Hoity, toity! And not a word about a French plât, or even a curry, either! But we must remember that this diatribe comes from a gentleman who has laid down the theory that cold water is not only the cheapest of beverages, but the best. Exception, too, may be taken to the statement that a “piquant salad” whets the appetite for wine. I had always imagined that a salad—and, indeed, anything with vinegar in its composition—rather spoilt the human palate for wine than otherwise. And what sort of “baked meats” are usually served with desert?
How the Poor Live.
An esteemed friend who has seen better days, sends word how to dine a man, his wife, and three children for 7½d. He heads his letter
The Kent Road Cookery.
A stew is prepared with the following ingredients: 1 lb. bullock’s cheek (3½d.), ½ pint white beans (1d.), ½ pint lentils (1d.), pot-herbs (1d.), 2 lb. potatoes (1d.)—Total 7½d.
When he has friends, the banquet is more expensive: 1 lb. bullock’s cheek (3½d.), ½ lb. cow-heel (2½d.), ½ lb. leg of beef (3d.), 1 pint white beans (2d.), ½ pint lentils (1d.), pot-herbs (1d.), 5 lb. potatoes (2d.)—total 1s. 3d.
As we never know what may happen, the above menus may come in useful.
Doctor Nansen’s Banquet
on the ice-floe, to celebrate his failure to discover the Pole, was simple enough, at all events. But it would hardly commend itself to the fin de siècle “Johnny.” There was raw gull in it, by way of a full-flavoured combination of poisson and entrée; there was meat chocolate in it, and peli—I should say, pemmican. There were pancakes, made of oatmeal and dog’s blood, fried in seal’s blubber. And I rather fancy the relevé was Chien au nature. For in his most interesting work, Across Greenland, Doctor Nansen has inserted the statement that the man who turns his nose up at raw dog for dinner is unfit for an Arctic expedition. For my own poor part, I would take my chance with a Porterhouse steak, cut from a Polar bear.