Kettner's Book of the Table

Every food on the Victorian table gets its history, its etymology and a strong opinion — the wittiest cookery book of 1877, written in secret by a Times leader-writer and named for London's most fashionable restaurant.

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The Private Dining Room

Where the best stories in a Victorian dictionary of dining ended up.

E. S. Dallas wrote this alphabet of the table in 1877 and could not resist a digression. The digressions are the best part — here are the strangest, each linking to the entry it belongs to.

  1. The most admirable use of anise-seed in England, this book reports without further comment, is in simulating the odour of a fox.Read it: Anise-Seed
  2. William Banting invented dieting as we know it and published the numbers: in fifty-two weeks he went from 202 lbs to 150 — fifty-two pounds in fifty-two weeks — on beef, mutton, kidneys and dry toast, with tea taken without milk or sugar.Read it: Banting
  3. The almond is “the most versatile and the most poetical” of fruits, and also contains hydrocyanic acid, the most rapid poison known. Stranger still, Dallas notes, the almond is a peach and a nectarine at the same time.Read it: Almond
  4. Two hundred years ago a macédoine was not a medley of anything. It meant the parsley of Macedon — the herb the English called Alexanders, which fell out of use when the Italians made celery fashionable.Read it: Aldrich
  5. Dean Aldrich's five reasons a man should drink: good wine, a friend, being dry, lest you should be by-and-by — or any other reason why.Read it: Aldrich
  6. An “alderman's walk” is the long incision down a haunch of mutton or venison where the most delicate slices are found. The alderman knew where to cut.Read it: Alderman's Walk & Allspice
  7. Carême's reply when the Regent complained that everything sent to table was too tempting to resist: “Sir, my business is to provoke your appetite; it is not for me to regulate it.”Read it: Appetite
  8. The redstreak apple, the one Sir Isaac Newton loved and England's favourite in the seventeenth century, was dying out as Dallas wrote — not because it failed, but simply because it was no longer sufficiently prized.Read it: Appetite
  9. Carême built pastry as architecture, and some of his structures were still standing in the storerooms of the Tuileries — “if they were not burnt in 1871.”Read it: Apricot
  10. Apricot and precocious are the same word: the last two syllables of the fruit are the first two of the adjective, and they mean the same thing — early.Read it: Apricot
  11. Loudon declared, without any exception whatever, that the asparagus beds of Mortlake and Deptford were the most extensive in the world.Read it: Asparagus
  12. The Earl of Sandwich gave his name to a food and, Dallas notes drily, that is all he gave. Badminton, seat of the Duke of Beaufort, at least calls up claret cup — without the sugar and the curaçoa.Read it: Bacon
  13. Cleopatra bet Antony she could spend ten million sestertii on a single supper, and settled the wager by dissolving one of the two finest pearls in the world and drinking it.Read it: Cleopatra's Supper
  14. The monks of the Grande Chartreuse took two million francs a year from their liqueur — an order founded by Saint Bruno expressly to out-austere the Benedictines, in the most desolate spot he could find in the mountains of Dauphiné.Read it: Chartreuse
  15. The Château de Chambord, built by Francis I and the setting of some of the most famous scenes in French history, is now best known worldwide for one detail of cookery first practised in its kitchen.Read it: Chambord
  16. A French judge to Laplace the astronomer: the discovery of a new dish is a more interesting event than the discovery of a star, “for we have always stars enough” — and the sciences will not be properly honoured until a cook sits in the first class of the Institute.Read it: Contise
  17. Calipash is a corruption of carapace and means only the green fat of the turtle's upper shell; calipee is the yellow fat below. The green fat, we are warned, is never to be approached in a frivolous spirit.Read it: Calipash and Calipee
  18. A carbonade was originally “a rasher on the coals” — scored first, so the fire reached further in and the pepper and salt could penetrate. In France it decayed into a stew.Read it: Carbonade
  19. Wynkyn de Worde printed The Booke of Kervinge in 1508, and its vocabulary still explains dish names that centuries of corruption have since disguised.Read it: Carving
  20. Cassis of Dijon carries so little alcohol it would not “upset the equilibrium of a fly” — and was taxed at 2s. 4d. a bottle, more than neat brandy at 1s. 9d.Read it: Carving
  21. Celery began as wild smallage and was educated into a vegetable by Italian gardeners in the mid-1600s. Its name is Greek for parsley — and celeri-ac absurdly bolts the Latin name onto the Greek one.Read it: Caviare
  22. Beauvilliers opened in 1782 and effectively invented the restaurant as it now exists — elegant room, laid tables, waiters properly dressed, serious cellar — then wrote the two-volume manual in 1814.Read it: Beauvilliers
  23. On the becafico, the small bird Italians ate whole: “if the becafico were only as big as a pheasant it would be worth an acre of land.”Read it: Becafico
  24. Windsor beans are called Windsor beans for the plainest possible reason: Dutch gardeners first grew them at Windsor.Read it: Bay Leaf
  25. The Albert Pudding's mould was lined with citron, orange peel and angelica in geometrical figures “worthy of the South Kensington school of design” — a school the Prince himself had fostered. The pudding was designed to flatter its namesake's taste in art.Read it: Albert Pudding
  26. Of the batter puddings — batter, hasty, and Yorkshire — Dallas will commend only the Yorkshire.Read it: Batter
Rights & ReuseThe complete text of Kettner’s Book of the Table (1877) is in the public domain in the United States — like all works published before 1928 — and is free to read, download, quote, teach from, and reuse. This digital edition (its transcription, restored images, and site design) is © 2026 PhotoOpAI, and any editorial commentary we add is clearly marked as ours; the underlying public-domain text carries no such restriction.