Host and Guest

by A. V. Kirwan

I have already observed, that in my mind the really fine cuisine bourgeoise of good houses in France is perfection, and I do not despair of seeing such cookery infinitely more generally used in England than it ever has been; but the more expensive French cookery is never likely to become generally prevalent amongst us. Carème tells us that at grand balls and dinners he used to roast turkeys only for his soups and consommés, and he talks as volubly of two, four, and half-a-dozen fowls, as though they were had for eighteen pence a piece, instead of costing at the cheapest rate and time 5s. 6d. or 6s. a couple. A system of cookery so expensive as this can never become general in any country. Carème tells how he formed his consommés, and though doubtless they were better flavoured and presented a more golden appearance than the generality of consommés, yet, to use the language of Burke,

“They were soon exhaled, and vanished hence—

A short, sweet odour at a vast expense.”

There are, however, many things in the French kitchen which are daily coming into more general use. First, there is the pot au feu for the family broth; there are the various purées for fowl, rabbit, and vegetable soups of all kinds, from Jerusalem artichokes, carrots, and turnips, to onions and cerfeuil. Thirdly, there are the various sauces of blanc, espagnole, roux blanc, velouté, sauce à la creme, and poivrade, which are now of much more common usage than they were thirty, twenty, or even ten years ago. We are every day also getting more and more into the habit of filleting our soles, or dressing them au gratin or à la Normande; and in the serving of entrées and entremets we have made visible improvement. Still there are few English cooks in England who can turn out an omelette aux fines herbes, or an omelette soufflée as well as an ordinary French cook. Yet, what an excellent thing this for breakfast or lunch when one is tired of a boiled egg, of a slice of cold ham, beef, or tongue, or of a mutton chop, beefsteak, or cold game pie.

A morning’s meal is no unimportant thing to a man who has to appear in half a dozen causes in a crowded court, who has to visit five-and-twenty patients, or to get through half a dozen Blue-books before he goes down to a Parliamentary Committee at the House of Lords or Commons. Our mental energies, in a great degree, depend on our physical condition and well-being; and the physical condition of that man, be he peer, senator, advocate, or doctor, who, for half a dozen days, has had an indifferent breakfast or dinner, cannot be good.

In asking people to dinner, you should put to yourself the question, “Why do I ask them?” and unless the answer be satisfactory, they are not likely to contribute much to the agreeability and sociality of the entertainment. They may be ornamental; it may be necessary, in a give-and-take sense, to have them in return for a dinner already long received and digested; but, unless they are sensible, social, unaffected, and clever men, they are not likely to contribute much to the hilarity of the entertainment. You may ask a man because he is a bon vivant, because he is a raconteur, because he talks brilliantly and eloquently, because he is a wit, because he is a distinguished traveller, poet, historian, or orator, or because he is a good-natured popular man, a “bon enfant,” or, what used to be called, a “jolly good fellow.” But do not ask any, however much above the average, who is a prig, who is pretentious, who is disputatious, or who is underbred. Never introduce to your table men who have not the feelings, habits, manners, and education of gentlemen—I had almost said, the birth of a gentleman; but it must be remembered that nature now and again produces some magnificent specimens of what somebody has called “God Almighty’s gentlemen.” But these are the exceptions, not the rule; for it will generally be found that men of gentle birth are also men of gentle breeding. The only two positively offensive and ill-bred men I ever encountered in society were men of some ability who had probably never entered the house of a gentleman to dinner, till they were four or five-and-twenty. In these instances, the want of early training and culture in manners and les convenances had never been supplied. The presence of men of this stamp is destructive to good fellowship. They are social pests, and should be avoided comme la gale.

Though the French learned a great deal of their cookery, and still more of their confectionery, from the Italians, yet there is little now in Italian cookery worthy of imitation or adoption among us. Macaroni and semolina soups are better made in Paris than in Italy, though the ribbon macaroni is better prepared at Naples and in Sicily than anywhere else in the world. Veal cutlets, also, are very well prepared in the great cities of Italy, and more especially at Naples and Turin.

Italian ices and confectionary are worthy of all praise; but, as the nation is not a dinner-giving nation, we have little or nothing to adopt from them. Some of their sausages are extremely good and appetizing.

The Spaniards are as little of a dinner-giving people as the Italians. Though every Spaniard tells you, with asseverating protestations, “Mi casa sta à la dispocion di usted,” yet this means nothing whatever, for assuredly you are never destined to eat or drink within his four walls, unless it be a cup of cold water. The only national dishes of any note in Spain, are the olla and the puchero, and neither would be relished by Englishmen of well-educated palates.

Germany has little to teach us in the way of cookery. On the banks of the Rhine they dress a carp well, with both sweet and sour sauce; but, for my own part, I prefer a Rhenish carp served in Paris by a French cook. German sauer kraut, with Hambro’ beef, may be said to be a national dish, and right good the Hambro’ salt beef is; but few Englishmen like either sauer kraut or potato salad—a dish of Fatherland. German batter and German horseradish sauce, made with cream, and also the cherry-sauce, so common, is not despicable with certain meats; but, on the whole, German cookery is not either elegant or palatable.