Come forth, O Manes, from the chamber
Deck'd with the lofty cypress roof;
Go to the market, to the statues
Of Maia's son, where all the chiefs
Of the tribes meet, and seek the troop
Of their most graceful pupils, whom
Phidon is teaching how to mount
Their horses, and dismount from them.
I need not tell you now their names.
Go; tell them that the fish is cold,
The wine is hot, the pastry dry,
The bread dry, too, and hard. The chops
Are burnt to pieces, and the meat
Taken from out the brine and dish'd.
The sausages are served up too;
So is the tripe, and rich black-puddings.
Those who're indoors are all at table,
The wine cups all are quickly drain'd,
The pledge goes round; and nought remains
But the lascivious drunken cordax.[34]
The young men all are waxing wanton,
And ev'rything's turn'd upside down.
Remember what I say, and bear
My words in mind.
Why stand you gaping like a fool?
Look here, and just repeat the message
Which I've just told you; do,—I will
Repeat it o'er again all through.
Bid them come now, and not delay,
Nor vex the cook who's ready for them.
For all the fish is long since boil'd,
And all the roast meat's long since cold.
And mention o'er each separate dish;—
Onions and olives, garlic too,
Cucumbers, cabbages, and broth,
Fig-leaves, and herbs, and tunny cutlets,
Glanis and rhinè, shark and conger,
A phyxicinus whole, a tunny,
A coracinus whole, a thunnis,
A small anchovy, and a tench,
A spindle-fish, a tail of dog-fish,
A carcharias and a torpedo;
A sea-frog, lizard, and a perch,
A trichias and a phycis too,
A brinchus, mullet, and sea-cuckoo.
A turtle, and besides a lamprey,
A phagrus, lebias, and grey mullet,
A sparus, and æolias,
A swallow, and the bird of Thrace,
A sprat, a squid, a turbot, and
Dracænides, and polypi,
A cuttle-fish, an orphus too;
A crab, likewise an escharus,
A needle-fish, a fine anchovy,
Some cestres, scorpions, eels, and loaves.
And loads of other meat, beyond
My calculation or my mention.
Dishes of goose, and pork, and beef,
And lamb, and mutton, goat and kid;
Of poultry, ducks and partridges,
And jays, and foxes. And what follows
Will be a downright sight to see,
So many good things there will be.
And all the slaves through all the house
Are busy baking, roasting, dressing,
And plucking, cutting, beating, boiling,
And laughing, playing, leaping, feasting,
And drinking, joking, scolding, pricking.
And lovely sounds from tuneful flutes,
And song and din go through the house,
Of instruments both wind and string'd.
Meantime a lovely scent of cassia,
From Syria's fertile land, does strike
Upon my sense, and frankincense,
And myrrh, and nard * * *
* * * * *
Such a confusion fills the house
With every sort of luxury.
COOKERY.
68. Now, after all this conversation, there was brought in the dish which is called Rhoduntia; concerning which that wise cook quoted numbers of tragedies before he would tell us what he was bringing us. And he laughed at those who professed to be such admirable cooks, mentioning whom, he said—Did that cook in the play of Anthippus, the comic poet, ever invent such a dish as this?—the cook, I mean, who, in the Veiled Man, boasted in this fashion:—
A. Sophon, an Ararnanian citizen,
And good Democritus of Rhodes, were long
Fellow-disciples in this noble art,
And Labdacus of Sicily was their tutor.
These men effaced all vulgar old recipes
Out of their cookery books, and took away
The mortar from the middle of the kitchen.
They brought into disuse all vinegar,
Cummin, and cheese, and assafoetida,
And coriander seed, and all the sauces
Which Saturn used to keep within his cruets.
And the cook who employ'd such means they thought
A humbug, a mere mountebank in his art.
They used oil only, and clean plates, O father,
And a quick fire, wanting little bellows:
With this they made each dinner elegant.
They were the first who banish'd tears and sneezing,
And spitting from the board; and purified
The manners of the guests. At last the Rhodian,
Drinking some pickle by mistake, did die;
For such a draught was foreign to his nature.
B. 'Twas likely so to be.
A. But Sophon still
Has all Ionia for his dominions,
And he, O father, was my only tutor.
And I now study philosophic rules,
Wishing to leave behind me followers,
And new discover'd rules to guide the art.
B. Ah! but, I fear, you'll want to cut me up,
And not the animal we think to sacrifice.
A. To-morrow you shall see me with my books,
Seeking fresh precepts for my noble art;
Nor do I differ from th' Aspendian.
And if you will, you too shall taste a specimen
Of this my skill. I do not always give
The self-same dishes to all kinds of guests;
But I regard their lives and habits all.
One dish I set before my friends in love,
Another's suited to philosophers,
Another to tax-gatherers. A youth
Who has a mistress, quickly will devour
His patrimonial inheritance;
So before him I place fat cuttle-fish
Of every sort; and dishes too of fish
Such as do haunt the rocks, all season'd highly
With every kind of clear transparent sauce.
For such a man cares nought about his dinner,
But all his thoughts are on his mistress fix'd.
Then to philosophers I serve up ham,
Or pettitoes; for all that crafty tribe
Are wonderful performers at the table.
Owls, eels, and spars I give the publicans,
When they're in season, but at other times
Some lentil salad. And all funeral feasts
I make more splendid than the living ones.
For old men's palates are not critical;
At least not half so much as those of youths.
And so I give them mustard, and I make them
Sauces of pungent nature, which may rouse
Their dormant sense, and make it snuff the air;
And when I once behold a face, I know
The dishes that its owner likes to eat.
69. And the cook in the Thesmophorus of Dionysius, my revellers, (for it is worth while to mention him also,) says—
You have said these things with great severity,
(And that's your usual kindness, by the Gods);
You've said a cook should always beforehand
Know who the guests may be for whom he now
Is dressing dinner. For he should regard
This single point—whom he has got to please
While seasoning his sauces properly;
And by this means he'll know the proper way
And time to lay his table and to dress
His meats and soups. But he who this neglects
Is not a cook, though he may be a seasoner.
But these are different arts, a wondrous space
Separates the two. It is not every one
That's called a general who commands an army,
But he who can with prompt and versatile skill
Avail himself of opportunities,
And look about him, changing quick his plans,
He is the general. He who can't do this
Is only in command. And so with us.
To roast some beef, to carve a joint with neatness,
To boil up sauces, and to blow the fire,
Is anybody's task; he who does this
Is but a seasoner and broth-maker:
A cook is quite another thing. His mind
Must comprehend all facts and circumstances:
Where is the place, and when the time of supper;
Who are the guests, and who the entertainer;
What fish he ought to buy, and when to buy it.
* * * * * * * * For all these things
You'll have on almost every occasion;
COOKERY.
But they're not always of the same importance,
Nor do they always the same pleasure give.
Archestratus has written on this art,
And is by many people highly thought of,
As having given us a useful treatise;
But still there's much of which he's ignorant,
And all his rules are really good for nothing,
So do not mind or yield to all the rules
Which he has laid down most authoritatively,
For a more empty lot of maxims you
Will hardly find. For when you write a book
On cookery, it will not do to say,
"As I was just now saying;" for this art
Has no fix'd guide but opportunity,
And must itself its only mistress be.
But if your skill be ne'er so great, and yet
You let the opportunity escape,
Your art is lost, and might as well be none.
B. O man, you're wise. But as for this man who
You just now said was coming here to try
His hand at delicate banquets, say, does he
Forget to come?
A. If I but make you now
One forced meat ball, I can in that small thing
Give you a specimen of all my skill.
And I will serve you up a meal which shall
Be redolent of the Athenian breezes.
* * * * *
Dost fear that I shall fail to lull your soul
With dishes of sufficient luxury?
70. And to all this Æmilianus makes answer—
My friend, you've made a speech quite long enough
In praising your fav'rite art of cookery;—