you for a moment forget you are one. Condescension, even to a proverb, produces contempt in inconsiderate minds; and to such, the very means which benevolence takes to cherish attention to duty, becomes the cause of the evil it is intended to prevent. To be an agreeable companion in the kitchen, without compromising your duty to your patrons in the parlour, requires no small portion of good sense and good nature: in a word, you must "do as you would be done by." ACT FOR, AND SPEAK OF, EVERY BODY AS IF THEY WERE PRESENT. We hope the culinary student who peruses these pages will be above adopting the common, mean, and ever unsuccessful way of "holding with the hare, and running with the hounds," of currying favour with fellow-servants by flattering them, and ridiculing the mistress when in the kitchen, and then, prancing into the parlour and purring about her, and making opportunities to display all the little faults you can find (_or invent_) that will tell well against those in the kitchen; assuring them, on your return, that they were _vraised_, for whatever you heard them _blamed_, and so excite them to run more extremely into any little error which you think will be most displeasing to their employers; watching an opportunity to pour your poisonous lies into their unsuspecting ears, when there is no third person to bear witness of your iniquity; making your victims believe, it is all out of your _sincere regard_ for them; assuring them (as Betty says in the man of the world,) "That indeed you are no busybody that loves fending nor proving, but hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping and backbiting," &c. &c. Depend upon it, if you hear your fellow-servants speak disrespectfully of a master or a mistress with whom they have lived some time, it is a sure sign that they have some sinister scheme against yourself; if they have not been well treated, why have they stayed? "There is nothing more detestable than defamation. I have no scruple to rank a slanderer with a murderer or an assassin. Those who assault the reputation of their benefactors, and 'rob you of that which nought enriches them,' would destroy your life, if they could do it with equal impunity." "If you hope to gain the respect and esteem of others, and the approbation of your own heart, be respectful and faithful to your superiors, obliging and good-natured to your fellow-servants, and charitable to all." You cannot be too careful to cultivate a meek and gentle disposition; you will find the benefit of it every day of your life: to promote peace and harmony around you, will not only render you a general favourite with your fellow-servants, but will make you happy in yourself. "Let your _character_ be remarkable for industry and moderation; your _manners_ and deportment, for modesty and humility; your _dress_ distinguished for simplicity, frugality, and neatness. A dressy servant is a disgrace to a house, and renders her employers as ridiculous as she does herself. If you outshine your companions in finery, you will inevitably excite their envy, and make them your enemies." "Do every thing at the proper time." "Keep every thing in its proper place." "Use every thing for its proper purpose." The importance of these three rules must be evident, to all who will consider how much easier it is to return any thing when done with to its proper place, than it is to find it when mislaid; and it is as easy to put things in one place as in another. Keep your kitchen and furniture as clean and neat as possible, which will then be an ornament to it, a comfort to your fellow-servants, and a credit to yourself. Moreover, good housewifery is the best recommendation to a good husband, and engages men to honourable attachment to you; she who is a tidy servant gives promise of being a careful wife. _Giving away Victuals._ Giving away any thing without consent or privity of your master or mistress, is a liberty you must not take; charity and compassion for the wants of our fellow-creatures are very amiable virtues, but they are not to be indulged at the expense of your own honesty, and other people's property. When you find that there is any thing to spare, and that it is in danger of being spoiled by being kept too long, it is very commendable in you to ask leave to dispose of it while it is fit for Christians to eat: if such permission is refused, the sin does not lie at your door. But you must on no account bestow the least morsel in contradiction to the will of those to whom it belongs. "Never think any part of your business too trifling to be well done." "Eagerly embrace every opportunity of learning any thing which may be useful to yourself, or of doing any thing which may benefit others." Do not throw yourself out of a good place for a slight affront. "Come when you are called, and do what you are bid." Place yourself in your mistress's situation, and consider what you would expect from her, if she were in yours; and serve, reverence, and obey her accordingly. Although there may be "more places than parish-churches," it is not very easy to find many more good ones. "A rolling stone never gathers moss." "Honesty is the best policy." "A still tongue makes a wise head." _Saucy answers_ are highly aggravating, and answer no good purpose. Let your master or mistress scold ever so much, or be ever so unreasonable; as "a soft answer turneth away wrath," "so will SILENCE be _the best a servant can make_". _One rude answer_, extorted perhaps by harsh words, or unmerited censure, has cost many a servant the loss of a good place, or the total forfeiture of a regard which had been growing for years. "If your employers are hasty, and have scolded without reason, bear it patiently; they will soon see their error, and not be happy till they make you amends. Muttering on leaving the room, or slamming the door after you, is as bad as an impertinent reply; it is, in fact, showing that you would be impertinent if you dared." "A faithful servant will not only never speak disrespectfully _to_ her employers, but will not hear disrespectful words said _of_ them." Apply direct to your employers, and beg of them to explain to you, as fully as possible, how they like their victuals dressed, whether much or little done.[50-*] Of what complexion they wish the ROASTS, of a gold colour, or well browned, and if they like them frothed? Do they like SOUPS and SAUCES thick or thin, or white or brown, clean or full in the mouth? What accompaniments they are partial to? What flavours they fancy? especially of SPICE and HERBS: "Namque coquus domini debet habere gulam."--MARTIAL. It is impossible that the most accomplished cook can please their palates, till she has learned their particular taste: this, it will hardly be expected, she can hit exactly the first time; however, the hints we have here given, and in the 7th and 8th chapters of the Rudiments of Cookery, will very much facilitate the ascertainment of this main chance of getting into their favour. Be extremely cautious of seasoning high: leave it to the eaters to add the piquante condiments, according to their own palate and fancy: for this purpose, "THE MAGAZINE OF TASTE," or "_Sauce-box_," (No. 462,) will be found an invaluable acquisition; its contents will instantaneously produce any flavour that may be desired. "De gustibus non est disputandum." Tastes are as different as faces; and without a most attentive observation of the directions given by her employers, the most experienced cook will never be esteemed a profound palatician. It will not go far to pacify the rage of a ravenous _gourmand_, who likes his chops broiled brown, (and done enough, so that they can appear at table decently, and not blush when they are cut,) to be told that some of the customers at Dolly's chop-house choose to have them only half-done, and that this is the best way of eating them. We all think that is the best way which we relish best, and which agrees best with our stomach: in this, reason and fashion, all-powerful as they are on most occasions, yield to the imperative caprice of the palate. _Chacun à son goût._ "THE IRISHMAN loves _Usquebaugh_, the SCOT loves ale call'd _Blue-cap_, The WELCHMAN he loves _toasted cheese_, and makes his mouth like a mouse-trap." Our ITALIAN neighbours regale themselves with _macaroni_ and _parmesan_, and eat some things which we call _carrion_.--Vide RAY'S _Travels_, p. 362 and 406. While the ENGLISHMAN boasts of his _roast beef, plum pudding, and porter_, The FRENCHMAN feeds on his favourite _frog and soupe-maigre_, The TARTAR feasts on _horse-flesh_, The CHINAMAN on _dogs_, The GREENLANDER preys on _garbage_ and _train oil_; and each "blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury." What at one time or place is considered as beautiful, fragrant, and savoury, at another is regarded as deformed and disgustful.[51-*] "Ask _a toad_ what is beauty, the supremely beautiful, the ~TO KALON~! He will tell you it is _my wife_,--with two large eyes projecting out of her little head, a broad and flat neck, yellow belly, and dark brown back. With _a Guinea negro_, it is a greasy black skin, hollow eyes, and a flat nose. Put the question to the _devil_, and he will tell you that BEAUTY is a pair of horns, four claws, and a tail."--VOLTAIRE'S _Philos. Dict._ 8vo. p. 32. "_Asafoetida_ was called by the ancients 'FOOD FOR THE GODS.' The Persians, Indians, and other Eastern people, now eat it in sauces, and call it by that name: the Germans call it _devil's dung_."--_Vide_ POMET _on Drugs_. Garlic and clove, or allspice, combined in certain proportions, produce a flavour very similar to asafoetida. The organ of taste is more rarely found in perfection, and is sooner spoiled by the operations of time, excessive use, &c. than either of our other senses. There are as various degrees of sensibility of palate as there are of gradations of perfection in the eyes and ears of painters and musicians. After all the pains which the editor has taken to explain the harmony of subtle relishes, unless nature has given the organ of taste in a due degree, this book will, alas! no more make an OSBORNE,[52-*] than it can a REYNOLDS, or an ARNE, or a SHIELD. Where nature has been most bountiful of this faculty, its sensibility is so easily blunted by a variety of unavoidable circumstances, that the tongue is very seldom in the highest condition for appreciating delicate flavours, or accurately estimating the relative force of the various materials the cook employs in the composition of an harmonious relish. Cooks express this refinement of combination by saying, a well-finished _ragoût_ "tastes of every thing, and tastes of nothing:" (this is "_kitchen gibberish_" for a sauce in which the component parts are well proportioned.) However delicately sensitive nature may have formed the organs of taste, it is only during those few happy moments that they are perfectly awake, and in perfect good humour, (alas! how very seldom they are,) that the most accomplished and experienced cook has a chance of working with any degree of certainty without the auxiliary tests of the balance and the measure: by the help of these, when you are once right, it is your own fault if you are ever otherwise. The sense of taste depends much on the health of the individual, and is hardly ever for a single hour in the same state: such is the extremely intimate sympathy between the stomach and the tongue, that in proportion as the former is empty, the latter is acute and sensitive. This is the cause that "good appetite is the best sauce," and that the dish we find savoury at _luncheon_, is insipid at _dinner_, and at _supper_ quite tasteless. To taste any thing in perfection, the tongue must be moistened, or the substance applied to it contain moisture; the nervous papillæ which constitute this sense are roused to still more lively sensibility by salt, sugar, aromatics, &c. If the palate becomes dull by repeated tasting, one of the best ways of refreshing it, is to masticate an apple, or to wash your mouth well with milk. The incessant exercise of tasting, which a cook is obliged to submit to during the education of her tongue, frequently impairs the very faculty she is trying to improve. "'Tis true 'tis pity and pity 'tis," (says a _grand gourmand_) "'tis true, her too anxious perseverance to penetrate the mysteries of palatics may diminish the _tact_, exhaust the power, and destroy the _index_, without which all her labour is in vain." Therefore, a sagacious cook, instead of idly and wantonly wasting the excitability of her palate, on the sensibility of which her reputation and fortune depends, when she has ascertained the relative strength of the flavour of the various ingredients she employs, will call in the balance and the measure to do the ordinary business, and endeavour to preserve her organ of taste with the utmost care, that it may be a faithful oracle to refer to on grand occasions, and new compositions.[53-*] Of these an ingenious cook may form as endless a variety, as a musician with his seven notes, or a painter with his colours: read chapters 7 and 8 of the Rudiments of Cookery. Receive as the highest testimonies of your employers' regard whatever observations they may make on your work: such admonitions are the most _unequivocal proofs_ of their desire to make you thoroughly understand their taste, and their wish to retain you in their service, or they would not take the trouble to teach you. Enter into all their plans of economy,[53-+] and endeavour to make the most of every thing, as well for your own honour as your master's profit, and you will find that whatever care you take for his profit will be for your own: take care that the meat which is to make its appearance again in the parlour is handsomely cut with a sharp knife, and put on a clean dish: take care of the _gravy_ (see No. 326) which is left, it will save many pounds of meat in making sauce for _hashes_, _poultry_, and many little dishes. MANY THINGS MAY BE REDRESSED in a different form from that in which they were first served, and improve the appearance of the table without increasing the expense of it. COLD FISH, soles, cod, whitings, smelts, &c. may be cut into bits, and put into escallop shells, with cold oyster, lobster, or shrimp sauce, and bread crumbled, and put into a Dutch oven, and browned like scalloped oysters. (No. 182.) The best way TO WARM COLD MEAT is to sprinkle the joint over with a little salt, and put it in a DUTCH OVEN, at some distance before a gentle fire, that it may warm gradually; watch it carefully, and keep turning it till it is quite hot and brown: it will take from twenty minutes to three quarters of an hour, according to its thickness; serve it up with gravy: this is much better than hashing it, and by doing it nicely a cook will get great credit. POULTRY (No. 530*), FRIED FISH (see No. 145), &c. may be redressed in this way. Take care of the _liquor_ you have boiled poultry or meat in; in five minutes you may make it into EXCELLENT SOUP. See _obs._ to Nos. 555 and 229, No. 5, and the 7th chapter of the Rudiments of Cookery. No good housewife has any pretensions to _rational economy_ who boils animal food without converting the broth into some sort of soup. However highly the uninitiated in the mystery of soup-making may elevate the external appendage of his olfactory organ at the mention of "POT LIQUOR," if he tastes No. 5, or 218, 555, &c. he will be as delighted with it as a Frenchman is with "_potage à la Camarani_," of which it is said "a single spoonful will lap the palate in Elysium; and while one drop of it remains on the tongue, each other sense is eclipsed by the voluptuous thrilling of the lingual nerves!!" BROTH OF FRAGMENTS.--When you dress a large dinner, you may make good broth, or portable soup (No. 252), at very small cost, by taking care of all the trimmings and parings of the meat, game, and poultry, you are going to use: wash them well, and put them into a stewpan, with as much cold water as will cover them; set your stewpan on a hot fire; when it boils, take off all the scum, and set it on again to simmer gently; put in two carrots, two turnips, a large onion, three blades of pounded mace, and a head of celery; some mushroom parings will be a great addition. Let it continue to simmer gently four or five hours; strain it through a sieve into a clean basin. This will save a great deal of expense in buying gravy-meat. Have the DUST, &c. removed regularly once in a fortnight, and have your KITCHEN CHIMNEY swept once a month; many good dinners have been spoiled, and many houses burned down, by the soot falling: the best security against this, is for the cook to have a long birch-broom, and every morning brush down all the soot within reach of it. Give notice to your employers when the contents of your COAL-CELLAR are diminished to a chaldron. It will be to little purpose to procure good provisions, unless you have proper utensils[55-*] to prepare them in: the most expert artist cannot perform his work in a perfect manner without proper instruments; you cannot have neat work without nice tools, nor can you dress victuals well without an apparatus appropriate to the work required. See 1st page of chapter 7 of the Rudiments of Cookery. In those houses where the cook enjoys the confidence of her employer so much as to be intrusted with the care of the store-room, which is not very common, she will keep an exact account of every thing as it comes in, and insist upon the weight and price being fixed to every article she purchases, and occasionally will (and it may not be amiss to jocosely drop a hint to those who supply them that she does) _reweigh_ them, for her own satisfaction, as well as that of her employer, and will not trust the key of this room to any one; she will also keep an account of every thing she takes from it, and manage with as much consideration and frugality as if it was her own property she was using, endeavouring to disprove the adage, that "PLENTY makes _waste_," and remembering that "wilful waste makes woful want." The honesty of a cook must be above all suspicion: she must obtain, and (in spite of the numberless temptations, &c. that daily offer to bend her from it) preserve a character of spotless integrity and useful industry,[55-+] remembering that it is the fair price of INDEPENDENCE, which all wish for, but none without it can hope for; only a fool or a madman will be so silly or so crazy as to expect to reap where he has been too idle to sow. Very few modern-built town-houses have a proper place to preserve provisions in. The best substitute is a HANGING SAFE, which you may contrive to suspend in an airy situation; and when you order meat, poultry, or fish, tell the tradesman when you intend to dress it: he will then have it in his power to serve you with provision that will do him credit, which the finest meat, &c. in the world will never do, unless it has been kept a proper time to be ripe and tender. If you have a well-ventilated larder in a shady, dry situation, you may make still surer, by ordering in your meat and poultry such a time before you want it as will render it tender, which the finest meat cannot be, unless hung a proper time (see 2d chapter of the Rudiments of Cookery), according to the season, and nature of the meat, &c.; but always, as "_les bons hommes de bouche de France_" say, till _it is_ "_assez mortifiée_." Permitting this process to proceed to a certain degree renders meat much more easy of solution in the stomach, and for those whose digestive faculties are delicate, it is of the utmost importance that it be attended to with the greatest nicety, for the most consummate skill in the culinary preparation of it will not compensate for the want of attention to this. (Read _obs._ to No. 68.) Meat that is _thoroughly roasted_, or _boiled_, eats much shorter and tenderer, and is in proportion more digestible, than that which is _under_-done. You will be enabled to manage much better if your employers will make out a BILL OF FARE FOR THE WEEK on the Saturday before: for example, for a family of half a dozen-- _Sunday_ Roast beef (No. 19), and my pudding (No. 554). _Monday_ Fowl (Nos. 16. 58), what was left of my pudding fried, and warmed in the Dutch oven. _Tuesday_ Calf's head (No. 10), apple-pie. _Wednesday_ Leg of mutton (No. 1), or (No. 23). _Thursday_ Do. broiled or hashed (No. 487), or (No. 484,) pancakes. _Friday_ Fish (No. 145), pudding (No. 554). _Saturday_ Fish, or eggs and bacon (No. 545). It is an excellent plan to have certain things on certain days. When your butcher or poulterer knows what you will want, he has a better chance of doing his best for you; and never think of ordering BEEF FOR ROASTING except for Sunday. When the weather or season[56-*] is very unfavourable for keeping meat, &c. give him the choice of sending that which is in the best order for dressing; _i. e._ either ribs or sirloin of beef, or leg, loin, or neck of mutton, &c. Meat in which you can detect the slightest trace of putrescency, has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed without delay; but before this period, which in some kinds of meat is offensive, the due degree of inteneration may be ascertained, by its yielding readily to the pressure of the finger, and by its opposing little resistance to an attempt to bind the joint. Although we strongly recommend that animal food should be hung up in the open air, till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness; yet, let us be clearly understood also to warn you, that if kept till it loses its natural sweetness, it is as detrimental to health, as it is disagreeable to the smell and taste. IN VERY COLD WEATHER, bring your meat, poultry, &c. into the kitchen, early in the morning, if you roast, boil, or stew it ever so gently and ever so long; if it be _frozen_, it will continue tough and unchewable. Without very watchful attention to this, the most skilful cook in the world will get no credit, be she ever so careful in the management of her spit or her stewpan. The time meat should hang to be tender, depends on the heat and humidity of the air. If it is not kept long enough, it is hard and tough; if too long, it loses its flavour. It should be hung where it will have a thorough air, and be dried with a cloth, night and morning, to keep it from damp and mustiness. Before you dress it, wash it well; if it is roasting beef, _pare off the outside_. If you fear meat,[57-*] &c. will not keep till the time it is wanted, _par_-roast or _par_-boil it; it will then keep a couple of days longer, when it may be dressed in the usual way, only it will be done in rather less time. "In Germany, the method of keeping flesh in summer is to steep it in Rhenish wine with a little sea-salt; by which means it may be preserved a whole season."--BOERHAAVE'S Academical Lectures, translated by J. Nathan, 8vo. 1763, p. 241. The cook and the butcher as often lose their credit by meat being dressed too fresh, as the fishmonger does by fish that has been kept too long. Dr. Franklin in his philosophical experiments tells us, that if game or poultry be killed by ELECTRICITY it will become tender in the twinkling of an eye, and if it be dressed immediately, will be delicately tender. During the _sultry_ SUMMER MONTHS, it is almost impossible to procure meat that is not either tough, or tainted. The former is as improper as the latter for the unbraced stomachs of relaxed valetudinarians, for whom, at this season, poultry, stews, &c., and vegetable soups, are the most suitable food, when the digestive organs are debilitated by the extreme heat, and profuse perspiration requires an increase of liquid to restore equilibrium in the constitution. I have taken much more pains than any of my predecessors, to teach the young cook how to perform, in the best manner, the common business of her profession. Being well grounded in the RUDIMENTS of COOKERY, she will be able to execute the orders that are given her, with ease to herself, and satisfaction to her employers, and send up a delicious dinner, with half the usual expense and trouble. I have endeavoured to lessen the labour of those who wish to be thoroughly acquainted with their profession; and an attentive perusal of the following pages will save them much of the irksome drudgery attending an apprenticeship at the stove: an ordeal so severe, that few pass it without irreparable injury to their health;[58-*] and many lose their lives before they learn their business. To encourage the best performance of the machinery of mastication, the cook must take care that her dinner is not only well cooked, but that each dish be sent to table with its proper accompaniments, in the neatest and most elegant manner. Remember, to excite the good opinion of the _eye_ is the first step towards awakening the _appetite_. Decoration is much more rationally employed in rendering a wholesome, nutritious dish inviting, than in the elaborate embellishments which are crowded about trifles and custards. Endeavour to avoid _over_-dressing roasts and boils, &c. and _over_-seasoning soups and sauces with salt, pepper, &c.; it is a fault which cannot be mended. If your roasts, &c. are a little _under_-done, with the assistance of the stewpan, the gridiron, or the Dutch oven, you may soon rectify the mistake made with the spit or the pot. If _over_-done, the best juices of the meat are evaporated; it will serve merely to distend the stomach, and if the sensation of hunger be removed, it is at the price of an indigestion. The chief business of cookery is to render food easy of digestion, and to facilitate nutrition. This is most completely accomplished by plain cookery in perfection; i. e. neither _over_ nor _under_-done. With all your care, you will not get much credit by cooking to perfection, if more than _one dish goes to table at a time_. To be eaten in perfection, the interval between meat being taken out of the stewpan and its being put into the mouth, must be as short as possible; but ceremony, that most formidable enemy to good cheer, too often decrees it otherwise, and the guests seldom get a bit of an "_entremets_" till it is half cold. (See No. 485.) So much time is often lost in placing every thing in apple-pie order, that long before dinner is announced, all becomes lukewarm; and to complete the mortification of the _grand gourmand_, his meat is put on a sheet of ice in the shape of a plate, which instantly converts the gravy into jelly, and the fat into a something which puzzles his teeth and the roof of his mouth as much as if he had birdlime to masticate. A complete _meat-screen_ will answer the purpose of a _hot closet_, _plate-warmer_, &c.--See Index. It will save you infinite trouble and anxiety, if you can prevail on your employers to use the "SAUCE-BOX," No. 462, hereinafter described in the chapter of Sauces. With the help of this "MAGAZINE OF TASTE," every one in company may flavour their soup and sauce, and adjust the vibrations of their palate, exactly to their own fancy; but if the cook give a decidedly predominant and _piquante goût_ to a dish, to tickle the tongues of two or three visiters, whose taste she knows, she may thereby make the dinner disgusting to all the other guests. Never undertake more work than you are quite certain you can do well. If you are ordered to prepare a larger dinner than you think you can send up with ease and neatness, or to dress any dish that you are not acquainted with, rather than run any risk in spoiling any thing (by one fault you may perhaps lose all your credit), request your employers to let you have some help. They may acquit you for pleading guilty of inability; but if you make an attempt, and fail, will vote it a capital offence. If your mistress professes to understand cookery, your best way will be to follow her directions. If you wish to please her, let her have the praise of all that is right, and cheerfully bear the blame of any thing that is wrong; only advise that all NEW DISHES may be first tried when the family dine alone. When there is company, never attempt to dress any thing which you have not ascertained that you can do perfectly well. Do not trust any part of your work to others without carefully overlooking them: whatever faults they commit, you will be censured for. If you have forgotten any article which is indispensable for the day's dinner, request your employers to send one of the other servants for it. The cook must never quit her post till her work is entirely finished. It requires the utmost skill and contrivance to have all things done as they should be, and all done together, at that critical moment when the dinner-bell sounds "to the banquet." "A feast must be without a fault; And if 't is not all right, 't is naught." But "Good nature will some failings overlook, Forgive mischance, not errors of the cook; As, if no salt is thrown about the dish, Or nice crisp'd parsley scatter'd on the fish, Shall we in passion from our dinner fly, And hopes of pardon to the cook deny, For things which Mrs. GLASSE herself might oversee, And all mankind commit as well as she?" Vide KING'S _Art of Cookery_. Such is the endless variety of culinary preparations, that it would be as vain and fruitless a search as that for the philosopher's stone, to expect to find a cook who is quite perfect in all the operations of the spit, the stewpan, and the rolling-pin: you will as soon find a watchmaker who can make, put together, and regulate every part of a watch. "The universe cannot produce a cook who knows how to do every branch of cookery well, be his genius as great as possible."--Vide the _Cook's Cookery_, 8vo. page 40. THE BEST RULE FOR MARKETING is to _pay_ READY MONEY for every thing, and to deal with the most respectable tradesmen in your neighbourhood. If you leave it to their integrity to supply you with a good article, at the fair market price, you will be supplied with better provisions, and at as reasonable a rate as those bargain-hunters, who trot "around, around, around about" a market, till they are trapped to buy some _unchewable_ old poultry, _tough_ tup-mutton, _stringy_ cow beef, or _stale_ fish, at a very little less than the price of prime and proper food. With _savings_ like these they toddle home in triumph, cackling all the way, like a goose that has got ankle-deep into good luck. All the skill of the most accomplished cook will avail nothing, unless she is furnished with PRIME PROVISIONS. The best way to procure these is to deal with shops of established character: you may appear to pay, perhaps, ten _per cent._ more than you would, were you to deal with those who pretend to sell cheap, but you would be much more than in that proportion better served. Every trade has its tricks and deceptions: those who follow them can deceive you if they please; and they are too apt to do so, if you provoke the exercise of their over-reaching talent.[61-*] Challenge them to a game at "_Catch who can_," by entirely relying on your own judgment; and you will soon find that nothing but very long experience can make you equal to the combat of marketing to the utmost advantage. Before you go to market, look over your larder, and consider well what things are wanting, especially on a Saturday. No well-regulated family can suffer a disorderly caterer to be jumping in and out to the chandler's shop on a Sunday morning. Give your directions to your assistants, and begin your business early in the morning, or it will be impossible to have the dinner ready at the time it is ordered. To be half an hour after the time is such a frequent fault, that there is the more merit in being ready at the appointed hour. This is a difficult task, and in the best-regulated family you can only be sure of your time by proper arrangements. With all our love of punctuality, we must not forget that the first consideration must still be, that the dinner "be well done when 't is done." If any accident occurs to any part of the dinner, or if you are likely to be prevented sending the soup, &c. to the table at the moment it is expected, send up a message to your employers, stating the circumstance, and bespeak their patience for as many minutes as you think it will take to be ready. This is better than either keeping the company waiting without an apology, or dishing your dinner before it is done enough, or sending any thing to table which is disgusting to the stomachs of the guests at the first appearance of it. Those who desire regularity in the service of their table, should have a DIAL, of about twelve inches diameter, placed over the kitchen fireplace, carefully regulated to keep time exactly with the clock in the hall or dining-parlour; with a frame on one side, containing A TASTE TABLE of the peculiarities of the master's palate, and the particular rules and orders of his kitchen; and, on the other side, of the REWARDS given to those who attend to them, and for long and faithful service. In small families, where a dinner is seldom given, a great deal of preparation is required, and the preceding day must be devoted to the business of the kitchen. On these occasions a _char-woman_ is often employed to do the dirty work. Ignorant persons often hinder you more than they help you. We advise a cook to be hired to assist to dress the dinner: this would be very little more expense, and the work got through with much more comfort in the kitchen and credit to the parlour. When you have a very large entertainment to prepare, get your soups and sauces, forcemeats, &c. ready the day before, and read the 7th chapter of our _Rudiments of Cookery_. Many made dishes may also be prepared the day before they are to go to table; but do not dress them _quite enough_ the first day, that they may not be _over_-done by warming up again. Prepare every thing you can the day before the dinner, and order every thing else to be sent in early in the morning; if the tradesmen forget it, it will allow you time to send for it. The pastry, jellies, &c. you may prepare while the broths are doing: then truss your game and poultry, and shape your collops, cutlets, &c., and trim them neatly; cut away all flaps and gristles, &c. Nothing should appear on table but what has indisputable pretensions to be eaten! Put your made dishes in plates, and arrange them upon the dresser in regular order. Next, see that your roasts and boils are all nicely trimmed, trussed, &c. and quite ready for the spit or the pot. Have your vegetables neatly cut, pared, picked, and clean washed in the colander: provide a tin dish, with partitions, to hold your fine herbs: onions and shallots, parsley, thyme, tarragon, chervil, and burnet, minced _very fine_; and lemon-peel grated, or cut thin, and chopped very small: pepper and salt ready mixed, and your spice-box and salt-cellar always ready for action: that every thing you may want may be at hand for your stove-work, and not be scampering about the kitchen in a whirlpool of confusion, hunting after these trifles while the dinner is waiting. In one drawer under your SPICE-BOX keep ready ground, in well-stopped bottles, the several spices separate; and also that mixture of them which is called "_ragoût powder_" (No. 457 or No. 460): in another, keep your dried and powdered sweet, savoury, and soup herbs, &c. and a set of weights and scales: you may have a third drawer, containing flavouring essences, &c. an invaluable auxiliary in finishing soups and sauces. (See the account of the "MAGAZINE OF TASTE," or "SAUCE-BOX," No. 462.) Have also ready some THICKENING, made of the best white flour sifted, mixed with soft water with a wooden spoon till it is the consistence of thick batter, a bottle of plain BROWNING (No. 322), some strained lemon-juice, and some good glaze, or PORTABLE soup (No. 252). "Nothing can be done in perfection which must be done in a hurry:"[63-*] therefore, if you wish the dinner to be sent up to please your master and mistress, and do credit to yourself, be punctual; take care that as soon as the _clock strikes_, the _dinner-bell rings_: this shows the establishment to be orderly, is extremely gratifying to the master and his guests, and is most praiseworthy in the attendants. But remember, you cannot obtain this desirable reputation without good management in every respect. If you wish to ensure ease and independence in the latter part of your life, you must not be unwilling to pay the price for which only they can be obtained, and earn them by a diligent and faithful[64-*] performance of the duties of your station in your young days, which, if you steadily persevere in, you may depend upon ultimately receiving the reward your services deserve. All duties are reciprocal: and if you hope to receive favour, endeavour to deserve it by showing yourself fond of obliging, and grateful when obliged; such behaviour will win regard, and maintain it: enforce what is right, and excuse what is wrong. Quiet, steady perseverance is the only spring which you can safely depend upon for infallibly promoting your progress on the road to independence. If your employers do not immediately appear to be sensible of your endeavours to contribute your utmost to their comfort and interest, be not easily discouraged. _Persevere_, and do all in your power to MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL. Endeavour to promote the comfort of every individual in the family; let it be manifest that you are desirous to do rather more than is required of you, than less than your duty: they merit little who perform merely what would be exacted. If you are desired to help in any business which may not strictly belong to your department, undertake it cheerfully, patiently, and conscientiously. The foregoing advice has been written with an honest desire to augment the comfort of those in the kitchen, who will soon find that the ever-cheering reflection of having done their duty to the utmost of their ability, is in itself, with a Christian spirit, a never-failing source of comfort in all circumstances and situations, and that "VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD." FOOTNOTES: [46-*] A chapter of advice to cooks will, we hope, be found as useful as it is original: all we have on this subject in the works of our predecessors, is the following; "I shall strongly recommend to all cooks of either sex, to keep their stomachs free from strong liquors till _after_ dinner, and their noses from snuff."--_Vide_ CLERMONT'S _Professed Cook_, p. 30, 8vo. London, 1776. [50-*] Meat that is not to be cut till it is _cold_, must be thoroughly done, especially in summer. [51-*] See chapter XV. "_Chaque Pays_, chaque _Coutume_."--_Cours Gastronomique_, 8vo. 1809, p. 162. [52-*] Cook to Sir JOSEPH BANKS, Bart., late president of the Royal Society. [53-*] "The diversities of taste are so many and so considerable, that it seemeth strange to see the matter treated of both by philosophers and physicians with so much scantiness and defect: for the subject is not barren, but yieldeth much and pleasant variety, and doth also appear to be of great importance."--From Dr. GREW'S _Anat. of Plants_, fol. 1682, p. 286. The Dr. enumerates sixteen simple tastes: however, it is difficult to define more than six.--1st. _Bitter_ as wormwood. 2d. _Sweet_ as sugar. 3d. _Sour_ as vinegar. 4th. _Salt_ as brine. 5th. _Cold_ as ice. 6th. _Hot_ as brandy. "_Compound tastes_, innumerable, may be formed by the combination of these simple tastes--as words are of letters."--See also _Phil. Trans._ vol. xv. p. 1025. [53-+] "I am persuaded that no servant ever saved her master sixpence, but she found it in the end in her pocket."--TRUSLER'S _Domestic Management_, p. 11. [55-*] "A surgeon may as well attempt to make an incision with a pair of shears, or open a vein with an oyster-knife, as a cook pretend to dress a dinner without proper tools."--VERRALL'S _Cookery_, 8vo. 1759, p. 6. [55-+] Many COOKS miss excellent opportunities of making themselves independent, by their idleness, in refusing any place, however profitable, &c. if there is not a _kitchen maid_ kept to wait upon them. There are many invalids who require a good cook, and as (after reading this book they will understand how much) their comfort and effective existence depends on their food being properly prepared, will willingly pay handsome wages, (who would not rather pay the cook than the doctor?) but have so little work in the kitchen that one person may do it all with the utmost ease, without injury to her health; which is not the case in a large family, where the poor cook is roasting and stewing all day, and is often deprived of her rest at night. No artists have greater need to "_make hay while the sun shines_," and timely provide for the infirmities of age. Who will hire a superannuated servant? If she has saved nothing to support herself, she must crawl to the workhouse. It is melancholy to find, that, according to the authority of a certain great French author, "cooks, half stewed and half roasted, when unable to work any longer, generally retire to some unknown corner, and die in forlornness and want."--BLACKWOOD'S _Edin. Mag._ vol. vii. p. 668. [56-*] "The season of the year has considerable influence on the quality of butcher-meat; depending upon the more or less plentiful supply of food, upon the periodical change which takes place in the body of the animal, and upon temperature. The flesh of most full-grown quadrupeds is in highest season during the first months of winter, after having enjoyed the advantage of the abundance of fresh summer food. Its flavour then begins to be injured by the turnips, &c. given as winter food; and in spring, it gets lean from deficiency of food. Although beef and mutton are never absolutely out of season, or not fit for the table, they are best in November, December, and January. Pork is absolutely bad, except during the winter."--_Supplement to the Edin. Ency. Brit._ p. 328. [57-*] "LARDERS, PANTRIES, and SAFES must be sheltered from the sun, and otherwise removed from the heat; be dry, and, if possible, have a current of dry, cool air continually passing through them. "The freezing temperature, i. e. _32 degrees of Fahrenheit_, is a perfect preservative from putrefaction: warm, moist, muggy weather is the worst for keeping meat. The south wind is especially unfavourable, and lightning is quickly destructive; but the greatest enemy you have to encounter is the flesh-fly, which becomes troublesome about the month of May, and continues so till towards Michaelmas."--For further _Obs._ on this subject see "_The Experienced Butcher_," page 160. [58-*] "Buy it with health, strength, and resolution, And pay for it, a robust constitution." _Preface to the Cook's Cookery_, 1758. See the preface to "_The Cook's Cookery_," p. 9. This work, which is very scarce, was, we believe, written to develope the mistakes in what he calls "The Thousand Errors," i. e. "_The Lady's Cookery_," i. e. Mrs. Glasse's, i. e. Sir John Hill's. [61-*] "He who will not be cheated _a little_, must be content to be abused _a great deal_: the first lesson in the art of _comfortable economy_, is to learn to submit cheerfully to be imposed upon in due proportion to your situation and circumstances: if you do not, you will continually be in hot water. "If you think a tradesman has imposed upon you, never use a second word, if the first will not do, nor drop the least hint of an imposition. The only method to induce him to make an abatement is the hope of future favours. Pay the demand, and deal with the gentleman no more: but do not let him see that you are displeased, or, as soon as you are out of sight, your reputation will suffer as much as your pocket has."--TRUSLER'S _Way to be Rich_, 8vo. 1776, p. 85. [63-*] Says TOM THRIFTY, "_except catching of fleas_." See T. T.'s _Essay on Early Rising_. [64-*] N.B. "If you will take half the pains to deserve the regard of your master and mistress by being _a good and faithful servant_, you take to be considered _a good fellow-servant_, so many of you would not, in the decline of life, be left destitute of those comforts which age requires, nor have occasion to quote the saying that 'Service is no inheritance,' unless your own misconduct makes it so. "The idea of being called a tell-tale has occasioned many good servants to shut their eyes against the frauds of fellow-servants. "In the eye of the law, persons standing by and seeing a felony committed, which they could have prevented, are held equally guilty with those committing it."--Dr. TRUSLER'S _Domestic Management_, p. 12, and _Instructions to Servants_. TABLE OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES. To reduce our culinary operations to as exact a certainty as the nature of the processes would admit of, we have, wherever it was needful, given the quantities of each article. The weights are _avoirdupois_. The measure, the graduated glass of the apothecaries. This appeared the most accurate and convenient; _the pint_ being divided into sixteen ounces, _the ounce_ into eight drachms. A middling-sized _tea-spoon_ will contain about a drachm; four such tea-spoons are equal to a middling-sized _table-spoon_, or half an ounce; four table-spoons to a common-sized _wine-glass_. The specific gravities of the various substances being so extremely different, we cannot offer any auxiliary standards[65-*] for the weights, which we earnestly recommend the cook to employ, if she wishes to gain credit for accuracy and uniformity in her business: these she will find it necessary to have as small as the quarter of a drachm avoirdupois, which is equal to nearly seven grains troy. Glass measures (divided into tea and table-spoons), containing from half an ounce to half a pint, may be procured; also, the double-headed pepper and spice boxes, with caps over the gratings. The superiority of these, by preserving the contents from the action of the air, must be sufficiently obvious to every one: the fine aromatic flavour of pepper is soon lost, from the bottles it is usually kept in not being well stopped. Peppers are seldom ground or pounded sufficiently fine. (See N.B. to 369.) N.B. The trough nutmeg-graters are by far the best we have seen, especially for those who wish to grate fine, and fast. FOOTNOTES: [65-*] A large table-spoonful of flour weighs about half an ounce. RUDIMENTS OF COOKERY.