spirit of hospitality, and not by a desire to be supported by my countrymen and countrywomen in a place where I expected to find Russian only talked. We found ourselves in a suite of high- ceilinged rooms, all light green in colour and decorated elaborately with stucco. Large mirrors reflected apparently endless vistas ; the Zakouska counter was under a fine musicians’ gallery ; and in another gallery the tables stretched far back. The waiters at the Ermitage are all in long white tunics with a red cord at the waist, the Tartar Russia 39 1 dress. On Sundays and holy days the waiters, I am told, wear coloured silk garments, but this I cannot answer for from personal observation. I placed my party for luncheon at a vacant table, and one of the white-tunicked waiters put into my hand a bill of fare in Russian. I could see that the dishes were divided into three categories, and should have understood nothing more had not one of the managers, a kindly person, rubicund, and walking delicately in a way which suggested gouty big toes, come to my rescue. If he was not French, he talked French like a Frenchman, and he explained that eggs and fish were in the first section, cold meats in the second, and hot meats in the third. Of these we had a choice of two dishes for i rouble 25 kopeks. An omelette and a salmi of grouse were what the maitre cThotel recommended, and though both of these were certainly not Russian dishes, we ate them and were grateful. I began very well with the rubicund maitre d'hotel , but I soon fell in his estimation. I had been a week in Russia and I had not tasted any of the Russian wines. I was told that both the red and white wines grown on the Emperor’s estates in the Caucasus were extremely good, and the Ermitage seemed to me to be exactly the restaurant where the best crus of the best years of the best wines of the country would be found. I asked the maitre d’hotel. He appeared to be insulted, but then remembered that I was only an Englishman, and could not be expected to know the custom of the country. “ I believe there are such wines,” he said, “ but we know nothing of them here.” Besides the large suite of public dining-rooms at the Ermitage there are many private ones, some of them large enough to accommodate all the guests at official banquets which are usually held here. 392 5 the Gourmet's Guide to Europe A good dinner in a private room at the Ermitage is by no means a cheap meal. Here is the menu of a typical one. The various forms of petits pates may be noted as being curious. They are served, as I have written before, with the soup : — Consomme Bariatinsky. ( Timbale Napolitaine. Petits Pates ) VoI-au“vent Rossini. ] r riands a la Kerne. { Tartelettes St. Hubert. Esturgeon en Vin de Champagne. Selle de Mouton d’Ecosse Nesselrode. Punch Imperial. Becasses et Cailles. Salade, et Concombres Sales. Chouxfleurs, Sauce Polonaise. Bombe en Surprise. Dessert. Bolskoi Moscovski, Place Voskre- vessenski

AI-modernized reading of the original text

spirit of hospitality, and not by a desire to be supported by my countrymen and countrywomen in a place where I expected to find Russian only talked. We found ourselves in a suite of highceilinged rooms, all light green in colour and decorated elaborately with stucco. Large mirrors reflected apparently endless vistas ; the Zakouska counter was under a fine musicians’ gallery ; and in another gallery the tables stretched far back. The waiters at the Ermitage are all in long white tunics with a red cord at the waist, the Tartar Russia 391 dress. On Sundays and holy days the waiters, I am told, wear coloured silk garments, but this I cannot answer for from personal observation. I placed my party for luncheon at a vacant table, and one of the white-tunicked waiters put into my hand a bill of fare in Russian. I could see that the dishes were divided into three categories, and should have understood nothing more had not one of the managers, a kindly person, rubicund, and walking delicately in a way which suggested gouty big toes, come to my rescue. If he was not French, he talked French like a Frenchman, and he explained that eggs and fish were in the first section, cold meats in the second, and hot meats in the third. Of these we had a choice of two dishes for i rouble 25 kopeks. An omelette and a salmi of grouse were what the maitre cThotel recommended, and though both of these were certainly not Russian dishes, we ate them and were grateful. I began very well with the rubicund maitre d'hotel , but I soon fell in his estimation. I had been a week in Russia and I had not tasted any of the Russian wines. I was told that both the red and white wines grown on the Emperor’s estates in the Caucasus were extremely good, and the Ermitage seemed to me to be exactly the restaurant where the best crus of the best years of the best wines of the country would be found. I asked the maitre d’hotel. He appeared to be insulted, but then remembered that I was only an Englishman, and could not be expected to know the custom of the country. “ I believe there are such wines,” he said, “ but we know nothing of them here.” Besides the large suite of public dining-rooms at the Ermitage there are many private ones, some of them large enough to accommodate all the guests at official banquets which are usually held here. 392 The Gourmet's Guide to Europe A good dinner in a private room at the Ermitage is by no means a cheap meal. Here is the menu of a typical one. The various forms of petits pates may be noted as being curious. They are served, as I have written before, with the soup : — Consomme Bariatinsky. ( Timbale Napolitaine. Petits Pates ) VoI-au“vent Rossini. ] r riands a la Kerne. { Tartelettes St. Hubert. Esturgeon en Vin de Champagne. Selle de Mouton d’Ecosse Nesselrode. Punch Imperial. Becasses et Cailles. Salade, et Concombres Sales. Chouxfleurs, Sauce Polonaise. Bombe en Surprise. Dessert. Bolskoi Moscovski, Place Voskrevessenski

The gourmet's guide to Europe