OUR PORTFOLIO.
Since "gin-and-milk" has been declared to be an uncanonical beverage, much uncertainty prevails among the brethren of the cloth as to what refreshment would be considered orthodox and proper. There is no doubt that some men are so constituted as to require fluid aids to religion. To deprive them of it would be to strike a blow at popular piety. As the laborer is worthy of his hire, so is the minister, whose throat becomes parched by reason of much exhortation, worthy of the liquid balm which is to renew his powers and strengthen his organs. PUNCHINELLO has had under consideration the question of inventing some drink which might happily satisfy the wants of the thirsty and avoid the scandal which "gin-and-milk" has created among the godly. Many correspondents have suggested to him various decoctions, but, as they all involved spirituous ingredients, he has felt compelled to reject them. After considerable trial, he flatters himself, however, that he has fallen upon a discovery which may remove every objection. It is very simple, and that of itself should be a strong recommendation.
Take some raw potatoes; thoroughly extract the juice; mix with it about three ounces of horse-radish, (this to give it pungency,) flavor the same with any aromatic root to suit the taste, and then let the whole boil for one hour. After cooling, tightly bottle the mixture, and within twenty-four hours it will be fit for use. The process then will be to drink it in the same quantity that one would take either gin or whisky, being careful to hold to the nose during the act of swallowing, a sponge well saturated with pure alcohol. Between the pungency communicated to the taste by the horse-radish and the fumes of the spirit invading the nasal avenues, the illusion of a good "square drink" will be complete.
An instance of singularly vitiated taste has just come to the knowledge of PUNCHINELLO. A caterer in Baxter Street provides juvenile boot-blacks with the hind legs of rats, and declares that his guests eat them with great avidity and experience no ill effects. They are rolled in pulverized crackers, and cooked in lard. The dish is considered a great dainty, and is only within the reach of the aristocratic portions of that community. One chief cause of this culinary success is the fact that the provider keeps the knowledge of it to himself, going upon the French principle of "eat what's put before you and ask no questions." Fried horse liver has risen to great popularity with Americans in Paris, owing to the adoption of a similar caution. Fastidious tourists have been known to smack their lips over horse tenderloin, under the impression that the peculiarity of its flavor was to be attributed entirely to the devices of a Parisian cuisine.
This pleasant hypothesis has unquestionably prevented many a stomach from revolting, and increased the reputation of French cooks. It is related of the astronomer LALANDE that he often ate caterpillars and spiders, affirming that the former tasted like almonds and the latter like walnuts; but no American who ever feasted inadvertently on horse liver or a savory sirloin of the same flesh, has yet been found to acknowledge the fact, much less to promote a taste for it by any seductive comparison. The Baxter Street purveyor imitates the Parisian restaurateur in the mystery with which he surrounds his art, and so both prosper.