I further found that even a longer period of stewing than he prescribes is desirable.

I made a hearty meal on No. 1 soup, and found it as satisfactory as any dinner of meat, potatoes, &c., of any number of courses; and, as a chemist, I assert without any hesitation, that such a meal is demonstrably of equal or superior nutritive value to an ordinary Englishman’s slice of beef diluted with potatoes. The No. 2 soup is not so satisfactory. Rumford was wrong in his estimate of the value of potatoes.

In the formula for Rumford’s soup it is stated that the bread should not be cooked, but added just before serving the soup. Like everything else in his practical programmes, this was prescribed with a philosophical reason. His reasons may have been fanciful sometimes, but he never acted stupidly, as the vulgar majority of mankind usually do when they blindly follow an established custom without knowing any reason for so doing, or even attempting to discover a reason.

In his essay on ‘The Pleasure of Eating, and of the Means that may be Employed for Increasing it,’ he says: ‘The pleasure enjoyed in eating depends, first, on the agreeableness of the taste of the food; and, secondly, upon its power to affect the palate. Now, there are many substances extremely cheap, by which very agreeable tastes may be given to food, particularly when the basis or nutritive substance of the food is tasteless; and the effect of any kind of palatable solid food (of meat, for instance) upon the organs of taste may be increased, almost indefinitely, by reducing the size of the particles of such food, and causing it to act upon the palate by a larger surface. And if means be used to prevent its being swallowed too soon, which may easily be done by mixing it with some hard and tasteless substance, such as crumbs of bread rendered hard by toasting, or anything else of that kind, by which a long mastication is rendered necessary, the enjoyment of eating may be greatly increased and prolonged.’ He adds that ‘the idea of occupying a person a great while, and affording him much pleasure at the same time in eating a small quantity of food, may perhaps appear ridiculous to some; but those who consider the matter attentively will perceive that it is very important. It is perhaps as much so as anything that can employ the attention of the philosopher.’

Further on he adds: ‘If a glutton can be made to gormandise two hours upon two ounces of meat, it is certainly much better for him than to give himself an indigestion by eating two pounds in the same time.’

This is amusing as well as instructive; so also are his researches into what I may venture to describe as the specific sapidity of different kinds of food, which he determined by diluting or intermixing them with insipid materials, and thereby ascertaining the amount of surface over which they might be spread before their particular flavour disappeared. He concluded that a red herring has the highest specific sapidity—i.e. the greatest amount of flavour in a given weight of any kind of food he had tested, and that, comparing it on the basis of cost for cost, its superiority is still greater.

He tells us that ‘the pleasure of eating depends very much indeed upon the manner in which the food is applied to the organs of taste,’ and that he considers ‘it necessary to mention, and even to illustrate in the clearest manner, every circumstance which appears to have influence in producing these important effects.’ As an example of this, I may quote his instructions for eating hasty pudding: ‘The pudding is then eaten with a spoon, each spoonful of it being dipped into the sauce before it is carried to the mouth, care being had in taking it up to begin on the outside, or near the brim of the plate, and to approach the centre by regular advances, in order not to demolish too soon the excavation which forms the reservoir for the sauce.’ His solid Indian-corn pudding is, in like manner, ‘to be eaten with a knife and fork, beginning at the circumference of the slice, and approaching regularly towards the centre, each piece of pudding being taken up with the fork and dipped into the butter, or dipped into it in part only, before it is carried to the mouth.’

As a supplement to the cheap soup recipes I will quote one which Rumford gives as the cheapest food which in his opinion can be provided in England: Take of water 8 gallons, mix it with 5 lbs. of barley-meal, boil it to the consistency of a thick jelly. Season with salt, vinegar, pepper, sweet herbs, and four red herrings pounded in a mortar. Instead of bread, add 5 lbs. of Indian corn made into a samp, and stir it together with a ladle. Serve immediately in portions of 20 oz.

Samp is ‘said to have been invented by the savages of North America, who have no corn-mills.’ It is Indian corn deprived of its external coat by soaking it ten or twelve hours in a lixivium of water and wood ashes.[17] This coat or husk, being separated from the kernel, rises to the surface of the water, while the grain remains at the bottom. The separated kernel is stewed for about two days in a kettle of water placed near the fire. ‘When sufficiently cooked, the kernels will be found to be swelled to a great size and burst open, and this food, which is uncommonly sweet and nourishing, may be used in a great variety of ways; but the best way of using it is to mix it with milk, and with soups and broths as a substitute for bread.’ He prefers it to bread because ‘it requires more mastication, and consequently tends more to prolong the pleasure of eating.’

The cost of this soup he estimates as follows: