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The School of Savarin: Remarks

Remarks.-"Ah, my dear friend, what a delightful sight! This is truly a wedding-feast."

For a (Riches).

Third Series.

Presumed Income of 30,000 Francs or more A fowl of about seven pounds stuffed with truffles till it becomes almost round.

An enormous Strassburg pâté de foie gras, in the shape of a bastion.

A large Rhein carp à la Chambord, richly dressed and decorated.

Truffled quails, with marrow, spread on buttered toast au basilic.

A river pike larded, stuffed, and smothered in a cream of crayfish secundum artem.

A pheasant done to perfection, with his tail-feathers stuck in, lying on toast à la Sainte-Alliance.

A hundred early asparagus, each half an inch thick, with sauce à l'osmazôme.

Two dozen ortolans à la provençale, as described in some of the cookery-books already mentioned.

A pyramid of vanilla and rose meringues a test sometimes useless unless in the case of ladies and abbés. Remarks.-"Ah, my dear sir (or my lord), what a genius that cook of yours is! It is only at your table that one meets such dishes."

In order that any test should produce its full effect, the author advises that it be served plenteously, the rarest of dishes losing its influence when not in abundant proportion, as the first impression it produces on the guests is naturally checked by the fear of being stingily served, or, in certain cases, of being obliged to refuse out of politeness-a conclusion one may see verified frequently at a European table-d'hôte when the parsimonious though perhaps extortionate landlord deals out the roast or the fish through the intermedium of the maligned garçon or Kellner. There are certain dishes, nevertheless, whose zest consists in their very daintiness and lack of exuberance, such as numerous entrées, in the savouring of which even the forks and knives should be small and the proportions of the dish be restricted rather than augmented. But the rules in the "Physiology" as to a perfect dinner still hold good in the main, and will well bear reiteration: "Let the number of guests not exceed twelve, so that the conversation may be constantly general. "Let them be so chosen that their occupations are various, their tastes analogous, and with such points of contact that one need not have recourse to that odious formality of introductions. "Let the dining-room be brilliantly lighted, the cloth as white as snow, and the temperature of the room from sixty to sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. "Let the men be witty and not pedantic, and the women amiable, without being too coquettish. "Let the dishes be exquisitely choice, but small in number, and the wines of the first quality, each in its degree. "Let the dishes be served from the more substantial to the lighter; and from the simpler wines to those of finer bouquet. "Let the eating proceed slowly, the dinner being the last business of the day, and let the guests look upon themselves as travellers who journey together towards a common object. "Let the coffee be hot and the liqueurs be specially chosen. "Let the drawing-room to which the guests retire be large enough to permit those who cannot do without it to have a game of cards, while leaving, however, ample scope for postprandial conversation. "Let the guests be detained by social attraction, and animated with expectation that before the evening is over there will be some further enjoyment. "Let the tea not be too strong, the toast artistically buttered, and the punch made with care. "Let the signal for departure not be given before eleven o'clock. "Let every one be in bed at midnight. "If any man has ever been a guest at a repast uniting all these conditions, he can boast of having been present at his own apotheosis; and he will have enjoyed it the less in proportion as these conditions have been forgotten or neglected." Exception perhaps may be taken to the temperature of the dining-room as given in the above injunctions, 70° to 73° Fahrenheit being a more comfortable atmospheric medium of dining where it is possible.

The tea and toast and the punch may also be dispensed with to advantage, and in their stead a liqueur glass of Curaçoa sec be prescribed, one of the best, as it is one of the most agreeable, digestives after a substantial repast. Game has been pronounced a delight of the table by Savarin-a food healthful, warming, savoury, and easy of digestion to young stomachs. Of small game or birds, he accords the highest place to the fig-pecker, saying that if this bird were as large as a pheasant it would be worth an acre of land. Savarin was a true sportsman, who knew his game and its proper preparation, and among the breeziest of his chapters are those relating to field sports, wherein due regard is paid to the luncheon. A portion of the fifteenth Meditation will be sufficient to show the counsellor in his hunting costume at the halt of a shooting party; he is in his happiest vein, his theme being "The Ladies." The morning has been fine, and the birds abundant. Appetite is not wanting, and at a prearranged hour a party of ladies arrive, laden with the treasures of Périgord, the triumphs of Strassburg, and the bubbles of Epernay, to assist in the repast. It is at the close of this that the chancellor becomes most eloquent and pronounces one of his most characteristic monologues: "I have been out shooting in the centre of France and the most remote provinces, and seen arrive at the halt charming women, girls redolent with freshness, some arriving in cabriolets, others in simple country carts. I have seen them the first in laughing at the inconveniences of their conveyance. I have seen them display upon the turf the turkey in clear jelly, the household pie, the salad all ready for mixing. I have seen them with light foot dancing round the bivouac fire lighted on this occasion. I have taken part in the games and merriment that accompany such a gipsy feast, and I feel thoroughly convinced that, with less luxury, there is quite as much that is charming, gay, and delightful. "Why when they take their leave should not some kisses be interchanged with the best sportsman, who is in his glory; with the worst shot because he is most unlucky; with the others so as not to make them jealous? All are about to separate, custom has authorized it; and it is permissible, and even commanded, to take advantage of such an opportunity. "Fellow-sportsmen, ye who are prudent and look after solid things, fire straight, and bag as much as you can before the ladies arrive, for experience teaches us that after their departure sportsmen seem very rarely in luck. • "1 As the lordly Asian pheasant is thriving and multiplying with us, it will be pertinent to present Savarin's famous and somewhat inaccessible formula of preparing him à la Sainte-Alliance for all such as may wish to try so elaborate a plat de luxe, it being well understood that the pheasant, above all birds, requires to be very fully matured by hanging: "The bird is first to be carefully larded with the best and firmest lard. Then bone two woodcocks, put their flesh aside, and keep the livers and trails of the two birds separate. Take 1 The reader who is interested in pastoral luncheons and all their possibilities should compare the "Halts of a Shooting Party" with the chapter entitled "Des Parties de Campagne Gourmandes" in the fourth volume of the "Almanach des Gourmands." this meat and mince it, add some beef marrow, steamed, a little scraped bacon, pepper, salt, herbs, and enough good truffles to stuff the inner cavity of the pheasant. Be careful not to let the stuffing spread to the outside, which is sometimes a little difficult when the bird is rather high. Nevertheless, it can be done in various ways, and amongst others by fastening a crust of bread with a piece of thread on the stomach, which prevents its bursting. Cut a slice of bread longer and wider by two inches than the whole pheasant is; then take the livers and trails of the woodcocks, and pound them with two large truffles, one anchovy, a little scraped bacon, and a goodly lump of the best fresh butter. Spread this paste on the slice of bread, and put it under the pheasant stuffed as above, so that it may receive all the gravy dripping from it while roasting. When the pheasant is cooked, serve it up lying gracefully on its toast, put some bitter oranges round it, and await the result without any uneasiness. This high-flavoured dish ought to be washed down, in preference, with some of the best wine of Upper Burgundy. Treated according to the preceding prescription, the pheasant, already distinguished itself, is permeated from its outside with the savoury fat of the bacon which is browned and in its inside it is impregnated with the odoriferous gases from the woodcocks and the truffles. The toast, already so richly prepared, receives again the gravies of the triple combination which flow from the bird while roasting."

Has gastronomy progressed since the time of Brillat-Savarin? Replying to this question, Charles Monselet, writing in 1879, states that he "looks in vain for the tables that are praised or the hosts that are renowned. Where are the great cooks? What names have we now to oppose to those of Carême and Robert? Shall I speak of official cookery, of minishy terial dinners? These are not the dinners to which people go to eat. There especially the cook is more proud of a Chinese kiosk on a rock in coloured and spun sugar, which no person dare touch, than of a carp à la Chambord treated in a masterly way. Since the days of Cambacérès official cookery has ceased to exist." The similarity of dinners complained of by Walker and Thackeray during a previous era he refers to as existing in Paris: "That which you eat yesterday in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, you will eat to-morrow in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. At the end of the week you recognise that you have merely changed your knife and fork. This poverty of imagination, this absence of research are unworthy of a country such as ours."

Apart from his neglect to mention the labours of his distinguished gastronomical predecessor, Savarin is also open to censure for failing to thank the Italians for their admirable lessons in the science of cookery, including that of frying in oil, which he particularly specifies as so desirable with trout "caught in running brooks that murmur far from the capital."