Host and Guest

by A. V. Kirwan

The most renowned liqueur of our West India Islands was the eau des Barbades. A very small bottle of this used to sell for a louis d’or; but the price, as well as the fiery nature of the article, caused it to sink in public favour.

The Dutch invented cinnamon water, crême de girofle, and crême de canelle, when they were the exclusive possessors of the Spice Islands, and also curaςao, which is now produced in great quantities in Luxembourg (previously to the Belgian Revolution of 1830 a Dutch town) and Amsterdam. The crême de girofle is a delightful liqueur, and is said by a writer in the “Magazine of Domestic Economy” to be excellent for singers when suffering under relaxation of the throat. It is made by adding forty drops of oil of cloves to a quart of spirits of wine and a quart of syrup, with as much of red colouring matter as will impart a good colour. Crême de canelle is also an agreeable liqueur, and beneficial to the dyspeptic by warming the stomach, and giving increased action to that organ.

Curaςoa is one of the very best of liqueurs. The finest is made at Luxembourg and Amsterdam; but, if the frugal housekeeper cannot afford the expense of the genuine article, he may resort to a receipt contained in the second volume of the “Magazine of Domestic Economy.”

The tincture and pod of vanilla is much used in France in flavouring as well as colouring liqueurs. The crême de vanille is not an unpleasant cordial, and is stomachic, and slightly stimulant.

Ireland invented that horrid burning beverage called scubac, shubach, or usquebaugh. This liqueur, called usquebaugh, or schubagh, had its birth in the sweet, clean, neat little town of Drog-h[=e]-da; or, as it was called in the time of Cromwell, Tredagh.

Schubagh is a decoction of barley, tinged with an infusion of saffron, sweetened with sugar, to which is added spirits of wine to give it strength. It is the strongest and most fiery of cordials, and is only fit for a Gueber. Schubagh was early counterfeited in France, and the counterfeit may, by a species of contradiction, be said to have surpassed the original. Many new ingredients were added, as mace, cloves, cinnamon, jujubes, aniseed, juniper-leaves, &c.; but, notwithstanding this addition and improvement, this beverage never became a favourite in Paris, though it had subsequently some repute at Copenhagen, Stockholm, Revel, and Riga.

To Ireland we are also indebted for raspberry and black currant whiskey. A teaspoonful of either may be taken, but it should be kept ten years in bottle.

The eau cordiale of Colladon, a famous physician of Geneva, was composed of the essential oil of lemons, extracted by expression, rectified spirits of wine, sugar, and eau de mélisse. This liqueur is reported to have been the most salubrious and agreeable of any in the category; but the price of it was so excessive, even during the life of the inventor, that it was but little consumed.

The eau de vie d’Andaye is a pure and simple brandy; but the slight taste of fennel which is communicated to it in distillation, places it in the rank of liqueurs. It was in the month of September, 1837, that having crossed over the Bidassoa in a fordable part, running the risk of being mistaken by the Carlists for a Christino, that I sat down under the shadow of the town of Irun, and within view of Andaye itself, to eat of a Dutch cheese, a shallot, some cresses, and a crust of the beautifully white bread of Spain. I washed down this homely fare with a glass of the far-famed eau de vie d’Andaye, diluted with the water of a rill which ran ripplingly over the pebbles beneath my feet; and, whether from the exercise, the purity of the air, the tranquil stillness of the place—rendered more fearfully still by the reverberation of a stray shot in the distance—I thought the fare delicious, and relished the brandy as the most vinous and cordial drop I ever tasted. Mentioning this in the summer of the following year to a West India gentleman, my late lamented friend, Mr. James MacMahon, in the Quarry Walk of Shrewsbury, and who was a great gourmet, though a point-blank realist and matter-of-fact man, he replied, “There’s no delusion in it; and neither the air, the scenery, nor the exercise, had anything to do with the matter. It is the pure quality and excellence of the brandy alone that gave to the beverage so intense a relish, as I shall prove to you. A week ago I dined with Earl Talbot at Ingestrie. There was a large party; it was a diner d’apparat, with turtle, venison, and all the delicacies of the season. Half-a-dozen liqueurs were produced; but last of all some eau de vie d’Andaye, which the host declared had been in the cellar since 1796, a period of forty-two years. Now it was nine o’clock when this was produced, and my taste was somewhat palled from the multitude of good things, both solids and fluids, of which I had tasted; yet, whether from age or frequent rectification, I never tasted anything so delicious, so that your theory falls to the ground.”

In the island of Ré, it is said, brandy is prepared exactly by the same process as at Andaye; but, though I have sailed by this island, it has never been my fate to taste of the produce of its distillation.