Madeira.Tortue. Tortue claire.Consommé printanière.Hock.Salade de filets de soles à la Russe.Steinberg, 1883.Saumon. Sauce homard. Blanchaille.Sauterne.Ortolans en caisse.Château Yquem, 1887.Mousse de foie gras aux truffes.Champagne.Pommery, 1884.Ponche à la Romaine.Hanches de venaison.Selles de mouton.Burgundy.Canetons.Chambertin, 1881Poulets de grain.Langues de bœuf.Jambons de Cumberland.Crevettes en serviette.Claret.Macédoines de fruits.Château Latour, 1875Gelées aux liqueurs.Meringues à la crème.Bombe glacé.Port. 1863Quenelles au parmesan.
I always rather dread the length of a City dinner, but in the case of the Mercers the House Warden has just hit on a happy compromise, the dinner being important enough to be styled a banquet, and not so long as to be wearying. Messrs. Ring and Brymer's cook is to be congratulated, too, for hisMousse de foie graswas admirable.
There were some distinguished guests at the high table. At the far end, where Sir Cecil Clementi Smith, the Senior Warden, sat, there were little splashes of colour from the ribbons of orders worn round the neck, and the sparkle of stars under the lapels of dress-coats.
The Master had on his right a well-known baronet, and on his left Silomo. Next to the friend of the Turk was an ex-M.P., and next to him again one of the humorists of the present House of Commons—an Irish Q.C., with clean-shaven, powerful face.
At the long tables sat as proper a set of gentlemen as ever gathered to a feast; but with no special characteristics to distinguish them from any other great assemblage. The snow-white hair of a clergyman told out vividly against the background of old oak, and a miniature volunteer officer's decoration caught my eye as I looked down the table.
The dinner ended, the toastmaster's work began again, and first from the gold loving-cup and from two copies of it, the stems of which are said to have been candlesticks used when Queen Elizabeth visited the Company, we drank to each other "across and across the table." The taste of the liquor in the cup was not familiar to me, and when my host told me how it was compounded I was not surprised. It is a mixture of many wines, with a dash of strong beer.
Grace was sung by a quartet in the musicians' gallery, and then the company settled down to listen to speeches interspersed with song. By each guest was placed a little cigar case, within it two cigars; but these were not to be smoked yet awhile. While we sipped the '63 port, we listened to Silomo gently chaffing himself as he responded for "The Houses of Parliament." Later the Irish Q.C., who spoke for "The Visitors," caught up the ball of fun, and tossed it to and fro, and Madame Bertha Moore and Miss Marian Blinkhorn, and others sang songs and quartets, and my host told me, in the intervals, of the great store of the old clarets and ports that the Mercers had in their cellars, which was enough to make a lover of good wine covet his neighbour's goods. And still later, after the cigars had filled the drawing-room with a light grey mist, I went forth, this time down the grand oaken staircase, with its lions clasping escutcheons. I passed into Cheapside with a very lively sense of gratitude to the Mercers in general, and my hospitable host in particular.
7th June.
Yet another invitation to dine from an unknown friend, and this time with a tinge of mystery to give it piquancy. My would-be host offered to give me what he believed to be one of the cheapest obtainable dinners in London, as well as one of the most amusing; but as an introduction is required before any guest is able to use this dining-place, I was asked, should I describe it, to give no clue as to its whereabouts.
As I waited for my host at a club which happened to be not far from the district in which I was to dine, I had vague ideas that I might be blindfolded and conveyed to our destination in a four-wheeled cab, and that some blood-curdling oath as to secrecy might be demanded of me. There was none of this. My host and I walked through a labyrinth of streets, and in due time, in an unpretentious locality, came to a wine-shop, the exterior of which somewhat resembled the good bottles of wine to be found within, in that it was dusty and had a suggestion of crust about it. Inside, the piles ofbottles reaching up to the ceiling, seen in a half-light, had something of a Rembrandtesque effect.
No sooner had my companion opened the door than we were faced by a lady in black, her hair parted in the centre, whom we had caught in a moment of arrested motion, for she had a bottle in either hand and was going towards the staircase at the corner of the shop. "Is the dinner to-night at six o'clock or at seven?" my host asked in French; and he was told that it was at six, and that he was in excellent time, for as yet there were only three up above; and then I was introduced to Madame, and we three climbed the narrow staircase in company.
I had been warned that I would have to bring into use such French as I was master of, for the guests at this dinner were cosmopolitan, and the language of diplomacy was the currency for conversation; and so when on entering the room I was presented to a French lady and her husband, and to an Italian gentleman, and shook hands with them, I expressed my gratification at being admitted into this friendly circle with my best Parisian accent.
I looked round the room. In the centre was a dining table with a clean coarse tablecloth upon it, knives and forks and spoons and glass salt-cellars—and my attention was called later on to the excellence of the crystals of salt—and an array of black bottles, which those in the hostess's hands went to join, and siphons. There were two windows, with clean muslin curtains, looking out on the dingy street. Through an open door could be seen an inner room, a bedroom, with avery large bed showing as the principal object in it. The walls of the dining-room were covered with a brown paper with a little pattern on it. By the fireplace were hung some photographs, amongst them one of the little French gentleman I had just been introduced to, who is a member of the Covent Garden orchestra, and had been taken holding in his hand his musical instrument; and on the wall opposite were some good portraits, the work of the Italian gentleman, who is an artist. There were lithographs and photographs of scenes in Paris, and a print of the head of Napoleon III. Photographs and china figures were on the mantelpiece, a cottage piano between the two windows; a chiffonnier with glasses on it and a glazed cupboard completed the furniture of the room.
The guests were punctual, each lady as she came in, after the preliminary hand-shaking, going into the bedroom and putting her wraps upon the big bed; and soon Madame cried, "À table!"
We settled down into our places, leaving space for some late-comers who were expected. At the head of the table was a dark lady with wavy hair, an actress in a company of French comedians playing in London. Next to her sat on one side themonsieur d'orchestreand his wife—and every newcomer made a point of inquiring after the musician's health, for he had been, it seemed, ill, and was now convalescent—and on the other side an English major, with a waxed moustache and a flower in his button-hole, mighty fine, as old Pepys would have had it, and his good-lookingwife. Other guests at table were a lady with white hair, who was the mother of a bright-eyed, good-looking young Frenchman with a velvet collar to his coat, who was playing with a troupe of mimes at one of the variety theatres, and who faced his mother at table; and the Italian artist who, with carefully brushed white hair, waxed moustache, and ample cravat, was as great a beau as the English major.
Under Madame's superintendence a servant, bare of arm and in a print dress, brought in through the bedroom a great soup-tureen, and we at our end of the table, who had been drinking vermouth with my host, soon found platters of excellentcroûte-au-potbefore us.
The evening was warm, and at the request of Madame la Majoresse, as the Major's wife was called, one of the windows was opened. The little bustle caused by this was subsiding when a good-looking French lady in green made her entrance, kissed Mdme. la Majoresse, shook hands with the rest of us, settled into a place next to the bright-eyed Frenchman, and immediately felt a terriblecourant d'air. This, of course, had to be obviated; and after some discussion—and we all had our say—it was thought that if the door giving on to the staircase was shut the draught might vanish. The lady in green, who was a comédienne, had brought some tickets for stalls for the Opera, which she gave to Madame la Majoresse; and this turned the conversation to the Opera and the artistes singing this year. The bright-eyed little Frenchman had an anecdote to tell of how Noté,on the evening of the Derby Day, had from the promenade of the Empire joined in the refrain of one of the beautiful Cavalieri's songs, and how the house recognised his voice and applauded. Both the Italian artist and myself had been at the Empire that evening, and while we ate the boiled beef that succeeded the soup we discussed the matter, the Italian gentleman not having noticed the incident, I having an impression that something of the kind had happened.
Then the lady in green made the terrible discovery that we were thirteen at table, and Madame, who had been hovering between the bedroom and the dining-room, with one eye on the dinner table and the other on the kitchen beyond, was prayed to sit down at table, which she did till the arrival of the two other guests—a lady, who had forsaken the operatic stage for matrimony, and her husband, who came in and so broke the spell.
A great bowl of macaroni succeeded the beef, and brought a volley of light-shafted chaff upon the Italian artist in whose honour it was supposed to be provided, and then we chinked glasses full of the excellent red wine, and interchanged international courtesies.
A third actress looked in for a moment or two just for a little chat with her friends amongst the diners, and then, to Madame's great grief, for there was a most excellent poulet to come, the Major and the Majoresse had to depart to dress for the Opera, and the bright-eyed young Frenchman had to be off to the variety theatre. To make up for this deprivation, however,another guest made his appearance, and was hailed with joy. A most merry little Frenchman, with a very pretty wit, the wag of the party, was the newcomer, afumisteinto whose hands had been given the rearrangement of the Savoy kitchen, and who had also seen to the kitchen of the Cecil. He was a person of much importance, but he joked with the bare-armed serving-maid and made her blush, and threw Madame into a fit of laughter, and chaffed all the rest of us just as if he had been an ordinary individual and not a European celebrity.
The chicken was as admirable as Madame had said it would be, and a great bowl of salad accompanied it; and then there came a sweet of some kind and cheese and excellent coffee—"all this we get for two shillings," the Italian artist told me—and eventually when, after much hand-shaking, the greater portion of the guests had left, thefumistecame down to my end of the table and talked soldier's talk, for he had been through the Great War, calling me "Mon vieux colon," while my host played the piano softly, and the lady who had sacrificed fame for the wedding-ring sang gently an old-fashioned Frenchberceuse.
14th June.
The honorary secretary of the Regimental Dinner Club, who is the gentleman who, in one of the little rooms, somewhat resembling loose boxes, of Cox and Co., the military bankers, presides over the ledgers containing the accounts of Ours, had sent six weeks ago to every member of the club, and that means nearly every officer past and present, a notice that the annual dinner of the regiment would take place at the Hôtel Victoria, on a certain day in Ascot week, at 8p.m.
"Regimental dinner, sir? Yes, sir. Cloakroom third door to the right," said the impressive porter who, in gold-banded hat and with gold buttons to his blue coat, stands at the front door; and farther on, at the corner where the long corridor joins the passage, a waiter with a cherubic face waved a cotton-gloved hand in the direction one was to go.
Hat and cloak left, an oval piece of pasteboard taken in exchange, and a monetary transactionconcluded with a gentleman at a little table, another white-gloved hand was waved towards the drawing-rooms, and there in the farthest room of the long suite was assembled a collection of gentlemen in dress clothes, of all ages, most of them bronzed and clean-shaved, though a beard here and there belonged to some one who had left the colours. There was a glint of silver from miniature medals and the sparkle of a couple of orders. It was not the ordinary assemblage that waits patiently with legs apart and hands under the coat-tails for dinner to be announced; it was an assemblage in which much shaking of hands was going on, and intermingled with greetings were such scraps of conversation as, "Haven't seen you for years"; "Yes, a fortnight's leave from Ireland to do Ascot"; "Home on sick leave, but feel fit enough now"; "A big dinner to-night: thirty-three dining."
There was so much talk that dinner was announced three times before any one took any notice, and then there was a little block at the door, for the Generals hung back for a moment from leading the way, and the subalterns were not, before dinner, sufficiently assertive to take precedence.
The stream of black coats set at last down the corridor, and on our way we caught a glimpse of the bright scene in thetable-d'hôteroom, where all the little tables were occupied, and where the band was playing. We passed some pretty girls coming out of the drawing-room—one subaltern audibly regretted that the presence of the fair sex was tabooed atthe feast—and we turned into the oak banqueting-room.
There was a long table down the middle of the room, and at the centre of this the General who is the colonel-in-chief of the regiment seated himself, with, on either hand, two Generals who have in their time held the regimental command. The getting into their places of the other guests at the banquet was rather like the game of musical chairs, and three unfortunates were left seatless. This, however, was soon rectified; there was a general squeezing up to make more room, and it was found that there was plenty of space at either end of the table for two places to be laid. Some one, beyond the original thirty-three, had been able to run over at the last moment from Ireland, and somebody had come up unexpectedly from the depot, and somebody else had thought that he had sent in his name to the secretary when he really had not.
It is an impressive room. There is a very broad frieze, on which rosy cupids gambol against a gold background, above the panels and carving in deep-toned oak. Across a large stained-glass window some warm-coloured brown curtains were almost drawn-to; a tall chiffonnier, bright with glass and napery, cut off the serving-room; clusters of electric lights sparkled in the skylight which forms the roof. A centre-piece and some great silver cups stood among the flowers, banks of which ran the whole way down the table, and which were of the colours of the regimental ribbon, with scarlet poppies to suggest the tintof Her Majesty's uniform. There was a buttonhole of the same coloured flowers by each guest's plate, and the cover of the menu repeated again the familiar colours. This was the list of the feast:—
Vins.Milk Punch.Fine old East India Madeira.Château Carbonnieux.Boll and Co., 1884.G. H. Mumm and Co. Ex. Qual., Ex. Dry, Cuvee'65, 1889.Haut Bages, 1875.Feuerheera's Zimbro1884Port.Otard's Old Liqueur Brandy.Johannis Water.Hors-d'œuvre variés.Tortue claire.Darne de saumon à la Mathilde.Suprêmes de filets de sole glacés Danoise.Blanchailles au Kari.Nageoires de tortue Washington.Coquilles de foie gras Mireille.Poularde à la Matignon.Selle d'agneau. Sauce menthe.Haricots verts sautés au beurre.Pommes nouvelles fondantes.Jambon de York à la Kalli.Fèves de marais Maître d'Hôtel.Sorbet.Cailles de vignes et ortolans sur toast.Salade Romaine.Asperges en ranches. Sauce Argenteuil.Fruits à la Créole.Bombe Japonaise. Petits fours.Dessert. Café noir.
As a privileged grumbler I began the dinner with finding fault, for there were no finger-glasses as an accompaniment to thecrevettes, which were among thehors-d'œuvre, and the Boll, which was the champagne I tried, had not been iced sufficiently—if, indeed, it had seen the ice-pail at all. But the turtle-soup was soothing, and the next supply of champagne that came round was of the right temperature.
In the pause between the soup and the fish one could gather better than in the crowded dining-room who were present. On the chairman's right was a General who had been knighted by Her Majesty for his services in an African campaign; on his left the commander of the forces in an island fortress, who in his time had led a battalion of the regiment on active service; opposite to him was the lieutenant-colonel, who has added to the sheaf of the regiment's honours in the latest Indian campaign. A couple of majors, home from India, sat together; a group of retired officers, now most of them squires on their country estates, had gathered at a corner to talk over old times, the Governor of one of Her Majesty's gaols was being much chaffed as to his present employment; and the rest werechiefly the bronzed, healthy, light-moustached young Englishmen, cast in the mould that tells the world at once that a man is a soldier, and fresh from manœuvring in Ireland or guarding the marches at a great Indian frontier station.
The turtle fins and the saddle of mutton were excellent, and the ortolan I secured was as plump a little fellow as ever found the shelter of a vine leaf; but when we came to the asparagus I was constrained to ask the head waiter confidentially what the hard sticks were with a little soft place at the end, tasting more like a Brussels sprout than any vegetable that I knew of. The poor man, who wore a worried look, said that they were the best procurable in France, and turned for confirmation to a manager of many inches, who, his hair brushed up to a point, and wearing a pointed beard, was leaning with folded arms on the top of the chiffonnier, and contemplating the scene. Our little difference of opinion as to the quality of theasperges d'Argenteuilconcluded, the fruits and ice handed round, the General in the chair rose, and in a few well-chosen words—for soldiers neither care to make long speeches nor to listen to them—proposed the health of the Queen, which was drunk standing; and as loyal subjects who wore, or had worn, the scarlet, we applauded the suggestion of our Colonel that a telegram should be sent to the proper quarter, and that Her Majesty should know that the officers of one of her oldest regiments had saluted her at their annual gathering. Then the diners broke up into groups, for every one had much to say and much to hear,and there were more speeches, and the healths of "officers past and present" were drunk, and courtesies exchanged with another regiment dining in the same hotel, and it was near the stroke of midnight when most of us remembered that we had to be up betimes to go to Ascot on the morrow.
21st June.
"I thought your Galatea a superb creation, and flatter myself I gave an entirely new reading of the part of Chrysos's slave," I said; and our leading lady was kind enough to say in reply that through force of genius I raised the part of Chrysos's slave into a principal character.
I never inflict the fact upon my friends, but I am an amateur actor. I do not play Hamlet or Othello, for owing to the jealousy of "casting" committees, those parts are never offered me. I have some original readings which the world will be startled by when Idoplay Hamlet; but I can, I believe, get more expression into such sentences as "My lord, the carriage waits," than any other amateur who has ever trodden the boards of St. George's Hall.
The leading lady of a troupe of which erstwhile I was a member—a little difficulty over the allotment of the part of Young Marlowe was the cause of my ceasing to assist them—was anxious to see Réjane as Gilberte in "Frou-Frou." Her husband, a worthy man, but withno taste for the higher dramatic art, and in the habit of saying sarcastic things as to amateurs and amateur acting, preferred the Empire to the Lyric; hence I had the honour of escorting our leading lady to see Réjane, and asked her to dine with me at Dieudonné's as a preliminary.
It was while she trifled with a sardine at the commencement of dinner that I remarked that her Galatea was a superb creation—it really was not at all bad—and she complimented me very justly on my Chrysos's slave.
We had a table close to the window, and looked over a bank of flowers across to the rather sombre houses on the opposite side of Ryder Street. But if the look-out is not of the brightest, the inside of the room on the first floor is charming—the perfection of a room to dine in on a hot day. It is all in white. The two pillars in the centre of the room are white, the great dumb-waiter is white, the walls are white. There are delicately-painted panels, with gentlemen and ladies in powder and silk and brocade limned upon them; the ceiling is the work of an artist, and there is here and there a touch of gold in the framing of a screen or the capital of a pillar. One little shade on each of the bunches of three electric lights, that are held by brackets from the wall, is pink, the others white. On the tables there were flowers in vases of silver. The downstairs room, which is smaller, is equally cool-looking and tastefully decorated.
M. Guffanti, the proprietor, slim, and with a moustache that a cavalryman might envy,had come to ask whether the table he had reserved for us was to our liking, the bottle of Pol Roger was in the ice-pail within reach of my hand, and I was just going to tell our leading lady with what pleasure I recalled her Lady Teazle when we played in the schoolroom at Tadley-on-the-Marsh, and to ask her candidly what her opinion was of my rendering of the part of Joseph's valet, when Giovanini, themaître d'hôtel, came up with a bunch of flowers in his hand. Giovanini, bushy of eyebrows, and with whiskers that are almost Piccadilly weepers, evidently regarded our leading lady with much respectful admiration; for he presented her with the bunch of roses. And indeed our leading lady might well compel admiration, for she was looking superbly handsome, and was wearing all her diamonds. Her appearance reminded me, as I told her later, of that evening when she made such a hit as the heroine of "Plot and Passion," at Slopperton, and I played, with some distinction, I trust, the part of Grisbouille.
What our leading lady's impressions were of my rendering of the valet in "The School for Scandal" I shall never know, for the arrival of theconsommé Nelsonturned the conversation, and I was asked as to the identity of all the people who were dining. There were two ladies at a table by themselves—Dieudonné's is one of the places where ladies can dine by themselves, without fear of any inconvenience—whom I put down as country cousins who had come up for a fortnight's shopping and sight-seeing in town. There was a family party: husband,wife—a stern lady with spectacles, who took immense interest in the leading lady when she overheard me call her the Ellen Terry of the amateur stage—and two children. There were two colonels and an admiral, who were going to escort two ladies to the theatre; there was a large party of French people, a very pretty dark-eyed girl among them; there were a handsome American lady and her husband; there was a Royal Engineer just off to Malta, who had played hero's parts with the leading lady—I should not wonder if he was the fellow who cut me out of the part of Young Marlowe; and there were a dozen other people whose identity I could not determine. This was the menu of the dinner, the customarytable-d'hôtemeal, a menu to which the leading lady seemed more inclined to devote attention than to my remarks on my own rendering of various characters:—
Hors-d'œuvre variés.Consommé Nelson.Crème Brésilienne.Saumon du Rhin bouilli. Sauce mousseline.Caneton braisé Fermière.Noisettes de Béhaques Romaine.Poularde de Surrey à la broche.Salade.Haricots verts à l'Anglaise.Bombe favourite.Petits fours.Laitances sur toast.Salade de fraises.
When the creamy-pink salmon was put upon the table, M. Guffanti, going the rounds of thetables, came and asked if everything was to our satisfaction, and as I thought it might interest the leading lady, I asked him what had become of Madame Dieudonné's little room and the pretty things that were drawn and written on its walls.
Before Dieudonné's became the handsome hotel and restaurant that it is now, it was a boarding-house which stood in high favour with such of the French artists and sculptors and singers and actors who crossed the silver streak to perfidious Albion. Thetable-d'hôtedinner, at which Mdme. Dieudonné took the head of the long table, was a celebrated institution. No one could come without being vouched for by some of the habitués, and most of the people who might be found at the board were of European celebrity. Madame had a little parlour, which was a kind of holy of holies, and on the walls of this all the most celebrated of the celebrities who were theamis du maisoneither drew a sketch or wrote a quatrain, or dotted down a bar or two of some favourite air, and the names that were signed below the sketches and the scribblings were some of those that stand highest on the roll of fame. M. Guffanti told us that in spite of all precautions the walls were spoilt, and that Madame's little parlour was now the ante-room downstairs with the Watteau panels, where people sit after dinner and drink coffee.
The duck was excellent, but to be absolutely critical I thought that the vegetables had lingered a thought too long by the fire, and if the weather had not been as muggy and stifling as it was Imight have suggested that the lamb from which the noisettes were cut would have been better for a little longer hanging. For the rest of the dinner I had nothing but praise, and the salad of strawberries, as cold as ice could make it, was delicious. I ordered coffee and some chartreuse in crushed ice for the leading lady, and somefin champagnefor myself and asked for my bill.
While disposing of the coffee I thought that my chance had come to get the leading lady's real opinion of my conception of the character of Joseph's valet, and began explaining at length my method of entry to announce the arrival of Charles Surface; but the leading lady rather brusquely asked for her cloak, and said we should miss part of the first act of "Frou-Frou."
I paid the bill—Two dinners, 15s.; one bottle 89, 13s.; two cafés specials, 1s. 6d.; two liqueurs, 2s.; total, £1: 11: 6—and helped the leading lady on with her cloak. I think she might have listened to my ideas as to the valet's entrance. These amateurs—all but myself—are so inordinately selfish.
5th July.
The white-faced house with gilded balconies that stands at the corner of Berkeley Street and Piccadilly is an old friend with a new face, for in the year of grace '97 the old hotel was much altered, the restaurant almost doubled in size, and the Berkeley may now, in its latest development, be said to be the blonde beauty among London hotels.
The Editor invited me to dinner, a little dinner for three, the Gracious Lady, himself, and myself—the handsome niece who completed thepartie carréeon a previous occasion was at her cottage in the country and was reported to be accomplishing wonderful feats of cookery with her chafing-dish—and suggested that I should interview Jules as to the menu.
When I sent in word to Jules that I should like to see him, I had plenty of employment, during the few moments I was kept waiting, in looking at the new ante-room to the right of the entrance-hall, a very handsome apartment, with old gold as the dominating colour everywhere.First, there came to me Emile, themaître d'hôtelwhom I remember of old at the Bristol. M. Jules would not keep me waiting a moment, he said; and even as he spoke M. Jules, in frock-coat, with a little sheaf of papers in his hand, came in. "The Editor is coming to dine here to-morrow night, and wants a little dinner for three," I began, and M. Jules selected one of the papers from his sheaf and handed it to me. He had heard in some way of the Editorial advent, and had put his suggestions as to a little dinner upon paper. They ran as follows:—
Melon Cantaloup.Crème d'or.Truite froide au court bouillon. Sauce verte.Caneton Nantais à la Drexel.Selle de pré-salé rôtie aux légumes.Petits pois à la Française.Salade à la St-James.Ananas glacé Sibérienne.Corbeille de petits fours.Croustade Victoria.
I read the menu down, and when I came to thecaneton à la DrexelI paused, and looked interrogatively at M. Jules. "It is new," he said; "it will be the second time that I have served it"; and I thought how honours were reserved for editors which are not given to simple correspondents. I should not wonder if some day Jules actually named a dish after the Editor.
The Gracious Lady and the Editor arrived on the stroke of eight—punctuality is the preliminary courtesy to a good dinner—and therewas M. Jules waiting to show us to the very best table in the dining-room, the table by the corner window which looks out to the Green Park across the road. Emile was there also, smiling, and a waiter, with a thin line of gold edging his collar, placed the slices of iced melon before us as we sat down.
M. Jules regretted that we had not dined at the Berkeley the night before, for it had been an evening on which the restaurant had been full of interesting people—so full, indeed, that a noble lord who had given a dinner party in honour of a prima donna could only be accommodated with a table in the ante-room. We did not altogether share in Jules's regret, for we might have had to dine in the passage, and looking round at the diners at the other tables we came to the conclusion that though there were no lords, so far as we knew, nor prima donnas among them, they were, on the whole, a very smart and good-looking set. A pretty little grass widow was being entertained by a young soldier—we invented quite a Kiplingesque story about the pair; a rector up for the Oxford and Cambridge match was having his last dinner in town before he went down to his country parsonage again; two ladies going on to the opera were dining by themselves—the Berkeley is a place where ladies can dine and lunch without an escort; two gentlemen, who from their speech were Australian—Colonial Premiers the Gracious Lady called them—were giving a dinner to two very smart ladies; there was another lady with six men at her table, all of whom she was keepingamused; there was a pretty girl, with hair of the sheen of copper and a great spray of roses, diningtête-à-têtewith a bored-looking man with a bald head (un mariage de convenancewas the Gracious Lady's decision); and there was a family party commanded by a stern lady with spectacles.
"Very good soup indeed," said the Editor, as he laid down his spoon, and Jules, who was within hearing, smiled as if the wish of his life had been accomplished, while Emile beamed as if he had come in for a fortune.
And indeed it would have been difficult, if we had been in a fault-finding mood, to have discovered the slightest matter to carp at in either room or dinner. The room, with its light oaken boarding, topped by a deep red frieze, its tall fireplaces with blue tiles, its white ceiling ornamented with strange devices, somewhat resembling Whistler's butterfly signature, its wooden pillars and beams, its clusters of electric lights and revolving fans, is a perfect banqueting-room. Our table, gay with orchids and with sweet peas strewn in the shape of a heart, and lighted by electric globes held by a stand of wrought iron, was the best in the room, as I have written above, and nowhere in England or abroad could we have been given a better dinner. Indeed, from my point of view, it was too good a dinner, for there was no weak spot in it to fasten a criticism on. The trout, in a silver boat cased in ice and ornamented with paper-paddles and a flag at bow and stern, was delicious, and Jules, with enthusiasm, described its cooking:the white wine, the pepper, the little drop of vinegar, the method of cooling.
But the dish of the evening was thecaneton à la Drexel. No great bird of Rouen, but a delicate little fellow from Nantes was this duck, the breast cut into fillets and the inside full of a glorious mixture in whichfoie grasplayed a leadingrôle. "It is the second time only that I have served it," said Jules again, when we complimented him; and we all fully appreciated the great honour that was being paid.
Thesalade St-James, of hearts of lettuce, tomatoes, and French beans, pleased the Gracious Lady much, and she told us to notice how the beans absorbed the flavour of the tomatoes. The ice made its appearance as a pineapple with something which looked like a bridal veil over it, and with a base of transparent ice fashioned to represent a snake among leaves. Inside the pineapple was the ice. The snake set the Editor a-telling tales of the gorgeous East. "The biggest snake I ever saw," he began, "was killed in my house at Allahabad under the ice-box." I glanced across to the Gracious Lady, who sat unmoved, apparently used to the Editor's snake stories. I glanced at the jug of hock cup, but the Editor had only had his fair share. Then I clenched my teeth and settled down to listen, for one has to stand anything, even snake stories, from one's Editor.
The dinner ended, the coffee and old brandy absorbed by the Editor and myself, a long cigar, which he said was very good, placed in the Editor's mouth, and one of Savory's cigarettesin mine, a passion for exploring came upon us, and, with Jules as guide, we set off on a tour of the basement, the Gracious Lady holding up her skirts out of the way of the sawdust with which the floors were strewn. We went through the beautifully clean kitchen, lustrous with white tiles, over which M. Herpin holds sway, through the pantry with its glass-fronted cupboards, through the cool rooms where the meat and fowls are stored, and through the bakery where three batches of bread are baked each day. We reascended, and then the Editor, who was going on to a theatre, paid the bill:—Three dinners at 10s. 6d., £1: 11: 6; two hock cups, 16s.; three cafés, 2s. 3d.; liqueurs, 2s.; cigars, 1s.; total, £2: 12: 9.
12th July.
I am bound to say that I think that the Editor was let off very lightly in his bill; but then editors are always better treated than the ordinary everyday man. M. Jules has been kindness itself in noting for me the dishes that are specialities of the Berkeley, indicating their construction in all cases, and in most giving completerecettes. If in some cases the English of the lady who assisted me by translating therecetteshas quailed before some of the technical terms, I trust that she and I may be excused, for the French of thehaute cuisinerequires some equivalent in English which our barbarous tongue does not possess.
These are some of the specialities of the Berkeley—Poule au pot à la Française, Crème d'or, Petites marmites à la Russe, Truite en gondole au court bouillon, sauce verte, suprême de sole Alice—a very daintydish named after M. Jules's little daughter—selle d'agneau de Pauillac aux primeurs, homard à l'Américaine, noisette d'agneau Berkeley, caneton à la Drexel, poularde Berkeley, salade St-James, asperges vertes à la Milanaise, ananas glacés Sibériennes, soufflé Mercédès (diablé), croustade Victoria, canapés Berkeley.
Herewith therecettes, commencing with
Julienne de légumes composée de carottes, navets, poireaux, oignon, céleri et choux (braisés selon le règle), mouillez avec un bon consommé de canard clarifié, ajoutez des morceaux de canard fortement blanchis, faites bouillir doucement pour dépouiller, cuire et amener la petite marmite à un goût parfait. Servir de la crème aigrette en même temps.
A Julienne made with carrots, turnips, greens, leeks, onions, celery. The vegetables should be braised as usual, then moisten them with stock in which there is plenty of duck. Add the pieces of duck, and let it boil gently, so that it can be well skimmed, and the delicious flavour brought out carefully. Serve cream at the same time.
D'un fond de sole et volaille faites un velouté bien dépouillé, et le tenir leger; lier avec un beurre de homard, le passer crème et beurre extra fin pour finir, le goûter (il doit être de haut goût comme le bisqué), garnissez d'une Royal au beurre de homard et huîtres fraîchement pochées, et leur cuisson.
Stock made with sole and poultry, rich and smooth to the taste. Skim very lightly, and mix with lobster butter, cream, and a little fresh butter. Pass itthrough a silk sieve, taste it, and garnish it with aroyalemade with lobster butter, oysters freshly stewed and their own liquor.
Pocher au vin du Rhin avec légumes et aromates, dresser dans un gondolier assez large pour contenir la garniture suivante: œufs pochés glacés, petites truffes, pommes au naturel, grosses quenelles, crevettes piquées sur la truite même, bouquet de queues de crevettes, champignons tournés, écrevisses dressées; tenir le tout très chaud, glacez la truite et la garniture, saucez à part une sauce genevoise faite avec le fond du poisson.
Stew the fish in Rhine wine, with vegetables and spices, arrange in agondolierlarge enough to hold the following garnish: poached eggs glazed, little truffles, boiled apples, large quenelles, prawns (piquées sur la truite même). Flavour with shrimps' tails and mushrooms, and arrange crayfish on it. Keep it all very hot. Glaze the trout and the garnish. Serve separately a Genevoise sauce, made with the liquor in which the trout were cooked.
Selle d'agneau de lait rôtie et garnie de légumes nouveaux.
Saddle of lamb (young), roasted and garnished with young vegetables.
Homard vivant, découpé; les pattes cassées, sautées au beurre clarifié flambé au cognac, éteint au vin blanc (très sec), réduire et ajoutez échalotte, civette, un verre de vin blanc, tomates concassées, persil, sel, poivrefrais moulu, piment haché très fin, une pointe de cayenne, trois cuillerées de sauce tomate, demi litre de fond (thim et lauriers), moitié poissons et moitié veau. Cuire pendant vingt-et-cinq minutes, sortez les morceaux de homard en les dressant, et rendez le plat aussi élégant que possible. Réduisez la sauce, liez au dernier moment, avec le corail gardé à cru, et manier avec beurre de homard, civette hachée, un petit morceau de glace de viande. Goûtez avant de servir.
A live lobster, cut up; the claws cracked and fried (sauté) in clarified butter. Boil down, and add shallot, chives, a glass of white wine, crushed tomatoes, parsley, salt, pepper (freshly ground), allspice chopped very fine, a pinch of cayenne, three teaspoonfuls of tomato sauce, a little less than a pint of stock, thyme and laurel leaves, the stock to be made partly with fish and partly with veal. Cook for twenty-five minutes, take out the pieces of lobster, arrange them and make the dish look as elegant as possible. Boil down the sauce, and add at the last minute, with the uncooked coral of the lobster, mixed with lobster butter, chopped chives and a little piece of meat glaze. Taste before serving.
Deux cents grammes de riz Caroline revenu au beurre mouillé au fond blanc, assaisonnez de bon goût (bouquet garni); cuire dix-huit minutes, alors le riz doit se trouver à sec; le lier avec un velouté réduit et legèrement monté à la crème, un peu de glace de viande; ajoutez gros dés de truffe et foie gras. Vider la poularde par le haut, l'assaisonner et la farcir du rizdéjà préparé, brider soigneusement pour éviter que la poularde garde une jolie forme, la citroner, la barder et la rouler dans une petite serviette. Cuisez à grand fond blanc quarante-cinq à cinquante minutes, finissez de cuire en la laissant pocher dans le cuisson. Débarrassez de la serviette, la barde, dressez sur un plat rond orné d'une bordure en pain du Argent du Nouilly, saucez suprême et envoyez une saucière de sauce a part.
A young fowl, drawn, well-seasoned, garnished with Carolina rice; place the rice in butter, with a little water, so that it is covered to twice its height. Cook seventeen or eighteen minutes, add some glaze and cream, and let it cool. Addfoie grasand truffles cut in large dice, or in quarters, mix well with the rice, and season with salt and pepper freshly ground. It should be well seasoned. Stuff the fowls with this preparation, tying them up very securely. Cover the birds with thin strips of bacon, and flavour with lemon. Wrap them in little serviettes. Cook in good white stock for forty-five minutes, and let them finish stewing in their own liquor. Take off the cloths and the bacon, and arrange the birds on a round dish,avec couronne, pour over them a good "sauce suprême," and serve the rest of the sauce separately.
Bridé en entrée, le passer de cinq à huit minutes à four vif pour rafermir les chairs, enlever la poitrine, et bien parer la carcasse, l'assaisonner, la remplir d'un appareil à soufflé de canard à cru, garni en abondance de gros quartiers de truffes et foie gras de façon à reformer le canard en y ajoutant la poitrine enlevée; cuire vingt-cinq minutes, découpez les aiguillettes du caneton; et servez avec le propre fond, dégraissé etréduit au madère et porto; legèrement lié avec un peu de demi-glace garnissez, de tranches de citron.
Place the duckling in a quick oven for from five to eight minutes, to make the flesh firm. Take off the breast, clean the inside well, season it, fill it with a soufflé preparation garnished with truffles cut in quarters andfoie gras. In order to give the duckling its original form put back the breast. Cook for twenty-five minutes. Cut the duckling in slices, and serve with its own stock and a little Madeira and port.
Ananas frais, enlevez la tête, videz l'ananas à l'aide d'une cuillère, mettez au rafraîchissoir, d'autre part avec les chairs de l'ananas faites une glace ananas kirsch et marasquin, remplissez l'ananas, ajoutez la tête comme couvert, servez sur un rocher de glace, et garni de fleurs naturels.
Take a fresh pineapple, remove the crown. Clear out the fruit with the help of a spoon, and put it in the refrigerator; then with the flesh of the pineapple make a pineapple ice with kirsch and maraschino. Fill up the pineapple again, replace the head as a cover, serve it on a block of ice, and ornament it with natural flowers.
Dressez sur un socle en glace, videz les mandarines, faites une glace avec l'intérieur, regarnissez les mandarines et bien dressez sur le socle.
Arrange on a block of ice. Take out the insidesof the mandarin oranges, make them into an ice-cream. Put back the insides again into the oranges, and arrange upon the block of ice.
Un soufflé glacé au parmesan avec laitance d'harengs à l'intérieur garnie de petites lames de truffes, passer au four.
A soufflé glazed with Parmesan cheese, with the soft roes of herrings in the inside, garnished with little slices of truffle, baked in the oven.
Pâté à brioches levé dans des moules à Charlotte cuite, regarnir de la pâté intérieur, en réservant le couvercle, que l'on glace à la glace Royale, et décore aux fruits de clemont (ou confis); d'un autre côté vous cassonez vos timbales au sucre coloré de couleurs ardentes. Coupez des fruits frais tel que ananas, poires, bananes, abricots, muscat, cerises, mettez ces fruits dans une sauce abricots au kirsch et marasquin, chauffez bien et remplissez vos timbales, servez sans faire attendre la timbale.