episode in Bayreuth where, one summer, the family that gave us lodging

and breakfast had the butter brought down every morning fresh from the mountains by a peasant girl. You pay in Germany for as much bread and butter as you eat. The first day we ate all that was given us and asked for double the amount next morning, and once more double that for the third day. It was as good and sweet and tempting as ice cream. The incident is worth mentioning as a hint to dealers and butter-makers how they might quadruple their business by supplying people with fresh butter, unsalted and made of sweet cream, as was that Bayreuth mountain butter. In future discussions of this subject it will be necessary to make it clear just what is meant by sweet cream and sour cream. If, as the two German bacteriologists referred to say, there are some acid bacteria present in milk as it is drawn from the cow, then there is no such thing as absolutely sweet cream; and, chemically speaking, the cream we put in our coffee twelve or twenty-four hours later is still less so. But _physiologically_ speaking, that is to our tongue, such cream still is sweet and remains sweet under ordinary atmospheric conditions for several days; that is, it does not _taste_ sour and does not clot in the coffee cup. From the physiological point of view, therefore, the cream from which the best butter we found in Paris was made was sweet--absolutely sweet to the tongue, whatever the acidimeter may have indicated. From the foregoing remarks any dairyman who wishes to get rich quick can gather what he must do. Another point must be borne in mind in making butter which is not to be eaten at once. Bulletin 71 of the Iowa Experiment Station calls attention to the fact that to preserve the quality (Flavor) of the butter, it is not enough to pasteurize the cream; the water also must have its germs killed by being heated to a certain degree and then cooled again. The experiments made showed that butter made from pasteurized cream and washed in pasteurized water kept normal just twice as long as butter made from unpasteurized cream and washed with unpasteurized water, even though well-water was used. CHEESE AS AN APPETIZER. While there is but one way to make perfect butter there are many ways to make perfect cheese. Butter is always butter, varying only in the degree of palatability, whereas from a pail of milk can be made hundreds of varieties of cheese, each perfect in its way. Every country has its own, differing from those of other countries and provinces, as the costumes and customs differ. The chief difference lies in the Flavor, and this is due to a variety of causes, one of them being the source of the milk. The Laplander makes several kinds of cheese from reindeer milk, while in some parts of Italy buffalo cheese is eaten. Goat cheese is diversely made in Germany, France, Italy and other countries, while for some of the finest cheeses, including genuine Roquefort, sheep supply the milk. By far the most important animal, however, is the cow. What would Europeans and Americans do without the cow? It is _possible_ to get along without her. When I visited Japan, less than a quarter of a century ago, the first experiments in the production of milk, butter, and cheese were being made in the Hokkaido, with a herd of fifty imported cows.[14] The courtesy of the Governor-General enabled me to test the products, and I found them very good. But owing to scant and expensive pasturage, Japanese epicures will never be able to depend much on cows; and think what they miss! No veal, no beef, no suet, no cream, no butter, no cheese! Think of the endless uses we make of these, alone, or in thousands of culinary combinations! Nevertheless, we still have much to learn concerning the diverse uses to which at least one of the products of the protean milk pail can be put. We make above 300,000,000 pounds of cheese a year, worth over $30,000,000; but there is less to boast about its quality than its quantity. We are strangely monotonous and unoriginal. About three-fourths of our cheese is an imitation of the English Cheddar, while the rest consists mostly of imitations--generally very poor ones--of Swiss, Dutch, Italian, or German cheeses, or the French Camembert, Roquefort, and so on. Have we no gastronomic imagination? Shall we permit not only the epicures but the peasants of Europe to look down on us for our lack of it? We have, to be sure, a few specialties, such as the Pineapple, the Brick, Isigny, and some special varieties of cream cheese; but for a nation of nearly a hundred millions, we make a very poor showing indeed in this branch of gastronomy, as in so many others. To a patriotic epicure it is humiliating to peruse Bulletin 105 of the Bureau of Animal Industry, entitled _Varieties of Cheese_. It contains, on 72 pages, descriptions and analyses of all the domestic and foreign cheeses about which information could be found in the literature bearing upon the subject. The authors are C. F. Doane, of the Dairy Division, and H. W. Lawson, of the Experiment Stations. The number of cheeses described by them is 242. Of these 63, or more than a fourth of the whole number, are French. Germany follows with 40, and England comes third with 24. Switzerland is credited with 20. Italy contributes 19, Austria (with Bohemia, Hungary and the Tyrol) 17, and Holland 8. These are the leading cheese producers. France, as was to be expected of the chief gastronomic nation, heads the list in the matter of quality as well as quantity. Few epicures would deny that the best three cheeses made anywhere are Camembert, Roquefort, and Brie. Other world-famed kinds are Pont-l'Evêque, Neufchâtel, Mont D'Or, Gruyère, Port du Salut. Among the less-known kinds are some which are almost if not quite as good as the more familiar varieties. A pound of cheese made of unskimmed milk has twice the nutritive value of a pound of beef. It is characteristic of the gastronomic French people that, notwithstanding this fact, the best cheeses made by them, for themselves and the rest of the world, are valued and intended much less as food than as relishes, to be consumed in very small quantities. The French custom of using cheese as an appetizer, to be eaten at the end of a meal, has been adopted the world over. Usually one thinks of appetizers (hors d'œuvres) as being served at or near the beginning of a meal; but think the matter over and you will see that an appetizer is even more useful at the end, as a harmless stimulant to keep up a steady flow of saliva. It is not a mere accident that the three favorite French cheeses are those that have the most piquant and stimulating Flavor. This Flavor is due chiefly to molds, which are specially cultivated with great skill and patience. In Camembert and Brie the mold is on the rind and gradually works its way in, till the whole is permeated by it. In Roquefort the rind is clean of mold, which is started and developed in the inside. Besides these molds, which, of course, differ in the several varieties, there are other sources of Flavor, such as the salt added to the curd, certain fatty acids, and ammonia-like bodies, these being particularly noticeable in well-ripened Camembert; but what chiefly determines the characteristic Flavor of these cheeses is their private and particular kinds of mold. Perhaps some day the French will erect a statue to Flavor in Food. To the many illustrations given in these pages of the intelligence they exercise and the trouble they take to secure it, let me add one more--the making of Roquefort cheese. We need not dwell on the first stages of the process, the heating and cooling of the milk, the adding of the rennet at a certain temperature to curdle it, and so on, as these do not differ materially from the ways of making other cheeses. Sheep's milk is used for the genuine article, but Roquefort made elsewhere of cow's milk is so similar in taste to the original article that no doubt remains as to the all-importance of the mold. This mold is secured by making bread of wheat and barley flour to which have been added whey and a little vinegar. This bread is kept in a moist place for a month or longer till it has become moldy through and through. Then the crust is removed and the moldy crumbs are placed between layers of the cheese curd. The romantic part of the story now begins. In the neighborhood of the town of Roquefort there are many grottoes, or natural caverns, steadily ventilated by a cool, moist current of air. Into these the cheese is taken for the ripening process. There is a great deal of salting and scraping to prevent the mold from growing on the rind. To favor its development in the inside, fresh air is provided by piercing the cheese with machinery having up to a hundred fine needles. Thus it gradually acquires its green marbling and the piquancy which makes the epicure's mouth water. Roquefort cheese has been famous for over two thousand years. The ancient Romans were very fond of it, as Pliny relates, and imported it in large quantities. The demand increased from century to century, until half a million sheep were required to supply the demand and four hundred factories were kept busy. To-day, enormous quantities of imitation Roquefort are made in various countries. Some of it is quite tasty, but epicures will continue to ask for the original, and it is right that the law should protect them and the makers by compelling imitators to put "Roquefort Type" on their labels. To a good many persons the piquancy of Roquefort does not appeal. Few, however, fail to succumb to the wiles of Camembert. Its popularity is attested by the fact that New York hotels alone use 30,000 of these cheeses a week during the season. There is a demand at present for about 4,000,000 Camemberts from the United States alone, and sometimes Caen and Havre are unable to supply the demand. Many attempts to manufacture Camembert have been made in America. The president of one of the largest pure food companies told me he had spent $30,000 in the attempt to produce a satisfactory Camembert; then he gave it up and began to import it. You can import cheeses but you cannot import or reproduce local flavors. [Illustration] VIII EPICUREAN ITALY THE CRADLE OF MODERN COOKERY. The fact that Roquefort cheese was relished by Roman epicures twenty centuries ago indicates that French gastronomy is not entirely a product of modern times. Yet it was not till the reign of Louis XIV (who died in 1643) that France began to lead the world in this branch of civilization. The cradle of modern culinary art was Italy. Katharine of Medici brought its higher branches from that country, which, in the sixteenth century, was supreme in all the fine arts, the chef's included. Italian cookery differed in those days from that of other countries as French cookery, with its entremets, ragouts, and salmis, its diverse light viands and delicacies differed in latter centuries from that of other parts of the world. What gave the Italian cooks their supremacy was that they were alive to the importance of Flavor. Montaigne expressed admiration of these same cooks "who can so curiously temper and season strange odors with the savor and relish of their meats." Is it a wonder that the reform was hailed with delight, Voltaire going so far as to exclaim: _Un cuisinier est un être divin?_ Venice was the gate by which Oriental luxuries entered Italy. At the same time there were culinary traditions which came to the Italians of the Middle Ages direct from their own ancestors. Sicilian cooks were favored by the ancient Romans just as French chefs are in modern Europe. Among the Greeks, also, the cooks from Sicily were in great demand, and Sicilian cookery was proverbially good. The Carême of his time was the Sicilian Archestratus, who, we read, "traveled far and wide in quest of alimentary dainties of different lands," and who, some 2250 years ago, wrote a long poem on gastronomy. Three centuries ago Burton referred to the fondness of the Italians for frogs and snails, two delicacies now universally associated with Gallic epicureanism. The French, to be sure, have by their special care in the rearing of these creatures (there are books on the subject) made them peculiarly their own. Though now playing second fiddle to France, the Italians are still holding their own among the leading gastronomic nations. They have plenty of reasons for liking their own cooking, nor are they alone in enjoying it. In New York and other American cities Italian restaurants are always well patronized and not only by Italians, and the same is true in London, and to some extent in Paris. Let us briefly pass in review the most desirable foods and dishes of the Italians to see what we can learn from them. OLIVE OIL AND SARDINES. Col. Newnham-Davis declares that "really good pure olive oil is almost unknown outside the boundaries of Italy. An Italian gentleman never eats salad when traveling in foreign countries, for his palate, used to the finest oils, revolts against the liquid fit only for the lubrication of machinery he so often is offered in Germany, England, and France." This is somewhat misleading. While inferior or adulterated olive oil is certainly served in many otherwise respectable European restaurants, even in Paris, I have eaten delicious olive oil made in France. Spanish oil usually has a flavor too strong for most of us, but when it is carefully refined this is not the case. In Lyons I was once the guest of a family of epicures who preferred Spanish oil to any other, and their salads certainly were delicious. But, on the whole, the finest olive oil comes from Italy. The superiority is purely a question of Flavor, for all olive and other table oils have the same food value. Many factors combine to make Lucca and other Italian olive oils so pleasing to the palate. The soil is specially adapted to the cultivation of the olive tree, and care has been taken to select the best varieties. The old Roman epicures, who gathered their delicacies from all parts of the world, already preferred Italian olive oil, especially that of the variety known as the Licinian and grown in Campania. No less important than soil and variety is the proper harvesting of the crop. In Asia, as well as in Greece and in many parts of Spain, much of the oil produced owes its inferior quality to the fact that the olives are knocked off the trees with poles or shaken off. The Italians who make the best oil pick the olives by hand and deliver them at the mills without bruises. These same Italians subject the olives to four successive pressings. The oil from the first, known as virgin oil, is the finest, and as it is also the most expensive, unscrupulous dealers may and do sell the yield of the following and increasingly inferior pressings under that name. Eternal vigilance is everywhere the price of getting pure food and the best of it. There is food for thought in the official information that Spain exports large amounts of olive oil to France and Italy and that the greater part of this is reëxported from those countries, largely in the form of mixed oil. In 1911 Spain exported 90,419,723 pounds of olive oil, valued at $7,397,977. Much good has no doubt been done by the Italian Society of Permanent Chemical Inspection, for the analysis of food products and official certification of purity. The honest grower of and dealer in olive oil suffers much from the competition of the cheap oils. In the interest of honesty a law was passed in Spain in 1892 providing that all cottonseed or rapeseed oil imported into that country must be denatured by the addition of 1½ per cent. of wood tar or petroleum and also that all imported olive oil found to contain cottonseed oil or other similar products shall be rendered unfit for consumption in the same manner. The dangerous nature of the competition to which the olive grower is exposed is illustrated by a remark made by commercial agent, Julian Brode, in the _Consular and Trade Reports_ (August 29, 1910.) Writing from Alexandria he says: "The natives, most of whom are Mohammedans and large oil consumers, have been educated to substitute cottonseed oil for the olive oil they formerly used, and the latter is now found only in the houses of the wealthy. The change, which has taken place in Egypt, and which is now taking place to a great extent in Turkey, can likewise be made in Tripoli, Tunis, Algeria, Morocco, and other Mohammedan countries if proper efforts are put forth." Bearing in mind the remarks in a preceding chapter regarding cottonseed oil the word "educated" in the above quotation is painfully sarcastic. It is purse versus palate, cheapness versus Flavor, which remains for the wealthy alone to enjoy and get the benefit of. It is in the sardine industry, however, that olive oil is fighting its hardest battles. The oil in a box of sardines costs, if genuine, more than the fish in it. Consequently, efforts are being made to substitute cheaper oils. From regions where sardines are canned in wholesale quantities come reports of annually decreasing imports of olive oil, with a corresponding increase in the imports of cheaper oils. Were it not for the public's "prejudice" in favor of Flavor in oil, the olive would doubtless be kicked out altogether. I have read in a consular report that "cottonseed oil has been selling about fifty per cent. cheaper than the olive oil used in packing. This saving, the packers say, would be given to purchasers of their goods." The dear, generous, philanthropic packers! To think that it is not for their own sake but to help the consumers that they are so very anxious to give up olive oil, and to persuade the Government not to make them state on the label what kind of oil they use! They point out--disinterestedly, of course!--that cottonseed oil is "claimed to be physically as pure as olive oil, just as digestible, and even a better preservative." The question, therefore, "is simply up to the manufacturers of cottonseed oil to educate the public to these facts and destroy the prejudice against their product." In England, in the summer of 1912, a different kind of education was carried on by the importers of a special brand of sardines. In big advertisements the public was informed that a sardine is not necessarily a pilchard but may be the chinchard, the herring or the small mackerel, or the brisling which fattens on the small shellfish of the Norwegian fjords. All of these become sardines only when they are cured. The flavor depends in part on the kind of fish canned, the food they eat, the time of the year they are caught and, in part, on the way they are cured. For the better grades olive oil is used, but for the cheaper class trade coarse olive oil is taken, or cottonseed or peanut oil. Of olive oil there are fourteen grades and the best of these is the right kind if you want the best sardines. Here were interesting things for British sardine buyers to ponder. They were thus warned not to continue to ask the grocer simply for sardines, but for sardines of a particular kind put up by a reputable firm. If the firm which boasted that it used the best fish and the best of the fourteen grades of olive oil has a wise head it will live up to its claims. In such things honesty is by far the best policy--in the long run. Smoked sardines are almost, if not quite, as good as those simply packed in olive oil. They are usually marketed as Kieler Sprotten and should be better known in this country. FRIED FISH AND FRITTO MISTO Doubtless the word sardine comes from the Italian island, Sardinia, around which the small fish used for canning abound. Small fish of various other kinds are a favorite article of diet all over Italy. In Venice, for instance, among the most characteristic sights are the numerous little shops in which piles of fried fish are exposed for sale inside the open window, if window there be. They are eaten with slices of polenta, or thick corn meal mush, cut off with a thread from a huge loaf. The gondolier, as he passes by, exchanges his penny for some of this food and departs munching it with evidence of perfect satisfaction. The oil used for frying these little fishes is not, as a matter of course, the virgin oil of the month of May. But it is infinitely better than the "cooking-butter" sent to the kitchens of thousands of wealthy Americans. It is more economical, too, than our frying baths. When the French composer Massenet, a noted gourmet, visited Italy for the first time, he enjoyed a meal consisting of "an excellent snail soup and fish fried in oil which must have done service in the kitchen at least two or three years." It is acknowledged by epicures of all lands that in the art of frying, the Italian cook ranks supreme. In the more expensive eating houses butter (not "cooking butter") is often used, but the national way is to fry in oil, and when the oil is prime the result is delicious. An American girl, who married an Italian, writes to me from the Riviera Ligure: "Oil is used for frying, and it seems to me everything is fried--even green vegetables get a bath of hot oil. When butter is used it is for a condiment." Fried food in England and America is usually greasy and indigestible because the cook does not understand that a deep frying-kettle is best, that the oil (or whatever liquid is used) must _at the start_ have a temperature of nearly 500° Fahrenheit, so that a thin film may form immediately over the outside of whatever is to be fried, thus keeping in all the juices and flavors; and that whatever oil may adhere to the food after it is fished out must be allowed at once to drain off on a napkin or otherwise. The Italian cooks seem to know all these things instinctively, the result being that their fried foods come up to the test given by Mary Ronald, who remarks in the _Century Cook Book_ that properly fried Saratogo chips can be eaten out of hand without soiling one's gloves. _Fritta mista_ is one of the chefs d'œuvre of the Italian cook. The first time I ate one was in Rome. We went to a little restaurant marked in Baedeker with a star. After eating the mixed fry containing sweetbreads, shredded artichoke bottoms, brains, cocks-combs, truffles and other delicacies, done to a turn, we decided that the restaurant deserved two stars. It will be noticed that the favorite fritta mista consists largely of things that Americans have only recently learned to use or still despise. The value of sweetbreads, which used to be thrown away, has been discovered--they are now almost worth their weight in radium. Brains would be equally relished by nine Americans out of ten--if not by all--if they would taste them fried as served to me on August 22, 1912, at Como. I give the date because it was a memorable gastronomic event. The Italians are like the French in relishing these "trimmings." Mary Ronald relates an amusing story of a French family who moved into one of our Western towns where calves' heads, livers, brains and sweetbreads were still undiscovered luxuries. They wrote home that the price of living there was nominal because the foods which they most prized were given away by the butchers as food for dogs. Many years ago Sir Henry Thompson tried to persuade the British to substitute olive oil for lard. His advice affords at the same time an amusing glimpse of a certain culinary custom: "Excellent and fresh olive oil, which need not be so perfect in tint and flavor as the choicest kinds reserved for the salad bowl, is the best available form of fat for frying, and is sold at a moderate price by the gallon for this purpose at the best Italian warehouses. Nothing, perhaps, is better than clarified beef dripping, such as is produced, often abundantly, in every English kitchen; but the time-honored traditions of our perquisite system enable any English cook to sell this for herself, at small price, to a little trader round the corner, while she buys, at her employer's cost, a quantity of pork lard for frying material, at double the price obtained for the dripping. Lard is, moreover, the worst menstruum for the purpose, the most difficult to work in so far as to free the matters fried in it from grease; and we might be glad to buy back our own dripping from the aforesaid little trader at a profit to him of cent per cent, if only the purchase could be diplomatically negotiated." MACARONI THE REAL STAFF OF LIFE. Next to olive oil the best edible thing Italy gives to the world is macaroni in its many varieties. We import more than four million dollars' worth of it yearly, and we have learned, by raising durum wheat, to make a fair imitation of the products of a Gragnano factory; but most of all this is probably eaten by the Italians who have come to live with us. In the average American household macaroni is far too seldom served. In one of its varieties, it might advantageously replace potatoes served at one at least of our three daily meals. Just why we should have potatoes served at every meal I have never been able to understand. Most desirable substitutes, besides macaroni, are boiled chestnuts, rice and hominy, the rice and hominy being particularly good when fried. Not that I would say a word against potatoes. Baked, fried, boiled, steamed, mashed, hashed and browned or with cream--in all these and many other ways they are good, and it would be a calamity to be deprived of them because they not only make an excellent accompaniment to other foods, especially to meats, but are also most tasty when served as a separate course, in the French style. But enough is as good as a feast. What we need is variety; and sometimes, when we have to economize on meat, we need something more nutritious than potatoes. Potatoes impose much work on the kidneys, wherefore those afflicted with rheumatism should avoid them. Besides, macaroni has many times the value of potatoes as a flesh former. It owes this value to the large amount of gluten in it, the potato being useful chiefly as a heat-producer. Gluten is a word the meaning of which everybody should know. When wheat flour is kneaded in a current of water most of the starch is removed and there remains a sticky substance which is called gluten. It is the nitrogenous, or flesh-building, part of the flour. In ordinary wheat flour there is enough of this gluten to make the dough cohere and to give the bread a food value apart from that coming from the large percentage of starch in it which is a heat-producer. In macaroni wheat there is a smaller percentage of starch and a much larger percentage of gluten. Genuine macaroni which is made of the best durum wheat flour has nearly twice the amount of gluten as the highest grade wheat flour. Bread is generally called "the staff of life," but in Italy macaroni is the staff of life, and it has a much better title to this designation than bread because it contains so much more of the body-building gluten. "Gluten is to wheat what lean is to meat," as Charles Cristodoro has tersely put it. "When you think," he writes, "of macaroni flour, it is like going to the butcher and buying a roast and getting less bone, less gristle, and less fat, but about twice as much lean for the money. A butcher who would give his customers twice as much lean meat as another butcher would get all the trade in the neighborhood." In other words, macaroni is both bread and meat. It is not merely a side-dish, as many American and English housewives fancy, but a complete meal in itself, although, owing to the mildness of its Flavor, it is generally relished more when cooked with tomatoes, or a little chopped meat, or, better still, some cheese or butter or both, because, like bread, macaroni is deficient in fat, some of which it needs to make a dish well balanced as to nutritive ingredients. [Illustration: Macaroni Drying] For lunch there is perhaps nothing quite so desirable as a dish of macaroni thus prepared. At present it is difficult to get such a dish properly cooked, except in our Italian and French restaurants. But I believe the time will come when every American and English business man and woman will have a chance to eat an appetizing and easily digestible lunch in a macaroni cook-shop. This point seems of such great importance that I shall emphasize it by citing Sir Henry Thompson's advice. "Weight for weight, macaroni may be regarded as not less valuable for flesh-making purposes, in the animal economy, than beef and mutton. Most people can digest it more easily and rapidly than meat; it offers, therefore, an admirable substitute for meat, particularly for lunch or midday meals, among those whose employments demand continuous attention during the whole of a long afternoon. To dine, or eat a heavy meal in the middle of the day is, for busy men, a great mistake: one nevertheless which is extremely common, and productive of great discomfort, to say the least." Macaroni might, this eminent dietician suggests, be prepared at the restaurants "as a staple dish, in two or three forms, since it sustains the power without taxing too much the digestion, or rendering the individual heavy, sleepy, and incompetent afterwards." All these remarks refer to macaroni generically--the whole macaroni family, which is a big one. Its best known members are spaghetti, and vermicelli; but there are many others equally good and known only to Italians. Among these are _fidelini_, _stellete_, _tagliarini_, _lasagnetti_, and many others. Altogether, I am told, there are about fifty varieties of _pasta_--which is the generic name for all of them. The most delicately and deliciously flavored of them all is _tagliatelli_, but it is hard to get. Beware of substitutions! "Subito! Subito!" exclaimed the waiter at the Vapore restaurant in Venice when, for the first time, I had ordered this--to me--unknown dish and finally asked him why he did not bring it. He had gone out specially to buy some fresh butter to cook it with, and when it came on the table--_tagliatelli al burro_--it was a feast for the gods. If you gave me the choice, at your expense, of all the dishes on the elaborate lunch bill of fare of the most expensive New York restaurant and tagliatelli al burro was one of them, tagliatelli with butter I would order. There is also such a thing as gluten bread, made for persons of weak digestion or troubled with diabetes; but it is said that one tires of this. No one ever tires of the macaronis. I could eat a dish of them three times a day and smack my lips after each. To be sure, there is macaroni and macaroni. An Italian can tell the genuine by its smoothness, its clear yellow color, its hornlike toughness and general glutinous aspect. The genuine is not necessarily imported; a good brand is, as I have said, made in America of real durum wheat; but in this, as in all other things, eternal vigilance is called for; the world is full of gay deceivers. Macaroni made of ordinary wheat flour is poor stuff, but fortunately it is easily distinguished from the real thing. Being deficient in sticky gluten, it is not able, when it is subjected to the drying process, to bear its own weight and is therefore laid out flat instead of being "poled"--that is, thrown over reed poles on which it is exposed first to sunlight and then to damp cellars and shaded storehouses. Therefore, to get the real Italian Flavor, look for the flattened pole marks at the bend in the end of the macaroni. While macaroni is the national dish of Italy, it is as great a mistake to suppose that all Italians eat it three times a day, as it is to think that rice is the daily diet of all Japanese. Rice, in Japan, is a luxury to be served in the poorer families only on holidays, or in case of illness. Professor Chamberlain relates in his _Things Japanese_ that he once heard a beldame in a village remark to another with a grave shake of the head, "What! Do you mean to say that it has come to having to give her rice?" the inference being that the case must be alarming indeed if the family had thought it necessary to resort to so expensive a dainty. In the same way it has been said about Italians that it is as accurate to assert they live on macaroni, as to assert that Americans live on turkey. Some do, many don't. When I arrived in Japan, some of the geishas were convulsed with laughter over my clumsy efforts to eat with chopsticks. I found it a good deal like fishing--never knew when I'd get the next bite. Macaroni eating is less difficult to the inexperienced, yet many Americans seem to be in doubt as to how it should be done. (Maybe that is one reason why it is not served as often as it should be.) The approved Italian way is to gently spear a stick of it with the fork, convey the end to the mouth, and suck it in without much waste of time. An American observer was so impressed by this process that he came to the conclusion that the Italians have reels in their throats. Another way is to wind the paste round your fork till there is a wad that just fits your mouth. But there is no loss of Flavor if the macaroni is cut into convenient pieces and eaten _ad libitum_ any way you please. The most astonishing sight I witnessed during my seven visits to Italy was at Naples. We had hired a cab in front of the hotel and told the driver we wanted to see the people enjoying their open air life. He took us to a street where everything, including cooking and eating, was done outside the houses. Presently he stopped at a place where macaroni was being cooked in a huge kettle. A beggar ran up and offered to eat some right out of the boiling water if we would pay for it. The cook ladled a huge portion into a tin basin and the man swallowed it all in a few seconds, steaming hot. His stomach must have been lined with asbestos. The driver had in the meantime, also at my expense, taken a large glass of wine; but instead of being in league with the cook, as I supposed he would be, he told me to "give him a lira--quite enough," and drove off rapidly before the macaroni man could vociferate his demands for more. Mabel Phipps Bergolio, the American lady whose remarks on frying were quoted on another page, hardly thinks it true that the Italians are too poor to eat macaroni. "My husband thinks it depends upon the part of Italy they live in. Here, the _contadine_ eat _minestrone_--a thick soup made of oil, garlic, and all kinds of vegetables which they cultivate here. In Piedmont rice is the principal food, because it is grown there in large quantities. In the mountains near here, our maid tells me, they eat minestrone and chestnuts all the year round and nothing else. In the South, Naples, etc., macaroni is eaten and is cheaper there than in this part of the country on account of the flour which is raised there. Garlic and oil are used in preparing it, and this, with fruit, seems to be the food of the _meridionale_. In the North potatoes and polenta are eaten in large quantities in regions where the soil is adapted to raising tubers and corn." COOKED CHEESE IN PLACE OF MEAT. It would be sufficient honor for one nation to provide the world with the best olive oil and the _real_ staff of life. But Italy lays claim to another gastronomic distinction. It is generally conceded that the Americans and also the English, French, Germans, Russians and Scandinavians, eat more than is necessary, especially meat. In a previous chapter attention was called to the fact that, in the cooking of the future, meat is destined, for diverse reasons, to be used largely, if not chiefly, as a condiment to be added to equally nutritious but cheaper foods. The Italians, more than any other nation, have shown how this can be done without any real deprivation. When our greatest man of letters, Mr. Howells, was consul in Venice and gathering the material for his delightful book on life in that city, he was impressed particularly by the surprisingly small scale on which provisions for the daily meals were bought and the general absence of gluttonous excesses: "As to the poorer classes, one observes without great surprise how slenderly they fare, and how with a great habit of talking of meat and drink, the verb _mangiare_ remains in fact for the most part inactive with them. But it is only just to say that this virtue of abstinence seems to be not wholly the result of necessity, for it prevails with other classes which could well afford the opposite vice. Meat and drink do not form the substance of conviviality with Venetians, as with the Germans and the English, and in degree with ourselves; and I have often noticed on the Mondays at the Gardens, and other social festivals of the people, how the crowd amused itself with anything--music, dancing, walking, talking--anything but the great northern pastime of gluttony." After describing the meals and referring to the great market at the Rialto and the way provisions are distributed throughout the city, he says: "A great Bostonian, whom I remember to have heard speculate on the superiority of a state of civilization in which you could buy two cents' worth of beef, to that in which so small a quantity was unpurchasable, would find the system perfected here, where you can buy half a cent's worth." Half a cent's worth of meat will not go very far, even in Italy, but for a few cents' worth you can get enough to impart the Flavor of veal, lamb, or chicken to a pot of farinaceous food or a dish of vegetables, and that is all a true epicure needs to be happy. Throughout Italy, especially in the South, meat is used sparingly. Large joints are seldom cooked, because of the effect of the warm climate in spoiling animal food rapidly. But there is another food which does not thus deteriorate and which is therefore used largely as a substitute for meat, and that is cheese. To speak of cheese as a substitute for meat seems odd to those who--like most Americans--have been brought up to look on cheese with French eyes, as a dessert. The Italians also have cheeses--notably Gorgonzola, a variety of Roquefort--which are eaten at the end of a meal; but more characteristically Italian is the use of cheese as an ingredient of various cooked dishes, which take the place of meat. While the statement made by one writer that the Italians put cheese into everything they eat is an exaggeration, it is true that many of their dishes are thus enriched; and it is this enriching of foods with cheese, to make up for the absence or scarcity of meat, that constitutes one of the great lessons Italy is teaching the world. Gastronomically, this lesson is as valuable as what France has taught the world regarding the dessert usefulness of ripened cheese as an appetizer; and from an economic point of view it is much more important, because meat is becoming dearer every year, whereas cheese is not only cheaper but _more nutritious_ than meat. More nutritious--yes, twice as nutritious. In Farmers' Bulletin 487, entitled _Cheese and its Economical Uses_, two of our Government's nutrition experts published a table (p. 13) based on a series of experiments which show that "cheese has nearly twice as much protein, weight for weight, as beef of average composition as purchased, and that its fuel value is more than twice as great. It contains over twenty-five per cent. more protein than the same weight of porterhouse steak as purchased, and nearly twice as much fat." Thus does science justify the culinary practices of Italy, and explain how it happens that the sturdy sons of that land, instead of being, as many foolishly suppose, idlers, habitually indulging in _dolce far niente_, can and do accomplish the hardest manual labor, notably railway building--abroad as well as at home--on a diet which contains little or no meat. Among the first things that strike one on visiting Italy the first time is the universal custom of putting grated cheese in the soup. Being hot, the soup dissolves the cheese at once; and this is a point of great importance. There is an impression the world over that cheese is indigestible, and this is correct so far as raw cheese is concerned, unless it is taken in small quantities at dessert and carefully munched with a hard cracker or a crusty roll of bread. Cooked cheese, however, is easily digested--provided the cook knows her business and does not follow the British custom, graphically described by the eminent chemist, W. Mattieu Williams, of making, for instance, "macaroni-cheese," which is "commonly prepared in England by depositing macaroni in a pie-dish, and then covering it with a stratum of grated cheese, and placing this in an oven or before a fire until the cheese is desiccated, browned, and converted into a horny, caseous form of carbon that would induce chronic dyspepsia in the stomach of a wild-boar if he fed upon it for a week." How it should be prepared, it is not the mission of this volume to indicate. The best cook books reveal the method and so does the Farmers' Bulletin (No. 487) just referred to. This bulletin should be, indeed, bound and placed in the kitchen of every American and English home, as it goes into the subject in much more detail than any of the cook books. There are in it pages on Kinds of Cheese Used in American Homes, The Care of Cheese in the Home, The Flavor of Cheese, Nutritive Value and Cost of Cheese and Some Other Food Materials, Home-made Cheeses, Cheese Dishes and Their Preparation, Cheese Soups and Vegetables Cooked with Cheese, Cheese Salads and Sandwiches, Cheese Pastry, etc. Especially important are the pages devoted to a description of "Cheese dishes which may be used in the same way as meat." Under this head we find, among many other things, and with the recipes in full, references to cheese sauces, corn and cheese soufflé, macaroni and cheese, baked rice and cheese, cheese rolls, nut and cheese roast, Boston roast, baked eggs with cheese, cheese omelet, fried bread with cheese, cheese with mush, cheese croquettes, oatmeal with cheese, etc. Doubtless the best cooking cheese is Parmesan; but when the genuine article cannot be obtained in bulk (never buy it grated, in a bottle) it is better to use Swiss or even American cheese (cheddar). The Dutch Edam is also excellent for the kitchen, as good as when eaten raw. Of the Italian uncooked cheeses for the table, the best are Gorgonzola and, particularly, Caciocavallo. This is not, as its name suggests, made of mare's milk. It looks like a rag doll, is similar to Edam in consistency and has a very pleasant and unique Flavor owing to its being slightly smoked. Beware of American imitations, cured with "liquid smoke." In times of meat scarcity and high prices it is well to remember that hard-working men can (as experiments have shown) fully sustain their strength for months on the cheapest of all products of the dairy--cottage cheese made of skim milk, to which, just before eating it, some cream is added for fat and flavor. Strange to say, in all the literature on this matter I have never seen any reference to the transformations to which cottage cheese can be subjected. By standing a few days, it gets a ripening flavor that appeals to epicures, and if it is then boiled it assumes a consistency like that of Port Salut, making another pleasant variant. A helpful little volume for those who wish to know how the Italians use cheese in cooking and how they make a number of other national dishes is Antonia Isola's "Simple Italian Cookery." Here are receipts showing how _risotto_, and other rice dishes, _ravioli_, polenta, _gnocchi_ of farina or potato, are made (all of them delicious and desirable in American and English homes, particularly the gnocchi), and how eggs, fishes, vegetables, and meats can be cooked in tempting Italian ways. The chestnut, as a matter of course, is a frequent ingredient in the dressings and the pastry. BIRDS, TOMATO PASTE AND GARLIC. While the Italians are sparing in their use of meat, it must not be supposed that they do not know how to make the most of it when they do indulge in it. They are born cooks--it's a great pity none of them are ever to be found in our "intelligence offices"--and their experts know as well as the great French chefs how to prepare a savory roast, stew, broil, entrée, or dessert. In the making of sauces, the blending of meat and vegetable flavors, the cooking of fish and shellfish, one also finds much variety and local Flavor on the peninsula. Details as to those points may be found in abundance in the forty pages Col. Newham-Davis devotes to this country in his "Gourmet's Guide to Europe." To enjoy the national and particularly the local varieties of Flavor, it is well to take only a room in an Italian hotel and eat in the restaurants. I always do this, paying a little more for the room, which is only fair to the host. The trouble with these hotels is that the table d'hôte, though usually good, is not Italian but French, and in Italy you want something different, to get an idea of the variations in flavor of the spaghettis, the minestrone soups, the gnocchis, the risottos, and so on. Sometimes the hotel has attached to it a locally conducted restaurant, in which case it is needless to hunt for another. For one of their gastronomic habits the Italians are justly denounced by other Europeans--their slaughter of millions of birds, largely blackbirds, siskins, green-finches, and other song birds, that yearly seek a refuge among them on their flight to or from the north. All efforts to curb this slaughter have so far proved unavailing. The difficulty is double: the birds are very good to eat and the common people cannot understand our point of view. Lina Duff Gordon, in her book, "Home Life in Italy" (which takes the reader right into the kitchens and the market places), tells about one of the hunters: "Once, when he offered us a bunch of blackbirds strung together by the neck, which he said made an excellent roast, we seized upon the opportunity to deliver a lecture on the shooting of singing birds. He listened so attentively that we rejoiced at having made an impression on an important convert, until looking up with eyes very wide open, he exclaimed: 'Ah! Sangue della Madonna! Then you have no sport in England!'" It is hardly fair to chide the Italians for making too much use of garlic, unless we include in our censure the French--particularly those of the Southern provinces--and the Spaniards, who not only put it in their food but eat it raw in chunks. On this point I may be permitted to cite from my "Spain and Morocco" some remarks on a peasant who drove me from Baza to Lorca: "At noon he took his lunch, composed of ten raw tomatoes, half a loaf of bread, a piece of raw ham, and a large bulb of garlic consisting of a score of bulblets, which he took one at a time to flavor his portions. It is doubtful if he expected another meal that day, and in watching him a brilliant theory came to my mind:--perhaps the poorer classes in Spain are so fond of garlic for the reason that they have so little to eat; for, as it takes several days to digest a bulb of it, they always feel as if they had something in their stomachs." In the best Italian restaurants, as in those of Paris, it is understood that garlic, while delicious for flavoring, is so only in homœopathic doses. Moreover one can always dine without garlic by simply saying to the waiter, when ordering a dish, _senz' aglio_. Whether Italian peasants eat raw ham, as that Spanish teamster did, I do not know. Ham is not an Italian specialty. At Naples one may get the genuine smoked article, but it is so expensive that only the wealthy folk can afford it. But in his enthusiastic addiction to tomatoes that Spaniard was akin to the Italians. How they do love them--raw or cooked--more even than we do, if that be possible. Next to cheese, nothing is so frequently added to the macaronis as tomato sauce, either as we make it, or in the form of the paste which is one of the unique Italian products that ought to be better known in other countries. The best tomato paste comes from the Province of Naples, where it is made of a small variety of the fruit which has a special Flavor that is much relished. This, to be sure, they do not waste on foreigners. What is exported is, as we read in the "Daily Consular and Trade Reports" (Dec., 1910), usually not even second rate, but "of the third quality," which is "of course, very inferior, because it contains little tomato extract and is almost entirely liquid. There is no demand for it in the Italian market, and it is prepared exclusively for exportation to America, where it meets the requirements of the immigrant peasants from Sicily. The latter, when at home, either do not use any tomato paste or consume a certain kind of hard tomato paste (_conserva di pomidoro_) which is made by the peasant women." Consul Hernando de Soto further informs us that "tomato paste of the first and second quality also is exported, though in much smaller quantity, from Palermo to the United States, where it is patronized by a more prosperous class of Italians and also, it is stated, by some Americans." Many more Americans would buy tomato paste were they sure of not getting the third-class article after paying for the best, as happens with so many things we eat. [Illustration] IX GERMAN AND AUSTRIAN DELICACIES A COSMOPOLITAN CUISINE. In the matter of cuisine the Germans are the most cosmopolitan of all peoples; they learn eagerly from other nations, and sometimes improve on the original. They like variety; when traveling, unlike the English and Americans, they prefer things new to them, and it has been justly said that one of the Germans' chief objects in touring is to enjoy exotic pleasures of the table. At home they avoid monotony by frequently supping in restaurants or beer gardens, the whole family being taken there, including the dog, unless a great crowd is expected because of a special musical treat, in which case the public is informed that "_Hunde dürfen nicht mitgebracht werden_." And how enthusiastically these burghers discuss the diverse good things placed before them! A Berlin author maintains that three-fourths of all Germans, and four-fifths of their cousins, the Austrians, talk more about eating than about anything else, and that the most successful novels in their countries are those in which there are descriptions of banquets that make the mouth water. No need of preaching gastronomy to them! To deny that the Germans have a cuisine of their own, as some of their own writers have done, is folly. While they have set a good example in being willing to learn from their neighbors--as the Italians learned from the Orientals and the French from the Italians--they have also originated and improved a number of things gastronomic which deserve to be transplanted to other countries. A contributor to the "Frankfurter Zeitung" points out that "more than one dish which in Germany, France, and England is relished under a French name was originated by German cooks." He exhorts these cooks to give the dishes they create German names, choosing such as a foreigner can pronounce. England has succeeded in adding some of its food names--like beefsteak, Irish stew, mock-turtle soup, pudding, roast beef, toast--to the world-language, and the French have shown by their adoption of _Lied_, _Concertmeister_, _Hinterland_, _Bock_, etc., that they would not balk at German culinary terms. DELICATESSEN STORES. As a matter of fact some German terms have already become part of the world-language--among them sauerkraut, pumpernickel and the names of various sausages and cheeses. The most eloquent testimony to German international influence is, however, the ubiquitous delicatessen store. In New York there is one every few blocks, and these places are patronized by many who are not Germans. To be sure, few of these shops equal the originals in Munich, Dresden, or Berlin, in variety and gorgeousness of display. Edward Grieg, like most of the great composers, was an epicure. It is related of him that one of his favorite amusements was to gaze at the displays of good things in the delicatessen stores. One day, while lingering before one of these windows he said to the American composer, Frank Van der Stucken: "What an ideal symphony! How perfect in all its details, in form, contents, and instrumentation!" Grand gastronomic symphonies they are, indeed; and what is more, the appeal of these delicacies is to the palate as well as to the eyes. When a German pays his good money he wants something good to eat, and if he is fooled, woe to the culprit. Strict are the laws, and enforced they are, too. Officers of the health boards visit the stores at unexpected times, taking away samples for chemical analysis. Fines are inflicted for the least lack of obedience to the pure food law, while gross offenders may be punished by life-long imprisonment with hard labor. The examiners, of course, visit not only the delicatessen stores but the butcher shops, groceries, bakeries and all places where food is offered for sale. In Berlin there is a special institute for the inspection of foodstuffs which is directly under the control of the police. It makes chemical and bacteriological examinations of things offered for sale. Purchasers who suffer from the ill effects of foodstuffs have the privilege of applying to the police, who promptly make an examination of the suspected article. This does not cost the complainant a penny and the expense to the city of this invaluable institute is only about $12,000 a year. Encouraged by the knowledge of these facts, a German may boldly enter any delicatessen store, confident of getting things that will taste good and do no harm. And what a variety of luxuries is spread out before him! Cold roast joints of all the butchers' meats are placed in line on the counter, with hams, raw or cooked, and sausages diverse, all eager to be sliced to suit. I say eager because these things--especially the sausages and the hams--taste so good that it surely must give them altruistic joy to be eaten. Cold fowl is there, too, ready for the carving knife, or to be taken away whole. The Germans often lunch or sup on these sliced meats, huge platterfuls of which are brought on the table--_Gemischter Aufschnitt_--and none of it is wasted, you may be sure. Chicken and fish salads diverse, including herring salad, and potato salad--one of Germany's great contributions to the world's gastronomic treasure--are at hand, as well as another international delicacy of Teutonic origin--sauerkraut, raw or cooked; and sauerkraut _is_ a delicacy; nor is it indigestible when cooked the right way and long enough. Proof of its high standing is provided by the fact that France's gastronomic high priest, Brillat-Savarin--whose famous work on the _Physiology of Taste_ has become so popular that a penny edition of it is sold in the streets--puts it, with partridge, on the menu of one of three fine dinners he suggests. The French, indeed, are almost as much addicted to the eating of sauerkraut as are the Germans. In England and America not a few persons foolishly sneer at it as "rotten cabbage." It is no more rotten than pickles are rotten, for it is simply pickled cabbage--cabbage pickled in its own juice plus salt, and soured by fermentation. The pickles eaten by Germans are not all sour; they like, almost better than the sour kinds, the dill pickles, which are cucumbers preserved in a liquid flavored with the blossoms and seeds of an umbelliferous Oriental plant, _anethum_, cultivated in German gardens for its spicy aroma. Teutons seem to take to this naturally; with others it is an acquired taste, like that for olives. Smoked or soused herrings, sprats, and diverse spiced fish (_marinirt_) are always on sale in the delicatessen stores, and they are acknowledged among the best specialties of Germany. Eel and other fish in jelly are other characteristic edibles the Fatherland has reason to be proud of; and have you ever eaten cold goose in an acidulated meat jelly? It is worth while going to Berlin, just to taste this Prussian _Gänseweisssauer_. Smoked Pomeranian goosebreast is always in stock; its taste is not unlike that of raw smoked ham and there is no danger of trichinosis, though, to be sure, that danger from eating ham has been reduced in Germany to a minimum by the strict system of meat inspection. The heads and feet of calves, sheep, and swine, wild and domestic, are much in demand; a wild boar's head often is the center of interest in the show window of a delicatessen store. Of course there are also canned meats and vegetables, with diverse fancy groceries and cheeses of various countries, together with crackers and breads of diverse shape, size, and color. But enough has been said to show that a German delicatessen store is a treasure house of appetizing foods, many of them peculiar to the Fatherland, and most of them agreeable to the palate of a real gourmet. It is possible that a thousand years hence Bismarck's fame as a statesman may have waned; but Bismarck herring will continue to be served in all lands until the seas are fished out. On a warm summer day, when you are not hungry and yet feel a vague longing for something piquant, try a Bismarck herring with potato salad. You will bless me for the advice. It is very good for the stomach, too, the doctors say. SAUSAGES AND SMOKED HAM. The French have excellent sausages and so have the Italians. They are hard to beat, and yet, in the matter of variety and general excellence, the Germans as makers of _würste_ are supreme. Various are the tastes of sausage eaters, but all of them may be gratified west of the Rhine. I have before me a book by Nicolaus Merges bearing the title "Internationale Wurst und Fleischwaaren Fabrikation." Concise directions are given in it for the making of more than a hundred and fifty kinds of sausages, all of which are manufactured in Germany, though some are of foreign origin. Why so many kinds of sausage? There is not much difference in their nutritive value. They are made in different ways simply to secure variety in Flavor, to please all palates. The book referred to shows how this variety is secured. Different meats are used and these are diversely blended, spiced, and cured. The possibilities are unlimited; the hundred and fifty varieties in the Merges volume are a mere fraction of the total number, nearly every locality having its special kind. Of liver sausages there are two dozen varieties, the cheapest being made from ordinary beef liver while the _Gänselebertrüffelwurst_ (goose-liver-truffle sausage) may cost a dollar a pound. Of sausages in which blood is used there are more than a score. These are cheap, and--well, if they cost nothing I wouldn't eat them. The biggest of all the sausages is the Cervelat made in Braunschweig (many German towns have become world-famed by the making of some particularly well-flavored sausage, cheese, cake, or beer). The Brunswick brand is compounded of beef and pork, both lean and fat. The Westphalian variety includes less beef. Some kinds of Cervelat exclude pork, containing only beef or veal. There is also a homœopathetic Cervelat. It is intended for convalescents, and has a minimum of fat and spices. A kosher Cervelat is made for Hebrews. Beef from old cows is not in the best repute, yet for the making of Salami it is preferred to the tenderloin of a young steer. (The toughest meat sometimes has the richest Flavor.) Salami hails from Italy, but special varieties of it are made in Germany, as well as in Holland, Switzerland, Russia, and Hungary. It is needless to give details regarding Plockwurst, Mettwurst, Knoblauchwurst, Knackwurst, Schwartenmagen, etc., in all their transformations. In some varieties anchovies, kidneys, or brains are used. Bärenwurst is not often seen now, as bears are getting scarce. Horse meat of course is used (why not?) for cheaper sorts, and the bow-wow joke of the comic papers is not altogether without foundation. American Indians agreed with the Chinese in regarding dog meat as a great delicacy--the dish of honor to be served to guests. Dog meat sausage may be quite legitimate, as long as it is honestly labeled as such. There is a story of a wealthy Berlin butcher whose son had been promoted in the army by Moltke, and who, to show his gratitude, advised the Field Marshal never to eat sausage. But those days of uncertainty are past. Inspection is now so strict in the Fatherland that one can safely eat whatever is offered. When the eminent German novelist, Ernst von Wolzogen, visited the United States (1911) he exclaimed, on the eve of departure, to a reporter for the New York "Staatszeitung": "Great heavens, if you knew what an indescribable longing has often seized me in your country for a good German sausage! No--for their food I cannot envy the Americans." Considering the large number of Germans in the United States it seems strange that they do not insist on having as good sausage made here as on the other side. But they do not. The home-made sausage is usually compounded of worthless scraps, and is apt to be indigestible. As for the "imported" Cervelat and other kinds, they are often so in name only--which explains that wail, _de profundis_, of Freiherr von Wolzogen. American sausages made after English or original recipes are generally spoiled by an excessive amount of sage. Sage should always be used homœopathically, else it overpowers all other flavors. Were I Czar in the realm of gastronomy I should forbid the use of sage altogether. The next time you go to Europe do not forget to make an automobile trip from Munich to Berlin, taking in Nuremberg on the way. We did that, with some friends, in the summer of 1912, and when we reached the city of Hans Sachs we steered straight for the Bratwurstglöcklein, a little eating shop, known by name at least, to epicures the world over, though only one dish is cooked in it, and that dish, as the name indicates, is sausage. Five _Würstchen_, no bigger than your thumb, are served with a portion of sauerkraut. The cost is half a mark--twelve cents--a portion and you can have as many encores as you like. Some of us took four, and so tender and tasty were the little things, as well as the _kraut_ that we had no occasion to regret it. After all, we were mere tyros, as our waiter informed us; he has known many a man to eat a dozen portions or more and not send for an ambulance--at least, that's what he said. The number of portions served daily vary from 3,000 to 5,000; the record is 25,000 served on a day when there was a Sängerfest. Nuremberg has two other eating places similar to this, but the Bratwurstglöcklein maintains its preeminence, owing to its traditions; for it was in its little rooms that the men who (with the aid of the Bratwurstglöcklein) made that city famous--among them Sachs, Welleland and Dürer--used to gather for food and drink. After we had paid our bill--not a ruinous one for an automobile party--we started for the next town on our list, after buying a few boxes of the world-famed honey cakes (_Lebkuchen_) of the town. We all had seen the other sights of Nuremberg before. Besides, we were on a gastronomic trip, and discipline had to be preserved. Observation has convinced me that Americans would be as enthusiastic sausage eaters as the Germans are if they could get them as well made and cooked. In a large New York down-town restaurant you can see, on certain days, half the guests ordering "country sausages," which, though good, are not to be mentioned on the same day as those of the Bratwurstglöcklein. The inference is inevitable that a lunch-room serving honest duplicates of the German delicacy would prove a gold-mine. The proprietor of another down-town restaurant who provides excellent little Frankfurters informed me he got them at a certain shop in which two butchers had successively made their fortune by simply manufacturing these honest little sausages and really smoking them instead of using "liquid smoke." It makes such a difference to the palate as well as the stomach. Genuine Frankfurters are made of solid meat (not lungs) and they are always smoked. They are known as Frankfurters throughout the greater part of Germany and Austria, but in Frankfort they call them Wiener Würstel, to dignify them, presumably, as exotics. Smoked sausages and other meats are in great vogue among the Germans, whose addiction to them gives them the right to pose as true epicures. Do they not provide the whole world with smoked goosebreast, Hamburger Rauchfleish, and the best of all hams, the smoked Westphalian? In South Germany they have a special word for smoked meats, Geselchtes, or Selchware. The composer Brahms never missed a chance to get a dish of "G'selchtes"; it gave him an appetite when nothing else would. Bismarck, the most famous of German gourmets, took great delight in feasting on smoked meats and fish--Spickgans, Spickaal, Schinken, &c. He knew as much about the different varieties and the places they came from as any dealer in delicatessen, as we know from the table talk recorded by Dr. Moritz Busch. Smoked Westphalian ham has carried the fame of Germany to the lunch tables of all parts of the world; and not a whit inferior in Flavor is the Austrian variety, Prager Schinken. Raw or cooked, these are among the superlative delights of the epicure, ranking with caviare, Camembert, and canvasback duck. On the appetizing quality of properly smoked meats which makes the mouth water and facilitates digestion I have already commented. German and Austrian hams owe their fame to the fact that they are smoked and otherwise cured scientifically, regardless of cost, with a view to developing the most delicate Flavor. The first thing to be noted is that the men who cure the meats do not dare to denature them (_i. e._, spoil their natural Flavor) by soaking them in solutions of chemicals which are not only injurious to health but which would make it possible for them to hide the putrescence of spoiled meats--as is so often done in America. The law on this point is very strict. By orders of the Imperial Federal Council, dated July 4, 1908, the following substances have been forbidden: Boric acid and salts thereof, formaldehyde, the hydroxides and carbonates of the alkaline salts, sulphurous acid and the salts thereof, the salts of hyposulphurous acid, hypofluoric acid and salts thereof, salicylic acid and its compounds, chloric acid and salts, and all coloring matter. Consul Talbot J. Albert, of Brunswick writes that "the German inspection laws, especially in regard to hams and all hog products are so strict that their adulteration would be immediately detected, the products confiscated, and the manufacturer severely punished." The ingredients used in the curing of hams before they are smoked are salt, saltpeter, and pepper. The quantity of these and other ingredients and the method employed are business secrets difficult to ascertain. In America, sugar-cured ham is advertised in large letters. Sugar, no doubt, is a good preservative, and it is harmless, but somehow it seems as incongruous with meat as salt is with cream or butter. Ask an epicure if he would like his oysters with sugar, and see him shudder. In Germany, hams are seldom sugar-cured. "The Daily Consular and Trade Reports" for December 8, 1909, contains such information on the subject of smoked sausages and hams as the consuls in various German cities were able to gather. They found that sausage is smoked up to three or four weeks, unless it is to be eaten at once. The smoking makes it lose some weight and cost more--but what of that, as long as the Flavor is improved? The American way is to save the full weight by using chemicals and then sell the denatured stuff as "smoked" meat. It is profitable to the packer. The consumer--well, it serves him right if he continues to buy such stuff without a protest. Of the contributors to the Consular symposium on smoked meats in Germany, Vice-Consul Frederick Hoyermann of Bremen gave the most informing account. "The fresh ham is put into pure common salt (sodium chloride) and is kept therein for about three weeks, whereupon it is washed and air-dried. After having been exposed to the air for about eight days it is ready for the _smoking process, which lasts from six to eight weeks_. It is hung up in the smoke of beechwood chips, which must burn slowly so as not to create heat or evolve too much smoke. The ham must be smoked thoroughly but gradually, and must remain cool while undergoing the process. Thereupon it is cleaned and is then ready for use." Now note what the same writer says about the "quick-smoking" process: "Hams are smoked by a simpler and cheaper process, pine wood being used for smoking instead of beech, the time allowed for smoking is considerably reduced, and stronger smoke applied. Hams thus cured are, of course, inferior in quality, as they lack in Flavor and are not fit for export, because only high-class meats will pay the cost of transportation." The so-called Westphalian hams do not all come from Westphalia. The name is generally applied to choice hams which have been smoked thoroughly but gradually in accordance with the methods indicated in the preceding paragraphs. One more important detail. The Germans know the value of feeding Flavor into food. As Consul Carl Bailey Hurst, of Plauen wrote: "The best and most durable hams are those of hogs which have been fed during the few weeks previous to slaughtering on acorns or corn." Juniper berries are sometimes thrown on the beech wood while hams are being smoked, in the belief that that still further improves their Flavor. Maybe it does--I have had no opportunity for comparisons. Possibly it is a mistake. The Germans, though they make the best hams and sausages in the world, are as a nation far from impeccable; in the use of spices, in particular, they often blunder grossly. It is surely an aberration of taste to mix cloves, bay leaves, cinnamon, caraway seeds, sage, or ginger with the preserving fluid; for these strong condiments destroy the individual Flavor of the meat. Excessive use of spices is the chief blemish of German cookery. Many otherwise well-made dishes are spoiled by the addition of pungent condiments which completely monopolize the palate. The excessive use of these condiments is a survival of medieval coarseness. I shall not dwell on this, however, or on other deplorable relics of the coarse appetite of former generations, because the object of this book is not to point out the shortcomings of European nations but to call attention to practices in which they are ahead of us. Let us therefore proceed to another department of gastronomy in which the Germans (and their neighbors) can teach us useful lessons. LIVE FISH BROUGHT TO THE KITCHEN. The Paradise of fish-eaters is Copenhagen. New York and other American port towns could get some very important hints from the way things are done there. Before 1892 it was difficult to bring live fish into the town without contaminating them with sewage and spoiling their flavor. In that year a general sewage system was constructed by which the city's sewage is carried two kilometers out into the open sea, thus putting an end to the contamination of the ocean front and the harbor. The gratifying results of this reform were described by the London "Lancet's" representative at the Sanitary Congress in Copenhagen, October, 1910: "This not only puts an end to the nuisances that used to arise, but enables boats full of live fish to come close to shore and right into the town by means of the fresh-water canals. In this manner at least the smaller fish are kept alive till the moment they are sold. Any number of wooden boats are pierced with holes and filled with fish; these boats just float on the surface of the water, and the living fish is taken out of them when wanted. But as every one cannot go to the water's edge to buy fish, there are water tanks on wheels and the live fish is brought to the doors of the people's houses. "Never before," this sanitarian continues, "have I been in a town where all the fish, whether cheap or dear is so beautifully fresh. The principal fish market was built by the municipality and is let to a wholesale fish salesman. It is a delight to see how clean and bright these premises are kept. There is no spreading the fish on slabs so that dust and dirt may settle on them. Very pretty tessellated tile tanks are filled with running water, and here the smaller fish swim about." In Berlin and other German cities the fish are also brought alive to the kitchen. An eminent artist who is also an ideal hausfrau, Mme. Gadski, informed me that she wouldn't think of buying a dead fish. "They are brought to the kitchen alive, and I reject those that are not swimming about," she said. The Germans are great eaters of fresh-water fishes, and there are ingenious arrangements for bringing them to market alive. The large fish of the ocean cannot, of course, be delivered alive, but the transportation facilities are now so excellent that not only the more expensive kinds, like sole, turbot, and sterlet, but the cheaper sorts, like cod, haddock, plaice, and herring, are brought to city and town markets in prime condition. A German culinary authority specially calls attention to the fact that the "ancient and fish-like smell" is a thing of the past. In the days when transportation facilities were less adequate this odor made it necessary to boil fish in two waters, throwing the first away. Now the cook has only the natural odor of the unspoiled fish to deal with, which, being agreeable, is carefully preserved in the cooking. The fishing places off the German coast are visited daily by fast steamers to collect the catch. The boats are provided with refrigerating apparatus, and so are the express trains which at Stettin, Geestemmünde, Cuxhaven, and other coast towns, take the fish from the boats and carry them at full speed to the cities all over the Empire. The same excellent arrangements for keeping the fish cold without spoiling their flavor by freezing them are to be found on German steamers. On the eighth day out on the _Kaiserin Auguste Victoria_ I found the salmon as fresh-tasting as if it had just been caught. "How do you do it?" I asked Captain Ruser; and he explained the system--the refrigerating arrangements which, with steady ventilation, provide a frigid atmosphere without actually freezing the fish or the meat. Such things cost time and money; but the Germans, being a gastronomic nation, consider them worth while, on sea as well as on shore. Hamburg sets a good example in showing what a municipal government can do in the way of providing the people with fresh fish and telling them what to do with them. The following is from the "Fremdenblatt" of that city; similar notices frequently appear in the newspapers: SALE OF CHEAP SEA FISH. "The Staatliche Fischereidirektion" informs us that on Tuesday, August 20, there will be on sale, at the known 150 shops, fresh haddocks--averaging ¾ pound apiece--at 23 pfennigs [5¾ cents] a pound. Besides this, many shops offer for sale fresh mackerel at twenty to twenty-five pfennigs [5 to 6¼ cents] apiece, according to size. The mackerel is an excellent fish both for frying and boiling. New directions for cooking haddock in a variety of ways are contained in the illustrated booklet, "Fischkost," which is given free to purchasers at all the stalls. The Hamburgers are lucky in having the "net gains" of sea fishing placed before them at the earliest possible moment. With the aid of the arrangements just referred to these fishes can, however, be bought in good condition as far away as Vienna. A few years ago the Austrian officials had a number of railway cars constructed for the transportation of sea fish and also of live fresh-water fish. Germany has had such cars for decades, bringing fish not only from her own ports but from Holland and elsewhere. African eels are sent from Algiers to Marseilles and thence by express trains all the way to Berlin. Eels are usually despised in America and with good reason, for their scavenging habits often make them inedible. But there are eels that live on fresh food, such as small crustaceans at the bottom of the sea, and fish roe; and these are as good as any fish that swims. The large eels served in Berlin are as tender, juicy, and sweet-flavored as shad. When I was a student at the University of Berlin, one of my pet excursions was up the Spree, stopping at an inn where eels of medium size--_blau gesotten_, were served as a specialty. They were delicious, though they did look strikingly like snakes as they lay curled up on the plate swallowing their own tails. Not a few persons whose education has been neglected refuse to eat eels, believing them to be allied to snakes, when in truth they are no more related to snakes, zoölogically, than whales are. And even if they were of the snake family what of it, if they taste good? The eminent Norwegian explorer, Dr. Lumholtz, who spent several years among the Australian wild men, told me on his return, while we were enjoying a dish of terrapin together at Henry Villard's, that much as he liked this reptilian delicacy, of which we Americans are so proud, he thought that python liver, which he had had frequent occasion to eat, was quite as good. While studying at Heidelberg I did not neglect, it is needless to say, the Wolfsbrunnen, famous for its trout. I have eaten trout, caught by myself in many parts of the world, including the Maine woods, Lake Tahoe in California, and Trout Lake in the State of Washington; but none tasted better than a dish served in Berlin at a sumptuous new hotel oddly called Boarding Palace. All over Germany fish-breeding in ponds is an important industry. Bavaria alone had, in 1909, over 33,000 acres of such ponds, and probably has many more now; Saxony had 200,000 acres, while Silesia had nearly 60,000. The total area of fish ponds in the Empire probably does not fall far short of a quarter of a million acres. Carp are grown in special abundance, and German carp are very good to eat, especially when they have been artificially fed and fattened with rice, potatoes, fish meal, or dairy refuse. Other kinds grown are perch, pike-perch, tench, eels, and trout of several kinds, including the American rainbow. The trout are fed shellfish, slaughterhouse refuse, horse meat, fish meal, and specially prepared foods. Everything is done with German thoroughness, and the results once more prove gastronomy to be a good guide to wealth. The profits are increased by selling the fish direct to consumers. Fish-growing associations have been formed for this special purpose all over the empire. As these ponds are scattered all over the country it is possible to have everywhere fish just out of the water; and, as I have said before, the poorest variety of fish just caught has a finer Flavor than the best variety that has been kept a few days by any method whatever. I have lived in Germany three years and do not remember ever to have had on my plate insipid fish, such as we are doomed three times out of four to eat in our own country, chiefly because the fish are frozen. Dr. Wiley insists in his "Foods and Their Adulteration" (1911) that "the consumer is entitled to know whether in any given case the fish he purchases is a fresh or a cold storage article. At the present time, in so far as I know, there are no national, state or municipal laws whereby this fact can be ascertained. Without raising the question of comparative value or palatability there is no doubt but what the consumer is entitled to know the character of the fish he purchases." BIG FRAUDS IN FISH: Under this head the "National Food Magazine" of Chicago has published some remarks by G. J. L. Janes, which vividly depict the outrages perpetrated in the United States by cold-storage men. "The legal regulations governing the sale of fish are so lax that we have decided to stop handling fresh fish altogether rather than suffer the unjust competition and be a party to so many deceptions on the public. A dealer can take any kind of frozen fish, thaw it out, and mark it strictly fresh-caught fish, and if he so desire, sell it as such. This is being done all along State Street in Chicago to-day. It is not only a fraud and cheat on the public, but it is dangerous. Fresh-caught halibut costs 12 cents a pound wholesale. There is 20 per cent. waste in it, because of the fins, skin, etc., and hence we have to add 20 per cent. to the cost in order to break even on it. Nevertheless certain stores are advertising strictly fresh-caught halibut at 10½ cents a pound retail. Of course this is frozen halibut they are selling. That can be bought at 8 cents a pound wholesale. The same is true of other fishes, especially white fish. That costs 22 cents a pound when fresh. Certain stores advertise "fancy whitefish winter caught" at 10 cents retail. There is no mention of its being frozen or cold storage fish, and so the public is deceived. _It is dangerous economy to buy cheap fish._ No other food deteriorates so rapidly after it comes from the water. Especially is this true of white fish, which spoils quickest of all. _Freezing breaks up the tissues_, and when it once is thawed it decomposes with enormous rapidity." As long as the American public patiently tolerates such impositions on purse and stomach it seems hardly worth while to discuss the more subtle gastronomic problems, such as the question put by Dr. Wiley: "Whether or not the flavor and character of the flesh are impaired by the suffocation process subsequent to the capture of the fish." Undoubtedly fish is best when killed the instant it leaves the water, and then at once eviscerated and cleaned. When we have become sufficiently civilized to insist on such measures being taken, attention will be paid to the suggestions of the Danish fisheries agent, Captain A. Solling, communicated to the "Daily Consular and Trade Reports" by Consul-General Wallace C. Bond, of Copenhagen. Captain Solling recommends that the fish, at least the better kinds, be cut while yet alive, promptly cleaned, and then wrapped in specially prepared paper which would prevent its coming in direct contact with the chopped ice. The objection may be raised, he admits, that this way of treating fish is too particular and takes too long; but the increased work and the increased expense will, he feels sure, soon be offset by the higher price secured on account of the better preservation of the fish; and "the intelligent fishmonger will soon discover the advantage of handling fish, which if not sold to-day, may be sold in 3, 4 or 8 days and still be equally good and fresh." Progress along this line of gastronomic civilization will be a boon to the American farmer. There are tens of thousands of lakelets and ponds in our country, most of which might be used for fish culture. They will be so used by farmers as soon as we have learned the lesson the German ponds teach, and stopped buying the flavorless frozen stuff sold in our fish markets. In Switzerland there has been formed a Fish-Growers' Association for the enlightenment of the land owners. Its motto is: "Every Farmer a Fish Pond Owner." Attention is called to the demonstrated fact that an acre of fish pond is more profitable than the same area devoted to the ordinary farm crops. GAME AND GEESE. The same care that the Germans show in the growing and transportation of fish is also manifested in their treatment of game. During the automobile tour across Germany to which reference has been made, we purposely stopped, as a rule, at the smaller towns and taverns; but everywhere, without advance notice, we had excellent food. I had previously come to the conclusion that the average German restaurant serves nearly if not quite as good meals as the average French restaurant, at least in the provinces. It was game season, and everywhere we were able to get partridges--plump young birds, juicy, and cooked scientifically, at about one-third American prices. Hares and rabbits are a German specialty, and _Hasenrücken_ is a very different thing from the undrawn rabbit abomination sold in American markets. The Californian cottontail is the nearest approach we have to the Teutonic hare. I shot dozens of them in Los Angeles County one winter and found them as tender and almost as well flavored as young chicken. Venison is seldom to be had in our markets and usually only at fancy prices. In German restaurants it is as cheap as beef; sometimes cheaper. The back--_Rehrücken_--costs a trifle more, and is better than the rest of the meat, which is usually served roasted or as a ragout; but all is good. It seems to be a specialty of the Rhine boats. Other game also is abundant and cheap, for the simple reason that the greed for sport is regulated by severe laws which are strictly enforced. We, too, now have game laws in most of our States, but they are seldom enforced effectively and most of them, moreover, were made on the principle of locking the stable door after the horse has been stolen. Africa is at present the scene of ruthless slaughter of game, big and little, but at its worst it is not often so reckless, extravagant, and wasteful as the hideous carnage of which Americans have been guilty. Time was when wild pigeons blackened the sky and were slain by the hundreds with poles. Wild turkeys inhabited every thicket and could be bought for twenty cents apiece--they are twice as much a pound now, though seldom on sale at any price. Ruffled grouse were so plentiful that a bounty was offered for their extermination, their abundance being a menace to the crops. To-day you pay $5 for a brace of these birds. Deer, until lately, were killed for their haunches, the rest being left for beasts of prey; while millions of buffaloes were slaughtered for their tongues and hides--often for the tongues alone. The Audubon Society, aided by generous donors and, to some extent, by the Government, has done royal service to protect game and song birds. The intelligent sporting clubs are lending useful aid, while the Yellowstone Park has been set aside as a great game preserve. Unfortunately, although the animals are safe from guns while they remain in the Park, thousands are slaughtered in winter when hunger drives them outside its limits, while many thousands more perish because no provision is made for feeding these poor wards of the Government. A pathetic picture is printed in Dillon Wallace's splendid book, "Saddle and Camp in the Rockies." It tells a sad story. One settler told him there had been times when he could walk half a mile on the bodies of dead elk. Instead of helping its wards, the Federal Government actually gave permits to sheepmen which would have devastated the last refuge of the elks. The settlers saved the situation by holding an indignation meeting. "The sheepmen saw the point--_and the rope_--and discreetly departed." In Germany the game animals are cared for in winter. While visiting Mark Twain's daughter and her husband, the eminent pianist-composer, Ossip Gabrilowitsch, in the Bavarian Highlands, in the summer of 1912, we met at their house a young tenor who was also a mighty hunter before the Lord. He gave us an account of the game laws and the general arrangements for preservation and multiplication, which convinced us that if we are to retrieve the errors and crimes of our predecessors, East and West, we must follow the example of Germany. Pointing to the meadows round about, he explained that the hay made on these is preserved and fed to the deer in winter. Often one may see as many as a hundred at a time assembling for their daily meal, and people come all the way from Munich to see them at it. As it had been found that too much hay or other dry food was not good for the deer, the owners of private game preserves, of which there are many, have taken to planting beets, turnips or potatoes, which remain in the ground till the animals dig them out from under the snow and soil. A suggestive detail regarding the protection of birds is that thickets, bristling with thorns, are specially provided to help them during nesting time and when pursued by birds or beasts of prey. The clearing away of thickets in America has done almost as much as actual slaughter in exterminating birds. Lovers of song birds as well as epicures who like game for a change would unite in blessing our railway companies if they followed the German example of planting shrubs as homes for birds all along the railroad embankments. While the Germans are fond of partridges and other game birds, their favorite food, so far as the feathered tribes are concerned, is the domesticated goose. In the markets, especially of the northern cities, more geese are exposed for sale than all other kinds of poultry combined, and in restaurants _Gänsebraten_ is seldom absent from the menu. The French rather look down on roast goose, but that is because their roast goose is not so juicy and tender as the Prussian, whether owing to a difference in variety or rearing I cannot tell. The Germans are most painstaking in the growing and the proper feeding of this bird. They know that corn fodder yields the largest amount of fat--and goose fat is much in demand--while the finest Flavor is secured by feeding barley malt. The best goose, like the best beef, is grown where there is abundant pasturage. There is less of this in the Empire than there used to be, hence large numbers of geese are imported. From six to seven millions of them are annually brought across the border, mostly from Russia. Every day, a special "goose train," consisting of from fifteen to forty cars crosses the Russian frontier bound for Berlin or Strassburg. [Illustration: Deer in German Forest] Strassburg is one of the many cities that were made famous by a special food. Goose liver was already relished as a great delicacy by the ancient Romans; Horace refers in one of his poems to the joys of eating the liver of the white goose fattened with juicy figs. In Strassburg, unfortunately, the geese are not fattened with figs, but are locked up in cages and stuffed for a number of days with shelled corn or noodles till their overworked livers become abnormally enlarged, after which they are made into what is known the world over as _pâté de foie gras_. This mixture of liver, meat and truffles is now prepared on a large scale also in Toulouse and other French places, but the headquarters for it is Alsace, where it is made in many places, though it is said that there is a growing opposition to it on account of the cruelty inseparable from the stuffing process. It's a great pity that such cruelty should be necessary, for not a few epicures feel like the Rev. Sydney Smith, who exclaimed: "My idea of heaven is eating _foies gras_ to the sound of trumpets." IN A BERLIN MARKET. That the goose is the food of the day and every day is made manifest in the markets of Berlin, of which there are more than a dozen. All the poultry stalls are filled with them, so much so that other meat, even the ever-present veal, shrinks timidly into the background. Wherever one stops, the displays are most attractive. There are unfrozen, fresh-killed meats of all kinds, tempting even the sightseer who has no intention of buying. Autumn flowers, and large boxes of deep red _Preisselbeeren_--a berry very similar to the mountain cranberry found on Maine's highest peaks, and growing everywhere in Germany (it ought to be acclimated in our fields)--give rich autumnal hues to many of the market stalls, while the fragrance of Gravenstein apples fills the air near the fruit stalls. As in Paris, the sea fish are fresh-caught, with ice about them, but never frozen, while fresh-water fish are carried to the buyer's house in a tank and selected alive. The German krebs, or crawfish, is almost as much in evidence as the French écrevisses, and like these, it is kept in tanks of cold, running water, except for a few boxfuls, the probable supply of the day, which are sorted out by sizes for convenience. "Solo-krebs" is one of the items on a Berlin menu, and means one huge fellow, almost as big as a small lobster. This Berlin market, unlike the Halles of Paris, does not encroach on and beautify the surrounding streets. It is orderly and law-abiding, and fills up its allotted space of two covered squares to the limit, but with no overflow. However, the shops nearby are generally for foods, with appetizing windows of sausages, smoked meats and fish, or cheeses. An oddity of this market is that the upper floor space is divided about equally between fruits and household furnishings. There is an exhaustless supply of step-ladders, and besides these, every need of the kitchen is provided for. Meat prices, which soar in Berlin, are much lower in the big markets than elsewhere. Any one coming directly from the United States, where the veal is seldom so good as the lamb or the beef is sure to wonder at the abundance of calves in German markets. After sampling the veal a few times, one ceases to wonder why the Germans are so addicted to it, and the Austrians no less so. The French know how to cook veal, and a good cutlet _à la Milanaise_ is not to be despised, but there is nothing in its way as good as the _Wiener Schnitzel_ or the German _Kalbsbraten_. The excellence of German veal is due largely to the strict exclusion from the markets by the meat inspectors of all animals that are too young or too old, the Flavor as well as the tenderness of the meat being largely dependent on the right age for slaughtering the calf. The calves are, moreover, milkfed and not brought up on "hay-tea." VIENNA BREAD AND HUNGARIAN FLOUR. While Parisian bread is as good as bread can be, it cannot be said that French bread, the country through, is so uniformly excellent as is German bread, throughout the two Empires. Not only in Vienna, Berlin, Munich, Dresden, Hamburg, Stuttgart, and the other large cities is it almost invariably crisp and tasty, but it is so in the smaller towns and even the villages. Ellwanger does not exaggerate when he says in regard to Germany that "from her inviting _Bäckereis_ and _Conditoreis_ floats an ambrosial fragrance that may not be equaled by the pâtisseries of Paris, the variety of her products being as great as their cheapness and wholesomeness. One is born a poet, saith the adage; it is equally true that the German is a born baker who has no superior in his sphere." The Parisians, indeed, learned the secret of making perfect bread from the Austrians. Bread was baked by Egyptians and Hebrews two thousand years before Christ; also by the Greeks, from whom the Italians learned the art of making it. There are records of Roman bakers who became so wealthy and famous that they were invested with the dignity of Senators, but there are reasons for believing that if any bakers of our time endeavored to sell the sour stuff these Romans made, they would be mobbed. Eugen Baron Vaerst relates that a jury of French, English, and Italian epicures decided that the best pastry was made in Switzerland (Schweizerbäckerei has been famous for more than a century) and the best bread in Vienna. The Austrians may have got some hints from the Venetians, who made good bread and excellent _biscotti_. In consequence of that jury's decision, an enterprising baker set up a shop on the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, and "the Parisians, proud to have all that was best in different countries taken to them for their verdict and approval, decided that this was the best _bonne nouvelle_ that had ever been brought to them." This baker soon became wealthy and so did others who followed his example. To this day _pain viennois_ is in the best repute in Paris, and so is Viennese pastry. Most juries of epicures would agree to-day that not only is Viennese bread perfect but that, next to Paris, the Austrian capital has the best restaurants, and the most savory domestic cooking in the world. Many of the foods served have local Flavors, not the least agreeable of which are those betraying the neighborhood of Hungary--the _Gulyas_, the _Paprikahuhn_, and other dishes reddened and made piquant with paprika, which must not be confounded with the much sharper variety of red pepper, cayenne, so dear to Spanish peoples of the old world and the new. A specialty of the Austrian and South-German cuisine, the neglect of which elsewhere is incomprehensible, is the _Mehlspeise_, which ought to be adopted in England and America as an occasional substitute for puddings and pies. There is an endless variety of these _Mehlspeisen_, under the species _Nudeln_, _Spatzen_, _Kipferl_, _Kuchen_, _Strudel_, _Nockerl_, _Flockerl_, _Knödel_, _Schmarren_. Really, the _Kaiserschmarren_ and the _Apfelstrudel_ ought to be adopted as national American dishes by special act of Congress. Flavorsome Hungarian flour (_Mehl_) is used in making these dishes (_Speisen_) and that is one of the reasons why they are so good. The Hungarian brand of flour is the best in the world, especially the highest grade, known as _Auszugmehl_. It has an amber tint known among bakers as the _gelbliche Stich_. On account of its agreeable Flavor, Hungarian flour is sent in large quantities to Germany, and some goes as far as Paris. Because of the freight expenses it is not usually sent north of Berlin. In that city the best bread is made of it, including the favorite _Knüppel_ and the _Milchbrode_. Farther north, a mixture of German and American flour is used. A few American grocers import Hungarian flour. The test of the best European product is that when the hand is laid on it, it flies up between the fingers. American flour packs. Mrs. Arpad Gerster (whose husband is a brother of the famous Hungarian prima donna, Etelka Gerster) gives me the very important information that our flour can be made almost equal to the foreign by drying it on a platter on top of the stove. Bread, cakes, noodles, etc., made with flour thus dried have the much-coveted European lightness. The Germans know as well as the French that the crust is the sweetest and most digestible part of bread and that its Flavor depends on there being a maximum of crust with a minimum of crumb, quite as much as it does on the grade of flour used, and the method of making the dough and baking it. To ensure a maximum of crust, white bread is usually baked in the size of rolls, as _Semmel_, and in a great variety of other shapes, every region having its specialty. While it is true that, as a German writer remarks, the eating of white bread is a mark of prosperity in his country, it must not be inferred that it is only the poorer classes who buy the cheaper _Schwarzbrod_, made of rye. On account of its agreeable flavor this "black-bread" appeals particularly to epicures, and the darkest variety of it, Pumpernickel, is called for by gourmets the world over as the best thing to eat with cheeses of the Limburger type. It is also used as an ingredient in various _Mehlspeisen_ and _crêmes_. It is made of flour from which the bran has not been bolted. Cereal perfumery is not a thing you can buy at an apothecary's. You get it by munching a piece of rye bread with fresh butter on it and consciously breathing out through the nose. In France rye bread is almost unknown. In England attempts were made a few years ago to popularize it. _Nature_ and other periodicals took up the matter, which had been brought to the fore during a political campaign where some of the speakers deplored the lot of the German laboring man for being obliged to eat rye bread. By way of reply, attention was called to the fact that the Kaiser himself always has rye bread on his table, and that in American cities, as in those of Germany, there is much demand for such bread in the wealthy quarters. Apparently the attempt to enrich the British menu with a cheap new delicacy failed, for trade reports of 1912 intimated that while there is at all times a demand for corn and oats on the Liverpool market, rye does not find sale there. There are many other German bread and cake specialties that deserve to be introduced in other countries. Two of them are already known to epicures of many countries: the _Lebkuchen_, or honeycake, which made Nuremburg famous, and the lye-soaked, twisted, crisp _Pretzel_. This has a little salt strewn on the crust and the same is true of other kinds of small breads. Particularly good is the _Mohnbrot_, which is peppered with poppy seeds. Try it. Poppy seed is as good to eat as any nut that grows. In these things the Germans show a good deal of imagination; but as for the anise-seeds so often mingled with the rye bread, I wish they would leave them to the imagination. The general use of them has probably done more than anything else to prevent the acceptance of German rye bread in foreign countries. GERMAN MENUS ON SEA AND LAND. The Germans claim that the custom of providing a written or printed menu, or _Speisenkarte_, originated in their country. At a meeting of the _Reichstag_ in Regensburg, in 1541, Count Hugo of Montfort noticed one day at a banquet that the host, Duke Heinrich von Braunschweig, had before him a _Zettel_, or slip of paper, which he glanced at now and then. Being questioned, the Duke replied that it was a list of the dishes that were to be served, made for him by the chef so that he might save his appetite for those which he liked best. Whether true or not, the story gives the _raison d'être_ for a menu at every table-d'hôte meal. It is related by Friedrich Baumann in his _Meisterwerk der Speisen_, a monumental work in two volumes, of over two thousand pages, to which brief reference has already been made. Baumann has been called the German Carême (who was "the Luther of the French cuisine"). To him cooking was not mere handwork; it was an art and a science; and in his work he not only enumerates and briefly describes the foods of all countries (for example, of fishes, and dishes made thereof, there are about twenty-five hundred!), but treats of everything pertaining to the growing, cooking, and serving of victuals with true German thoroughness and with hundreds of those footnotes which are accepted in that country as the best evidence of scholarship. Of all the German cities none is visited by more American and English tourists than Munich; and few of these fail to go and see the Court Brewery, even though they may not wish to try the beer--the best in the world. You may eat at the Hofbräuhaus without drinking anything, though you will be stared at as a freak. There are several large dining-rooms and the bill of fare is large, varied, and thoroughly German. Look at the soups, for instance: bouillon with egg, bread soup, noodle soup with or without a large chunk of boiled chicken, which adds sixteen cents to the price, liver-noodle soup, and brain soup. All are nutritious and tasty and cost only four or five cents a big plate. The fishes offered on this particular day in September are carp, pike, sand-eel from the Danube, and perch-pike. These cost from about 27 to 32 cents a generous portion. Ochsenfleisch--boiled beef--is always in great demand and is usually juicy and well-flavored. Without vegetables it costs only 12 cents a plate. Five different cuts of veal open the list of roasts, and the same price is charged for them--17 cents--though in other restaurants the kidney piece often costs a few cents more. Pork is two cents and a half higher, while chicken, goose, and pigeon may rise to the dizzy heights of 32 cents a plate. Among the day's ready dishes--_Fertige Speisen_--we note haunch of venison at 35 cents and leg of venison for five cents less. Half a partridge is listed at 24 cents, and the same charge is made for a quarter of a wild duck. There is of course a _Sauerbraten_--a sort of bœuf à la mode with a palatable sour sauce--and you may choose bœuf braisé, or Greek steak, or various mutton dishes, smoked meats, and so on, the prices for these being about 22 to 24 cents, including a vegetable: cabbage, potatoes, beans, or rice, noodles, dumplings (Bavarian liver-dumplings--_Leberknödel_--are fine!) or macaroni with minced ham, which ought to be on every table in every country at least two or three times a week. The roasts and fries to order include, of course, the _Wiener Schnitzel_ (savory when you have German or Austrian veal), the _Paprikaschnitzel_ and various other cuts from the calf or the ox. _Kompotts_ are in Germany served with roasts as regularly as salads are in France; they are stewed fruits--apples, pears, apricots, cherries, and berries among which the Preisselbeere is most Teutonic and most delicious. The _Mehlspeisen_ on this particular menu are fewer in number and less racy of the soil than those you would find on a Viennese bill of fare. Besides the international omelette and the Italian macaroni there is only the German pancake and the _Windnudel_. Among the vegetables and salads are listed, rather out of place, the _Spätzl_, a variety of the noodles which are the German version of the Italian macaroni and other pastes, and which only a German knows how to cook to perfection. A glance at the twenty-two varieties of cold meats and appetizers and the dozen varieties of cheese brings to mind the international aspect of German gastronomy. In the more expensive restaurants of Munich and other German cities the French influence is more obvious. I chose the menu of the Hofbräuhaus because of its thoroughly _bourgeois_ and German aspect. The largest restaurants in the world are in Berlin; one of them seats four thousand people. In the _bourgeois_ places the food is usually less savory than in similar establishments in South Germany, but there is a larger proportion of the high and highest class resorts, with viands and prices almost, if not quite, on a level with those of Paris and London, which it is the ambition and intention of the Berliners ultimately to surpass in these respects as well as in the splendors of their hotels. Breakfast. ======= =Fruit= Oranges, Bananas, Grape Fruit, Grapes =Preserves= Honey, Strawberry Marmalade, Jams, Quince Jelly Sweet Pickel Peaches, Scotch Marmalade =Coffee, Tea, etc.= Coffee, Coffeeïneless Coffee H. A. G., Cocoa, Chocolate Ceylon Tea, Mixed Tea, Milk and Cream =Bread= Rolls, Milk and Butter Toast, Toast plain Various Kinds of Cakes and Crackers =Cereals= Milk Rice, Oatmeal, Hominy, Force, Shredded Wheat, Grape Nuts =Eggs, Omelettes and Pancakes= Buckwheat, Hominy, Rice and Wheat Cakes, Pancakes plain, with Apples or Cherries Apricot or Currant Marmalade Potato Pancakes, Boiled Eggs, Poached Eggs, Baked Eggs Fried Eggs plain, with Bacon or à la Tyrolienne Scrambled Eggs plain, with Ham or à la Bavaroise Omelette plain, aux fines Herbes or with Strawberries =Fish, Steaks, Chops etc.= Kippered Herrings, Haddock, Fish Croquettes, Sole, Salted Mackerels Fillet Steak Westmoreland, Fillet of Veal Esterházy Fillet Gulyàs with Mushrooms, German Beef Steak Chicken Liver on the Spit with Piémontaise Rice Calf's Liver with Apples and Onions, Fried Calf's Brains Sauce Rémoulade Grill: Tenderloin Steak, Mutton Chops, Sirloinsteak, Lamb Kidneys, English Ham, Frankfort Sausages =Potatoes= Boiled, Fried, Baked, Mashed Potatoes Saratoga Chips, French Fried Potatoes, Lyonnaise Potatoes =Cold Dishes= Westphalian Ham, Smoked Bologna Sausages, Smoked Tongue Potted Fieldfares with Truffles, Roast Beef, Chicken =Relishes= Eel in Jelly, Oil Sardines, Anchovies, Fillet of Herring in diverser Sauce =Cheese= Camembert, Herb, Imperial, Holland Cheese =Gabel-Frühstück--Luncheon= =à la carte.= =Vorspeisen= Salat de Boeuf Parisienne Küken-Salat Geräucherter Aal Royans à la Bordelaise Heringsfilet, Remouladensauce Rollmops Anchovis =Suppen= Hühner-Kraftbrühe in Tassen Schottische Graupensuppe Kartoffelsuppe mit Croutons =Fisch= Gerösteter Lachs, Anchovisbutter Streifbarsch, Sauce Pluche =Eierspeisen= Omelett mit Schnittlauch Spiegeleier Othello Verlorene Eier Cardinal =Fleischspeisen und Geflügel= Küken in Curry und Reis Kalbsleber mit Aepfeln und Zwiebeln Kartoffelmus Zungenragout Financière, Fleurons Entrecôtes à la Macédoine Jungschweinskeule deutsche Art Roastbeef au Jus =Bürgerliches Gericht= Klops à la Königsberg =Auf Bestellung (vom Grill 15 Min)= Hammelkoteletten, Beefsteak Filetsteak, Rumpsteak =Gemüse und Kartoffeln= Brechspargel Perlbohnen Spaghetti italienische Art Gekochter Reis Französische und deutsche Bratkartoffeln Kartoffelmus, Gebackene Kartoffeln =Salate= Kartoffelsalat, Achanaka-Salat =Kaltes Buffet= Lammrücken garniert Galantine von Poularde, Sauce Cumberland Chaud-froid von Reh mit Pilzen Tournedos Jockey Art Junge Ente in Aspik Geräucherte Zunge Gespicktes Kalbsfrikandeau, Roastbeef Kaltes Geflügel Geräucherter und gekochter Schinken =Kompott und Süßspeisen= Birnen Blanc-manger mit Früchten Schneebälle =Käse= Kräuter-, Schweizer-, Camembert-Käse Frucht Kaffee =Hors d'Oeuvres= Salad de Boeuf Parisienne Chicken Salad Smoked Eel Royans à la Bordelaise Fillet of Herrings, Sauce Remoulade Rolled Pickled Herrings Anchovies =Soups= Chicken Broth in Cup Scotch Barley Soup Potato Soup with Croutons =Fish= Broiled Salmon, Anchovy Butter Striped Bass, Sauce Pluche =Eggs= Omelet with Chive Fried Eggs Othello Poached Eggs Cardinal =Entrées, Roasts and Poultry= Curried Chicken with Rice Calf's-liver with Apples and Onions Mashed Potatoes Tongue Ragout Financière, Fleurons Entrecôtes à la Macédoine Leg of Pork, German Style Roastbeef au Jus =Special Dish= Klops à la Koenigsberg =To Order (from the Grill 15 min.)= Mutton Chops, Beefsteak Tenderloin Steak, Sirloin Steak =Vegetables and Potatoes= Cut Asparagus String Beans Spaghetti Italienne Boiled Rice French and German fried Potatoes Mashed Potatoes, Baked Potatoes =Salads= Potato Salad, Salad Achanaka =Cold Cuts and Cold Dishes= Saddle of Lamb garnished Galantine of Pullet, Sauce Cumberland Chaud-froid of Venison, Mushrooms Tournedos à la Jockey Duckling in Aspic Smoked Tongue Larded Roast Veal, Roastbeef Roast Chicken Smoked and Boiled Ham =Compote and Desserts= Pears Blanc-manger with Fruits Cream Puffs =Cheese= Herb, Swiss, Camembert Cheese Fruit Coffee =Carte du jour.= Hors d'Oeuvres: Hors d'oeuvre Varié Caprice Sticks Soups: Consommé Grimaldi Cream Soup à la d'Orléans Fieldfare Soup Old Style Fish: Salmon Cutlets à la Count d'Artois Sole Meunière Turbot, Butter, Parsley Entrées: Fillet of Beef Renaissance Lamb Chops, Sauce Périgueux Stuffed Artichoke Bottoms Croutons of Goose Liver Moderne (cold) Broiled Sweetbread, Green Peas Entrecôtes Jardinière Leg of Lamb, Larded, Brussels Sprouts Grill: (15-30 min.): Mixed Grill consisting of: Fillet Mignon, Lamb Chops Kidney, Sausage, Tomato Tenderloin Steak, Entrecôte, Sirloin Steak Lamb Chops, Mutton Chops Ready Dishes: Prague Ham à la Fitz James Poultry: Cherbourg Poularde Partridge Vegetables: Palm Marrow Bordelaise Peas and Asparagus, Stew Corn Boiled Rice French and German fried Potatoes Mashed Potatoes, Baked Potatoes Compote: Green Gages, Strawberries Salads: Lettuce Salad Endive Salad Sweets: Strawberry Ice, Whipped Cream Peaches à la Condé Praline Ice Cream Ice Napolitaine Pastry Cheese Fruit Coffee +------------------------------------------+ |Table-stewards and stateroom-stewards will| |take orders for dinner at any time during | |the day. | +------------------------------------------+ A few Suggestions =I.= Hors d'oeuvre Varié Cream Soup à la d'Orléans Sole Meunière Lamb Chops, Sauce Périgueux Stuffed Artichoke Bottoms Partridge Compote Salad Strawberry Ice, Whipped Cream =II.= Fieldfare Soup Old Style Salmon Cutlets à la Count d'Artois Fillet of Beef Renaissance Croutons of Goose Liver Moderne (cold) Cherbourg Poularde Compote Salad Palm Marrow Bordelaise Peaches à la Condé =III. (Supper)= Caprice Sticks Consommé Grimaldi Turbot, Butter, Parsley Leg of Lamb, Larded, Brussels Sprouts Praline Ice Cream Pastry Another German ambition is to have the largest and most comfortable floating hotels. The newest Hamburg and Bremen steamers are indeed unsurpassed in any respect, and their cuisine is particularly good. The trans-Atlantic steamers have the great advantage of being able to buy in New York the best things American markets offer, and in the German ports not only the European _delicatessen_, but those which the sister boats bring from Oriental countries. I once gained eight pounds in as many days crossing the Big Pond on a German steamer; and can you wonder, in view of the abundance of the choicest viands offered as antidotes to the hunger-breeding sea air? There are now on the largest steamers Ritz-Carlton restaurants for wealthy epicures; but you need not go to these for good food, as the sample menus for first-cabin breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the _Kaiserin Auguste Victoria_, herewith reproduced, indicate. He must be hard to please, indeed, who cannot find something on such menus to tempt his appetite--unless he is sea-sick. GERMAN, SWISS, AND DUTCH CHEESES. German steamers and German restaurants nearly always offer a variety of French, Dutch, Italian, English, and Swiss cheeses in addition to those of their own country, among the best known of which are the Handkäse, the Liptauer, the Harz, the Kräuter and the Limburger, which, though it originated in Belgium, has come to be looked upon as a specifically German variety. Germany is not, like Switzerland, Holland, and parts of France, a land of pastures green and studded with grazing cows. Pasturage throughout the Empire is usually so scarce--the land being needed for grain and other crops--that the cows, poor things, are kept in stables all the year round. It is therefore, not surprising that Germany is not among the great exporters of cheeses, most of the many domestic varieties, some of which are excellent, being consumed at home. Very different is the situation in Switzerland, where cheese-making is one of the principal industries, the value of the exports exceeding $12,000,000 a year, nearly one quarter of which, in 1911, was sent to the United States. So good is the Flavor of Schweizerkäse that even France, in that year, took $2,688,539 worth of it, while Germany took $1,888,257 worth. Nearly all the cheese which Switzerland exports is of the hard Emmenthaler type, put up in the huge cakes familiar to us all. It is practically the same as the French Gruyère. Not all Emmenthaler comes from the Emmenthal, the valley where the pasturage is particularly abundant and juicy. The best flavored Swiss cheese is that which is made in summer, when the cows roam the mountain sides, going up higher and higher as the season advances and the snow melts, till they reach the slopes where even at the end of August the soil is still moist and the herbage two or three feet tall. This succulent food, consisting largely of lovely Alpine flowers, they industriously condense into fragrant cream, butter, and cheese. When we speak of the Alps we mean snow mountains, particularly those of Switzerland. The Swiss themselves, however, when they refer to the Alps, mean the green pastures on the mountain sides on which the cows gather sustenance and wealth for them. On one of these Alps, above Mürren, I once accosted a peasant who gave me information which confirmed my belief that the much-liked Flavor of Swiss cheese is due not alone to the succulent Alpine forage, but also, in great part, to the way the best of it is made--with all the cream left in the milk. This peasant was himself a cheesemaker, and our conversation took place within sight of his cowsheds. He was surprised when I asked him if he ever used sour cream to make butter. He had never dreamt of such a thing. Usually he churned it in the evening, using the cream that had risen on the morning of the same day. At the latest the churning was done the next morning before the cream could possibly sour in that climate. A sour "starter," such as is nearly always added to cream in America before it is churned, he had never heard of; the very idea amazed him. And Swiss butter is nearly always good, while American butter is usually bad. Questioned in regard to cheese, he said they made two grades of it, the _Fettkäse_, which contains all the cream, and the _Magerkäse_, made of skim milk. For the latter kind, he said, he had no use, because it was comparatively tasteless. It is made in considerable quantities, however, for the poor, of milk from which the cream has been taken for butter-making or for the hotel tables. Cheese-making is much more of a fine art than most of us imagine. The utmost skill and care must be used to exclude undesirable flavors in the air due to uncleanly surroundings, since cheese absorbs these as readily as butter does. The season of the year and the feed must always be considered. Thus, in regard to the highly prized English Stilton we read that the finest variety "is principally made between March and September and solely from the milk of cows fed on natural pasture"; and that "the use of artificial food for the cows is at once detected in a change for the worse in the character of the cheese"--that is, its flavor. Upon good feeding depends the production of fat in milk, and milk fat, alias cream, is a great source of Flavor. The best kinds of most of the leading cheeses are made of whole milk--milk with none of the cream taken out. Some kinds, like cottage cheese, are made of skim milk yet how the addition of cream improves their Flavor! Camembert, of course, is made of whole milk, and in the manufacture of some kinds, including Stilton, extra cream is sometimes added. Much spurious stuff is palmed off on unwary buyers as whole milk or cream cheese. The dealers who do this, think themselves "smart," but in the end they harm their business. The excellent little book on "Cheese and Cheese Making," by Long and Benson (London: Chapman and Hall, 1896) begins with these instructive words: "Professor Henry, of the Wisconsin Agricultural College, recently stated that the loss of the American cheese trade with great Britain was owing to the fact that his countrymen did not make the best article, and that in many cases imitation cheese was produced for the sake of _a possible temporary profit but to the ultimate loss of all concerned_. Whatever may be the immediate gain effected by the addition of foreign fat to milk, or by the removal of a portion of the cream it contains, _the permanent value of the cheese industry to the producer is maintained only by the manufacture of the best_ and of its production in the largest possible quantity." The italics are mine. They emphasize what is one of the most regrettable aspects of the situation in America--the deplorable and at the same time foolish disposition to make an immediate extra profit by unloading on purchasers inferior cheeses and other foods in the belief that the consumers are too ignorant or indifferent to know or care what they get. From personal experience I can relate a detail of New York market history which vividly illustrates the folly of this attitude. For several years I was able to buy the best Edam cheeses made in Holland--full-cream and therefore full-flavored. One autumn, on returning to the city, I tried in vain to get this same brand at the places where it had been on sale. I sampled the substitutes but was not satisfied with their Flavor. Having found out through a grocer the name of the importer of that brand, I called on him and asked why he no longer had it on his list. He had the effrontery to inform me that it was because he had had so many complaints that that brand did not keep well--that it "dried out." I told him that my own experience had been just the reverse, and that, as a matter of course, the more cream-fat there was in a cheese the more slowly it would dry out. But he stuck to his story. In a confidential talk with a grocer I then ascertained what I had suspected. Dealers in cheap Edams, made of skimmed milk, had crowded out the maker of the creamy Edam who, of course, could not make so low a price to the wholesale dealers as they did. "Why not import several brands and charge according to their value and Flavor?" I asked, adding that many persons surely would gladly pay extra for the better grades. But that argument, too, was unavailing. The "smart" dealers did not wish to offer several grades; they wanted to charge the highest price for the lowest grade. And now note the consequences. In one large market which I often passed there was at that time a large show case containing dozens of the familiar red "cannon balls"; but they were no longer of the full-cream brand the lively demand for which had won them the most prominent place in that glass case. The new brand bore a label on which was printed "Made of Skimmed Milk"; and this same brand seemed to be almost exclusively on sale all over town. There was nothing dishonest about this procedure. Dealers have the right to sell any variety they choose, and this brand, being clearly marked, did not pretend to be what it was not. It evidently came from Holland, and it was as good a cheese as can be made of skimmed milk. The importers and dealers evidently believed that the consumers were too ignorant or indifferent to care whether or not the cheese they bought had the rich creamy Flavor. At first I feared they might be right in this surmise, but ere long I found that I was by no means the only person who had stopped buying Edam because the best brand was no longer kept on sale in the American metropolis. The number of red balls in that show case gradually diminished and finally disappeared altogether. The Dutch Government has given much attention to the question of cream in cheese, and no wonder, for the annual production of cheese in Holland amounts to at least 175,000,000 pounds, of which two-thirds are exported. The Minister of Agriculture has authorized the use of labels guaranteeing purity and quality. The Government control stamp "can be used only on cheese made of unskimmed milk and containing 45 per cent. of fats," writes Consul Frank W. Mahin from Amsterdam. "It is the special intention to make the full-fat product more profitable by marking it, which at the same time will promote the manufacture of the cheese of superior qualities." In another contribution on this subject to the "Consular and Trade Reports" (April, 1911) Mr. Mahin provides information which buyers of Edam or Gouda will do well to bear in mind: "A meeting of the North Holland Cheese Control Station, attended by a representative of the Government, was recently held at Hoorn, at which it was decided to divide marked cheese into two classes: (1) Cheese of Edam shape, with fatty component in the dry material of at least 40 per cent., to be marked 40+, in a hexagon; (2) full fat cheese, of different shapes, with a fatty substance in the dry material of at least 45 per cent., to be marked Rijkscontrole (Government control). "It was stated at the meeting that the average proportion of fat in the cheese made in 1910 by factories was 44.8 per cent. and by farmers 47.5 per cent., being one per cent. higher than in 1909. _The quantity of marked cheese sold in 1910 was 45 per cent. greater than in 1909, and the demand from dealers therefore has so much increased that there is now a shortage._" Evidently, dealers are not everywhere as short-sighted as were those of New York. However, in the autumn of 1912 I noticed, among these, signs of almost human intelligence. Before the end of 1912 I saw in some stores Dutch cheeses labeled "Above 40% butter-fat in total solids." By and by we may perhaps be permitted to spend our money even for the kind made by the farmers and containing 47.5 per cent. of cream fat. [Illustration] X BRITISH SPECIALTIES THACKERAY'S LITTLE SERMON. England has produced some eminent epicures. As prominent among them as among her novelists is William Makepiece Thackeray. In a magazine article on Greenwich and Whitebait, dated 1844, he expressed his scorn for those who do not appreciate good food. "A man who brags regarding himself; that whatever he swallows is the same to him, and that his coarse palate recognizes no difference between venison and turtle, pudding or mutton-broth, as his indifferent jaws close over them, brags about a personal defect--the wretch--and not about a virtue. It is like a man boasting that he has no ear for music, or no eye for color, or that his nose cannot scent the difference between a rose and a cabbage--I say, as a general rule, set that man down as a conceited fellow who swaggers about not caring for dinner." Three years earlier, in his Memorials of Gormandizing, which he penned in Paris, he preached another sermon on the subject--a sermon which may fitly be reprinted here because the state of affairs which distressed Thackeray has not been quite mended yet--far from it. Speaking of Parisian opportunities for gastronomic experiments, he says: "A man in London has not, for the most part, the opportunity to make these experiments. You are a family man, let us presume, and you live in that metropolis for half a century. You have on Sunday, say, a leg of mutton and potatoes for dinner. On Monday you have cold mutton and potatoes. On Tuesday, hashed mutton and potatoes; the hashed mutton being flavored with little damp triangular pieces of toast, which always surround that charming dish. Well, on Wednesday, the mutton ended, you have beef: the beef undergoes the same alterations of cookery and disappears. Your life presents a succession of joints, varied every now and then by a bit of fish and some poultry.... "Some of the most pure and precious enjoyments of life are unknown to you. You eat and drink, but you do not know the _art_ of eating and drinking; nay, most probably you despise those who do. 'Give me a slice of meat,' say you, very likely, 'and a fig for your gourmands.' You fancy it is very virtuous and manly all this. Nonsense, my good sir; you are indifferent because you are ignorant, because your life is passed in a narrow circle of ideas, and because you are bigotedly blind and pompously callous to the beauties and excellencies beyond you. "Sir, RESPECT YOUR DINNER; idolize it, enjoy it properly. You will be by many hours in the week, many weeks in the year, and many years in your life the happier if you do. "Don't tell me that it is not worthy of a man. All a man's senses are worthy of enjoyment, and should be cultivated as a duty. The senses are the arts.... You like your dinner, man; never be ashamed to say so. If you don't like your victuals, pass on to the next article; but remember that every man who has been worth a fig in this world, as poet, painter, or musician, has had a good appetite and a good taste." DR. JOHNSON AND SAMUEL PEPYS. Doubtless the attitude towards the pleasures of the table which displeased Thackeray was largely a sham, a mere pretense, though to some extent it was a Puritan reaction from the gross gluttony in which Englishmen indulged in ye olden times, as did the Germans, the Romans, the Russians, the Dutch, and many others. Dr. Samuel Johnson was an amusing and amazing example of inconsistency in his gastronomic preaching and practice. To Mrs. Piozzi he remarked that "wherever the dinner is ill got up there is poverty or there is avarice, or there is stupidity; in short, the family is somehow grossly wrong." To Boswell he said: "Some people 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; for I look upon it that he that does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else." Yet on other occasions Boswell heard him talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates. He sneered at gluttons, yet he was one himself. "When at table he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment: his looks seemed riveted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite; which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that, while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible." He told Boswell he had never been hungry but once; upon which that biographer comments: "They who beheld with wonder how much he ate upon all occasions, when his dinner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger." Yet he was a man of discernment: he used to descant critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had liked. According to Mrs. Piozzi, his favorite 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." He surely needed a Parisian education! The same witness throws a limelight on the doctor's peculiarities by remarking with regard to drink that "his liking was for the _strongest_, as it was _not the flavor but the effect_ he sought for and professed to desire." In other words, strength and quantity were of greater importance to him than quality (Flavor); and in this he was a true descendant of his predecessors, one of whom has left an amazing record of his appetite. The home menus of Samuel Pepys included on one occasion "a dish of marrow bones, a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, a dish of fowl, three pullets, and a dozen larks all in a dish; a great tart, a neat's-tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese." More astonishing still is the following repast, prepared, as he boasts, by his "own only mayde": "We had a fricassee of rabbits and chickens, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a great dish of a side of lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a lamprey-pie, a most rare pie, a dish of anchovies, good wine of several sorts, and all things mighty noble." This dinner, he exclaims, joyously, "was great." It certainly was. If England is to the present day classed among the ungastronomic nations, by her own epicures as well as by foreigners, it is due largely to this indulgence in "great" dinners, this regard for quantity--especially of meats--at the expense, usually, of quality and artistic cooking. Generally speaking, the English have been slower than the Italians, the French, and the Germans in discovering the gastronomic importance of the more delicate Flavors developed by the cooking, which is done _con amore_. _Koche mit Liebe_ is the title of a German cook book, and there certainly are more housewives in the three countries named who cook for their families "with loving devotion" to their task than there are in England or America. THE ROAST BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND. Too much emphasis cannot, however, be placed on the fact that, while all these things are true, England has nevertheless led the way in some of the most important branches of culinary progress. It is to these branches that I wish to devote this chapter, pointing out the lessons Great Britain teaches us and the European continent. It seems never to have occurred to any writer to do this, which is strange, for the story is interesting as well as important. To begin with butcher's meats, the English certainly excel in the roasting and broiling of them, as well as in the rearing of the right kind of stock, which is equally important from the point of view of Flavor. Perhaps it is as foolish to refer to the British as beef-eaters as it is to call the Italians macaroni-eaters and the Japanese rice-eaters, for the humbler classes in England cannot afford beef any oftener than the poorer Italians and Japanese can afford to eat macaroni or rice. Time was when even the wealthy Britons could not often eat beef or other butcher's meat, especially in winter. Up to the eighteenth century sheep and cattle were killed and salted at the beginning of cold weather and "during several months of the year even the gentry tasted scarcely any fresh animal food, except game and river fish. As to the common people, an old chapbook of the period, entitled 'The Misfortunes of Simple Simon' uses the expression 'roast-meat cloaths' as an equivalent for holiday clothes."[15] The systematic growing of turnips for the winter keep of cattle made it possible to have fresh meat in winter, too; and at the same time, thanks largely to the efforts of the agriculturist, Robert Bakewell, cattle and sheep breeding began to be done on scientific principles. Bakewell's aim was to fatten the animals more quickly and to secure a greater proportion and a better quality of meat. The result of such improvements was that, whereas in 1710 the average net weight of cattle sold in London was 370 lbs., by the time of Bakewell's death (1795) it had increased to 800 lbs., while the average weight of sheep had increased from 28 pounds to 80. In the last quarter of the eighteenth century the Collins brothers still further improved cattle by breeding for special points, reducing the size of the head and legs and enlarging the useful parts. The shorthorns gradually extended their domain not only throughout the British Isles but to France and other countries. Improvement continued steadily until English beef became the standard for the whole world. With the rapid increase of population and a decrease in the area of pasture land the time came when Great Britain had to begin to import meats from Australia and South America. At the end of the first decade of this century London alone needed 420,000 long tons of meat a year. Of this, over 122,000 tons came from South America, nearly 106,000 tons from Australasia, about 97,000 tons from continental Europe and North America, and less than 95,000 tons from the United Kingdom itself. For a very good reason there was for years a prejudice against all imported meats, their use being confined exclusively to the poorer classes who could not afford to pay the higher prices--from three to twelve cents a pound more--asked for the meat from the home-grown or home-killed cattle. The very good reason for this preference for the home product was that imported meat was frozen, and the public promptly discovered that _meat which had been frozen had little or no Flavor_. That freezing spoils the Flavor of meat was known generations ago. Eugen Baron Vaerst, e. g., in his "Gastrosophie," Vol. I, p. 214, calls attention to this fact and explains why the meat should be preserved by chilling it; that is, by hanging it in an icy atmosphere which is constantly kept moving and which kills all germs of putrefaction without actually freezing the meat. Naturally this process costs more than simple freezing; yet some years ago attempts were made to bring chilled meat from as far as South America and Australia, and after some improvements had been made in the methods of transportation the results were most satisfactory. As one report said: "Part of a quarter that had been purposely sent a considerable distance and then cooked in the ordinary way for the table was found to be tender, full of flavor, and equal to any beef wherever grown." No chemicals were used. An amusing sequel to the story is told with much gravity in a consular report from Sheffield: "Frozen meat is much preferred by the trade for two reasons: It is cheaper, and _the customers, after having used chilled meats, will not so readily take to the frozen again_." The dear dealers, surely, ought to be allowed to have their own way. Why should they pay any attention to the consumer, with his ridiculous predilection for food that has Flavor? Germany protested violently in 1912 against attempts to introduce frozen meats, and the following consular information regarding another country is suggestive: "The sale of Argentine frozen meat in Switzerland is not so satisfactory as originally expected, and the large importers are now buying live cattle from that country, importing through Italy, and slaughtering there." SOUTHDOWN MUTTON. English mutton and lamb are as far-famed as English beef, and most deservedly so. The unnamed but well-informed author of the hand-book on Sheep in Vinton's Country Series (London) states the plain truth when he declares that "it was because our forefathers had, during many ages, been careful and skilful breeders of sheep that their descendants were enabled to take the front rank in the world as improvers of these as well as of horses, cattle, and pigs." The English, undeniably, are in many ways an ungastronomic people, yet when we reflect that they have given to the world the best butcher's meats--mutton and pork, as well as beef--their claim to rank high among gastronomic nations is established. Think of the important rôle butcher's meat plays in our dietary! It was not by a mere accident that Great Britain won supremacy in this line, but in consequence of the application of principles of scientific breeding, resembling those to which the Californian, Luther Burbank, owed his startling successes in creating new fruits and vegetables of superior size, tenderness, and Flavor. It took the combined efforts of several English "Burbanks" to create the ideal mutton chops and joints. The two who deserve the lion's share of praise were Robert Bakewell and John Ellman. Bakewell came first. Before his day, the fleece was the thing sheep growers were mainly interested in. They wanted as big animals and as much wool as possible. Bakewell was not interested in wool. What he was after was an improved mutton-producing breed--or rather one which, besides meat, yielded a large amount of fat. That was what the market of his day demanded, in consequence of the way in which mutton was served. The usual practice, we read, "was to put a large joint of fat mutton over a dish of potatoes at the workman's table. The meat went to the head of the family; the potatoes, saturated with the meat and gravy, making a savory meal for the junior members. Thousands in the manufacturing and mining districts were for many years brought up in this way, so that, in breeding fat sheep, Bakewell had a better warrant than would apply in the present day, when fat is obtained in more palatable and digestible form in butter and its cheaper imitations, and when the working classes, as well as others, prefer to have lean and juicy mutton." An anecdote in Pitt's "General Survey of the Agriculture of Leicester" (1809) throws further light on the situation: "Your mutton is so fat that I cannot eat it," said a gentleman to Bakewell, who replied: "I do not breed mutton for gentlemen, but for the public; and even my mutton may be kept leaner to suit every palate by stocking harder in proportion and by killing the sheep in time." Gradually the "public's" taste for mutton became more "gentlemanly." At present the article most in demand is a carcass weighing about twenty pounds per quarter "with a large preponderance of lean flesh." The change was accelerated by the activity of the Ellman family. Whereas Bakewell had operated with the long-wool Leicester breed, the meat of which was coarse-grained, with little delicacy or Flavor, the Ellmans revealed to the world the superlative gastronomic attributes of mutton yielded by the short-wool Southdowns. In muttonland the Southdown is what the Bresse is in the chicken world. In London markets you may find palatable meat cut from the carcasses of the Wensleydale, the Suffolk, the Dorset, the Exmoor, the Irish Roscommon, and other breeds; but the three breeds which are rated highest for epicures are the Southdown, the Welsh Mountain, and the Scotch Black-faced. Note that all three are mountain sheep. It is to the hill-lands we must go for meat of the finest Flavor. As a rule, we read in the admirable Vinton book referred to, "the fleezy denizens of the mountains and downs were distinguished by the excellence of their mutton, their active habits, necessitated by long journeys in search of the scanty food that was available, conducing to the development of the finest quality of meat." This point is gastronomically so very important that I will quote also what Professor Tanner wrote on it, as long ago as 1869, in a paper on the "Influence of Climate, etc., on Sheep," published in the "Journal of the Royal Agricultural Society of England": "The quality of the meat depends upon the lean portion being tender and charged with a rich juice; and these results can only be obtained from an animal of mature age, of active habits, and _fed upon short, sweet herbage_. By activity of body the muscles are brought into exercise, and a healthy growth is the consequence. The food being short and sweet compels the sheep to take plenty of exercise to gather their supplies, and the herbage being sweet and nutritious, in contra-distinction to that which is coarse and immature, renders the meat savory, the gravy dark and rich, and the meat palatable and digestible." Professor Tanner evidently understood the importance of having the right kind of feed--a subject on which much more will be said in a later chapter, under the head of "Feeding Flavor Into Food." The Southdown sheep, which have been happily called "small in size but great in value," inhabit a district the characteristics of which explain the incomparable Flavor of their mutton. The South Downs of Sussex, from which they derive their name, "consist of a range of low, chalky hills, five or six miles in breadth, stretching along the coast for a distance of upwards of sixty miles and passing into the chalky hills of Hampshire in the west." All the Southdown mutton, as a matter of course, does not come from one locality. The breed has been widely spread over the country and also used for crossing; but under similar conditions there is no reason why first-class mutton should not be produced in many localities. Naturally, substitution is practised; and in England, as elsewhere, the consumer is largely dependent on the honesty of his butcher. If the butcher is a wise man, anxious to get rich, he will always provide the best to those who know the difference and are willing to pay for it. John Ellman devoted half a century to the improvement of Southdown mutton, which is now grown in many English counties. Early maturity has been one of the points aimed at; to-day Southdowns are fit for the butcher at thirteen to fifteen months, and weigh many pounds more than their predecessors did. Some epicures still ask for well-aged meat, but the great buying public "prefer tender, fine-grained meat cut from young sheep." In some parts of the United States there is a decided prejudice against mutton. No doubt this is due to the fact that many local markets are supplied with the mutton of sheep which are raised chiefly for their wool and yield inferior meat. It would hardly do to throw away the carcases of these animals after they have served their purpose. But surely those who can afford to pay for better meat from "mutton-sheep," ought everywhere to have a chance to do so. Mountains abound in our country, and the breeders can, as already intimated, make sheep perform any function they choose quite _à la_ Burbank. We need men of brains who will let our gastronomic demands guide them to wealth along this line as along so many others. Valuable hints may be obtained in the Vinton book, from which I have repeatedly quoted.[16] One more citation from this creamy little book will help to emphasize the statement I have just made: "At the time of writing the importations of foreign mutton are very large, as they have been for some years. In this way there is an abundant supply of cheap, wholesome food, which, however, lacks the flavor and quality of the home-bred mutton, and those who can afford it will always give a higher price for the latter. The object, therefore, of the home-breeder is to produce the _very best_ description of mutton, _for which there is an increasing demand_." WILTSHIRE BACON. In the restaurants and hotels of France and Switzerland, no less than in those of London, York ham is often served, and York ham at its best is considered by epicures equal to the hams of Prague or Westphalia. But if the English hams must share honors with the products of Germany and Bohemia, when it comes to bacon, Britannia rules the world. Let not that seem a trifling matter to any one. Bacon--I mean smoked bacon--is one of the most useful and delicious of all appetizers, alone or with other meats. It is a great tonic, too, on account of its exceptional nutritive value. Anemic individuals should eat it every morning; it is beneficial to consumptives whose digestive powers are not too enfeebled; and for nursing mothers it is an ideal food. I remember reading in a medical journal that the health of babies is often wonderfully improved if the mother eats bacon--_good_ bacon, such as one can get in England often and in America sometimes. The drugged, denatured, indigestible rubbish usually sold in the United States as "bacon," is not fit for food. The men who make it or sell it ought to be imprisoned; some day they will be. In view of the nutritive value of bacon and its exquisite Flavor when properly cured, it seems strange that Continental nations have not learned how to make it, except those which, like Denmark and Sweden, cater for the English market. Canada also caters to this market and Canadian bacon enjoys a much better reputation at home and abroad than that made in the United States, with a few honorable exceptions. In England, also, bacon was not always appraised at its true value. Dryden, we are informed, "honestly liked the flitch of bacon better than more delicate fare"; but he deemed it necessary to apologize for having "a very vulgar stomach." Doubtless, in his day, it took a robust stomach to digest bacon, and doubtless, also, it was not so delicate and so well-flavored as it is now. Wiltshire bacon is, like Southdown mutton, the outcome of years of British breeding on scientific and gastronomic principles. Professor Robert Wallace of the University of Edinburgh tells in his "Farm Live Stock of Great Britain" what happened: "A great change has within comparatively recent years come over the system of feeding pigs, as well as of curing their carcases. A generation ago it was the custom to kill pigs about two years old, at enormous weights, after the flesh had become coarse. The method of curing left the lean portion gorged with salt, hard, indigestible and uninviting: then it was an advantage to have a large proportion of fat to lean. Now, however, the system of mild-curing renders the flesh sweet and juicy, and all efforts are directed towards the production of as great a proportion of lean to fat as possible. The large increase of the consumption of fresh pork has also encouraged the demand for young lean bacon; and on the other hand the change of fashion which has put young and tender pork on the market has helped to increase its consumption." Of the many English breeds the Tamworth has been found the best bacon pig. It is one of the eldest breeds and is nearly related to the wild boar. It benefited by the methods of improvement inaugurated by Bakewell and his pupil, Colling; together with some other English breeds, it has helped to modify, and in some cases has eliminated, the kinds of pigs indigenous to European countries. The Danish curers admit that without the importation of stock from England "their bacon would never have taken such high rank in the world's markets." In the United States, unfortunately, most of the breeds are lard-hogs. "Bacon pigs," says Professor Robert Wallace, "fed on Indian corn degenerate into lard-hogs." Now lard is doubtless a profitable article to raise, both for home use and for export. But in the kitchen the use of lard is an anachronism, since it has become generally known that butter and olive oil and beef suet are far superior to it in the yield of agreeable Flavors. Yankee ingenuity may even succeed in producing really palatable vegetable oils for cooking--a consummation devoutly to be wished, because it will help along the efforts to substitute the bacon pig for the lard hog. When Julius Sterling Morton was United States Secretary of Agriculture he published a document which attracted much attention. It was based mainly on a communication received from an American official in England who advised American farmers, if they would secure a share of the profitable Danish and Canadian trade in cured bacon of a superior quality, to give up the various American breeds and substitute the British Tamworths or their crosses. That was many years ago, but American bacon is still for the most part what it should not be, although efforts have been made to improve it. In the "Journal of the (British) Board of Agriculture" (1909-10, pp. 99-107) there is an interesting article on Coöperative Bacon Curing, the author of which says that the most useful breeds of pigs in the United Kingdom for bacon are Yorkshire and Berkshire breeds. But "a pure breed of pigs is not wanted by the bacon curer. What he wants is a bacon pig, and this is an animal which does not belong to any particular breed." What is a bacon pig? The same writer answers: "A bacon pig should mature in about seven months and should weigh about 168 pounds. This yields the best and most profitable bacon. A bacon pig, furthermore, must be long in body and deep in side.... This form is desirable because it is the side of the hog that furnishes the best and most expensive cuts, and it is necessary to have as much as possible of this at the expense of the other parts." Bacon curing as an organized industry is not much over half a century old. The Wiltshire cure of bacon is, however, referred to as far back as 1705 by Edward Lisle, in his "Observations in Husbandry." Many years later there came a great expansion of trade in Wiltshire County which made the name world-famed. To this day the bulk of British bacon is cured in Wiltshire fashion in whole sides. There are about fifty bacon factories in the United Kingdom. While their capacity is not so great as that of the factories in the United States, the treatment and quality of American meat are, as the writer just cited remarks, "much below the standard aimed at in the United Kingdom, and notwithstanding the immense supplies of bacon which reach our country from abroad, the high price of the home product is on this account maintained." It must not be supposed that all the bacon offered for sale in England is of superior quality. Sanders Spencer complained some years ago that the Irish bacon-curers were resting on their laurels; that a very large proportion of the pigs found in England "would be looked upon with disgust by the Danes and Canadians and that much of the meat from our home-bred pigs is inferior to a great deal of imported pork." The temptation to use denaturing chemical preservatives and to smoke insufficiently, or not at all, in order to save weight exists in England as in America and must be combated by the consumer. Extra choice specimens still come from some English hill farms, and the superexcellence of this bacon is due chiefly to its being skilfully smoked in the old-fashioned smoke house, which cures thoroughly while avoiding the rankness that comes from too rapid curing with very strong smoke. Properly smoked bacon is fragrant, like a flower. The other kind isn't. The test is a very simple one: if the odor makes your mouth water, it is all right. Not only "hill-farmers" but thousands of others have a chance to get rich by catering to the gastronomic demands of the time for the best bacon, ham, and fresh young pork. "The modern method of pig feeding has shown," as an expert informs us, "that a combination of separated milk and cereals is by far the best fattening material, and the future of the bacon-curing industry is therefore, to a large extent, in the hands of dairy farmers." Important information on this point was gathered for the benefit of American farmers by Consul Homer M. Byington, of Bristol, and printed in the "Daily Consular and Trade Reports" for January 4, 1912. Among other things, he wrote that "Wiltshire cured hams and bacon command a higher price than the hams and bacon of any other country. It is therefore of interest to ascertain why this should be so. One of the most prominent experts in the industry has stated that it is almost entirely a question of feeding. The fine breed of hogs kept by the best farmers in Wiltshire, Somerset, and Dorset are fed principally upon skim milk and barley meal. It is claimed by the English producers that American hogs are practically all fed on corn, which, although a perfectly wholesome food, tends to make the hog fat, and a little mellow, whereas feeding by the British method gives a meat beautifully white and as solid as meat need be." Referring to a leading Wiltshire curer, the Consul continues: "This latter firm, although purchasing 2,000 to 3,000 hogs per week from farmers in the surrounding territory, does not allow any breeder under contract to give his animals refuse for food. The pigs are subject to an ante-mortem and a post-mortem examination by a qualified veterinary surgeon and medical officer of health. No boracic acid or other injurious preservative is used in curing." In Germany, where one gets not only hams of the best quality, but excellent roast pork, many others besides farmers have taken to raising pigs. In 1873 there were only 7,124,088 pigs in the country; in 1907 there were over 22,000,000. The number of sheep has decreased in about the same proportion because three hogs can be raised by a peasant where he could not graze one sheep. Pigs are particularly profitable because they can be fed largely on kitchen refuse and unsalable skim milk and because a pig "will produce a pound of meat from a far less weight of food than will either sheep or cattle." By "mixing brains with the food," the profits can be enormously increased. Let me ask every American and English farmer to put the following words of England's leading authority, Sanders Spencer, into his pipe and smoke them slowly and thoroughly: "This selection of a compact, thick-fleshed, and pure quality sire is of even greater importance in the pig department of the farm than in many others, as our object is to breed a pig which is capable of converting a large quantity of food into the largest amount of _fine quality of meat_, and is so formed that the latter is placed on _those portions of the pig's body which realize the largest price in the market_."[17] There is a funny story of a farmer who gave his pigs all they could eat one day and starved them the next, in order to have his bacon nicely streaked with alternate layers of fat and lean. In England they seem to have a number of these ingenious farmers; at any rate, in Wiltshire bacon there is always plenty of lean meat. And how delicious it tastes when grilled, or baked in a roasting pan on a wire rack from which the fat drips to the bottom of the pan! When the bacon is too fat to suit the native connoisseur it is apparently exported to America and sold at fancy prices to people who have more money than knowledge. Gastronomic demands suggest many opportunities to get rich, particularly along this line. Spencer speaks of the "marvelous increase in the proportion of the inhabitants of the British Isles who now eat pork." Ireland exported nearly $17,500,000 worth of pork products in