So Moliere, true to the spirit of his time, paid this compliment to the Marquis.
Bechamel was cook to Louis XIV., and invented a famous sauce.
Durand, who was cook to the great Napoleon, has left a curious record of his tempestuous eating. Francatelli succeeded Ude in England, was the _chef_ at Chesterfield House, at Lord Kinnaird"s, and at the Melton Club. He held the post of _maitre d"hotel_ for a while but was dismissed by a cabal.
The gay writer from whose pages we have gathered these desultory facts winds up with an advice to all who keep French cooks. "Make your _chef_ your friend. Take care of him. Watch over the health of this man of genius. Send for the physician when he is ill."
Imagine the descent from these poets to the good plain cook,--you can depend upon the truth of this description,--with a six weeks"
reference from her last place. Imagine the greasy soups, the mutton cutlets hard as a board, the few hard green peas, the soggy potatoes.
How awful the recollections of one who came in "a week on trial!"
Whose trial? Those who had to eat her food. It is bad to be without a cook, but ten times worse to have a bad one.
But if Louis Eustache Ude, the cook _par excellence_ of all this little study, lamented over the waste in great kitchens, how much more should he revolt at that wholesale destruction of food which might go to feed the hungry, nourish and sustain the sick, and perhaps save many a child"s life. What should be done with the broken meats of a great household? The cook is too apt to toss all into a tub or basket, to swell her own iniquitous profits. The half-tongues, ends of ham, roast beef, chicken-legs, the real honest relics of a generous kitchen would feed four or five poor families a week. What gifts of mercy to hospitals would be the half of a form of jelly, the pudding, the blanc mange, which are thrown away by the careless!
In France the Little Sisters of the Poor go about with clean dishes and clean baskets, to collect these morsels which fall from the rich man"s table. It is a worthy custom.
While studying the names of these great men like Ude and Careme, Vatel and Francatelli, what shades of dead _patissiers_, spirits of extinct _confiseurs_, rise around us in savoury streams and revive for us the past of gastronomic pleasure! Many a Frenchman will tell you of the iced meringues of the Palais Royal and the _salades de fraises au marasquin_ of the Grand Seize as if they were things of the past. The French, gayer and lighter handed at the moulding of pastry, are apt to exceed all nations in this delicate, delicious _entremet_. The _vol au vent de volaille_, or chicken pie, with its delicate filling of chicken, mushroom, truffles, and its enveloping pastry, is never better than at the Grand Hotel at Aix les Bains, where one finds the perfection of good eating. "Aix les Bains," says a resident physician, "lies half-way between Paris and Rome, with its famous curative baths to correct the good dinners of the one, and the good wines of the other." Aix adds a temptation of its own.
The French have ever been fond of the playthings of the kitchen,--the tarts, custards, the frothy nothings which are fashioned out of the evanescent union of whipped cream and spun sugar. Their politeness, their brag, their accomplishments, their love of the external, all lead to such dainties. It was observed even so long ago as 1815, when the allies were in Paris, that the fifteen thousand _pates_ which Madame Felix sold daily in the _Pa.s.sage des Panoramas_ were beginning to affect the foreign bayonets; and no doubt the German invasion may have been checked by the same dulcet influence.
There is romance and history even about pastry. The _baba_, a species of savoury biscuit coloured with saffron, was introduced into France by Stanislaus, the first king of Poland, when that unlucky country was alternately the scourge and the victim of Russia. The dish was perhaps oriental in origin. It is made with _brioche_ paste, mixed with madeira, currants, raisins, and potted cream.
French jellies are rather monotonous as to flavour, but they look very handsome on a supper-table. A _macedoine_ is a delicious variety of dainty, and worthy of the French nation. It is wine jelly frozen in a mould with grapes, strawberries, green-gages, cherries, apricots, or pineapple, or more economically with slices of pears and apples boiled in syrup coloured with carmine, saffron, or cochineal, the flavour aided by angelica or brandied cherries. An invention of Ude and one which we could copy here is jelly _au miroton de peche_:--
Get half a dozen peaches, peel them carefully and boil them, with their kernels, a short time in a fine syrup, squeeze six lemons into it, and pa.s.s it through a bag. Add some clarified isingla.s.s and put some of it into a mould in ice; then fill up with the jelly and peaches alternately and freeze it.
Fruit cheeses are very pleasant, rich conserves for dessert. They can be made with apricots, strawberries, pineapple, peaches, or gooseberries. The fruit is powdered with sugar and rubbed through a colander; then melted isingla.s.s and thick cream is added, whipped over ice and put into the mould.
The French prepare the most ornamental ices, both water and cream, but they do not equal in richness or flavour those made in New York.
Pancakes and fritters, although English dishes, are very popular in France and very good. Apple fritters with sherry wine and sugar are very comforting things. The French name is _beignet de pomme_.
Thackeray immortalizes them thus:--
"Mid fritters and lollypops though we may roam, On the whole there is nothing like _beignet de pomme_.
Of flour half a pound with a gla.s.s of milk share, A half-pound of b.u.t.ter the mixture will bear.
_Pomme! Pomme! Beignet de pomme!_ Of _beignets_ there"s none like the _beignet de pomme_!
"A _beignet de pomme_ you may work at in vain If you stir not the mixture again and again.
Some beer just to thin it may into it fall, Stir up that with three whites of eggs added to all.
_Pomme! Pomme! Beignet de pomme!_ Of _beignets_ there"s nothing like _beignet de pomme_!
"Six apples when peeled you must carefully slice, And cut out the cores if you"ll take my advice; Then dip them in b.u.t.ter and fry till they foam, And you"ll have in six minutes your _beignet de pomme_.
_Pomme! Pomme! Beignet de pomme!_ Of _beignets_ there"s nothing like _beignet de pomme_!"
In the _Almanach de Gourmands_ there appeared a philosophical treatise on pastry and pastry cooks, probably by the learned Giedeaud de la Reyniere himself. Pastry, he says, is to cooking what rhetorical metaphors are to oratory,--life and ornament. A speech without metaphors, a dinner without pastry, are alike insipid; but, in like manner, as few people are eloquent, so few can make perfect pastry.
Good pastry-cooks are as rare as good orators.
This writer recommends the art of the rolling-pin to beautiful women as being at once an occupation, a pleasure, and a sure way of recovering embonpoint and freshness. He says: "This is an art which will chase _ennui_ from the saddest. It offers varied amus.e.m.e.nt and sweet and salutary exercise for the whole body; it restores appet.i.te, strength, and gayety; it gathers around us friends; it tends to advance an art known from the most remote antiquity. Woman! lovely and charming woman, leave the sofas where _ennui_ and hypochondria prey upon the springtime of your life, unite in the varied moulds sugar, jasmine, and roses, and form those delicacies that will be more precious than gold when made by hands so dear to us." What woman could refuse to make a pudding and any number of pies after that?
There seems to be nothing left to eat after all this perilous sweet stuff but a devilled biscuit at ten o"clock.
""A well devilled biscuit!" said Jenkins, enchanted, "I"ll have after dinner,--the thought is divine!"
The biscuit was brought and he now only wanted, To fully enjoy it, a gla.s.s of good wine.
He flew to the pepper and sat down before it, And at peppering the well-b.u.t.tered biscuit he went; Then some cheese in a paste mixed with mustard spread o"er it, And down to the kitchen the devil was sent.
""Oh, how!" said the cook, "can I thus think of grilling?
When common the pepper, the whole will be flat; But here"s the cayenne, if my master be willing I"ll make if he pleases a devil with that."
So the footman ran up with the cook"s observation To Jenkins, who gave him a terrible look; "Oh, go to the devil!"--forgetting his station-- Was the answer that Jenkins sent down to the cook."
A slice of _pate de foie gras_, olives stuffed with anchovy, broiled bones, anchovy on toast, Welsh rarebit, devilled biscuit, devilled turkey-legs, devilled kidneys, _caviare_, devilled crabs, soft-sh.e.l.l crabs, shrimp salad, sardines on toast, broiled sausages, etc., are amongst the many appetizers which _gourmets_ seek at ten or twelve o"clock, to take the taste of the sweets out of their mouths, and to prepare the pampered palate perhaps for punch, whiskey, or brandy and soda.
THE FURNISHING OF A COUNTRY HOUSE.
The hostess should, in furnishing her house, provide a number of bath-tubs. The tin ones, shaped like a hat, are very convenient, as are also india-rubber portable baths. If there is not a bath-room belonging to every room, this will enable an Englishman to take his tub as cold as he pleases, or allow the American to take the warmer sponge bath which Americans generally prefer.
The house should also be well supplied with lunch-baskets for picnics and for the railway journey. These can be had for a small sum, and are well fitted up with drinking-cups, knives, forks, spoons, corkscrews, sandwich-boxes, etc. These and a great supply of unbreakable cups for the lawn-tennis ground are very useful.
There should be also any number of painted tin pails, and small pitchers to carry hot water; several services of plain tea things, and j.a.panese waiters, on which to send tea to the bedrooms; and in every room should be placed a table, thoroughly furnished with writing-materials, and with all the conveniences for writing and sealing a letter.
Shakspeare"s bequest to his wife of his second-best bed has pa.s.sed as a bit of post-mortem ungallantry, which has dimmed his fame as a model husband; but to-day that second-best bed would be a very handsome bequest, not only because it was Shakspeare"s, but because it was doubtless a "tester," for which there is a craze. All the old four-posters, which our grandmothers sent to the garret, are on their way back again to the model bedroom. With all our rage for ventilation and fresh air, we no longer fear the bed curtains which a few years ago were supposed to foster disease and death; because the model bedroom can now be furnished with a ventilator for admitting the fresh, and one permitting the egress of the foul air. Each gas bracket is provided with a pipe placed above it, which pierces the wall and through which the product of combustion is carried out of the house.
This is a late sanitary improvement in London, and is being introduced in New York.
As for the bed curtains, they are hung on rods with bra.s.s rings, no canopy on top, so that the curtains can be shaken and dusted freely.
This is a great improvement on the old upholstered top, which recalls d.i.c.kens"s description of Mrs. Todger"s boarding-house, where at the top of the stairs "the odour of many generations of dinners had gathered and had never been dispelled." In like manner the unpleasant feeling that perhaps whole generations of sleepers had breathed into the same upholstery overhead, used to haunt the wakeful, in old English inns, to the murdering of sleep.
There is a growing admiration, unfortunately, for tufted bedsteads.
They are in the long run neither clean nor wholesome, and not easily kept free from vermin; but they are undeniably handsome, and recall the imperial beds of state apartments, where kings and queens are supposed to seek that repose which comes so unwillingly to them, but so readily to the plough-boy. These upholstered, tufted, satin-covered bedsteads should be fitted with a canopy, and from this should hang a baldachin and side curtains. Certain very beautiful specimens of this regal arrangement, bought in Italy, are in the Vanderbilt palaces in New York. Opulent purchasers can get copies at the great furnishing-houses, but it is becoming difficult to get the real antiques. Travellers in Brittany find the most wonderful carved bedsteads built into the wall, and are always buying them of the astonished fisher-folk, who have no idea how valuable is their smoke-stained, carved oak.
But as to the making up of the bed. There are nowadays cleanly springs and hair mattresses, in place of the old feather-beds; and as to stiff white bedcovers, pillowslips and shams, false sheets and valenciennes tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, monogrammed and ruffled fineries, there is a truce. They were so slippery, so troublesome, and so false withal, that the beds that have known them shall know them no more forever. They had always to be unpinned and unhooked before the sleeper could enter his bed; and they were the torment of the housemaid. They entailed a degree of washing and ironing which was endless, and yet many a young housekeeper thought them indispensable. That idea has gone out completely. The bed now is made up with its fresh linen sheets, its clean blankets and its Ma.r.s.eilles quilt, with square or long pillow as the sleeper fancies, with bolster in plain linen sheath. Then over the whole is thrown a light lace cover lined with Liberty silk. This may be as expensive or as cheap as the owner pleases. Or the spreads may be of satin covered with Chinese embroidery, Turkish Smyrniote, or other rare things, or of the patchwork or decorative art designs now so fashionable. One light and easily aired drapery succeeds the four or five pieces of unmanageable linen. If the bed is a tester and the curtains of silk or chintz, the bed-covering should match in tint. In a very pretty bedroom the walls should be covered with chintz or silk.
The modern highly glazed tile paper for walls and ceiling is an admirable covering, as it refuses to harbour dirt, and the housemaid"s brush can keep it sweet and clean. Wall papers are so pretty and so exquisite in design that it seems hardly necessary to do more than mention them. Let us hope the exasperating old rectangular patterns, which have confused so many weary brains and haunted so many a feverish pillow, are gone forever.
The floors should be of plain painted wood, varnished, than which nothing can be cleaner; or perhaps of polished or oiled wood of the natural colour, with parquetried borders. If this is impossible cover with dark-stained mattings, which are as clean and healthful as possible. These may remain down all winter, and rugs may be laid over them at the fireplace and near the bed, sofa, etc. Readily lifted and shaken, rugs have all the comfort of carpets, and none of their disadvantages.
Much is said of the unhealthfulness of gas in bedrooms, but if it does not escape, it is not unhealthful. The prettiest illumination is by candles in the charming new candlesticks in tin and bra.s.s, which are as nice as Roman lamps.
On the old bedsteads of Cromwell"s time we find a shelf running across the head of the bed, just above the sleeper"s head,--placed there for the posset cup. This is now utilized for a safety lamp, for those who indulge in the pernicious practice of reading in bed; but it is even better used as a receptacle for the book, the letter-case, the many little things which an invalid may need, and it saves calling a nurse.
All paint used in a model bedroom should be free from poison. The fireplace should be tiled, and the windows made with a deep beading on the sill. This is a piece of wood like the rest of the frame, which comes up two or three inches in front of the lower part of the window.
The object of this is to admit of the lower sash being raised without causing a draught. The room is thus ventilated by the air which filters through the slight aperture between the upper and lower sashes. Above all things have an open fireplace in the bedroom.
Abolish stoves from that sacred precinct. Use wood for fuel if possible; if not, the softest of cannel-coal.
Have bra.s.s rods placed, on which to hang portieres in winter.
Portieres and curtains may be cheaply made of ingrain carpet embroidered; or of Turkish or Indian stuffs; splendid Delhi pulgaries, a ma.s.s of gold silk embroidered, with bits of looking-gla.s.s worked in; of velvet; camel"s-hair shawls; satin, chintz, or cretonne. Costly thy portieres as thy purse can buy; nothing is so pretty and so ornamental.