Home › American Vs. English Cookery › American Vs. English Cookery: France

American Vs. English Cookery: France

Excellent fruits are raised in France and southern Germany, but only to a limited extent compared with our own country. To the French we are indebted for many of the finest varieties of pears, though these are rarely seen in France itself. Fruit in Europe is always dear and often difficult to obtain. Yet in the noted Parisian restaurants it is a rare occurrence when one cannot obtain a couple of peaches for twenty-five francs, or revel in a melon for thirty, much the same as pineapples may be obtained in London at a guinea apiece.

It will readily be conceded that the fish and meats of the French and Germans are usually much inferior to those of the English-the veal of Germany and the Pré-Salé mutton of France excepted. But, unlike the continentals, the English fail to make the most of their opportunities and better materials. A contemporaneous English writer thus alludes to the state of cookery and this lack of progress in his own country: "The adage 'God sends meat and the devil sends cooks' must surely be of native parentage, for of no country is it so true as of our own. Perhaps had it not been for the influx among us of French and Italian experts we should not have progressed much beyond the pancake and oatmeal period. But foreign chefs limit their efforts to those who can afford to pay them for their services. The middle classes do not fall within the pale of their beneficence. The poor know them not. So it happens that even as I write the greater part of the community not only cannot afford professional assistance in the preparation of their meals, which goes without saying, but from ignorance expend on their larder twice as much as a Parisian or an Italian in the same rank of life, with a very indifferent result. There are handbooks of instructions, it is true, both for the middle and for the lower classes. These books are at everybody's command. But they are either left unread, or, if read, they are not understood." 1 Let it not be supposed by the stranger to the table of London that one may not dine there to advantage, or that the criticisms as to strictly English dinners apply to all hostelries and to many first-class restaurants of the capital where the French haute cuisine prevails. London has likewise numerous Italian restaurants whose table d'hôte is not to be despised-if one knows where to find them. But even in those restaurants whose specialty is French cookery the menu is singularly incommensurate in variety to the varied native products, both in vegetable and animal foods. Even the delicious sole and turbot, however well prepared, become a weariness through constant iteration, while petite marmite and croûte-au-pot are so frequent as to cause one to yearn for Julienne with inexpressible longing. No doubt, with a trained and oldtime diner who knows his London thoroughly, one might happen on not a few gastronomic oases whose good English cheer would cause even the fog of the metropolis to melt into golden sunshine. 1 "Old Cookery Books and Ancient Cuisine," by W. Carew Hazlitt, London, Elliot Stock, 1886.

Many old dishes still exist in the English provinces on which much store is set in their respective localities, as, for instance, a certain pudding, rarely found outside of Derbyshire, called Bakewell pudding, after the little town on the Wye, which is also celebrated for its trout. Although the ancient recipe for this, handed down from one generation to another, is said to be possessed only by the landlady of the Chesterfield Arms in Bakewell, it is asserted that a successful imitation may be made as follows: Line a pie-tin with puff-paste and fill the centre with these ingredients-first layer, lemon cheese; second, raspberry jam; third, lemon cheese. Then strew on the top blanched sweet almonds and strips of candied peel of lemons, oranges, and citrons. Bake for about twenty minutes in a brisk oven, and dust very lightly with fine sugar.

Of the innumerable forms of preparing the cutlet, the following recipe can at least lay claim to originality, and is thoroughly English: The cutlets should be cut from the neck of mutton, then egged and breadcrumbed, finely minced tongue or ham having been mixed with the crumbs. Fry a delicate brown. For the centre of the dish use the whites of three eggs steamed in a cup. Place in a saucepan gherkins, mushrooms, ham, and tongue cut into small bars, adding to this a sauce of good brown gravy, with a dessertspoonful each of red-currant jelly, Harvey's sauce, mushroom ketchup, and tomato sauce. For the quality of this recipe the writer cannot vouch further than to observe that, like its predecessor, it emanates from the daintiest of feminine fingers of Wargrave, where the excellence of the contributor's kitchen is equalled only by the beauty of her flowergarden. The universal employment of bottled sauces, such as Worcester, Halford, Harvey's, etc., and pungent condiments, like gherkins, mustard, chow-chow, and ketchup, would seem to be more or less necessary in England, owing to the monotony of her roast beef and mutton and the extensive use of cold meats, poultry, and game. Harvey's sauce, mentioned among the ingredients of the above-mentioned recipe, owes its origin to this circumstance: During the middle and later years of Mr. Meynell's mastership of the hounds in the celebrated Quorn country there often appeared in the field Captain Charles Combers, who was born at Brentwood in 1752, and who was more familiarly known as "The Flying Cucumber" from the manner in which he put his horses along. On one occasion, when on his way to Leicestershire, he stopped, as was his wont, at Bedford to dine at the George, then kept by a man named Harvey, where he ordered a steak; and when it was served Combers requested Harvey to let his servant bring from his buggy a quart bottle which contained an admirable sauce. Having poured some of it into his plate and mixed it with the gravy of the steak, he asked Harvey to taste it, and the host pronounced it to be a most excellent relish. "Well, Mr. Harvey," said Combers, "I shall leave the bottle with you to use till my return, only be careful to reserve enough for me." On the next day Harvey had to provide a wedding dinner and introduced the sauce, which afforded such general satisfaction that several smaller parties were made up, and the contents of the bottle were soon exhausted.

In due time Captain Combers returned, and, having been told that no more sauce remained, said: "Never mind; I can make some more from my mother's recipe; and, by-the-bye, I will give you a copy of it." He was as good as his word. Harvey made it in large quantities, sent it to the different shops in London, advertised it as "Harvey's Sauce," and by its extensive sale realised a large income. He subsequently sold the recipe for an annuity of £400 or £500, which he received for the remainder of his life. Among old English dishes, "Bubble and Squeak" is the fanciful name applied to fried beef or mutton and cabbage,— "When 'midst the frying-pan, in accents savage, The beef so surly quarrels with the cabbage,”— for the preparation of which widely varied recipes are given in the vade-mecums of English cookery. Kitchener even set the lines to music, and furnished a sauce for the dish. Such a dish illustrates the excellent digestion of the English. To the French it would be impossible, and a German would think twice before attempting it. But this were harmless compared with an English green sauce for green geese or ducklings, the prescription for which reads: "Mix a quarter of a pint of sorrel-juice, a glass of white wine, and some scalded gooseberries. Add sugar and a bit of butter, and boil them up."

To cavil is easy, however, and in matters relating to cookery it were well to bear in mind the philosophic lines of King, a contemporary of the late lamented Mrs. Glasse: "Good nature will some failings overlook, Forgive mischance, not errors of the Cook; As, if no salt is thrown about the dish, Or nice crisp'd parsley scatter'd on the fish; Shall we in passion from our dinner fly, And hopes of pardon to the Cook deny, For things which Mrs. Glasse herself might oversee, And all mankind commit as well as she?"

And if English cookery and English restaurants leave much to be desired, one should not forget that the art is still far from having attained perfection in the United States, where the stranger in like manner might find ample cause for complaint, particularly in the poor and slipshod cookery of the hostelries of its country towns. Certainly all who have visited in England will recall the generous hospitality of its people, the almost homelike comfort and cleanliness of its inns, and a service that may not be equalled by that of any other nation. When to these are added the glories of the English countryside the idyllic setting amid which many a repast has been savouredone may well overlook any trifling lapses of the cook, in view of enchantments that must ever be retained in tender recollection.