is not, as might be sometimes imagined, entirely composed of compressed deal splinters, but is a vegetable which was cultivated in India long before the Britons got it. The Scotch call turnips “neeps”; but the Scotch will do anything. Probably no member of the vegetable family is so great a favourite with the insect pests sent on earth by an all-wise Providence to prevent mankind having too much to eat. But see that you get a few turnips to cook when there is roast duck for dinner.
Spinach
was introduced into Spain by the Arabs, and as neither nation possessed at that time, at all events, the attribute of extra-cleanliness, they must have eaten a great deal of “matter in the wrong place,” otherwise known as dirt. For if ever there was a vegetable the preparation of which for table would justify any cook in giving notice to leave, it is spinach.
The Germans have nick-named it “stomach-brush,” and there is no plant growing which conduces more to the health of man. But there has been more trouble over the proper way to serve it at table than over Armenia. The French chop up their épinards and mix butter, or gravy, with the mess. Many English, on the other hand, prefer the leaves cooked whole. It is all a matter of taste.
But I seem to scent a soft, sweet fragrance in the air, a homely and health-giving reek, which warns me that I have too long neglected to touch upon the many virtues of the
Onion.
Indigenous to India in the form of
Garlic
(or gar-leek, the original onion), the Egyptians got hold of the tear-provoker and cultivated it 2000 years before the Christian era. So that few of the mortals of whom we have ever read can have been ignorant of the uses of the onion, or gar-leek. But knowledge and practice have enabled modern gardeners to produce larger bulbs than even the most imaginative of the ancients can have dreamt of. To mention all the uses to which the onion is put in the kitchen would be to write a book too weighty for any known motive power to convey to the British Museum; but it may be briefly observed of the juice of the Cepa that it is invaluable for almost any purpose, from flavouring a dish fit to set before a king, to the alleviation of the inflammation caused by the poison-bearing needle which the restless wasp keeps for use within his, or her, tail. In fact, the inhabited portion of the globe had better be without noses than without onions.