There, let things be as they are. Only take care
The fire may not too small be or too slow
To roast the joints. (As a fire like that
Makes meat not roast but sodden.) Nor too fierce.
(For that again does burn whate'er it catches,
And yet is far from cooking the meat through.)
It is not every one who has a spoon
And knife about him that we call a cook,
Nor every one who puts his fish in a pan;
There is more wit and reason in the business.
39. And the cook in Diphilus's Painter tells us also to whom he thinks it worth his while to hire himself, saying—
A. I will not use your meat, nor give my aid
Unless I'm sure that I shall have all means
Which needful are to make a proper show;
Nor do I e'er go anywhere till first
I know who 'tis who makes the sacrifice,
Or what the cause may be which prompts the banquet,
Or who the guests are who have been invited.
For I have got a regular list at home
Of where I choose to go, and where I don't.
As first, to speak of the commercial class;
Some captain of a ship may make a sacrifice
Just to discharge some vow, made when he lost
His mast, or broke the rudder of his vessel,
Or, having sprung a leak, threw overboard
His cargo. I'll have nought to do with him:
For he does nothing willingly, but only
Just so much as he thinks he cannot help.
And every time a cup is fill'd with wine,
He makes a calculation of the sum
Which he can charge his owners or his passengers,
And thinks that what his guests do eat and drink
Is his own flesh and blood. Another came,
But three days since, from the Byzantine port,
Safe and successful; joyful in a profit
Of ten or twelve per cent; talking of nothing
But freight and interest, spending all his love
On worn-out panders. Soon as he did quit
The ship and set his foot upon the land,
I blew my nose, gave him my hand, and utter'd
Audible thanks to saving Jupiter,
And hasten'd forth to wait on him. For this
Is always my way; and I find it answer.
Again, an amorous youth will feast and squander
His sire's estate; to him I go at call.
But those who feast in shares, and throw together
Into one dish their petty contributions,
Though they may tear their clothes, and cry aloud,
"Come, who will cook us our new-purchased supper?"
I let bawl on. For if you go to them,
First there is language hard and blows to bear;
Secondly, one must slave the livelong night;
And when at last you ask them for your pay,
"First bring the pot," say they. "There was no vinegar
In all that salad." Ask again. "Aye, you
Shall be the first to be well beaten here."
I could recount ten thousand facts like this.
B. But where I take now is a rich brothel,
Where a rich courtesan with other friends
Desires to celebrate with great abundance
A joyous feast in honour of Adonis,
And where you may enjoy yourself in style.
COOKS.
40. And Archedicus, in his Treasure, another philosophical cookling, speaks in this way—
In the first place the guests invited came
While still the fish lay on the dresser raw.
"Give me some water." "Bring the fish up quick."
Then placing all my pans upon the fire,
I soak'd the ashes well with oil, and raise
A rapid heat. Meantime the fragrant herbs
And pleasant sharpness of the seasonings
Delight my master. Quickly I serve up
Some fish exactly boil'd; retaining all
His juice, and all his unextracted flavour;
A dish which any free-born man must know
How to appreciate rightly. In this manner
At the expense of one small pot of oil
I gain employment at full fifty banquets.
And Philostephanus, in his Delian, gives a catalogue of the names of some celebrated cooks in these lines, and those which follow them—
In my opinion you, O Dædalus,
Surpass all cooks in skill and genius,
Save the Athenian Thimbron, call'd the Top.
So here I've come to beg your services,
Bringing the wages which I know you ask.
41. And Sotades, not the Maronite poet, who composed Ionian songs, but the poet of the middle comedy, in the play entitled The Shut-up Women, (for that was the name which he gave to it,) introduces a cook making the following speech,—
First I did take some squills, and fried them all;
Then a large shark I cut in slices large,
Roasting the middle parts, and the remainder
I boil'd and stuff'd with half-ripe mulberries.
Then I take two large heads of dainty grayling,
And in a large dish place them, adding simply
Herbs, cummin, salt, some water, and some oil.
Then after this I bought a splendid pike,
To boil in pickle with all sorts of herbs.
Avoiding all such roasts as want a spit,
I bought too some fine mullet, and young thrushes,
And put them on the coals just as they were,
Adding a little brine and marjoram.
To these I added cuttle-fish and squills.
A fine dish is the squill when carefully cook'd.
But the rich cuttle-fish is eaten plain,
Though I did stuff them all with a rich forced meat
Of almost every kind of herb and flower.
Then there were several dishes of boil'd meats,
And sauce-boats full of oil and vinegar.
Besides all this a conger fine and fat
I bought, and buried in a fragrant pickle;
Likewise some tench, and clinging to the rocks
Some limpets. All their heads I tore away,
And cover'd them with flour and bread crumbs over,
And then prepared them as I dress'd the squills.
There was a widow'd amia too, a noble
And dainty fish. That did I wrap in fig-leaves,
And soak'd it through with oil, and over all
With swaddling clothes of marjoram did I fold it,
And hid it like a torch beneath the ashes.
With it I took anchovies from Phalerum,
And pour'd on them one cruet full of water.
Then shredding herbs quite fine, I add more oil,
More than two cotylæ in quantity.
What next? That's all. This sir is what I do,
Not learning from recipes or books of cookery.