“Scott’s Dictionary of Cookery,” is a pretentious failure, published in 1828 by Colburn. The author was a Scotch doctor, practising at some small continental town. The work seems to have been got up with the view of rivalling Mrs. Rundell’s publication.
The “Cook’s Oracle,” by Dr. Kitchener, was first published in 1817. It had great success, but never did a book less deserve renown. Totally destitute of arrangement and originality, it is an odd confused olla podrida of receipts, observations, maxims, and remarks, drawn from all sources, ancient and modern, foreign as well as domestic. It is written in a vain-glorious, assuming style, and filled with gasconading vulgarisms and obsolete pedantry. The attempts at wit are ludicrously heavy and unsuccessful. It is a reproach to the national taste to have patronized a book of no theoretical, and of little practical worth.
The greater part of these observations also apply to that exceedingly indigested posthumous book of scraps and patches, called the “Housekeeper’s Oracle,” published in 1829.
The “French Cook,” by Ude, “officier de la bouche,” first to the Earl of Sefton, and afterwards to Crockford’s Club, has gone through many editions. It contains a disquisition on the rise and progress of cookery, which is not without merit; but the greater portion of it is taken from the “Cuisinier des Cuisiniers.” The partiality of our countrymen for melted butter in a variety of shapes is happily hit off, and is about as reasonable, in point of taste, as the antipathy of that choleric Frenchman, who exclaimed, “Je deteste ces vilains Anglais, parcequ’ils versent du beurre fondu sur leur veau rôti.”
The work of Ude is intended for the higher ranks, and for people of fortune. The book and the cook have been a little over-rated. It is neither French nor English—neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring. The late Lord Sefton, who was too much of a mere glutton, would have perverted the taste of any cook, however good, who had been long in his service.
There is not a more amusing and racy volume than the “Original,” by Mr. Walker, formerly of Trinity College, Cambridge, and afterwards a police magistrate. Although several extracts have been already made from the book in the “Quarterly Review,” the following may be reproduced with advantage:—
“To order dinner is a matter of invention and combination. It involves novelty, simplicity, and taste; whereas, in the generality of dinners, there is no character but that of dull routine, according to the season.
“Any body can dine, but very few know how to dine, so as to ensure the greatest quantity of health and enjoyment—indeed, many people contrive to destroy their health; and as to enjoyment, I shudder when I think how often I have been doomed to only a solemn mockery of it, how often I have sat in durance stately, to go through the ceremony of a dinner, the essence of which is to be without ceremony, and how often in this land of liberty have I felt myself a slave.
“There are three kinds of dinners—solitary dinners, every day social dinners, and set dinners. All these involving the consideration of cheer, and the last two of society also. Solitary dinners, I think, ought to be avoided as much as possible, because solitude tends to produce thought, and thought tends to the suspension of the digestive powers. When, however, dining alone is necessary, the mind should be disposed to cheerfulness by a previous interval of relaxation. As contentment ought to be an accompaniment to every meal, punctuality is essential, and the diner and the dinner ought to be ready at the same time. A chief maxim in dining with comfort, is to have whatever you want when you want it. It is ruinous to have to wait just for one thing, and then another, and to have the little additions brought, when what they belong to is half or entirely finished. To avoid this, a little oversight is good, and, by way of instance, it is sound practical philosophy to have mustard upon the table before the arrival of toasted cheese. This very omission has caused as many small vexations in the world as would, by this time, make a mountain of misery. Indeed, I recommend an habitual consideration of what adjuncts will be required to the main matters; and I think an attention to this, on the part of females, might often be preventive of sour looks and cross words, and their anti-conjugal consequences. There is not only the usual adjuncts, but to those who have anything like genius for dinners, little additions will sometimes suggest themselves, which give a sort of poetry to a repast, and please the palate to the promotion of health.
“The present system of dinner giving I consider thoroughly tainted with barbarism and vulgarity, and far removed from real and refined enjoyment. As tables are now arranged, one is never at peace from an arm continually setting on or taking off a side dish, or reaching over to a wine cooler in the centre; then comes the more laborious changing of courses, with the leanings right and left, to admit a host of dishes, that are set on only to be taken off again, after being declined in succession by each of the guests, to whom they are handed round; yet this is fashion, and not to be departed from. With respect to wine, it is often offered when not wanted, and when wanted, is perhaps not to be had till long waited for. It is dreary to observe two persons, glass in hand, waiting the butler’s leisure to be able to take wine together, and then, perchance, being helped in despair to what they did not ask for; and it is still more dreary to be one of the two yourself. How different when you can put your hand upon a decanter the moment you want it! I have been speaking hitherto of attendance in its most perfect state; but then comes the greater inconvenience, and the monstrous absurdity, of the same forms with inadequate establishments. Those who are overwhelmed with an establishment, are, as it were, obliged in self-defence to devise work for their attendants, whilst those who have no such reason ape an example which, under the most appropriate circumstances, is a state of restraint and discomfort, but which, when followed merely for fashion’s sake, becomes absolutely intolerable. I remember once receiving a severe frown from a lady at the head of her table, next to whom I was sitting, because I offered to take some fish from her, to which she had helped me, instead of waiting till it could be handed me by her one servant; and she was not deficient either in good breeding or sense. It is one of the evils of the present day, that every body strives after the same dull style, so that, when comfort might be expected, it is often least to be found. State, without the machinery of state, is of all states the worst. In conclusion of this part of my subject, I will observe that I think the affluent would render themselves and their country an essential service, if they were to fall into the simple, refined style of living, discarding everything incompatible with real enjoyment, and I believe that, if the history of overgrown luxury were traced, it has always had its origin from the vulgar—rich—the very last class worthy of imitation.”