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A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic)
A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic)
A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic)
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A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic)

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A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic) By Allhusen, Dorothy Originally published in the 1920s, this is a collection of recipes contributed by various members of aristocratic families for a charity cook book. Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. Vintage Cookery Books are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork. Contents Include : - Soups - Sauces - Fish - Meat - Poultry and Game - Vegetables - Savouries - Eggs, Cream, Porridge, etc - Puddings - Wines - Beverages - Tea - Bread, Scones, Buns, Biscuits - Cakes - Jams and Preserves - Confectionary - Children's Food - Pot Pourri - Soaps - Bills Of Fare - Index
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 18, 2013
ISBN9781447497356
A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic)

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    A Book Of Scents And Dishes (A Vintage Cookery Books Classic) - Dorothy Allhusen

    INDEX

    INTRODUCTION

    ONE of the aphorisms of the celebrated writer, Brillat-Savarin, is an answer to the ascète, who declared that We eat to live, we do not live to eat! Let me teach you how to eat, and you will then live in order to eat, replied the philosopher of taste. A gourmet is not a gross feeder; he is as far removed from gluttony as he is from total abstinence; but just as a musician has cultivated his ear, so that good combinations of sounds give him the most sincere delight, and irritating, inharmonious noises drive him to distraction, so the man whose sense of taste is highly developed enjoys his meals and derives an artistic satisfaction from a dish that is choice, elegant, and delicately seasoned. For him the chef prepares his choicest viands. Like every artist, he craves the sympathetic reception of the work which he has achieved by his excellent understanding of the laws that govern taste. It is no triumph for him to cook for the ordinary indiscriminating diner or the glutton. He needs one whose palate has not been ruined by coarse and over-seasoned food, who can detect the subtleties of his combinations, and who takes eating as seriously as any other artist regards the art in which he is more than usually proficient. For cooking is an art, entailing all the pains and that inherent ability or talent which music and the other arts demand. A great cook must have imagination, judgment, conscientiousness, decision, promptness in emergency, and daring.

    And, knowing all this, yet our cookery books are so often a mere catalogue of receipts. We forget the artist in the kitchen (very often in these days the overworked mistress of the house), and expect her or him unaided to provide all the stimulus for himself.

    Why should not a cookery book be interesting? The old ones were. First catch your fowl, as a preliminary to a receipt for broiling a chicken, gives a certain air of gaiety to the proceedings. One sees one’s dinner not as a miserable dead carcase that has been exposed in a shop window, but as something alive, that will only be ours after the hunt. Many of the old receipts, too, have a very human note about them. They were written by grandmamma, very anxious that her daughter or her daughter’s cook should not fall into a pit dug for the unwary. She does not order; she warns and entreats. She passes with you through every process of mixing and beating. At the end you can almost hear her saying, Is it not a good dish? She is so sincere, that very often through her entire lack of sophistication she achieves not only a good receipt but a literary one to boot. She sees the whole time what she is writing about: the cream brought in by the dairymaid in a jug of generous capacity; the eggs laid by her special brood of hens; the jar of preserves made from a receipt that has been handed down from generations; and the kitchen itself, a delightful room, full and yet spacious. She knows that cool, secure place where the cream cools down; the exact spot on the fire where a pan can stand and simmer gently. Unconsciously, as we turn the leaves of these old MS. books, we are transported by the authors into the scene of their triumphs—the old-fashioned kitchen with its heavy oak beams and long, convenient dresser.

    As soon as man began to cook he recognised the culinary art. He realised that cooks, like poets, are born and not made. But, as everyone must eat, while quite a large proportion of mankind gets along without any poetry at all, it was necessary that good receipts should be preserved for the sake of those who lacked the natural gift. In the earliest times the food was naturally less varied. Eggs, milk, honey, onions, succory, leeks, and garlic, the leaves of the vine, radishes, and carrots, olive oil, fish, game, the flesh of lambs and kids, and of young bullocks and stall-fed oxen (the shoulder was always considered the choicest morsel), formed the staple diet of the central and south Europeans. The first fruit was the fig, then the grape, and, soon after, almonds, melons, and pomegranates were cultivated for the table. The Persians were the first real gastronomes of whom we have any coherent information. The Greeks have left records of many dishes; the Romans, hardy and rustic in their appetites during the period of the great Republic, became great eaters, gourmands, gourmets, and epicures under the emperors, but without that nice discrimination which prevents a lively appreciation of the pleasures of the table from degenerating into gluttony. The difference between the tastes of the two great classic nations is illustrated in their choice of fish: the Greeks gave the sole the first place, the Romans the mullet. The French and Italians have both developed the art of the table, and, especially in France, a vast number of books have been written from the point of view of both cook and diner. Many of them are composed in a spirit of fine seriousness, for, as the high-priest of epicures asserts, To not every man is granted the power to be a gourmet.

    Great Britain was, as usual, a good century and a half behind the Continent in the development of this art. The Britons, when the Romans found them, lived chiefly on whale, porpoise, grampus, and seal. Having learnt the rudiments of agriculture from her conquerors, she altered this barbaric diet, but when the Normans settled among us they made great fun of our meals, and accused us of eating and drinking to excess without taste or discrimination. However, we took from them what we wanted, though for centuries the Englishman prided himself on the simplicity and superiority of his fare. The distinction remains almost to this day. No nation can beat the English in the preparation of a good plain meal, but when more than that is required, we are obliged to borrow from French, German, Italian, Russian. Few of our native-born cooks ever achieve a continental reputation, and very few indeed of our receipts find a place in foreign cookery books.

    Apparently the first Old English cookery book was written at the end of the twelfth century. It is in Latin, and is entitled De Utiliensibus. The Form of Cury, containing 196 receipts, was compiled by the cooks of Richard I. A volume on cooking was one of the first publications of the press that William Caxton set up in Westminster. There are numerous references to food in Chaucer and the writers of his period. The actors in the Miracle and Morality Plays were allowed liberal rations of food and ale. Pilate as leading man (Herod sometimes) drank wine. One of the entries in the Guild books tells us that the players refreshed themselves at every reste. Before the plays began they had a heavy breakfast; dinner was served at midday, roast beef and goose being two of the principal dishes. When their day’s work was done they enjoyed a heavy supper. How ample this meal was can be judged by the bill the Guild of Smiths at Coventry had to pay. At that time a rib of beef cost 3d., a goose 4d., a quart of wine 2d., and a gallon of ale (good home-brewed) 2d.! In spite of that, the total was eight shillings. It is interesting to compare with this Plutarch’s account of the diet of the Greek Chorus in the time of Euripides. They, too, were the spoilt darlings of the moment, and as such they demanded eels, lettuce, garlic, and cheese.

    Four hundred years ago the English had four meals a day: breakfast at 7 a.m., dinner at 10 a.m., supper at 4 p.m., and livery at 8 p.m. Gradually the dinner-hour has shifted. Henry VII. dined at 11; Oliver Cromwell added to the sum of his delinquencies by moving the hour to 1. Addison, we know, dined at 2 p.m., and Pope, with great indignation, refused an invitation of Lady Suffolk, who actually expected him to join her for the great meal of the day at 4 p.m. To a friend he spoke of the innovation as the beginning of the end! How could people protest if the young, inflamed by these vicious habits, trod the paths of degeneracy? I will not sanction such proceedings by my presence, asserted the affronted poet.

    I read lately in some evening paper a statement by a male writer that women spent their days in long avenues of food! If I am misquoting, I hope that he will forgive me, for my admiration of his perspicacity is enormous. We do. And the curious part of it all is that men are fonder of food than women, and as a rule have better taste and much more delicate palates. In the beginning, the hunter left his wife at home while he caught the dinner. Naturally she prepared it! The law of division of labour operated very simply in those days. When the father became the head of the tribe and the leader, well, still his work lay outside the castle, and the woman superintended the cooking of the meals! But while the heavy joints were roasted on the spit there were always men about the kitchen, and in mediæval times the hired cook was generally a man. We hear more about women cooks in the seventeenth century—a period when many of our best cookery books were published. I am afraid the notorious cook who burnt the priceless MSS. of the Elizabethan dramatists was a woman. If a man had committed such a crime Warburton would surely have killed him.

    Samuel Johnson was a voracious eater. He had an insatiable appetite for veal pie with plums and fish sauce. Dining was a serious business to him, and very disgusted he was if his host provided him with what he considered inadequate fare. Not a dinner to ask a man to! was his verdict on more than one occasion. During those years of privation in London, when he trod the streets hungry and penniless, he had often stood on the gratings over the kitchens of the cook-shops and allowed his olfactory organ to tantalise his appetite. When he fed, it was with a long alley of hungry days behind him and a vista of privation in front. It was then he contracted the habit which he never lost: he attacked his repast like a starving man, and finished as if he were laying in a store against a mealless future. Johnson boasted of the niceness of his palate, and often discussed cookery. He declared that women might be able to spin, but that they could not write a book on cookery, and threatened to write one himself on philosophical principles. I wish he had. It would have been another monument to his wit and sagacity. No doubt he would have composed it in that spirit of violent partisanship which makes his dictionary unique. His learning would have dignified the culinary art, his wit enlivened it; with what eloquence he would have denounced the slovenly methods of the inefficient cook, while his shrewd common sense would have dictated many a valuable direction to the novice.

    This little volume cannot even aspire to fill the blank left by the unconsummated project of the great lexicographer. It does not pretend to be a complete manual; it is a collection of receipts, all of which have passed the test of actual experience. I have culled them from many places and different countries, and some of them have been in my family for years.

    Give an infant a toy and he will put it in his mouth. He likes it, it pleases his eye, and he thinks it will please his palate also. He is often disillusioned on that score, but in a sense he has the right instinct. Food is much pleasanter if it looks good, smells good, and feels good. The taste is sympathetically stimulated by the gratification of the other senses. In a measure I have acted like the infant with the toy. From many of the places that I love I have brought away with me receipts of the native dishes, and when I taste the special jam, savoury, or sweet, I enjoy it with my palate, and the sensation of taste is quickened by my vision of the charming country whence it came. My ambition is to hand on this pleasure to those who may read the book.

    SOUPS

    BRILLAT-SAVARIN says that the order of meats at a dinner should be from the most substantial to the lightest, and that wines should be offered in the reverse direction. Start with the lightest and gradually work up to the strongest, to those with the most pronounced bouquet.

    Soup was always regarded as a suitable introduction to a dinner. It is a well-established fact that a little soup sets the digestive system working; but when a many-course dinner is being served the portions of soup should be extremely small, otherwise the appetite is exhausted before the principal dishes have put in their appearance.

    Potage Borsch.

    THE LADY GRACE BARRY, Witchingham Hall, Norwich.

    Cut up leeks, onions, beetroots, endives in julienne strips. Fry them in butter, then add broth made half with water and half with beetroot juice. Let it boil till the vegetables are quite cooked. Skim, and colour at the last moment with beetroot juice. Add in the soup tureen pieces of beef, duck (or the bones of duckling), bacon cut up, small rounds of bread, and slices of cooked sausage. Serve cream, sour if preferred, in sauce-boats separately.

    Bortsch.

    THE LATE LADY GROVE, Sedgehill Manor, Shaftesbury.

    [Bortsch is a soup of Polish origin, but it is very popular in Russia. The following receipt was given to Lady Grove by an exiled Russian princess, who in her own country was considered a very good housewife.]

    2–2 1/2 lbs. of meat, 1/4 lb. of bacon, vegetables, including 1 onion, herbs, 2 bay leaves, 4 beetroots, 1 lb. tomatoes, 2 apples, 2 lbs. fresh cabbage, 1/4 glassful white beans; 1 spoonful flour, 1/2 glass milk, pepper.

    The day before prepare the beetroot stock thus: take 4 beetroots, peel them, put them in water, cook until soft, take off fire and keep in a cool place. Next day prepare a stock of the meat and bacon (including the rind, cuttings, and bone of ham). Before adding water put in the beetroot stock. Make the mixture boil several times, removing the scum. Then add the vegetables (one of each kind), the pepper, onion, and bay leaves, and cook again. Cut up the tomatoes and apples, and put them in a separate saucepan with 3 spoonfuls of water. Cook them until quite soft, rub through a sieve and pour into bortsch. Cook the beans separately, and put these into the bortsch just before serving. A quarter of an hour before serving add 6 potatoes, and 2 sliced beetroots cooked the day before. Dilute 1 spoonful of flour with a little stock. Add to bortsch and stir. At the same time add 1/2 glassful of milk. Make the whole boil once more, and serve.

    Crême d’Orge (Barley Soup).

    THE LATE LADY GROVE, Sedgehill Manor, Shaftesbury.

    Boil slowly with vegetables a pint of good chicken or veal stock for 2 hours. Wash the barley (the unpearled barley is best) in two waters, and boil with the stock for 2 1/2 hours slowly. Add a teacupful of cream, pepper and salt, but keep 2 spoonfuls of barley whole to put in the soup before sending it to table. If the soup is to be maigre, omit the stock and use water.

    Consommé Brunoise.

    LA DUCHESSE DE LA MOTHE-HOUDANCOURT,

    Le Fayel, Canly, Oise.                  

    [This receipt for soup was given to me by a kind French hostess, who owns a charming old château in the Oise district. Mercifully, during the war the Germans only passed by, and it was therefore left intact. It is a very pleasant house to stay in, with good company. The chief meal of the day was déjeuner. The dishes were numerous and varied and the proceedings a little long, but as one had only eaten sparingly at breakfast, good appetite waited on digestion.]

    Cut in very small dice, carrots, turnips, leeks. Brown them in butter. Add a little good stock and let them simmer slowly. Serve with bread cut in small dice and browned in the oven.

    Conger Soup.

    MRS E. C. DE LA POER BERESFORD, Beaulieu, Gorey, Jersey, C.I.

    Take 1 1/2 lbs. of conger or a good-sized head of the fish, flavour with

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