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The School of Savarin: Belley

Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, or Brillat de Savarin, was born at Belley, in the department of the Ain, in 1755, the "Physiologie du Goût" appearing in 1825, a year previous to his death. The volume was the outcome of a lifetime of preparation for which his temperament and circumstances afforded abundant opportunity. Like La Reynière, he was a lawyer by profession, and, like him, he became an exile for a considerable period. He had received a careful education, the early part of his life being devoted to his legal practice, medical and chemical studies, and epicurean pleasures. He was fond of music, the fair sex, and good dinners, this triple penchant revealing itself frequently in his anecdotes. When thirty-eight years of age, he was elected mayor of Belley. Later, after sojourning in Switzerland, he visited the United States for a period of three years to introduce to New England the fondue a dish which he proclaims of Swiss origin and from which the "Welsh rarebit" was derived. On his return to France he became a commissary of the government in the department of Seine-et-Oise, afterwards being appointed a counsellor in the Court of Cassation, a position he occupied during the remainder of his life. While engaged in this tribunal, his volume was leisurely composed. Lyons, celebrated for its cervelas, chestnuts, beer, and vin de Rivage, was but a short distance from his native place, and it may be assumed that when tired of home fare he availed himself occasionally of its numerous markets and restaurants, and enjoyed the hospitality of its bons-vivants. Game was abundant in the Ain, a region he describes as "a charming country of high mountains, hills, rivers, limpid brooks, and cascades." Nor were trout wanting in its crystal waters-a delicacy that often graced his table and furnished him with one of his most picturesque recipes. He is speaking in his oracular way to his chef, in the admirable Meditation entitled "The Theory of Frying," a chapter that every cook should learn by heart: "I say nothing about choosing oils or fats, because the various cook-books which I have placed in your library give sufficient information on that hand. Do not forget, however, when you have any of those trout weighing scarcely more than a quarter of a pound and caught in running brooks that murmur far from the capital-do not forget, I say, to fry them in the very finest olive oil you have. This simple dish, properly sprinkled and served up with slices of lemon, is worthy of being offered to a cardinal."

One can almost hear the music of the stream as it purls over its pebbly bed and whispers to the overhanging alders, while one marks the leap and glitter of trout and their prompt transition to the basket and the frying-pan. And lest these lovely denizens of spring-fed waters be overlooked in a subsequent chapter, it will be well to attach at once the instructions as to their mode of cooking of another author, in whom one is sure of an admirable guide, philosopher, and friend: "They are so perfumed, these little trout," says Baron Brisse, "that it is sufficient to cook them in a light courtbouillon, and as soon as they are perfectly cold to eat them au naturel; all seasonings detracting from their savour. Truites au court-bouillon. Clean the trout by the gills, dry them carefully, tie up the heads, then cook them in a courtbouillon made of white wine seasoned with slices of onion, sprigs of parsley, thyme, bay-leaf, and salt, adding a little bouillon; let them simmer until completely done, dry them, and serve on a napkin garnished with parsley. If a sauce is desired, mix a part of the court-bouillon with butter and flour, reduce one half on a lively fire, and serve. Truites à la Vosgienne. After dressing the trout, sprinkle with salt and let them stand an hour. Then place them on the fire with the necessary quantity of white wine for their cooking, seasoning with onions, cloves, a bouquet-garni, a clove of garlic, salt, pepper, and butter mixed with flour; cook on a lively fire, lay out the trout on a platter, and mask them with the sauce passed through a sieve."

These modes of preparation, all of which are delicious, will not interfere with preparing them à la matelote and au gratin, or the more common manner of frying them in butter, with a thin slice or two of salt pork and a dash of lemon and sprinkling of chopped parsley added to the sauce of the cooking. The best of sauces, however, is the sauce of catching the trout one's self-to hear with one's own ear the cool lapse of streams "that murmur far from the capital," and view the rubies at first hand as they flash from the Salmo's roseate sides.

If, as was stated by the Marquis de Cussy, Brillat- Savarin "ate copiously and ill, chose little, talked dully, and was preoccupied at the end of a repast," no fault can be found by the most captious critic with the conversationalist and host of the "Physiology."

There is not a dull line within its covers, or a page unmarked by brilliancy. Beginning with a dissertation on the senses in general, he proceeds with a most recondite analysis of the senses relating to taste. He explains that the empire of taste has its blind and its deaf, that the sensation of taste resides principally in the papillæ of the tongue, though every tongue has not the same number of papillæ, but that in some there are thrice as many as in others. Hence, with two persons sitting at the same table, one may be deliciously affected by the viands and wines, whereas the other will seem to partake of them with restraint. Taste, he maintains, is a sense that, all things considered, procures us the greatest number of enjoyments: "1st. Because the pleasure of eating is the only one that, taken in moderation, is never followed by fatigue; "2d. Because it belongs to all times, to all ages, and to all conditions; "3d. Because it occurs necessarily at least once a day, and may be repeated without inconvenience two or three times in this space of time; "4th. Because it may be combined with all our other pleasures and even console us for their absence; "5th. Because the impressions it receives are at the same time more durable and more dependent on our will; "6th. Because in eating we receive a certain indefinable and special comfort which arises from the intuitive consciousness that we repair our losses and prolong our existence by the food we eat. "Lastly," he asserts, "the tongue of man, by the delicacy of its texture and the various membranes which environ it, sufficiently indicates the sublimity of the operations for which it is destined. It contains at least three movements unknown to animals, which he terms spication, rotation, and verrition. The first is when the tongue in a conical shape comes from between the lips that compress it; the second, when the tongue moves circularly in the space comprised between the interior of the cheeks and the palate; the third, when the tongue, curving upwards or downwards, gathers anything remaining in the semicircular canal formed by the lips and the gums.” Like the seasoned and thoroughbred hunter who is sure of his sinew and his stride, and before whom the stile, the ditch, and the five-barred gate present no obstacles, so may Savarin be freely allowed his head and be followed over the fragrant fields of taste, with no fear that anything appertaining to its province will prove impossible or difficult for him to surmount.

The influence of smell on taste is closely analysed: "For myself, I am not only persuaded that without the participation of smell there is no perfect taste, but I am even tempted to believe that smell and taste form only one sense, of which the mouth is the laboratory and the nose the chimney; or, to speak more exactly, that the tongue tastes tactile substances, and the nose gases. This theory may be vigorously defended. "All sapid bodies must be necessarily odorous, which places them as well in the empire of smell as in the empire of taste. "We eat nothing without smelling it with more or less consciousness; and for unknown foods the nose acts always as a sentinel, and cries, 'Who goes there?" "When smell is interrupted, taste is paralysed. This is proved by three experiments, which any one may make successfully: First, when the nasal mucous membrane is irritated by a violent cold in the head, taste is entirely obliterated. In anything we swallow there is no taste. The tongue, nevertheless, remains in its normal state. Second, if we eat whilst holding tight our nose, we are much astonished to experience the sensation of taste only in an obscure and imperfect manner. By this means the most nauseous medicines are swallowed almost without tasting them. Third, we see the same effect if, at the moment we have swallowed, instead of bringing back the tongue to its usual place, we keep it close to the palate. In this case the circulation of the air is intercepted, the organs of smell are not affected, and taste does not occur. These different effects depend upon the same cause, the lack of coöperation of the smell, which makes the sapid body to be appreciated only on account of its juice, and not for the odoriferous gas that emanates from it. "These principles being thus laid down, I regard it as certain that taste gives rise to sensations of three different orders, namely: direct sensation, complete sensation, and reflex sensation. Direct sensation is that first perception which arises from the immediate operation of the organs of the mouth, whilst the appreciable body is yet found on the point of the tongue. Complete sensation is that which is composed of this first perception and of the impression which originates when the food abandons this first position, passes into the back part of the mouth, and impresses the whole organ with both taste and perfume. Reflex sensation is the judgment of the mind upon the impressions transmitted to it by the organ." To no other writer may one turn so satisfactorily for an interpretation of the word "gastronomy," a word which belongs by right to him. Previous to his exegesis, gluttony and gastronomy had been more or less confounded. It is true that the poem of Berchoux is entitled "La Gastronomie," but the term was not defined by the poet, nor do the piquant pages of the "Almanach" refer to the art "of having excellent cheer" under that term. The true epicure, as distinguished from the gross eater, had long stood in need of the definition and distinction. "The gastronomer is nearly always a sage," it has been observed a statement borne out by the "Dictionnaire de la Conversation," which characterises this science as "the art of living, of eating worthily, properly, as a man of taste, character, and judgment." It will prove of interest, therefore, to those who are unfamiliar with the "Physiology" to refer to the third Meditation, and note the French savant's elaborate analysis of the word: "Gastronomy is the rational knowledge of all that relates to man as an eater. "Its object is to watch over the preservation of men by means of the best nourishment possible. "It arrives thereat by laying down certain principles to direct those who look for, furnish, or prepare the things which may be converted into food. "Thus it is gastronomy that sets in motion farmers, vinegrowers, fishers, hunters, and the numerous family of cooks, whatever may be their title, or under whatever qualification they may disguise their occupation of preparing food. "Gastronomy is connected- "With natural history, by its classification of alimentary substances. "With physics, by the investigation of their composition and their qualities ; "With chemistry, by the different analyses and decompositions which it makes them undergo; "With cookery, by the art of preparing food and rendering it more agreeable to taste; "With commerce, by the search for means to buy at the cheapest rate possible what is consumed by it, and selling to the greatest advantage that which is presented for sale; "Lastly, with political economy, by the resources which it furnishes to the authorities for taxation, and by the means of exchange it establishes among nations. "Some knowledge of gastronomy is needed by all men, since it tends to increase the allotted sum of human happiness; and the more easy a man's circumstances, the more advantages does he gain from such knowledge."

Summing up, he pronounces its material subject to be everything that may be eaten; its direct object, the preservation of individuals; and its means of execution, cultivation which produces, commerce which exchanges, industry which prepares, and experience which invents the means of turning everything to the best account.

It will thus be perceived how little understood, even at this advanced age, is the term in question, and how few, comparatively, there are who comprehend the true significance of the pleasures of the table-pleasures where grossness does not enter, but where taste, refinement, the amenities, and hygiene assert their sway. Life is short at its longest; but who shall harvest its sweetnesses so fully as the accomplished gastronomer! The rustling forest glades, radiant in the pomp of October, may be summoned by the appearance of a finely larded grouse; the tinkle of liberated brooks be heard with the advent of the first April trout; the flute of the whitethroat be recalled by the floral tributes to the table; and all that is sunshine in nature be distilled when the cork sets free a noble vintage of the Médoc or the Marne.

If the term "gastronomy" was imperfectly understood until the definition in the "Physiology," as much may be said of the word gourmandise, which oftener served as a designation of gluttony than as a synonym of refined epicureanism.

Gourmandise, Savarin defines as "an impassioned, rational, and habitual preference for all objects which flatter the sense of taste. It is opposed to excess in eating and drinking. Physically, it is an indication of the wholesome state of the organs on which nutrition depends, and, morally, it marks implicit resignation to the commands of the Creator, who, in ordering man to eat that he may live, invites him to do so by appetite, encourages him by flavour, and rewards him by pleasure. It is, moreover, most favourable to beauty, imparting more brilliancy to the eye, freshness to the skin, more support to the muscles; and as