Not so long ago THE LANCET made reference to the Edinburgh School of Cookery and Domestic Economy, which had been opened by the Princess Louise. It was pointed out that good cookery had more to do with health and comfort, and therefore with domestic happiness, than any other known accomplishment. In the same article, moreover, it was remarked that it would be out of all keeping with the position of Edinburgh as a medical centre, if the importance, in sickness, of good cookery and suitable food were not fully recognised. In conclusion, the same authority expressed the hope that this commendable example would be adopted by many other towns.
All this is satisfactory in showing that the preparation of food for the table is a subject which can no longer be pooh-poohed, and there are other signs and tokens which unmistakably point to the same conclusion. As a proof of this it is only necessary to point to the fact that eminent physicians have written prefaces to works on cookery, and more than this, have contributed to the literature of the same. There is a very excellent handbook by Phillis Browne, to which the late Sir J. Risdon Bennett, a former President of the Royal College of Physicians, London, contributed the prefatory note. In it he remarks, the value of wholesome and properly-cooked food has never been sufficiently understood or appreciated in the United Kingdom. "In scarcely any other country," says he, "does so much prejudice and ignorance prevail on the subject of food and its employment." And in proceeding to speak of the growing tendency to make instruction in cookery a part of ordinary education, he adds that this must be a subject for sincere rejoicing with those who desire both the moral and physical welfare of the poorer classes. This is not the only evidence of interest which the same physician took in this matter, for he has also written an admirable and lengthy article on Food and its Uses in Health.
But there is another writer to whom the English speaking people are deeply indebted for a knowledge of all that pertains to food and cookery; I refer to Sir Henry Thompson, the eminent London surgeon. His work on FOOD AND Feeding has already run through six editions, and one can only hope that he will long be enabled to benefit his race by a succession of issues. He has written other volumes on the same subject, and further, by his contributions to THE NINETEENTH CENTURY and The Lancet, he has materially raised the status of the culinary art. And there are also quite a number of works on diet, and on food, written by well-known authorities in the medical world, so that the science of dietetics must eventually attain an unassailable position.
The preceding naturally leads up to the main point, namely, the controlling influence which cookery exercises over health. Now if I were asked to name the one single cause which produces more indigestion than anything else, I should unhesitatingly answer, bad Cookery. Many people Fun away with the idea that good Cookery is necessarily elaborate Cookery, and that in consequence it is quite beyond the ordinary purse. Such is not, by any means, the case, and as a matter of fact good Cookery aims at getting the best possible results at the least possible cost. Herein lies the excellence of French Cookery, and as I have occasion to remark elsewhere, the bulk of the population in that country live infinitely better than does the average Briton.
Indigestion, then, is the great primary result of bad cookery. But, on the other hand, let us hear what Dr. Lauder Brunton has to say on the score of food when properly prepared. "Savoury food," says he, "causes the digestive juices to be freely secreted; well cooked and palatable food is therefore more digestible than unpalatable, and if the food lacks savour, a desire naturally arises to supply it by condiments, not always well selected or wholesome."
But important as good Cookery, in itself, may be in its influence upon health, there is still another essential, which must not be overlooked. And it is that of variety. The oft-quoted phrase of TOUJOURS PERDRIX bears upon this very point. It is a way of saying that even a luscious dish when constantly repeated becomes wearisome, or, in other words, that there is too much of the same thing over and over again. And if a ceaseless repetition of the same dish—however well it may be cooked—palls upon the palate, it is at least certain that it is equally burdensome to the stomach. Dr. Horace Dobell well expresses this fact when he says that it is of the highest importance to avoid unnecessarily limiting the variety of food allowed to all persons, but especially to those of poor appetites and troublesome digestions. Monotonous, uninteresting meals depress the spirits and are subversive of appetite, digestion, and nutrition.
Plutarch tells us that Themistocles laughing at his own son, who got his mother, and by his mother's means his father also, to indulge him, said to the boy that he had the most power of anyone in Greece: "For the Athenians command the rest of Greece, I command the Athenians, your mother commands me, and you command your mother." In the same way it is easy to make a defective system of education responsible for much of the existing drunkenness. First of all we have a scheme of education which fails to provide instruction in a girl's domestic duties; then we have the wife who undertakes the task for which she has never been properly trained; next, instead of well-cooked and very much varied meals, we have a conspicuous and a disastrous failure; and finally, we have the bread-winner driven to the public-house—and happiness has left that home for ever. But this is an old story, yet, unfortunately, it is a true one; and it will continue to be true until a clearer perception of what a domestic training should be is more universally recognised. I am sure that I do not exaggerate when I say that millions of our English-speaking race are living this life without the slightest glimmering of what domestic content might be theirs. Surely the word "home" for the artisan should signify something more than a place where he is badly fed. Still, it is a solemn fact that no more concrete definition of the word has ever been forthcoming. Now, such a state of affairs cannot be excused on the score of expense, for the crowning triumph of good Cookery is its very cheapness.
It has already been mentioned that the late Sir J. Risdon Bennett did not think it beneath his dignity to write a prefatory note to a Cookery Book. He has also pointed out that Cookery is a subject which deserves more attention at the hands of those who have the welfare of temperance at heart. He believed that a knowledge of wholesome Cookery would do much to make home happy; to keep the men away from dissipation and intemperance; and to make the children healthy and cheerful. The same idea is expressed by Sylvester, who remarked that Cookery should be most popular, because every individual human being is directly interested in its success. As he says, the real comfort of the majority of men is sought for in their own homes, and every effort should be made to increase domestic happiness by inducing them to remain at home. And long, long ago a quaint old book, Markham's English Housewife, published in 1637, contained the idea in a nutshell, as the following quotation will show: "To speak, then, of the knowledges which belong to our English housewife, I hold the most principal to be a perfect skill in Cookery. She that is utterly ignorant therein, may not, by the laws of strict justice, challenge the freedom of marriage—because, indeed, shee can perform but half her vow—shee may love and obey, but shee cannot cherish and keepe her husband."
Opinions such as these are based on the soundest common sense, indeed no one could honestly oppose them. But it powerfully adds to their weight to find them thoroughly endorsed by the representative medical authority of THE BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL and THE LANCET; the former has from time to time insisted upon the self-same truths, and strenuously urged their practical adoption. These contributions are somewhat too lengthy for complete reproduction, but the views expressed may be briefly referred to. It was maintained that English people have much to learn from the French methods of Cookery; that these are not merely tasteful and appetising, but that they are extremely economical; that materials which the English housewife throws away as useless, her French sister skilfully converts into toothsome and nutritious food; and that it is only an increased knowledge of Cookery which the poor need to render life more agreeable.
THE LANCET also, in an admirable article on "Culinary Civilisation," spoke of the need of women becoming acquainted with the modes of concocting palatable food, if they wished to maintain their domestic power. It was further pointed out that if the husband was to be prevented from neglecting his family, the wife must see that he had well-cooked food at home. And lastly, it was tellingly set forth that when women had fully mastered this lesson a step in civilisation would have been gained, which would show in increased health, increased prosperity, and happier domestic hearths.
But I cannot conclude this portion without a special reference to some remarks by Madame Emilie Lebour-Fawssett. They occur in her most admirable book FRENCH COOKERY FOR LADIES, and are so sensible that they should never be forgotten. "I like," says Madame, "to place before my husband, who has been hard at work all day long, a nice tempting dinner, very much varied and well cooked; and I cannot, repeat it too often, it is one of the strongest ties of home life, and I am sure many a man in the day, when he is most busy, unconsciously smiles inwardly at the prospect of the nice little dinner awaiting him at home, when his hard day's work is over. Small, dainty, well-made dishes gratify your husband's appetite, help to keep him healthy, prepare him a good digestion for his old age, and save your purse."
In another part of the book, a little farther on, she remarks:—-"One of my chief objects also is to teach the great mass of people to make better use of the numberless good things there are to be obtained, and thereby keep their husbands away from the public-house. It stands to reason that if a man who has worked all day comes home and finds nothing warm and appetising prepared for him, he will go away quicker than he came, and spend at the first hotel the money he would otherwise have gladly spent on his family if his wife had tried and knew how to make him comfortable; and, there is no denying it, the greatest comforts a man can have after a day's work, be it manual labour or brain work, are a good meal and a quiet corner in which to smoke his pipe or cigar."
Yet, valuable as it may be in all these foregoing respects, Cookery has something more to recommend it, which gives it precedence before everything else in education; and though this is saying a great deal, I shall endeavour to demonstrate that it is perfectly true. I have already shown that Cookery is of superlative benefit, both in ensuring health and in acting as a preventive against habits of intemperance. But it is as a medium for training that Cookery is at its very best; for it is in reality an art; indeed, it is a master art. At the same time, also, it is a science—the science of applied chemistry. There are no other elements of education which thus blend within themselves these two factors—the practical and the scientific.
To commence with, Cookery requires accuracy. The instructions given with any recipe are sufficient to show this. They tell you to take so much of each thing, to proceed in a certain way, and even what time to take in the cooking. It also calls for attention to detail. Carelessness in Cookery is just one of the rocks on which disaster occurs. An English duke, an ambassador at Paris, was desirous of giving the CORPS DIPLOMATIQUE the treat of a real English plum pudding. The fullest directions were given to his chef—all, indeed, with the exception of mentioning the pudding-cloth. When the eventful time arrived for its appearance, to his dismay several stately cooks appeared, each carrying a tureen of dark-looking fluid. The omission of the pudding-cloth was fatal. Cleanliness is another of the cardinal virtues of Cookery. The very thought of anything else would be repulsive. By the way, that fine old saying, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness," does not come from the Scriptures, as many suppose, but from one of John Wesley's sermons.
Cookery also exacts punctuality—for have we not Brillat-Savarin's dictum that of all the qualities necessary for a cook the most indispensable is punctuality? If any important matter connected with the process of Cookery be not attended to at the exact moment it is required, nothing can afterwards rectify it. A little delay in attending to this thing, or a little delay in attending to that thing, and whatever is being cooked is irretrievably spoiled. And, moreover, it is not to be forgotten that cookery is of signal benefit in inculcating the advantages of a wise economy. With proper Cookery nothing should be allowed to go to waste, nothing should be thrown away, unless it be absolutely useless. There should be good housewifery; everything, even the veriest scraps, may be turned to the best account. The stock pot will absorb many nutritious and wholesome odds and ends, which would otherwise be consigned to the dirt-box. The loss that actually takes place in many kitchens is without the shadow of an excuse; sometimes the best part of a cold joint is deliberately cast aside.
But there is still something else to be urged on behalf of Cookery, and of School Cookery in particular, which places it immeasurably before even the preceding. I have claimed for Cookery that it develops certain habits which are of the greatest importance in the formation of character; yet, as I have just remarked, there is something more than this, which renders it of priceless value, and of what this consists I shall do my best to explain.
Every one who has the welfare of Australia and of Australians at heart must feel no little concern at that growing indifference to domestic life which is so much the characteristic of our girls. Once a girl has left school, she seems to think that the household is no longer any place for her; she consequently ceases to take any interest whatever in the many matters which constitute the management of a home: her one aim is to get into "business," as it is called. It appears to be immaterial whether she is to be a dressmaker, or milliner, or saleswoman, or employee in a large establishment, as long as she gets away from home.
Now, all this is greatly to be deplored, and has a disastrous influence over the whole of Australian family life, because it must happen that many of these girls eventually marry, and commence their new existence under the most unfavourable conditions. In the first place, they are totally ignorant of everything connected with household management, and what is far worse, they have almost a contempt for it. What the result is, in too many cases, I have already dwelt upon,— either the husband and the family suffer from the effects of bad Cookery, and unhappiness and ill-health follow, or else the bread-winner flies to alcohol in order to forget his troubles.
It must not be imagined however, that this condition of affairs is altogether beyond remedy, and that our Australian girls are hopeless in this respect. No, on the contrary, those of whom I have just spoken are as attractive and fascinating—as Australian girls always are; but it is a thousand pities that they do not possess a greater appreciation of the importance of home life. Still, after all, may it not be that our educational system is defective in that it does not implant—all through a girl's school life—a love of Cookery, and of domestic management? It is during this impressionable age that all these truths can be so well indoctrinated. Indeed, I am thoroughly convinced that one of the greatest defects in the superlatively scientific education of to-day, as far as the girls are concerned, is the neglect which these matters receive; for it stands to reason that if they are passed by during school life, they are never learnt at all.
And, further, it should not be forgotten that a cook is always able to command high wages. That is a fact which should not be lost sight of, although perhaps it is some what mercenary. A cook need never fear but that she will always be in constant employment. Ah, yes! Max O'Rell got in a home thrust when he declared that "the average woman who finds herself alone in the world could earn her living if she could cook— but she can't."
It is somewhat curious that, among the many questions which pertain to the national life of Australia, little, if any, attention has been directed to the influences which the daily food and habitual dietary exercise upon the present, and in what way they will affect the future population. And yet it must be apparent that the life of a nation is moulded in no small degree by its daily fare, by its general food habits, and still more by the fact of its living in conformity with, or in direct opposition to, its climatic requirements. It is evident that the natural dietary of the earth's inhabitants is controlled largely by the particular region in which they dwell. Thus the Hindoos, and contiguous Eastern nations, subsist mainly upon the cereals, in which rice plays so prominent a part. The Greenlander's fare, on the contrary, consists almost entirely of oils and fats; indeed, on this point Sir Anthony Carlisle relates the following anecdote:—"The most Northern races of mankind," says he, "were found to be unacquainted with the taste of sweets, and their infants made wry faces and sputtered out sugar with disgust, but the little urchins grinned with ecstasy at the sight of a bit of whale's blubber." In the same way the Arab is a date-eater and the Kaffir is a milk consumer. These facts being borne in mind, it will be desirable to ascertain whether the usual food habits obtaining in Australia are those which the nature of the climate renders advisable. If, as a result of such an inquiry, it be demonstrated that the dietary customs followed here are not in harmony with the climatic conditions, it would, perhaps, be well to suggest in what direction amendment should take place.
A reference to the isothermal lines in any physical atlas will be of considerable value in assisting us to the elucidation of the subject under consideration. These are certain lines drawn over a chart of the earth's surface, on which are located those cities and regions where the mean annual temperature is the same. Thus the mean annual temperature of Sydney is 62.9 degrees; the corresponding line in the northern world runs through Naples and Lisbon in Europe, and a little below the central portion of the United States and California in America. At Melbourne the average yearly temperature is 57.6 degrees, corresponding in the old world to a temperature met with at Marseilles, Bordeaux, the south of France and Northern Italy, while across the Atlantic a somewhat similar climate obtains about the middle of the United States. The mean annual temperature at Brisbane is 67.74 degrees; this is the same as that of Algiers and the southern shores of the Mediterranean generally, and coincides with that met with in New Orleans and the southern states of North America. At Adelaide the average yearly temperature is 63.1 degrees, and the climate is considered to greatly resemble that of Sicily. Now, no other mode that I am aware of, such as this juxtaposition of localities where the mean annual temperature is the same, will afford such a convenient way of contrasting the mode of living which is practised in Australia with that which is followed by the inhabitants of the regions referred to in Europe. The cardinal difference, and one which stands out in bold relief, is that the Australian food habits are characterised by a preponderancy of meat diet and a corresponding neglect of vegetable products. On the other hand, the dietary of Southern Europe is in rational harmony with its climate, and there is not that insensate insistence of a highly nitrogenous animal fare to the exclusion of all else. The striking features, then, in connection with the Australian dietary are this extraordinary consumption of meat and the faith which is presumably attached to its food value. It is no exaggeration to say that the vast majority of our people believe implicitly in the necessity for meat at their three daily mealy, and not only is this the case in the cooler parts of the year, but it is practised universally during the height of the summer, without being modified in the slightest degree. Thus the student of ethnography is presented with the somewhat curious anomaly of a people living in a summer temperature of 70 degrees or 80 degrees in the shade, eating more meat than do the bulk of the inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland (with their ice and snow) during their winter months. It is one of the characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon race, however, this inability to appreciate the necessity of conforming to new climatic conditions in which their lot may be cast. It will be the same, too, when the British restaurant-keeper begins business in Equatorial Africa. For an absolute certainty his bill-of-fare for the delectation of the unfortunate colonist will consist of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, plum pudding, and the old familiar throng. Whether mine host has to consult the taste of his client, or whether the latter has simply to accept what is proffered, is not absolutely decided; probably they are both imbued with a belief in the necessity of solid fare, regarding it as a solemn truth beyond all possibility of cavil.
This abuse of flesh food in a climate like Australia would be serious enough under any circumstances, but it is intensified and aggravated by the direct unoriginality in dealing with meat. Is it not a fact that there is no attempt whatever made to break through the conventional chain of joints, roasted or boiled, and the inevitable grill or fry? In how many houses does the breakfast ever consist of anything but the ubiquitous chops, steaks, or sausages? indeed, one might almost term them "the faith, hope, and charity" of domestic life. I remember reading some little time ago that if a map of the world were made in which lands of utter darkness were coloured black like the coalfields in an atlas of physical geography, certain races would be signalised by their opaqueness. If such a map were ever compiled, Australia would of necessity be characterised by blackness; such a blackness, indeed, that jet itself would be as snowy white beside it. But why should this lamentable state of things be said of Australians, who claim to be progressive in their ideas and advanced in their views, usages, and customs?
In conjunction with this dietetic view of the matter, one of the objects I have in writing is to direct attention to the great neglect there is of vegetables, especially those of the more unknown varieties, as an agreeable, desirable, palatable, and salutary element in the Australian food life. One need not be a vegetarian to properly appreciate the valuable properties of vegetables, and most people will fare better and feel the benefit of a modification of their customary dietary if they decrease the amount of meat they indulge in and proportionately increase their vegetable allowance. Now, there are many vegetables besides those ordinarily in use which might be easily cultivated, and serve to form a pleasing variety at table. Once the demand arises for kinds other than those usually grown, the inducement for market-gardeners to supply them would be no longer wanting. A reference to the catalogues furnished by the seedsmen and plant-merchants of the different Australian metropolitan cities will show that special attention is called to many of these vegetables, and yet I am informed that, although they are continually inserted in the new issues as they appear from time to time, no notice seems to be taken of them whatever. I propose, therefore, briefly to describe some of these comparatively unknown vegetables, and to point out their merits and their claims for recognition.
The globe artichoke might be more frequently grown, as it is really a good vegetable and easily cooked. It constitutes the flower head of the CYNARA SCOLYMUS (one of the thistle family), and is gathered before the flowers expand. The ends of the flower scales attached to the disc, and the central disc itself, are the parts that are eaten, and they constitute a delicately flavoured vegetable. It is extensively cultivated in California, and is there to be met with in nearly all hotels and restaurants. Another thing in its favour is that it is peculiarly one of the vegetables which diabetics may indulge in without fear. It does well in the cooler parts of Australia, and should certainly be more generally grown.
The Jerusalem artichoke is not to be confused with the preceding, as it belongs to a different vegetable genus altogether. It is a species of sunflower, as its name denotes, the prefix Jerusalem being in reality a corruption of the Italian word GIRASOLE, a sunflower. It resembles the potato in that it is a tuberous-rooted vegetable, and grows readily enough—in fact, perhaps it grows too readily, for once it takes possession of the soil it is difficult to eradicate it. The Jerusalem artichoke, however, is comparatively common here, and when cooked properly it is a most delightful vegetable, although it may not be sufficiently appreciated at first. It often happens that these artichokes are of a bad colour, and too crisp when brought to table. This is easily prevented, however, by washing and paring them like potatoes and then placing them in a bowl of clear water, to which a few drops of fresh lemon juice have been added. When boiled with sufficient water to just cover them, and a liberal allowance of salt, for 20 min. to 40 min., they come out a snowy white and quite tender. They are especially delicious when served up with melted butter and egg sauce.
Asparagus.—Although this delicate and luscious vegetable is of the easiest culture, and grows readily along the coast, yet to our shame be it said that it is usually too much of a luxury for ordinary mortal, to afford. Now, it is for the most part such a general favourite that one may well ask why it is not more cultivated. The demand for it in America is so great, and it yields such a good return, that some growers, make 100 percent; and upwards yearly profit for each acre. Is it not a severe reflection upon our market gardeners, to find that the imported preserved varieties of asparagus are so esculent that the very stalks, are as, luscious as the heads of the vegetable? In its fresh state it should be eaten as soon after cutting as possible, and, like the globe artichoke, is readily allowable to diabetics. It is somewhat curious, too, that the asparagus, and the globe artichoke are the only vegetables which the British race eat as, a single dish.
Brussels sprouts are the most delicate of all the borecoles, and it is a thousand pities that this delightful vegetable is not more often to be met with. These miniature, cabbages, however, require some little care in their rearing, and hence amateurs often fail to reach perfection in their cultivation. They may be boiled like cabbage, in abundance of water and a little salt for 15 minutes, then drained, dried, and finally tossed in butter with a little pepper and nutmeg. They do well enough, as does the borecole or kale itself, in all the cooler parts of Australia.
The cardoon, like the globe artichoke, belongs to the thistle family, yet it is, more hardy and robust than the latter. It is readily grown, particularly in the cooler districts, and, like many other of the more unknown vegetables, is too much neglected. Its leaf-stalks should be at least an inch and a half thick before they are ready for cutting. They are then blanched, and when cooked recall somewhat the flavour of the globe artichoke. These tender leaf-stalks are used in soups and salads, and it may be boiled also in a similar manner to sea-kale, in which latter form it is especially palatable.
The celeriac or turnip-rooted celery is a very choice vegetable, and is much cultivated on the Continent. Its nutty root is not at all unlike the solid root portion of common celery in taste, which by many is considered superior in flavour to the other parts of the latter plant. The celeriac is greatly esteemed, and is known as the CELERI-RAVE BY the French, and as the knoll-selerie by the Germans. The latter, indeed, are so fond of it that they call barely talk of it without moist eyes and watery mouths. It is hardier than celery, and possesses an advantage in that it can be taken up and stored similarly to carrots and beets. The celerific may be boiled as a table vegetable or used for flavouring soups, or it may be sliced for salads. It does well in all the cooler parts, and might be cultivated with benefit, mingled with gratitude.
The egg plant, or aubergine, does so exceedingly well, and can be so highly recommended, that one may well wonder why it is never seen. It is a native of Africa and tropical America, and is very popular both in the East and West Indies. It is cultivated also a great deal in the United States, where it is greatly appreciated for culinary use. In AUBERGINES FARCIES, a favourite dish, they are cut in hakes, the centres chopped and put back into the skins with oil, &c. They are then sprinkled with breadcrumbs, and browned. It is easily grown, and it seems unaccountable why it should be passed over.
The kohl rabi, or turnip-rooted cabbage, is another nutritious vegetable which has inexplicably never been received into public favour. Its delicate flavour should ensure for it a well-established position with those who are fond of good vegetables, as it is more tender and more savoury than either turnip or cabbage, and is not at all unlike cauliflower in taste. For table purposes it should be only about two-thirds grown, for if allowed to go to full size the outside skin becomes tough and hard. It is another of those vegetables which are so highly prized on the Continent, and it is already an acknowledged favourite in America. It does well in all the cooler localities, and gives a larger yield than turnips.
The salsify, or "vegetable oyster," is a typical example of a most unaccountably slighted vegetable with us, and yet it is highly appreciated on the continent and in the United States. The root is long and tapering, becoming fleshy and tender by cultivation, and with a whitish, milky-like juice. It has a rich flavour, not at all unlike that of cooked oysters, whence it derives its value. In preparing salsify for table the darkish outside skin requires to be lightly scraped off, and then it should be steeped for a while in cold water so as to remove any slight bitterness it may possess. Like parsnips, when cooked it requires to be boiled slowly, in the smallest possible quantity of water, until it is almost ready to melt. If boiled fast, in abundance of water, the savour of both parsnips and salsify is to a great extent dispersed and lost beyond recall. One of the most approved methods of cooking salsify roots is to slowly boil them to tenderness in the smallest possible quantity of milk, and then to mash and fry them in butter, with salt and pepper. Cold boiled salsify, with the addition of some chopped herbs, tarragon vinegar, and salad oil, makes an exceedingly good salad. The salsify does well in all the cooler regions, and, moreover, it is easily grown.
Scorzonera.—This Spanish plant is very similar to salsify, and requires the same kind of treatment; but, being a stronger grower, requires more room in its culture. It may be served in soups or treated like salsify. The outside leaves should be removed before the vegetable is cooked. The blanched leaves also are highly esteemed on the Continent, and are used for salad purposes. It grows well in all the cooler parts of Australia, and might certainly be introduced for the public benefit.
Sea kale is one of those vegetables which are brought to perfection in England, so much so that Careme, that mighty CHEF, when he came across them in London went into ecstasies. He described them as resembling branches of celery, which should be served like asparagus, with butter sauce, after 20 minutes' boiling. In some respects this is verily the most delicious of all vegetables, and as it grows well here it should be largely cultivated, yet it is almost unknown. It is fit to rank with, if not precede, asparagus, and as a matter of fact it is far more profitable than the latter, so that market gardeners would have something to gain by its introduction. Like the cabbage, it was originally a maritime plant, and has been brought to its present state of perfection by cultivation. It requires to be thoroughly blanched by exclusion from light, similarly to celery, for when coloured at all it possesses an acrid taste. Of the many ways of sending it to table, one of the best is to boil it and serve it on toast with a little melted butter. It should be largely cultivated, as it does well all along the coastal parts, being, as already mentioned, a maritime plant.
Sweet corn is deservedly a great favourite with those who know of its succulent flavour and nourishing properties. Unfortunately, however, it is with us only in the imported tins from America, and therefore we can only conjecture how delicious it must be when fresh. It is so commonly met with in the fresh form in America that it is found at nearly every dinner table. Large areas where land is not expensive are devoted to its growth, and hundreds of acres are required annually for the New York markets alone. It does splendidly in all parts of Australia, and for growing children it constitutes one of the most nutritious vegetables that can be well imagined. On this latter account alone, therefore, it is really a matter for national regret that it is so improperly passed over. One thing requires to be borne in mind, and it is that the cobs of ordinary Indian corn which are seen in so many country districts must not be confused with this sweet corn, as the latter is entirely different.
These nutritious, although somewhat unknown vegetables, therefore, evidently deserve to be brought into prominent notice, and once public interest is aroused, their cultivation and ready sale will speedily follow. At the same time it must not be forgotten that the tomato itself had a desperate struggle for reception into public favour when first introduced to us. It actually trembled in the balance for no inconsiderable time, and it was some years before its good qualities were universally recognised. To-day, however, it occupies a very different position, and takes rank as a luscious vegetable, appreciated by thousands of people; and besides, it is of undoubted value in many disorders of the liver. But now that the Agricultural Colleges are in full swing in the different colonies, notably in New South Wales, Victoria, and South Australia, it is certain that the greatest possible good to the whole community will result. Their effect, too, in indirectly populating the agricultural areas of Australia will materially aid the great work of decentralisation.
But apart altogether from this matter of the introduction of vegetables which have hitherto been overlooked is another which is hardly less important. I refer to the crude cookery which is bestowed on the ordinary vegetables at present in daily use. That there is sny monotony in an endless recurrence of boiled potatoes, boiled cabbage, boiled this and boiled that, never seems to occur to the vast majority of people in this country, who seem incapable of understanding that these different vegetables are worthy of being served in an infinite number of ways. It will doubtless shock those who cling to this beliefs but the following remarks by Dr. Mitchell, an English physician practising in Paris, directed against his own countrymen be it understood, are forcible enough:—"The plain boiled potato," says he, "whatever else it may be, is clearly a cattle food; so for the matter of that are cabbages, carrots, turnips, beans, peas, and almost every other vegetable when plain boiled. None of them in that condition would be "refused by a cow in fair appetite." Now, there are so many appetising ways of preparing vegetables for table, and at no additional expense, that it is lamentable to find people offering no protest against this feeble exhibition of culinary skill. Why, if there be nothing in the preparation of vegetables for the table beyond plain boiling, it must be acknowledged that Cookery has made mighty little progress since the time it first came into existence.
Having seen, then, what faults exist and what improvements might be made, it may well be asked how these latter are to be brought about, or, rather, how can Australians be induced to life in accordance with climatic requirements? The answer Is by no means easy. It may be said, in truth, that till the great mass of the people recognise their food faults, reform will not be of a national character. As I have already said, the acceptation of that valuable and nutritious vegetable fruit, the tomato, took years to accomplish. In the same way, I fear, a universal recognition that excessive meat indulgence is a climatic error will take many decades before it is an article of national belief. In the schools, Cookery must form an all-important part of a girl's education—not a superficial knowledge of the science, but practical instruction, thorough, complete, real. The dietetic properties of meat, vegetables, of salad vegetables, and of fruit, from an Australian standpoint, should be so thoroughly inculcated that a proper conception of their respective food values should remain for a lifetime. The prizes for proficiency and excellence in culinary matters, too, should be such as to render them worth the winning, and serve as a stimulus for future exertions.
Is it not strange that so far ingenuity, universal approval, or general consensus of opinions call it what you will, has not up till the present given us an Australian national dish? Although tea and damper instinctively arise in the mind when the matter is referred to, yet I take it that we would all repel such an accusation if levelled against us. Does the Australian, moreover, away from his native land perpetuate his patriotism by oft partaking of this pastoral fare? Certainly not. Well, when this national dish is composed and formally approved of by the nation, let us devoutly trust that it will be a MACEDOINE of vegetables, or a vegetable curry, or some well-concocted salad. It is true that in one of the cookery books I have seen a dish of peaches, dubbed PECHES A L'AUSTRALIENNE. It is a sort of compote of peaches, but to the best of my belief it is simply entitled Australian for the sake of giving it a name, and for no other reason.
Anyone looking backwards upon the history of Australia cannot fail to be impressed by one peculiar feature, which is the more distinctive, too, because it is in striking contrast with all else. It is the more noteworthy also, because it affects each individual inhabitant of this island continent, and has a direct bearing on the daily life of every person is the community. Thus, on the one hand, while we are nearing a maximum of progress—or, at any rate, attaining to a high level of success—in political matters, in commercial affairs, and in athletic prowess, yet, on the other, there is unfortunately an apathetic indifference in all that concerns our public and family food habits, which after all constitute the national characteristics of any people. It is true that we have gained the dignity of responsible government, that our wool and frozen meat are entering the markets of the world, and that in the athletic arena our fame is spread both far and wide. Yet it must be confessed that our national food-life has not conformed to climatic requirements in the slightest degree since the memorable day on which Captain Cook set foot on these shores. As those on the Endeavour lived then, so live are now. On the continent of Europe it will be found that the manners and customs, even of contiguous countries, are as widely different as it is possible to imagine. Surely then, it is, to say the least of it, curious to see the inhabitants of a semi-tropical country like Australia living in wilful contradiction to their climatic necessities, and eating the same kind of food as did their fathers in the old land, with its dampness its coldness, its ice, and its snow.
Yet, notwithstanding the fact that reflections of this kind are interesting in the highest degree, I propose to do no more than consider the matter exclusively from the standpoint of the subject heading of this chapter. Here, again, we are directly confronted with an inexplicable anomaly—I refer to the want of enterprise shown in developing the deep-sea fisheries of Australia. Now, if the dwellers of this land had sprung from an entirely inland race, this would not, perhaps, have been so difficult to understand; but arising, as we do, from a stock the most maritime that the world has ever seen, such a defect redounds not to our credit as inheritors of the old traditions. At our present rate of fisheries development it will take centuries before we will be able to produce anything to even approach the International Fisheries exhibition of the old country in 1883. At that memorable exposition His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, in the course of his conference paper, gave expression to the following stirring words:—"From the earliest ages the inhabitants of the coast of the British Islands have made the sea contribute to their food. This pursuit has produced a race of men strong, inured to hardship and exposure, patient and persevering in their calling, brave, prompt, and fall of resource in the face of danger; intelligent and amenable to discipline, from the daily habit of subordinating their own wills to that of anyone whom they know is placed in authority over them for the, purpose of directing their labours and working with them for the common benefit; accustomed to co-operate with others for the attainment of a certain end. These qualities are not only exercised from early youth, but are inherited and intensified from generation to generation. The foundations of the great position which this kingdom has attained amongst the nations of the world must, in some measure, be attributed to our fishermen, for they were our first sea-men; and, from small beginnings, our seamen increased in number and in skill, until the whole nation was leavened with that love of maritime adventure which has resulted in peopling the uttermost parts of the earth with our race, and in establishing that empire upon which the sun never ceases to shine. In earlier times our first maritime commerce must have been conducted by our fishermen, who also manned our fighting navies. The fisheries of the West of England were the nurseries of the sailors who enabled Drake to circumnavigate the world, and, as he said, to 'singe the King of Spain's beard' on more than one memorable occasion."
That fish should be, comparatively speaking, so scarce in Australia can only be regarded in the light of a national calamity. And not only is the supply deficient, but what little there may be is so outrageously expensive that it is hopelessly beyond the reach of an ordinary purse. It is so excessive in cost that it must almost be bracketed with poultry as a luxury only to be indulged in after lengthened periods. I have been told, when making inquiries on this point, that the reason why fish is so dear is that this is not a fish-eating community, and that consequently there is no demand for it. But, on the other hand, I find that almost everyone I ask is really fond of fish, and that they do not eat it simply because they cannot obtain it at a reasonable price, and this undoubtedly is the true explanation.
But this same scarcity of fish has exercised other people besides myself, for Mr. Alexander Oliver and many others have repeatedly drawn attention to the same deficiency. It has been the primary origin of a Board of Fisheries, it had brought forth Parliamentary Select Committees, and it has produced endless opinions and suggestions on the part of the public. Now, I am quite willing to admit that there should be proper supervision over the working of the Fisheries Acts, and that existing grievances should be rectified; but, with all due deference, it seems to me that the finger has not been placed on the exact reason why failure occurs in our fish supply. For I say this, that you may do what you will to protect and supervise the shore and inland fisheries, and you may even increase the yield from these sources to an encouraging extent, but that till the deep-sea work is thoroughly taken up and properly developed there will be no cheap fish for Australia. It has been stated that if the deep-sea fisheries of the United Kingdom fell through from any reason, half-a-million of its inhabitants would be brought face to face with starvation. And even these enormous figures include only the fisher-folk themselves, and do not take into account the vast army of buyers, curers, dealers, &c., who are dependent for their very existence upon the fishing industry. Take away the deep-sea fisheries from the old country, and its whole fish supply would practically be at an end. In the same way by the development of our Australian deep-sea fisheries—and by the development of the deep-sea fisheries only—will it be possible, in my humble opinion, to increase the supply and cheapen the price of fish so that it will form part of the dietary in every dwelling.
There was an important select committee appointed by the Victorian Government, a short time ago, to inquire into the unsatisfactory condition of the fishing industry there. It examined a great number of witnesses, and its investigations extended over a large area. Amongst other things, with a view of encouraging trawling operations, it was suggested—
"That a careful survey be made of the sea-bottom in the neighbourhood of our coasts and in Bass' Straits, and the part suitable for trawling properly charted. That a few sets of trawling apparatus of the most modern kind be procured by the Government, and Applications invited from the fishermen at the various ports for permission to use these trawls, free of charge, under certain conditions for a limited period. That the Government fit out a steamer for the purpose of collecting and conveying to Melbourne the fish obtained by the trawlers, the steamer to be provided with cooling chambers, &c."
A number of different matters were also considered, and, in addition, it was thought that, in order to afford the general public greater facilities for obtaining fish, the sale should not be confined to the metropolitan market. It was, therefore, recommended that stalls in the various markets for the sale of fish by auction and otherwise should be opened in the leading suburbs of Melbourne; and that the corporation officer in the metropolitan market, to whom the fish was consigned, should regularly distribute to each of these suburban markets such a quantity of fish as experience would show the particular locality demanded. To a certain extent all this is very satisfactory, but unfortunately select committees have arrived at very similar conclusions over and over again. All their recommendations have never yet been attended by any practical result, and an adequate fish supply for Australia appears to be as far off as ever.
About the last place one would expect to come across a really fine piece of delicate humour is amongst official correspondence, and yet in a formal letter from Dr. E.P. Ramsay, the Curator of the Australian Museum, to Sir Saul Samuel the following passage occurs. Speaking of the New South Wales exhibits at the International Fisheries Exhibition of London, 1883, the doctor proceeds to remark:—"People here, imagining that we must have already developed extensive fisheries, from the large collection of food fishes which we exhibit, were not less surprised at our very limited materials and methods of capture than at the immense undeveloped wealth of our fisheries and fish fauna." Now, I venture to say that a more unconsciously subtle insinuation at the crude methods of fish capture at present employed in our Australian fisheries was never penned. But what makes it so keenly effective is that it really hits the right nail on the head. In giving evidence, also, before Mr. Frank Farnell's select committee of 1889, Dr. Ramsay, upon being asked whether he thought our fishermen were abreast of the times with regard to appliances, replied:—"They are about 200 years behind the times."
To my mind another most convincing proof of the crude methods of fish capture employed in Australian waters is to be found in the following. In one of the Fisheries Reports it is gravely recorded that "some very valuable gear IN GENERAL USE amongst English, Norwegian, and American fishermen, had been destroyed in the Garden Palace fire, but that the commissioners had been able to replace the otter-trawl and the beam-trawl." The very fact that these appliances, in active use at the present time by those in the foremost front of fishery enterprise, are regarded in the light of curiosities in Australia, proves only too forcibly the correctness-of this opinion as to our primitive fishery appliances.
It must not be imagined that trawling has never been advocated (indeed, it has even been experimentally practised), for we have only to look through the various Fisheries Reports to find it repeatedly referred to; unfortunately, however, these appeals so far have been without any practical results. It will, therefore, be most instructive to refer briefly to the manner in which trawling and other modes of deep-sea fishing are carried out elsewhere; and more particularly to bring under notice the enormous fish yield effected by them. Trawling, or as it is more properly termed, beam-trawling, may be described as a method of deep-sea fishing, in which a large bag net is towed along the ground so as to scoop, as it were, the fish into its receptacle. There are at least several important stations in England for trawling; some in the English Channel; some on the west, and also on the Welsh coast; and others again (amongst which is Grimsby, the largest fishing port in the world) on the east coast on the North Sea. The trawling grounds of the latter are widely known, and comprise the famous Dogger Bank, which covers many hundreds of acres in area. In its neighbourhood, also, there are numerous grounds such as the Inner and Outer Well Banks, and there are others again nearer the English coast. In addition to these there is the Great Silver Pit, discovered in a severe winter in 1843; and it has been noticed that during the winter months the fish frequent the deeper water, because the temperature is more equable than in shallow places. The depth at which trawling is usually carried on varies from 20 to 30 fathoms; never under any circumstances reaching 50 fathoms—the depth of the Silver Pit being from 35 to 45 fathoms.
It was formerly urged against trawling that it was very destructive to the spawn, at that time supposed to be lying on the sea bottom. But the investigations of the late Professor Sars, for the Swedish Government, into the spawning habits of sea fish, have conclusively revealed the fact that the ova of fish float on the surface of the water during the whole period of their development. Not only have the floating ova of the cod and haddock been reared, but the common plaice, the representative of the flatfish family, including the brill, the sole, and the turbot, is also known to spawn near the surface. The eggs of the mackerel and the garfish have likewise been found floating, and successfully hatched. Now, no fish comes so close to the land as does the mackerel, yet it is certain that it never makes its way into the estuaries and inlets till after spawning is finished—for that it spawns in the open sea is almost without a doubt. These facts consequently do away altogether with the old statements concerning the destructive results of trawling.
The yield from the English trawleries alone is computed to be over 200,000 tons annually, and as the price for trawled fish at the Billingsgate market averages 12 pounds per ton, this represents about two and a half million pounds. And, in addition to these weighty figures, Professor Huxley's words deserve to be well remembered, for, says he, "Were trawl fishing stopped, it would no longer be a case of high prices, but that ninety-nine out of a hundred would hardly be able to afford any at all—herrings and a few other fish caught in the old way excepted." Indeed, it is chiefly by this method of beam trawling that London and the interior are supplied with brill, turbot, and soles; while by it thousands of tons of plaice, haddock, and other fish are brought within the reach even of the poorest.
Important though the beam-trawl may be, there is another mode of deep-sea fishing which deserves to be well known by us in Australia, and which undoubtedly must come into general use before we can make any pretensions with regard to our fisheries. I refer to that by means of drift-nets. As the trawl is absolutely necessary, on the one hand, for capturing fish which frequent the bottom, so, on the other, the drift-net is essential for those whose resort is the upper portion of the sea. It is by this method alone that fish like the herring, the mackerel, and the pilchard—which may be termed surface fish—are caught in great quantities for food supply.
Now, in Australia, we have vast shoals of migratory fish visiting the coast at different periods of the year. During the winter season enormous numbers of herrings come to these shores, and are permitted to depart without any effort being made to capture them. Attention has been repeatedly called to this strange neglect in our fisheries, for this herring is plentiful and is considered to surpass the famous Scottish herring itself in flavour. The mackerel, too, is to be met with annually, generally about midwinter, in immense shoals, passing near the coast upwards in a northerly direction. The sea mullet also makes its appearance towards the end of the summer months, usually from April to June, at the very time when it is in splendid condition and full of roe. It is always observed to be proceeding towards the north in successive shoals and in great numbers. Many consider its richness and delicacy of flavour to be unequalled. The driftnet system of fishing would be well adapted for it—if the meshes were larger than those for the herring—as when fully grown it is nearly two feet in length. And lastly, it will only be necessary to speak of the "maray," which is practically the English pilchard. As with the fish just mentioned, it is met with about midwinter, passing up north in countless numbers, sometimes covering miles of sea.
As the name implies, drift-nets are not worked from the shore, but they are "shot," as the saying is, in the open sea, and allowed to drift in whatever direction the tide may take them. Each drift-net will measure about 180 feet in length by about 30 feet in depth. They are secured to one another at the ends to form a long single line, perhaps two miles in length. By means of floats the nets hang perpendicularly in the water, thus forming a long wall against which the fish "strike," and get enmeshed by being caught in the gill opening. The nets are kept on the stretch by being "shot" in the face of the wind, and the vessel from which they are paid out, being to leeward of them, drifts more rapidly than they do, and consequently keeps them well extended.
My object, however, is not so much to enter into the details of these different methods of deep-sea fishing as to indicate their value and necessity, if we are to have any fisheries worth speaking of. I shall, therefore, do no more than briefly mention a few other modes of fish capture. Thus, at the mouth of the Thames, thousands of tons of sprats are caught every winter by means of the large bag net, known as the stow net. In shape it is like an enormous funnel, 30 feet high, 20 feet wide, and nearly 180 feet in length. By means of this contrivance the yield of sprats is so great that there is often some little difficulty in disposing of the catch. The renowned whitebait, too, which are believed to be young herrings, are caught by means of a similar, though much smaller, net.
Besides these and various other forms of net fishing, there are the methods in which the long line is employed. For the capture of the cod, both in Newfoundland and in the North Sea, what is called the bultow is used. This is a long line many hundreds of-feet in length, and at every twelfth foot shorter and smaller cords called "snoods" are fastened. These "snoods" are about 6 feet long, and have the hooks attached to their free ends. The bultow is "shot" across the tide to prevent entanglement of the hooks, and is laid in the afternoon. At daybreak, when the lines are hauled in, as many as 400 of the large cod sometimes result from the catch. There are various other appliances used for fish capture in different parts of the world, such as the purse-seine net, the trammel net, the otter-trawl net, &c.; and, as I have already pointed out, the most scathing satire on our fisheries is to find all these necessary means for catching fish regarded as curiosities. When they are no longer considered so, it will be a fortunate time for Australia.
What would the proper development of our deep-sea fisheries mean? In the first place, it would lead to a more widely diffused use of fish as an article of diet, within the easy reach of all classes, being thus of incalculable value from a health point of view. Next, it would ensure employment to many hundreds, and eventually to many thousands, both directly and indirectly, and as a natural consequence this would bring about the creation of a sturdy and desirable maritime element in our population. And lastly, it would yield a more than satisfactory return on the outlay invested.
At the present time only the veriest few of our metropolitan population are able to afford the luxury of fish, and people in the country towns hardly see it at all. So, too, we are casting about for this plan and for that plan to lessen a growing difficulty in the Australian metropolitan centres. There are village settlements (which certainly deserve to be successful), and other proposals made to relieve a surplus population, but yet no one has suggested the sea as a means of remedying this congestion. And not only would the fisheries confer upon its followers a healthy calling, but they would raise a vigorous stock of which Australia might well be proud. In addition to all this, a proper development of our deep-sea fisheries would assuredly open up a new avenue for investment. Is it not amazing that men will risk all they have in mines which are not even real, and which exist, only on paper? And besides this, in the most genuine mine that was ever worked there is at least a costly outlay for production, for crushing, or for smelting, before the metal sees the light of day; but in the sea the catch is ready for the market, and only requires the bringing to land.
This matter, therefore, must be taken up earnestly, and there must be a determination to succeed. In the first place, and before all else in the deep-sea fisheries, I maintain that a proper and systematic search for trawling grounds is absolutely essential. Till this is done he cannot for a moment pretend that we have endeavoured to foster them in any way. All the elaboration of your proposed Fisheries Acts, and all the details connected with the working of what may be called shore fishing, sink into nothingness when compared with the results which would follow the working of our deep-sea fisheries. I have already used the argument before, and do so again, and it is this: that if you were to take away from the old country her deep-sea fisheries, she would be practically without any fish supply.
Apparently it is imagined, too, that unless trawling grounds be discovered in the vicinity of Sydney or Melbourne, all efforts will be useless. But it will only be necessary to refer to the deep-sea fisheries elsewhere to at once set this objection aside. Some of the great trawling grounds in the North Sea are at such a distance from port that it would be quite impossible for any vessel to bring its own catch to market for disposal, for the fish would be utterly spoiled before it could be done. But the larger trawling boats go on cruises extending over weeks, and are constantly visited on the grounds by what are called "carriers," i.e. steamers, who run their freights directly into market. The same thing is practised by the Dutch vessels, who fish in the neighbourhood of the Shetland Islands for weeks together. In the same way carrier vessels attend upon their fishing fleets, and carry off the take immediately to Holland. Being in possession of these facts, therefore, we must not be induced to believe that deep-sea fishing is not possible, simply because suitable grounds for trawling, &c., may not be actually within coo-ee of the Australian metropolitan centres.
There are one or two matters in connection with this subject which deserve having attention called to them. In the first place the method adopted in our Woolloomooloo Fish Market of placing the fish in little heaps on the floor itself, when put out for sale, is not satisfactory. In the Redfern Fish Market they are placed in small divisions or receptacles—each lot by itself—and raised above the floor, where they are protected from injury. In the new Melbourne Fish Markets, there are elevated platforms for the fish, and they are thus quite above the cemented floor. Not only are they prevented from being damaged, but it seems to me that the buyers have a better chance of seeing the fish when it is raised a little distance above their feet.
The size of the fish lots for sale in the Sydney and Melbourne Fish Markets varies, and this opens up a somewhat debatable point. with us the lots are comparatively small, both at the Woolloomooloo and at the Redfern Market; while at Melbourne, on the other hand, the lots are much larger. When the lots are small it gives private buyers a chance of purchasing (but how many private buyers are there before breakfast?), and is said in this way to raise the price for the dealers. But with the larger lots the latter are said to be able to buy to more advantage, and thus supply the public with cheaper fish. To say which is the better of the two plans is very much like being asked to solve the query in the story of "The Lady or the Tiger."
But before leaving this matter I should like to refer briefly to the new markets in Flinders Street, Melbourne. They are called the City of Melbourne Meat, Fish, and Farm Produce Markets, and are most extensive in area. The viaduct which connects the two railway systems of Victoria pierces the very centre of these new markets. They are replete with every modern appliance for the storage and disposal of the food supply of a large city. There are numerous chambers for the frozen meat, and by means of what is called a "lock," a whole train can be received into a long covered gallery. The two gates are then closed at either end, and the meat is thus received directly into the freezing chambers, without the slightest loss of any cold air. The fish and game are treated exactly in the same way, except that the receiving and delivery "locks" are not quite so large as in the former case. Still, there is just the same facility for their reception into the freezing chambers set apart for the purpose. The whole arrangements of these new fish markets are very perfect, and leave nothing to be desired.
This is one of the topics which is continually cropping up in connection with the fishing industry in Australia. It is noteworthy, too, that the middleman in some shape or form appears to be part of the system of fish selling in every part of the world. At Billingsgate, where they are termed "bummarees," it is stated that they fulfil a useful office in that they act as distributors to the small costermongers, who could hardly get along without them. The "bummarees" watch the market and speculate accordingly, and it must be urged for them that they run great risks from the unexpected arrival of a large amount of fish with a consequent glut in the market. But the "bummarees" pure and simple are comparatively few. Their ranks, however, are swelled in the following way: A salesman, having disposed of his own fish, will "bummaree" for the sake of the possible profit, or a fishmonger, having purchased a double supply for a cheaper price, will "bummaree" half his purchase. In France the procedure is different. First of all there is an agent termed an ECOREUR, deputed by various persons and armed with purchasing power, who is ready to buy the fisherman's catch at once. This simplifies matters wonderfully for the fisherman, who gets ready money and has no further bother. Next, from the ECOREUR the fish is bought by the MOREYEUR, or trader, who despatches it to Paris and the other large cities. Thus, so far, the fish, after leaving the fisherman, has passed through two hands, those of the ecoreur, and those of the MOREYEUR. After this it has to face a most unjust tax—the OCTROI—by which all provisions are specially taxed before entering the "barriers" of any French city or town. Hence the initiated, when travelling in France, often reside on the outskirts of a town, just outside the barrier, where the cost of living is reduced by one-third. On arriving at the markets the fish is publicly disposed of by the FACTEURS A LA CRIEE, or auctioneers, who of course are paid for their trouble. Lastly, it is bought for sale to the public by the POISSARDE, or fishwife. And thus we see from the time of leaving the water till finally it reaches the unfortunate public the fish has passed through no less than six levies, that by the fisherman, the agent, the trader, the OCTROI (I.E. the city toll or town due), the auctioneer, and, finally, that by the fishwife or costermonger.
Having thus explained the system pursued in England and in France respectively, it will be interesting to refer briefly to the different methods with regard to the disposal of fish practised in the Woolloomooloo, the Redfern, and the Melbourne Fish Markets. At the former, the sales are conducted by Mr. Richard Seymour, the inspector and auctioneer of the fish market—with other auctioneers—who act directly from the Sydney Municipal Council; the Redfern markets are conducted by the Messrs. Hudson; while in Melbourne there are licensed auctioneers, who pay for the privilege.
But to return to our middleman, upon whom the whole controversy centres. Indeed, the discussion over him in Melbourne, not so long ago, might be said to have reached to a white-heat phase. But the. premises on which the arguments were based were so hopelessly conflicting that it was impossible to logically settle the point. It was claimed, on the one hand, that the price the fishermen received was cruelly small in comparison with that which the public had to pay. On the other, the contention was that the price paid to the fishermen was fairly satisfactory, and that the public obtained comparatively cheap fish. We have seen, however, what takes place in other parts of the world, and, indeed, every one must admit that there is a remarkable difference between the price which the fisherman gets and that which the public have to pay. Between these two extremes there is an inordinate disparity, and the difficulty is to connect the two together—to bring to light the leakage—and to find out who is living both on the fisherman and the public at one and the same time. On this point a recent Fisheries Report of Victoria says:—"The solution of the very important question of providing a larger and cheaper fish supply for the masses rests mainly in the hands of the public. The present high prices are maintained in virtue of a monopoly which can be only successfully combated by the initiation of a healthy trade competition or a more open fish market. The fishermen, under existing auspices, reap but a small share of the retail produce of their takings, such being further reduced by the high rates for transport they are called upon to pay. In this last-named direction some relief might be afforded by the institution, if necessary by Act of Parliament, of a uniform tariff for the carriage of fish by road and rail throughout the colony."
This brings me to one of the most difficult matters that has to be dealt with in considering the fish supply of any great city. For you may have the most extensive deep-sea fisheries, you may have the most rapid transit of the fish to town, and you may have the most commodious fish markets; but if you have no proper means of distributing the fish to the public the whole scheme falls to the ground. At present the system both in Sydney and in Melbourne is to have the one principal fish market (there are now two in Sydney, by the way), from which all supplies for the public are derived. Of course it is perfectly competent for the latter to obtain their purchases in the early morning at the time when the sales are conducted; but, on the other hand, the hour is exceedingly inconvenient, and, as a general rule, the lots are too large for the private buyer. Hence the distribution of fish depends almost wholly upon the costermonger or basket-man, who takes his fish round to the public. The basket-man, or costermonger, or dealer—call him what you will—is an indispensable personage, and what is more, he fills a most useful office. It is true that he is given to making strange outcries, and that he is at times boisterous in speech. Yet, notwithstanding these things, he is a valuable member of society, and personally I have a very great respect for him. Indeed, I am certain that he is the food-bearer to many homes, and people would otherwise be put to very great straits in obtaining their supplies. Our friend, however, has usually a long round to travel before he can make a good living, and perhaps he is unable to cope with the requirements of his large district.
It is on account of these difficulties, therefore, that I recognise the value of the French method of distribution, for besides the Halles Centrales, or principal markets, in Paris, there are in all nearly sixty local provision markets where it is possible to obtain, under cover—in all weathers and at any time—whatever is required. It is most desirable that something of this kind should be adopted in Australia. At least it is quite certain that every suburb should possess its own local market. This need not attempt to rival the central depot, but take rank as a local necessity.
This is naturally in intimate connection with the preceding, and it is very advisable to refer to it in order to direct attention to one or two matters. In the first place, I shall commence by saying that both Sydney and Melbourne are lamentably deficient in fishmongers' shops similar to those which are so common in London. As a matter of fact, the show of fish exposed for sale is in striking contrast to that of meat. For in Sydney and suburbs alone the butchers' establishments run to the number of nearly 600, while in the Melbourne metropolis they even exceed this. One has only to look through the directories of either Sydney or Melbourne, under the heading of "Fishmongers," to see how few their numbers are. In our own city, Chinnery, of Hunter Street, and Matterson, of Pitt Street, make a highly creditable show, and in the southern capital, Jenkins, of Swanston Street, is well known for his excellent display. Otherwise the exhibition of fish for sale in either city is disappointing in the extreme, and is nothing less than an abject confession of our inability to develop our own natural resources.
There was formerly in Melbourne, however, a most admirable firm known as the Mutual Provedoring Company, whose premises were centrally situated near the main suburban railway station. Their show of fish was something to behold, and I do not remember to have seen it surpassed, even in the old country; and, in addition, they hit upon a very excellent device—one so good, in fact, that it is well worthy of imitation. That is to say they gave to every customer a capital fish cookery book, written, indeed, by our own Mrs. H. Wicken. It was a well-compiled production, and contained a goodly number of practical and economical recipes, having special regard to our Australian fish. In this way they did splendid work, as by means of the FISH DAINTIES (the title of the book) they popularised the use of fish. Now, it is greatly to be regretted that this firm no longer exists, because if ever there was a venture which deserved support, it was surely this. But I am no pessimist in these matters, and verily believe that before long this company, or one similar, will be in full swing again, and that the public will thereby benefit in every conceivable way. As far as Sydney is concerned there is a different state of affairs, and it is with genuine pleasure that I refer to the New South Wales Fresh Food and Ice Company, of whose enterprise and praiseworthy efforts I must express my sincere approbation. It is a good thing for the whole community that their endeavours have been crowned with such marked success; and I am very certain that, without any exaggeration whatever, one is justified in saying that this company have been of unmistakable service to their numerous customers, and that by their distribution of fish throughout New South Wales, quite a number of invalids, as well as of healthy people, have every reason to be grateful. Their exhibition of fish in King Street is at all times most satisfactory. Moreover, schnapper and other prime fish are often sold there as low as 4d. per lb., a price at which no one can complain.
Attention has been thus far entirely directed to the topic of fish, so that it now becomes necessary to turn to that of oysters. It will be found, however, that the actual state of affairs in connection with our oyster fisheries is not at all inspiriting. But before entering upon this matter it will perhaps lead to a better understanding of the whole question if some preliminary remarks are made upon the subject-heading. In doing so it will be most desirable to have recourse to an account given, not so long ago, by Professor Huxley—at that time Inspector of Fisheries—since he speaks with the weight of authority. Referring to the oysters in the old country, he says that during the summer and autumn months, from about May to September, according to varying circumstances, the oysters pass into a peculiar condition known to the fishermen under the name of "sick." In this state the greater number contain a whitish substance, consisting of numberless granules held together by a sort of slime. The whole is known as "white spat," and the numberless granules are really the oyster eggs. Slowly and slowly the interior of the eggs assumes a darkish hue, tinging the whole mass so much that it is then termed "black spat." Within the space of a fortnight the mass of "black spat" breaks up, and the young oyster is set free.