Facsimile of title-page. 1824, Vol. II.
Even the babiroussa, or wild Asian hog, is not forgotten, the author pronouncing its flesh very delicate, and presenting this additional information concerning its character:
"'Ah! mon Dieu,' asked a lady of her husband, as they were looking at a babiroussa at the Jardin des Plantes, 'what kind of an animal is that, my dear, who instead of two horns has four?'
"'Madame,' said some one who was passing by, 'that is a widower who has remarried.'"
There are recipes from Beauvilliers, Carême, the Marquis de Cussy, and the cook of King Stanislas; from the manuals of the times of Louis XIV and XV; from the cafés Anglais, Verdier, Brébant, Magny, Grignon, Véfour, and Véry; from Elzéar-Blaze, La Reynière, the Provincial Brothers, and Vuillemot, proprietor of the Tête Noire at St. Cloud. One's mouth waters as he reads the vast alphabet of dishes. There are, for example, thirty-one modes presented for preparing the carp, and fifty-six for dressing the egg, apart from the omelet, with sixteen recipes for artichokes and a dozen for asparagus. There is the Java formula for cooking halcyons' nests, and that of the cook of Richelieu for godiveau, a dissertation on the hocco, and a prescription for bustards à la daube. No wonder that Dumas has defined the dinner as a daily and capital action that can be worthily accomplished only by gens d'esprit.
This is well illustrated by an anecdote in the dedicatory epistle to Jules Janin, which shows the characteristic hand of Dumas to advantage:
"The Viscount de Vieil-Castel, brother of Count Horace de Vieil-Castel, one of the finest epicures of France, made this proposition at a gathering of friends:
"'A single person can eat a dinner costing five hundred francs.'
"'Impossible!' was the simultaneous exclamation.
"'It is well understood,' resumed the Viscount, 'that by the term eating is included drinking as well.'
"'Parbleu!' replied his friends.
"'Very well; I say that a man, and by a man I do not mean a carter but an epicure—a pupil of Montron or of Courchamps—can eat a dinner of five hundred francs.'
"'You, for example?'
"'I, or any one else.'
"'Can you?'
"'Certainly.'
"'I hold the five hundred francs,' said one of the bystanders; 'name your conditions.'
"'That is a simple matter. I will dine at the Café de Paris, make up my bill of fare, and eat my five-hundred-franc dinner.'
"'Without leaving anything on the dishes or plates?'
"'No, indeed; I will leave the bones.'
"'And when will the wager take place?'
"'To-morrow, if you say so.'
"'Then you will not breakfast?' asked one of the bystanders.
"'I will breakfast as usual.'
"'Be it so. To-morrow at seven, at the Café de Paris.'
"The same evening the Viscount dined as usual at the restaurant; then, after dinner, in order not to be influenced by stomachic cravings, he set about preparing his carte for the following day.
"The maître-d'hôtel was summoned. It was midwinter; the Viscount suggested numerous fruits and early vegetables. The hunting season was closed; he wanted some game.
"A week's grace was asked by the maître-d'hôtel.
"The dinner was postponed for a week.
"On the right and left of the table the judges were to dine.
"The Viscount had two hours in which to dine—from seven to nine.
"He could talk or not, as he chose.
"At the appointed hour the Viscount appeared, saluted the judges, and turned towards the table.
"The bill of fare was to remain a mystery to his adversaries; they were to have the pleasure of a surprise.
"The Viscount sat down. He was served with twelve dozen Ostende oysters, with a half-bottle of Johannisberger.
"The Viscount was in excellent appetite; he asked for another twelve dozen oysters, and another half-bottle of the same growth.
"Then came a soup of swallows' nests, which the Viscount poured in a bowl and drank as a bouillon.
"'Really, gentlemen,' said he, 'I am in fine trim to-day, and I have a notion to gratify a whim.'
"'Go on, pardieu, you are the doctor.'
"'I adore beefsteak and potatoes.'
"'Gentlemen, no advice, if you please,' said a voice.
"'Pooh! waiter,' said the Viscount, 'a beefsteak and potatoes.'
"The waiter, astonished, looked at the Viscount.
"'Don't you understand me?' said the latter.
"'But I thought that Monsieur le Vicomte had made up his bill of fare?'
"'That is true, but this is an extra; I will pay for it separately.'
"The judges looked at each other. The beefsteak and potatoes were brought on, and were promptly despatched.
"'Now for the fish!'
"The fish was brought on.
"'Gentlemen,' said the Viscount, 'it is a trout from Lake Geneva. I saw it this morning while I was breakfasting; it was still alive; it was brought from Geneva to Paris in the waters of the lake. I can recommend this fish to you—it is delicious.'
"Five minutes later only the bones remained.
"'The pheasant, waiter!' said the Viscount.
"A truffled pheasant was brought on.
"'Another bottle of Bordeaux of the same growth.'
"The second bottle was brought.
"In ten minutes the pheasant was disposed of.
"'Monsieur,' said the waiter, 'I think you have made a mistake in calling for the truffled pheasant before the salmis of ortolans.'
"'Ah! that is so. Fortunately it is not stated in what order the ortolans are to be eaten; otherwise I should have lost. The salmis of ortolans, waiter!'
"The salmis of ortolans was brought on.
"There were twelve ortolans—twelve mouthfuls for the Viscount.
"'Gentlemen,' said the Viscount, 'my bill of fare is very simple. Now for some asparagus, green peas, a banana, and strawberries. As for wine, a half-bottle of Constance and a half-bottle of sherry that has made the voyage to India. Then, of course, some coffee and liqueurs.'
"Everything appeared in its turn—vegetables and fruit were conscientiously eaten, and the wines and liqueurs were drunk to the last drop.
"The Viscount was an hour and fourteen minutes in dining.
"'Gentlemen,' said he, 'has everything gone right?'
"The judges acquiesced.
"'Waiter, the carte!'
"At this epoch the term addition was not used.
"The Viscount ran his eye over the total, and passed the carte to the judges.
"This was the carte:
fr. c. Ostende oysters, 24 dozen 30 " Soup of swallows' nests 150 " Beefsteak and potatoes 2 " Trout from Lake Geneva 40 " Truffled pheasant 40 " Salmis of ortolans 50 " Asparagus 15 " Bananas 24 " Strawberries 20 " Green peas 12 " Wines. Johannisberg, one bottle 24 " Bordeaux, grand crû, two bottles 50 " Constance, a half-bottle 40 " Sherry, retour de l'Inde, a half-bottle 50 " Coffee, liqueurs 1 50 Total 548 50 "The sum total was verified and the carte was taken to the adversary of the Viscount, who was dining in an adjoining room.
"In five minutes he appeared, saluted the Viscount, took six bills of a thousand francs from his pocket, and presented them to him.
"It was the amount of the wager.
"'Oh, Monsieur,' said the Viscount, 'there was no hurry; besides, perhaps you would have liked your revenge.'
"'You would have granted it to me?'
"'Surely!'
"'When?'
"'Immediately.'"
| fr. | c. | |
| Ostende oysters, 24 dozen | 30 | " |
| Soup of swallows' nests | 150 | " |
| Beefsteak and potatoes | 2 | " |
| Trout from Lake Geneva | 40 | " |
| Truffled pheasant | 40 | " |
| Salmis of ortolans | 50 | " |
| Asparagus | 15 | " |
| Bananas | 24 | " |
| Strawberries | 20 | " |
| Green peas | 12 | " |
| Wines. | ||
| Johannisberg, one bottle | 24 | " |
| Bordeaux, grand crû, two bottles | 50 | " |
| Constance, a half-bottle | 40 | " |
| Sherry, retour de l'Inde, a half-bottle | 50 | " |
| Coffee, liqueurs | 1 | 50 |
| Total | 548 | 50 |
But the reputation of the Viscount as a belle fourchette was exceeded by that of a Swiss guard in the employ of the Maréchal de Villars, an account of whose prowess is related by the "Journal des Défenseurs":
"One day the guard was sent for by the Maréchal, who had heard of his enormous appetite.
"'How many sirloins of beef can you eat?' he tentatively asked.
"'Ah! Monseigneur, for me I don't require many, five or six at the most.'
"'And how many legs of mutton?'
"'Legs of mutton? not many—seven to eight.'
"'And of fat pullets?'
"'Oh! as to pullets, only a few—a dozen.'
"'And of pigeons?'
"'As to pigeons, Monseigneur, not many—forty, perhaps fifty.'
"'And larks?'
"'Larks, Monseigneur?—always!'"