How it was that Gibbon came to write the ‘Decline and Fall;’ under what particular circumstances Newton conceived the theory of gravitation; how Scott invented his works, &c., are historic anecdotes with which all persons interested in literature are familiar. It is always pleasant to know how and where a great thought came into the brain of a great man, and so it is agreeable to know how this cookery book, which all the world longed for, was suggested to Soyer. (See the Preface.)
Surely this preface is one of the most remarkable documents that ever ushered any book into the world. Soyer has made it a rule never to refuse anything in his power to the ladies (the rogue)!—and, amongst other favours, they asked him for a cookery-book. The request caused him “a thrill of horror;” but being in a library in the midst of a hall, where he met with one of Milton’s allegorical works, Locke’s profound ideas, and several chefs d’œuvre of that noble champion of literature, Shakspeare, what should his eye turn to but a cookery-book closeted in such company! “The terrifying effect of that succulent volume” made him determine that he never would write a book of the culinary sort.
What was the consequence? The very determination not to write, forced him into “a thousand gastronomic reflections.” Write he must, and it was sheer modesty that generated the Regenerator. Mark the pleasantry upon the word “lost,” the last word in the preface, and fancy Soyer lost in Paradise. Tempter! if you had been in any such place, to what could you not have persuaded the first gourmand! In fine, Soyer determined to write this book, because he justly “considered that the pleasures of the table are an every-day enjoyment, which reflects good and evil on all classes.” And when we remember that he has written the work in ten months, during which he has also supplied 25,000 dinners to the gentlemen of the Reform Club, and 38 dinners of importance, comprising 70,000 dishes; that he had to provide daily for 60 servants, and to do the honours of the club to 15,000 visitors, one may fancy what genius and perseverance can accomplish. He says he is “entirely satisfied with the composition, distribution, and arrangement of the volume.” Exegit monumentum in fact. He has been and done it. He gives you his signature, his portrait en buste, and another full length, in which he is represented in his parlour at home (where, in spite of his avocations, he has leisure to receive his friends and consume a most prodigious quantity of victuals), surrounded by a select society of private friends, dispensing to them some of the luxuries which he describes in his 700 pages.
After a few prefatory observations about carving, for which he has invented a new and apparently successful, though unintelligible method—about larding, which he recommends to the English “middle classes”—the seasons of fish and game, &c.—the utensils for the kitchen—Soyer plunges into sauces at once, as the great test of culinary civilization. The key-sauces are the White Sauce, No. 7, and the Brown Sauce, No. 1. They are the principia of the science—they are the sauces which Soyer daily and principally uses. If the reader suspects that we are going to transcribe the formula for the preparation of these sauces, he is disappointed. No; let those who want the sauce buy the book, and enjoy both.
From sauces we go to “Potages or Soups” (and what are these, in fact, but diluted and agreeable sauce?), commencing with the clear light broth, or FIRST STOCK of soup, and proceeding to a hundred delicious varieties—the Louis Philippe, the Jerusalem, the Marcus-Hill, the Princess Royal, &c. Nothing can be more delicate or worthy of a young princess than this latter little soup; whereas the “potage à la comtesse,” beginning with “cut half a pound of lean ham with an onion,” is of a much stronger character. All these soups are flavoured with appropriate observations, as, for instance—“In fact it is much better for all thick soups to be too thin than too thick.” Louis Philippe soup, he says, should contain “Brussels sprouts, boiled very green.” Here is sorely some wicked satire here.
From soup we come to fish, as in the order of nature; thence to the hors-d’œuvre and removes, to the flancs, the entrées, the roasts, the vegetables, the sweets, or the entremets, and the second-course removes. As the critic reads from page to page his task becomes absolutely painful, so delicious is the style, so “succulent” are the descriptions, and so provoking the hunger which they inspire. Every now and then you get anecdotes, historical and topographical allusions, &c. (See p. 472.)
How finely it is written! “Will your excellency call to-morrow morning?” Talleyrand’s friend says nothing, but you see his rank at once, and when his excellency is gone, the Prince of Benevent rings the bell and orders—some of his favorite dishes. There is an account in the volume of crawfish aux truffes à la Sampayo, which makes one almost frantic with hunger.
And what will the reader say to this dish, which is the invention, not of Soyer the cook, but of Soyer the poet:—“The Celestial and Terrestrial Cream of Great Britain.” (See p. 710.)
If this dish was provided for his Highness Ibrahim Pacha last night, no Eastern prince since the days of the Barmecide was ever so entertained. Ardebit Alexim. His Highness will be bribing away this Gascon genius at any price to Cairo. He will become —— Pacha, and the cause of Reform will begin to droop.
Besides poetry, there are pictures in this incomparable volume. The dindonneau à la Nelson (of which the croustade is the bow of a ship, in compliment to the hero of Aboukir) is a picture worthy of Turner. The engraving of Soyer’s own parlour, where a pretty maid is in waiting (and an exceedingly pretty girl, by the way, is seated by the great artist) is an enticing interior, in which any man would like to let his portrait appear. The picture of “Salade de Grouse à la Soyer” is a capital portrait, and will be recognized by all who know and love the original. Soyer’s own portrait we have mentioned before. But perhaps the finest and most interesting work of art in the volume, is the plate at p. 294, which represents, of the natural size, a mutton cutlet, a pork cutlet, and a lamb cutlet. This cut—this plate of cutlets we should say—is incomparable.