[v]PREFACEIfthe art of Cookery in all its branches were not undergoing a process of evolution, and if its canons could be once and for ever fixed, as are those of certain scientific operations and mathematical procedures, the present work would have noraison d’être; inasmuch as there already exist several excellent culinary text-books in the English language. But everything is so unstable in these times of progress at any cost, and social customs and methods of life alter so rapidly, that a few years now suffice to change completely the face of usages which at their inception bade fair to outlive the age—so enthusiastically were they welcomed by the public.In regard to the traditions of the festal board, it is but twenty years ago since the ancestral English customs began to make way before the newer methods, and we must look to the great impetus given to travelling by steam traction and navigation, in order to account for the gradual but unquestionable revolution.In the wake of the demand came the supply. Palatial hotels were built, sumptuous restaurants were opened, both of which offered their customers luxuries undreamt of theretofore in such establishments.Modern society contracted the habit of partaking of light suppers in these places, after the theatres of the Metropolis had closed; and the well-to-do began to flock to them on Sundays, in order to give their servants the required weekly rest. And, since restaurants allow of observing and of being observed, since they are eminently adapted to the exhibiting of magnificent dresses, it was not long before they entered into the life of Fortune’s favourites.But these new-fangled habits had to be met by novel methods of Cookery—better adapted to the particular environment in which they were to be practised. The admirable productions popularised by the old Masters of the Culinary Art of the[vi]preceding Century did not become the light and more frivolous atmosphere of restaurants; were, in fact, ill-suited to the brisk waiters, and their customers who only had eyes for one another.The pompous splendour of those bygone dinners, served in the majestic dining-halls of Manors and Palaces, by liveried footmen, was part and parcel of the etiquette of Courts and lordly mansions.It is eminently suited to State dinners, which are in sooth veritable ceremonies, possessing their ritual, traditions, and—one might even say—their high priests; but it is a mere hindrance to the modern, rapid service. The complicated and sometimes heavy menus would be unwelcome to the hypercritical appetites so common nowadays; hence the need of a radical change not only in the culinary preparations themselves, but in the arrangements of the menus, and the service.Circumstances ordained that I should be one of the movers in this revolution, and that I should manage the kitchens of two establishments which have done most to bring it about. I therefore venture to suppose that a book containing a record of all the changes which have come into being in kitchen work—changes whereof I am in a great part author—may have some chance of a good reception at the hands of the public,i.e., at the hands of those very members of it who have profited by the changes I refer to.For it was only with the view of meeting the many and persistent demands for such a record that the present volume was written.I had at first contemplated the possibility of including only new recipes in this formulary. But it should be borne in mind that the changes that have transformed kitchen procedure during the last twenty-five years could not all be classed under the head of new recipes; for, apart from the fundamental principles of the science, which we owe to Carême, and which will last as long as Cooking itself, scarcely one old-fashioned method has escaped the necessary new moulding required by modern demands. For fear of giving my work an incomplete appearance, therefore, I had to refer to these old-fashioned practices and to include among my new recipes those of the former which most deserved to survive. But it should not be forgotten that in a few years, judging from the rate at which things are going, the publication of a fresh selection of recipes may become necessary; I hope to live long enough to see this accomplished, in order that I may follow the evolution, started in my time, and add a few more original creations to those I have already[-9]had the pleasure of seeing adopted; despite the fact that the discovery of new dishes grows daily more difficult.But novelty is the universal cry—novelty by hook or by crook! It is an exceedingly common mania among people of inordinate wealth to exact incessantly new or so-called new dishes. Sometimes the demand comes from a host whose luxurious table has exhausted all the resources of the modern cook’s repertory, and who, having partaken of every delicacy, and often had too much of good things, anxiously seeks new sensations for hisblasépalate. Anon, we have a hostess, anxious to outshine friends with whom she has been invited to dine, and whom she afterwards invites to dine with her.Novelty! It is the prevailing cry; it is imperiously demanded by everyone.For all that, the number of alimentary substances is comparatively small, the number of their combinations is not infinite, and the amount of raw material placed either by art or by nature at the disposal of a cook does not grow in proportion to the whims of the public.What feats of ingenuity have we not been forced to perform, at times, in order to meet our customers’ wishes? Those only who have had charge of a large, modern kitchen can tell the tale. Personally, I have ceased counting the nights spent in the attempt to discover new combinations, when, completely broken with the fatigue of a heavy day, my body ought to have been at rest.Yet, the Chef who has had the felicity to succeed in turning out an original and skilful preparation approved by his public and producing a vogue, cannot, even for a time, claim the monopoly of his secret discovery, or derive any profit therefrom. The painter, sculptor, writer and musician are protected by law. So are inventors. But the chef has absolutely no redress for plagiarism on his work; on the contrary, the more the latter is liked and appreciated, the more will people clamour for his recipes. Many hours of hard work perhaps underlie his latest creation, if it have reached the desired degree of perfection.He may have forfeited his recreation and even his night’s rest, and have laboured without a break over his combination; and, as a reward, he finds himself compelled, morally at least, to convey the result of his study to the first person who asks, and who, very often, subsequently claims the invention of the recipe—to the detriment of the real author’s chances and reputation.This frantic love of novelty is also responsible for many of[viii]the difficulties attending the arrangement of menus; for very few people know what an arduous task the composing of a perfect menu represents.The majority—even of those who are accustomed to receptions and the giving of dinners—suppose that a certain routine alone is necessary, together with some culinary practice, in order to write a menu; and few imagine that a good deal more is needed than the mere inscription of Courses upon a slip of pasteboard.In reality the planning of these alimentary programmes is among the most difficult problems of our art, and it is in this very matter that perfection is so rarely reached. In the course of more than forty years’ experience as a chef, I have been responsible for thousands of menus, some of which have since become classical and have ranked among the finest served in modern times; and I can safely say, that in spite of the familiarity such a period of time ought to give one with the work, the setting-up of a presentable menu is rarely accomplished without lengthy labour and much thought, and for all that the result is not always to my satisfaction. From this it may be seen how slender are the claims of those who, without any knowledge of our art, and quite unaware of the various properties belonging to the substances we use, pretend to arrange a proper menu.However difficult the elaboration of a menu may be, it is but the first and by no means the only difficulty which results from the rapidity with which meals are served nowadays. The number of dishes set before the diners being considerably reduced, and the dishes themselves having been deprived of all the advantages which their sumptuous decorations formerly lent them, they must recover, by means of perfection and delicacy, sufficient in the way of quality to compensate for their diminished bulk and reduced splendour. They must be faultless in regard to quality; they must be savoury and light. The choice of the raw material, therefore, is a matter demanding vast experience on the part of the chef; for the old French adage which says that “La sauce fait passer le poisson” has long since ceased to be true, and if one do not wish to court disapprobation—often well earned—the fish should not be in the slightest degree inferior to its accompanying sauce.While on the subject of raw material, I should like,en passant, to call attention to a misguided policy which seems to be spreading in private houses and even in some commercial establishments; I refer to the custom which, arising as it doubtless[ix]does from a mistaken idea of economy, consists of entrusting the choice of kitchen provisions to people unacquainted with the profession, and who, never having used the goods which they have to buy, are able to judge only very superficially of their quality or real value, and cannot form any estimate of their probable worth after the cooking process.If economy were verily the result of such a policy none would object to it. But the case is exactly the reverse; for, in the matter of provisions, as in all commercial matters, the cheapest is the dearest in the end. To obtain good results, good material in a sufficient quantity must be used, and, in order to obtain good material, the latter should be selected by the person who is going to use it, and who knows its qualities and properties. Amphitryons who set aside these essential principles may hope in vain to found a reputation for their tables.It will be seen that the greater part of the titles in this work have been left in French. I introduced, or rather promulgated this system, because, since it is growing every day more customary to write menus in French, it will allow those who are unacquainted with the language to accomplish the task with greater ease. Moreover, many of the titles—especially those of recent creations—are quite untranslatable. As the index, however, is in English, and in every case the order number of each recipe accompanies the number of the page where it is to be found, no confusion can possibly arise. I have also allowed certain French technical terms, for which there exist no English equivalents, to remain in their original form, and these will be found explained in a glossary at the end of the book.I preferred to do this rather than strain the meaning of certain English words, in order to fit them to a slightly unusual application; and in so doing I only followed a precedent which has been established on a more or less large scale by such authors of English books on French cooking as Francatelli, Gouffé, Ranhoffer, etc.But the example for such verbal adoptions was set long ago in France, where sporting and other terms, for which no suitable native words could be found, were borrowed wholesale from the English language, and gallicised. It is therefore not unreasonable to apply the principle to terms in cookery which, though plentiful and varied in France, are scarce in this country.To facilitate the reading of the recipes, all words which are not in common use, and of which the explanation will be found in theGlossary, are italicised in the text.In concluding this preface, which, I fear, has already[x]overreached the bounds I intended for it, I should like to thank those of my lady clients as well as many English epicures whose kind appreciation has been conducive to the writing of this work. I trust they will favour the latter with the generous consideration of which they have so frequently given the author valuable proofs, and for which he is glad of an opportunity of expressing his deep gratitude.
Ifthe art of Cookery in all its branches were not undergoing a process of evolution, and if its canons could be once and for ever fixed, as are those of certain scientific operations and mathematical procedures, the present work would have noraison d’être; inasmuch as there already exist several excellent culinary text-books in the English language. But everything is so unstable in these times of progress at any cost, and social customs and methods of life alter so rapidly, that a few years now suffice to change completely the face of usages which at their inception bade fair to outlive the age—so enthusiastically were they welcomed by the public.
In regard to the traditions of the festal board, it is but twenty years ago since the ancestral English customs began to make way before the newer methods, and we must look to the great impetus given to travelling by steam traction and navigation, in order to account for the gradual but unquestionable revolution.
In the wake of the demand came the supply. Palatial hotels were built, sumptuous restaurants were opened, both of which offered their customers luxuries undreamt of theretofore in such establishments.
Modern society contracted the habit of partaking of light suppers in these places, after the theatres of the Metropolis had closed; and the well-to-do began to flock to them on Sundays, in order to give their servants the required weekly rest. And, since restaurants allow of observing and of being observed, since they are eminently adapted to the exhibiting of magnificent dresses, it was not long before they entered into the life of Fortune’s favourites.
But these new-fangled habits had to be met by novel methods of Cookery—better adapted to the particular environment in which they were to be practised. The admirable productions popularised by the old Masters of the Culinary Art of the[vi]preceding Century did not become the light and more frivolous atmosphere of restaurants; were, in fact, ill-suited to the brisk waiters, and their customers who only had eyes for one another.
The pompous splendour of those bygone dinners, served in the majestic dining-halls of Manors and Palaces, by liveried footmen, was part and parcel of the etiquette of Courts and lordly mansions.
It is eminently suited to State dinners, which are in sooth veritable ceremonies, possessing their ritual, traditions, and—one might even say—their high priests; but it is a mere hindrance to the modern, rapid service. The complicated and sometimes heavy menus would be unwelcome to the hypercritical appetites so common nowadays; hence the need of a radical change not only in the culinary preparations themselves, but in the arrangements of the menus, and the service.
Circumstances ordained that I should be one of the movers in this revolution, and that I should manage the kitchens of two establishments which have done most to bring it about. I therefore venture to suppose that a book containing a record of all the changes which have come into being in kitchen work—changes whereof I am in a great part author—may have some chance of a good reception at the hands of the public,i.e., at the hands of those very members of it who have profited by the changes I refer to.
For it was only with the view of meeting the many and persistent demands for such a record that the present volume was written.
I had at first contemplated the possibility of including only new recipes in this formulary. But it should be borne in mind that the changes that have transformed kitchen procedure during the last twenty-five years could not all be classed under the head of new recipes; for, apart from the fundamental principles of the science, which we owe to Carême, and which will last as long as Cooking itself, scarcely one old-fashioned method has escaped the necessary new moulding required by modern demands. For fear of giving my work an incomplete appearance, therefore, I had to refer to these old-fashioned practices and to include among my new recipes those of the former which most deserved to survive. But it should not be forgotten that in a few years, judging from the rate at which things are going, the publication of a fresh selection of recipes may become necessary; I hope to live long enough to see this accomplished, in order that I may follow the evolution, started in my time, and add a few more original creations to those I have already[-9]had the pleasure of seeing adopted; despite the fact that the discovery of new dishes grows daily more difficult.
But novelty is the universal cry—novelty by hook or by crook! It is an exceedingly common mania among people of inordinate wealth to exact incessantly new or so-called new dishes. Sometimes the demand comes from a host whose luxurious table has exhausted all the resources of the modern cook’s repertory, and who, having partaken of every delicacy, and often had too much of good things, anxiously seeks new sensations for hisblasépalate. Anon, we have a hostess, anxious to outshine friends with whom she has been invited to dine, and whom she afterwards invites to dine with her.
Novelty! It is the prevailing cry; it is imperiously demanded by everyone.
For all that, the number of alimentary substances is comparatively small, the number of their combinations is not infinite, and the amount of raw material placed either by art or by nature at the disposal of a cook does not grow in proportion to the whims of the public.
What feats of ingenuity have we not been forced to perform, at times, in order to meet our customers’ wishes? Those only who have had charge of a large, modern kitchen can tell the tale. Personally, I have ceased counting the nights spent in the attempt to discover new combinations, when, completely broken with the fatigue of a heavy day, my body ought to have been at rest.
Yet, the Chef who has had the felicity to succeed in turning out an original and skilful preparation approved by his public and producing a vogue, cannot, even for a time, claim the monopoly of his secret discovery, or derive any profit therefrom. The painter, sculptor, writer and musician are protected by law. So are inventors. But the chef has absolutely no redress for plagiarism on his work; on the contrary, the more the latter is liked and appreciated, the more will people clamour for his recipes. Many hours of hard work perhaps underlie his latest creation, if it have reached the desired degree of perfection.
He may have forfeited his recreation and even his night’s rest, and have laboured without a break over his combination; and, as a reward, he finds himself compelled, morally at least, to convey the result of his study to the first person who asks, and who, very often, subsequently claims the invention of the recipe—to the detriment of the real author’s chances and reputation.
This frantic love of novelty is also responsible for many of[viii]the difficulties attending the arrangement of menus; for very few people know what an arduous task the composing of a perfect menu represents.
The majority—even of those who are accustomed to receptions and the giving of dinners—suppose that a certain routine alone is necessary, together with some culinary practice, in order to write a menu; and few imagine that a good deal more is needed than the mere inscription of Courses upon a slip of pasteboard.
In reality the planning of these alimentary programmes is among the most difficult problems of our art, and it is in this very matter that perfection is so rarely reached. In the course of more than forty years’ experience as a chef, I have been responsible for thousands of menus, some of which have since become classical and have ranked among the finest served in modern times; and I can safely say, that in spite of the familiarity such a period of time ought to give one with the work, the setting-up of a presentable menu is rarely accomplished without lengthy labour and much thought, and for all that the result is not always to my satisfaction. From this it may be seen how slender are the claims of those who, without any knowledge of our art, and quite unaware of the various properties belonging to the substances we use, pretend to arrange a proper menu.
However difficult the elaboration of a menu may be, it is but the first and by no means the only difficulty which results from the rapidity with which meals are served nowadays. The number of dishes set before the diners being considerably reduced, and the dishes themselves having been deprived of all the advantages which their sumptuous decorations formerly lent them, they must recover, by means of perfection and delicacy, sufficient in the way of quality to compensate for their diminished bulk and reduced splendour. They must be faultless in regard to quality; they must be savoury and light. The choice of the raw material, therefore, is a matter demanding vast experience on the part of the chef; for the old French adage which says that “La sauce fait passer le poisson” has long since ceased to be true, and if one do not wish to court disapprobation—often well earned—the fish should not be in the slightest degree inferior to its accompanying sauce.
While on the subject of raw material, I should like,en passant, to call attention to a misguided policy which seems to be spreading in private houses and even in some commercial establishments; I refer to the custom which, arising as it doubtless[ix]does from a mistaken idea of economy, consists of entrusting the choice of kitchen provisions to people unacquainted with the profession, and who, never having used the goods which they have to buy, are able to judge only very superficially of their quality or real value, and cannot form any estimate of their probable worth after the cooking process.
If economy were verily the result of such a policy none would object to it. But the case is exactly the reverse; for, in the matter of provisions, as in all commercial matters, the cheapest is the dearest in the end. To obtain good results, good material in a sufficient quantity must be used, and, in order to obtain good material, the latter should be selected by the person who is going to use it, and who knows its qualities and properties. Amphitryons who set aside these essential principles may hope in vain to found a reputation for their tables.
It will be seen that the greater part of the titles in this work have been left in French. I introduced, or rather promulgated this system, because, since it is growing every day more customary to write menus in French, it will allow those who are unacquainted with the language to accomplish the task with greater ease. Moreover, many of the titles—especially those of recent creations—are quite untranslatable. As the index, however, is in English, and in every case the order number of each recipe accompanies the number of the page where it is to be found, no confusion can possibly arise. I have also allowed certain French technical terms, for which there exist no English equivalents, to remain in their original form, and these will be found explained in a glossary at the end of the book.
I preferred to do this rather than strain the meaning of certain English words, in order to fit them to a slightly unusual application; and in so doing I only followed a precedent which has been established on a more or less large scale by such authors of English books on French cooking as Francatelli, Gouffé, Ranhoffer, etc.
But the example for such verbal adoptions was set long ago in France, where sporting and other terms, for which no suitable native words could be found, were borrowed wholesale from the English language, and gallicised. It is therefore not unreasonable to apply the principle to terms in cookery which, though plentiful and varied in France, are scarce in this country.
To facilitate the reading of the recipes, all words which are not in common use, and of which the explanation will be found in theGlossary, are italicised in the text.
In concluding this preface, which, I fear, has already[x]overreached the bounds I intended for it, I should like to thank those of my lady clients as well as many English epicures whose kind appreciation has been conducive to the writing of this work. I trust they will favour the latter with the generous consideration of which they have so frequently given the author valuable proofs, and for which he is glad of an opportunity of expressing his deep gratitude.
[xi]CONTENTSPART IFUNDAMENTAL ELEMENTSCHAPTER IPAGEFONDS DE CUISINE1CHAPTER IITHE LEADING WARM SAUCES15CHAPTER IIITHE SMALL COMPOUND SAUCES24CHAPTER IVCOLD SAUCES AND COMPOUND BUTTERS48CHAPTER VSAVOURY JELLIES OR ASPICS59CHAPTER VITHE COURT-BOUILLONS AND THE MARINADES64CHAPTER VIIELEMENTARY PREPARATIONS70CHAPTER VIIITHE VARIOUS GARNISHES FOR SOUPS87CHAPTER IXGARNISHING PREPARATIONS FOR RELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES92CHAPTER XLEADING CULINARY OPERATIONS97[xii]PART IIRECIPES AND MODES OF PROCEDURECHAPTER XIPAGEHORS-D’ŒUVRES137CHAPTER XIIEGGS164CHAPTER XIIISOUPS197CHAPTER XIVFISH260CHAPTER XVRELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES OF BUTCHER’S MEAT352CHAPTER XVIRELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES OF POULTRY AND GAME473CHAPTER XVIIROASTS AND SALADS605CHAPTER XVIIIVEGETABLES AND FARINACEOUS PRODUCTS624CHAPTER XIXSAVORIES678CHAPTER XXENTREMETS(SWEETS)687CHAPTER XXIICES AND SHERBETS788CHAPTER XXIIDRINKS AND REFRESHMENTS816CHAPTER XXIIIFRUIT-STEWS AND JAMS820
FONDS DE CUISINE
THE LEADING WARM SAUCES
THE SMALL COMPOUND SAUCES
COLD SAUCES AND COMPOUND BUTTERS
SAVOURY JELLIES OR ASPICS
THE COURT-BOUILLONS AND THE MARINADES
ELEMENTARY PREPARATIONS
THE VARIOUS GARNISHES FOR SOUPS
GARNISHING PREPARATIONS FOR RELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES
LEADING CULINARY OPERATIONS
HORS-D’ŒUVRES
EGGS
SOUPS
FISH
RELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES OF BUTCHER’S MEAT
RELEVÉS AND ENTRÉES OF POULTRY AND GAME
ROASTS AND SALADS
VEGETABLES AND FARINACEOUS PRODUCTS
SAVORIES
ENTREMETS(SWEETS)
ICES AND SHERBETS
DRINKS AND REFRESHMENTS
FRUIT-STEWS AND JAMS