The bachelor and the chafing dish

Plates and toast and beer and glasses Must be ready at your elbow — Quickly served and quickly eaten, And the grace be spoken after. This the secret of the rabbit.” Shade of Longfellow ! May I be forgiven for this ! But it is no wonder too many cooks spoil the broth ! I have eaten some very extraordinary Welsh rabbits. As a matter of curiosity, I give the following, which I find in the autobiography of Brillat Savarin : “ Take as many eggs as you wish, according to the number of guests, and weigh them; then take a piece of cheese weighing a third of the weight of the eggs, and a slice of butter weighing a sixth ; beat the eggs well up in a saucepan, after which put in the butter and cheese, the latter either grated or chopped up very small ; place the saucepan on a good fire, and stir it with a flat spoon until the mixture becomes sufficiently thick and soft ; add a little salt and a large portion of pepper, and serve up in a hot dish.” According to a recent English writer, “a Welsh rarebit is not reckoned as among the refinements of the table, but is still held in great repute by gentlemen of the old school, who desire a stimulant 10 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish . after dinner.” So, as a curious stimulant, I give “ Dr. Kitchiner’s ” recipe. Whether the good doctor’s name is a humorous nom de plume I know not. If it is his own, the gods give him joy ! Here it is : “ Cut a slice of bread, about half an inch thick ; pare off the crust, and toast it very lightly on both sides ; do not harden or scorch it. Cut a slice of rich cheese a quarter of an inch thick, less than the bread by half an inch all round ; it must be perfectly sound and the rind be cut off. Lay it on the bread, and put into a cheese-toaster ; carefully watch it that it does not burn, and stir the cheese gently with a spoon to prevent a skin forming on the surface. As soon as it is thoroughly melted and hot, serve with mustard and pepper.” It seems to be a question of doubt by the average cheese-lover whether to call it “ rarebit ” or “ rabbit.” It is most certainly a Welsh rabbit, just the same as the addition of an egg makes it a “ golden buck,” and nothing else. We also know that a “Scotch woodcock” is quite a jocular treatment of an appetizing dish in which the real bird does not appear. “ It may not be just to judge others by your own weaknesses, but it’s safe,” a clever woman once re- Chasing the Rabbit. marked to me, and I think it is quite likely to be so in almost everything but eating. But one must be Napoleonic in making Welsh rabbits before a number of interested guests ; one must also be royal. To my taste, there must be an apparent prodigality in the use of the condiments here set down. So far, O reader, you must have observed that I have not written as an autocrat ; at least, not entirely so. Pray give me credit for that ! Rather would I write as Horace, with simple ejaculations of delight in conjunctive ; as I like it. I am not a maker of cook-books. I have not a single ambition in that direction, and what I may wish to say under the warm glow of conviviality will not partake of coldblooded prescription, all well indexed, and set up in oil-cloth covering for ready reference by Bridget in her basement kitchen.