Parthian Chicken.—Open the croup dexterously, and put it in the saucepan; then mix some pepper, alisander, a little carrot, garum, and wine; fill the chicken with this seasoning; cook well, and sprinkle with pepper before serving.[XVII_33]
Numidian Chicken.—Begin by boiling a chicken for some time; then place it in a stew-pan, after having sprinkled it with benzoin and pepper. Afterwards bruise some pepper, cummin, coriander seed, benzoin root, pine nuts, rue, and dates; add honey, vinegar, garum, and oil; boil, thicken with fine flour, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVII_34]
Chicken à la Frontonienne.—Half cook a chicken, and then put into the saucepan garum, oil, a bunch of dill, some leeks, winter savory, and green coriander. You then sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVII_35]
Chicken à la Cœlienne.—Cook a chicken with garum, oil, wine, coriander seed, and onion. Then put some milk and a little salt into another saucepan, with honey and a little water, and cook this mixture over a very slow fire. Throw in by degrees some raspings of sweet biscuits, and take care to stir continually. Put the chicken into this sauce, and then serve with a seasoning of pepper, alisander, and wild marjoram, mixed with honey and cooked vine, which must be boiled and thickened with fine flour.[XVII_36]
THE DUCK.
The duck swims so well it was thought to be paying a compliment to Neptune by sacrificing it to him.[XVII_37] The god of the seas never found fault with this offering.
Attica and the whole of Greece sought the beautiful ducks of Bœotia,[XVII_38] and that province was always found to have supplied a larger number than it reared. It is true the poulterers of Athens, banishing all scruples of conscience, rarely failed to satisfy their customers as to the doubtful origin of a white nêssa (duck), by taking Neptune to witness that it was a pure Bœotian, a real duck, as they said emphatically, of that species so much appreciated by connoisseurs. Future quidnuncs will examine whether the friendly duck of the English and the political and literary canard of the French have, or have not, found their way from Greece, after wandering a little on the road.
There were ducks at that prodigious dinner of the opulent Caranus, of whom we have already spoken several times. They were always served at the tables of the rich Greeks;[XVII_39] and Archigenes reckons them among the viands which agree best with the stomach.[XVII_40] Cato was of the same opinion; and, if we are to believe Plutarch, he made them the food of those of his family who were ill, and boasted of maintaining his children, servants, and himself in perfect health, by the aid of this diet alone.[XVII_41] It was the same idea that made Mithridates mix the flesh of ducks with all he ate, as an antidote against poison, which he feared.[XVII_42]
Hippocrates evinces a contrary opinion. The flesh of this bird seemed to him hard, heavy, and indigestible.[XVII_43] Avicenna goes still further: he threatens all who eat it with fever.[XVII_44] The Romans were no more frightened than the Greeks at the decision of the father of medicine. Lentulus, one of the high magiric authorities of Rome, ordered that the duck should figure in the most honourable manner at the brilliant feast of which Macrobius has preserved us an account.[XVII_45] It must, however, be remembered that polite people, who observed the forms and usages of society, only offered to their guests the breast and head of this biped; the remainder returned to the kitchen.[XVII_46]