Glancing for a moment across the Mediterranean, from Italy to Spain, we find record of but one Spanish cook-book of any note during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries—that of Ruberto de Nola (Toledo, 1525). While Spanish cookery is far from meriting a place among the fine arts, one must yet thank Spain for at least two things—the dulcet Spanish onion and the poignant Spanish omelette—as one should be grateful to Mexico for the tamale and to Russia for its caviare. But the Spaniard boils his partridge (perdrix à l'Espagnol), as the Hollander boils his chicken, with rice or vermicelli. The Spanish "olla podrida"—the Alhambra of the national cuisine, wherein garlic, onion, and red peppers are by no means forgotten—is well known to all travellers beyond the Pyrenees; but, on account of the many native ingredients it contains, it is difficult to be obtained in perfection outside its original country. Its best form is the olla en grande, which requires two pots to brew it in—the rich olla that Don Quixote says is eaten only by canons and presidents of colleges. With virgin oil and a pianissimo touch, so far as the garlic is concerned, the aristocratic guisado is both an excellent and accommodating dish, inasmuch as a fowl, pheasant, rabbit, or hare may serve as its base; and for those who wish to try a dish with a Spanish name, prepared somewhat on the order of the French civet of hare, the recipe may be given: "Dress and prepare a fowl, pheasant, rabbit, or hare—whichever is most easily obtainable—taking care to preserve the liver, giblets, and blood. Cut it up in pieces and dry, without washing, on a cloth. Brown a few slices of onion in a gill of boiling fat, turn them with the pieces of meat into an earthenware pan, add a seasoning of herbs, garlic, onions, a few chillies, salt and pepper, put in also a few slices of bacon, and pour over all sufficient red wine and rich stock in equal proportions to moisten. Place the pan over the fire and bring the liquor slowly to the boiling-point, skim and stir frequently, and let it simmer until the meat is quite tender. About half an hour before serving, put in the liver, giblets, and blood. When ready, turn the whole into a hot dish and serve quickly."
But Spain for its bull-fights, and France for its cuisine! With the revival of cookery in Italy, the art gradually advanced to the home of the Gaul, where, at a subsequent epoch, it was destined to attain its highest development. The early cooks of France were Italians, and the reader will recall Montaigne's picturesque passage where the author would fain possess part of the skill which some cooks have "who can so curiously season and temper strange odours with the savour and relish of their meats." In this allusion special reference was made to the artist in the service of the King of Tunis, whose viands were "so exquisitely farced and so sumptuously seasoned with sweet odoriferous drugs and aromaticall spices, that it was found on his booke of accompt the dressing of one peacocke and two fesants amounted to one hundred duckets."
While there is a flavour of pagan Rome in the price of these dishes, they were still considerably less expensive than the boars stuffed with fig-peckers of Trimalchio, or the flamingos' brains of Heliogabalus, and were doubtless as well prepared; for the author adds that after they had passed through the carver's hands their savour flooded not only the dining-chambers, but all the rooms of the palace, and even the streets round about it were filled with an "exceeding odoriferous and aromaticall vapour which continued a long time after." Such an aroma, at a later era, the passer-by might inhale daily from the ovens of the Rocher de Cancale, Véry, Voisin, Hardy, and Riche.
These, as well as other references, would indicate that during the latter part of the sixteenth century cookery had already made considerable progress. To be still more explicit, it received its impetus in France with the advent of Catherine de' Medici at the court of Francis I, the youthful bride of the Duc d'Orléans bringing her cooks with her from her native country. About this period the father of Ronsard the poet was maître d'hôtel of the king. The first physician of Francis I—Johann Gonthier of Andernach—is also credited with having given a great stimulus to cookery, chemistry, and surgery. The first French treatise on cookery, originally written in 1375, had appeared in the latter part of the fifteenth century. This was the "Viandier" of Guillaume Tirel, termed Taillevent, premier queux of Charles V—the initial volume of the "Cuisinières Bourgeoises," type of all the succeeding manuals of recipes. At least sixteen editions of this work are known to have been published, the first dated one being that of 1545. In 1349 the author was queux de bouche of Philippe de Valois, in 1361 queux of the Duc de Normandie, and in 1373 he became premier queux of the king. The frontispiece of one of the earlier editions depicts a personage conversing with a hunchback, who is carrying two ducks in his left hand and a laden hamper in his right. On the left, in a dormer-window, appears the head of a woman who is seemingly listening to the conversation.
With better wines than Italy could boast, added to a natural aptitude for cookery, France soon made material strides in the art of dining, the science continuing to improve during the reigns of Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III. The Gaul's taste was delicate, and his touch was true. For the garlic of the Italians he gradually substituted the onion and shallot, or at least employed garlic more sparingly; and in place of the heavy viands formerly in use evolved the more delicate entrée, salmis, and entremets.
Louis XIII was accustomed not only to kill his game, but frequently to prepare it for the table. In larding a piece of meat he vied with the most skilful practitioners, being led to do so and to put his general knowledge of cookery to account from his fear of being poisoned. But his kitchen, nevertheless, was a parsimonious one; and though he personally superintended all his gardening operations and prided himself on raising spring vegetables earlier in the season than any market-gardener, he ignobly disposed of his produce to the wealthy Seigneur de Montauron, whose table far outrivalled that of his royal green-grocer. To Montauron, counsellor of the king and first president of the Bureau of Finance, as well as to the Duc de Montausier,[8] who was first to introduce large silver spoons and forks, cookery is indebted for maintaining its prestige during the reign of the thirteenth Louis. Whether at home or absent on official duties, it was the habit of Montauron to keep open house all the year round for princes and distinguished personages. So great a benefice was it considered to secure a position among the numerous serving-men of the household that the chief steward had always a long waiting-list to draw from to supply any vacancy, the fortunate applicant on whom his choice fell readily paying him his customary fee of ten louis d'or.
In his munificence and hospitality, Montauron anticipated Fouquet, but, like the princely Marquis de Belle-Isle, whose hospitality was so illy rewarded by Louis XIV, his name remains unhonoured by an entrée or a sauce. Richelieu, who was a distinguished gastronome, fared better, and has had his memory perpetuated by many a savoury dish.
Thus the way was paved for the notable strides under Louis XIV and Béchamel, Condé and Vatel—the Grand Monarque and his maître d'hôtel, the great Condé and the equally renowned Vatel. The suppers and entertainments of Louis XIV were in accord with the magnificence of his court; the monarch who commanded Leveau and Mansard to render Versailles a pleasure-house worthy of his fame, who stocked the parks of his vast demesnes with game, and who was a passionate lover of the chase, being naturally exacting as to the renown of his table. It was his motto—"One eats well who works well." While Lebrun and Poussin were decorating his regal château, and Le Nôtre was embellishing its parks, Béchamel superintended the royal ranges and discovered new sauces, La Quintinie presiding over his vast vegetable-gardens to provide superior varieties of fruits and esculents. So great was the reputation of La Quintinie that he was also called upon to establish the splendid vegetable-gardens of the Duc de Montausier at Rambouillet, of Fouquet at Vaux, and of Colbert at Sceaux.
Saint-Simon has left a minute account of the daily life of Louis XIV, from his ceremonious levee to his soirée late in the evening. It was his habit to rise at eight and partake of a simple breakfast of bread and wine mixed with water. He dined alone, at one, at a square table in his own chamber, where several soups, three courses, and a dessert were regularly served, under the direction of his princely attendants. At a quarter after ten, supper, his favourite meal, was served in state in the Salon du Grand Couvert, in company with the royal family and the princes of the blood.