“Do have some more; it isn’t very good, but there’s lots of it.” So said a friend of mine to his guests about his half-crown port. This is the sentiment of the man who knows not the Chafing Dish. “Lots of it” is the worst kind of hospitality, and suggests the quantity, not quality, of the cheap-jack kerbstone butcher. Little and good, and enough to go round, is the motto of the tactful house-husband. A French cook once said that it was only unlucky to sit down thirteen at table if the food were but sufficient for twelve.
There is such a deal of fine confused feeding about the ordinary meals of even a simply conducted country house that imagination boggles at the thought of the elaboration of the daily menus. With four, or possibly five, repasts a day, few of them chaste, most of them complicated, a careful observer will note that the cook has been listening to the pipings of the Great God Sauce, and covers natural flavours with misnamed concoctions which do nothing but obliterate nature and vex the palate.
There are some few houses, great and small, town and country, where the elemental decencies of the kitchen are manfully preserved, where wholesome mutton does not masquerade as Quartier d’Agneau à la Miséricorde, and the toothsome lobster is not Americanised out of all knowing. To such establishments, all honour and glory.
But to those whose means or opportunities do not permit of a carefully trained cook, a home-made artist, I would in all diffidence recommend the cult of the Chafing Dish, whose practical use I now propose to discuss.
CHAPTER II·PRELIMINARIES·
“Tout se fait en dinant dans le siècle où nous
sommes,
Et c’est par les diners qu’on gouverne les
hommes.”—Ch. de Monselet.
Chaffinda’s cooking battery is small, but select. The Chafing Dish proper comprises the stand and lamp, and the dish, called the “Blazer,” which has an ebony handle; and there is an ingenious spirit diminisher which enables one to reduce the flame to a minimum, just enough to keep the flame simmering, or to put it out altogether. A second, or hot water pan, belongs to the outfit, and an asbestos toast-making tray may be bought for a trifle. In addition, a couple of green or brown dishes of French fireproof china, an egg-poacher, a marmite, and perhaps a casserole, all of which are best from Bonnet in Church Street, Soho, will come in very usefully. To these may be added the usual complement of plates and dishes and several wooden spoons of different sizes; a fish-lifter is also desirable, so is a strainer, and a pair of graters come in very handily. This practically completes the gear of the budding Chafist, though additional items may be added from time to time as occasion demands.