Tales of the Caravan, Inn, and Palace

by Wilhelm Hauff

"Gracious master!" said the dwarf, bowing so low that his hands rested on the floor, "have you no use for a clever cook?"

The master of the kitchen looked him over from head to foot, and burst into a loud laugh, "What? You a cook? Do you think that our hearths are so low that you can see the top of one by standing on your toes and lifting your head out of your shoulders? Oh dear, little fellow! Whoever sent you to me for employment as a cook has made a fool of you." So spoke the master of the kitchen, laughing loudly; and the steward and all the servants in the room joined in the laugh.

But the dwarf did not allow himself to be disconcerted. "An egg or two, a little syrup and wine, and meal and spices, can be spared in a house where there is such plenty," said he. "Give me some kind of a dainty dish to prepare, furnish me with what I need, and it shall be made quickly before your eyes, and you will have to confess that I am a cook by rule and right."

While the dwarf spoke, it was wonderful to see how his little eyes sparkled, how his long nose swayed from side to side, and his long spider-like fingers gesticulated in unison with his speech. "Come on!" cried the master of the kitchen, taking the arm of the steward. "Come on; just for a joke, let's go down to the kitchen!" They went through many passages, and at last reached the kitchen, which was a high roomy building splendidly fitted up. On twenty hearths burned a steady fire; a stream of clear water, in which fish were darting about, flowed through the middle of the room; the utensils for immediate use were kept in closets made of marble and costly woods, and to the right and left were ten rooms in which were preserved every thing costly and rare for the palate that could be found in the entire country of the Franks and even in the Levant. Kitchen servants, of all degrees, were running about, rattling kettles and pans, and with forks and ladles in their hands; but when the master of the kitchen entered, they all stopped and remained so still that one heard only the crackling of the fires and the splashing of the stream.

"What has His Grace ordered for breakfast this morning?" inquired the master of the kitchen of the breakfast-cook.

"Sir, he has been pleased to order Danish soup and red Hamburg dumplings."

"Very well," said the master of the kitchen. "Did you hear, little man, what His Grace will have to eat? Do you feel capable of preparing these difficult dishes? In any event, you will not be able to make the dumplings, for that is a secret."

"Nothing easier," replied the dwarf, to the astonishment of his hearers; for when a squirrel he had often made these dishes. "Nothing easier; for the soup, I shall require this and that vegetable, this and that spice, the fat of a wild boar, turnip, and eggs; but for the dumpling," continued he, in a voice so low that only the master of the kitchen and the breakfast-cook could hear, "for the dumpling, I shall use four different kinds of meat, a little wine, the oil of a duck, ginger, and a certain vegetable called 'stomach's joy.'"

"Ha! By St. Benedict! What magician learned you this?" cried the cook, in astonishment. "He has given the receipt to a hair, and the 'stomach's joy' we did not know of ourselves. Yes, that would improve the flavor, no doubt. O you miracle of a cook!"