“ The month ’tis now September ; the season has begun when Enghsh customs give us game, when dinner’s almost done.” Now for my own part I think we often rather waste our game in this country, by bringing it in when really everybody has dined ; or if some one has what may be called reserved himself, he probably finds he gets such an exceedingly small portion that he runs considerable risk of going home hungry. I recollect an old story of a notorious gourmand, who was asked to dine with a so-called friend, who played upon him the following cruel practical joke : — A little soup and fish was followed by a plain leg of mutton, and the gourmand was informed that he saw his dinner before him. He accordingly gorged freely, while his host scarcely tasted a mouthful. The leg of mutton was, however, followed by a splendid haunch of venison. ” It was cruel not to tell me,” said the guest, with tears of anguish rolling down his cheeks. The story does not sound like a true one, and we trust for the sake of human nature it is not ; but it exemphfies our point in saying, or rather asking, is it not a mistake when game is cheap and plentiful, to leave it quite to the last ? I must say I admire the good, honest English hos- pitality of the North. It may be called the Black Country, but as long as black is associated with black- cock and grouse, long may it remain so. 122 GAME AND GRAVY. 123 Nowhere do you get grouse in such perfection as in the neighbourhood of the moors. They have not yet arrived at that depraved state of appetite in which it is considered the right thing to send game to table nearly putrid ; nor, as a rule, do you get one, or at the outside two, mouthfuls put on your plate by an elegant waiter. Elegant waitei's are all very well in their way, but we prefer grouse. Now game, whether grouse, partridge, pheasant, or woodcock, requires careful cooking, and, above all things, good gravy. By good gravy we mean that wliich will assist, and not counteract or destroy, the flavour of the game. Week beef-tea or rich turtle soup would be alike wrong ; and it will, we fear, be too often found that cooks fail very much in adapting the gravy to the occasion. Roast goose with sage-and-onion stuffing would bear a gravy which, so to speak, would kill the delicate flavour of a partridge. Game served as a salmi, which nine times out of ten means game cooked before and warmed up, requires quite a differently-flavoured sauce to game proper — i.e. game, not too fresh, and at the same time not at all high, roasted to a turn and served quickly. In cooking game I fear we cannot learn much from that nation of cooks, the French. I am such an admirer of French cooking as a rule, that I wish to speak with the greatest diffidence, but did you ever taste any game, never mind of what kind, at any foreign hotel or res- taurant abroad, to compare with the game we get at home ? I say hotel or restaurant, as I have had no ex- perience of French country private houses. Whether this is owing to the game itself being of inferior quality or flavour — as is undoubtedly the case with red-legged partridges, when compared with the 124 PRACTICAL HOME COOKERY. ordinary English ones — or to other causes, I cannot say, but simply record the fact. There is no doubt that a large class of men enjoy their food when game is in season more than at any other time.

AI-modernized reading of the original text

“ The month ’tis now September ; the season has begun when Enghsh customs give us game, when dinner’s almost done.” Now for my own part I think we often rather waste our game in this country, by bringing it in when really everybody has dined ; or if some one has what may be called reserved himself, he probably finds he gets such an exceedingly small portion that he runs considerable risk of going home hungry. I recollect an old story of a notorious gourmand, who was asked to dine with a so-called friend, who played upon him the following cruel practical joke : — A little soup and fish was followed by a plain leg of mutton, and the gourmand was informed that he saw his dinner before him. He accordingly gorged freely, while his host scarcely tasted a mouthful. The leg of mutton was, however, followed by a splendid haunch of venison. ” It was cruel not to tell me,” said the guest, with tears of anguish rolling down his cheeks. The story does not sound like a true one, and we trust for the sake of human nature it is not ; but it exemplifies our point in saying, or rather asking, is it not a mistake when game is cheap and plentiful, to leave it quite to the last ? I must say I admire the good, honest English hospitality of the North. It may be called the Black Country, but as long as black is associated with blackcock and grouse, long may it remain so. Nowhere do you get grouse in such perfection as in the neighbourhood of the moors. They have not yet arrived at that depraved state of appetite in which it is considered the right thing to send game to table nearly putrid ; nor, as a rule, do you get one, or at the outside two, mouthfuls put on your plate by an elegant waiter. Elegant waitei's are all very well in their way, but we prefer grouse. Now game, whether grouse, partridge, pheasant, or woodcock, requires careful cooking, and, above all things, good gravy. By good gravy we mean that which will assist, and not counteract or destroy, the flavour of the game. Week beef-tea or rich turtle soup would be alike wrong ; and it will, we fear, be too often found that cooks fail very much in adapting the gravy to the occasion. Roast goose with sage-and-onion stuffing would bear a gravy which, so to speak, would kill the delicate flavour of a partridge. Game served as a salmi, which nine times out of ten means game cooked before and warmed up, requires quite a differently-flavoured sauce to game proper — i.e. game, not too fresh, and at the same time not at all high, roasted to a turn and served quickly. In cooking game I fear we cannot learn much from that nation of cooks, the French. I am such an admirer of French cooking as a rule, that I wish to speak with the greatest diffidence, but did you ever taste any game, never mind of what kind, at any foreign hotel or restaurant abroad, to compare with the game we get at home ? I say hotel or restaurant, as I have had no experience of French country private houses. Whether this is owing to the game itself being of inferior quality or flavour — as is undoubtedly the case with red-legged partridges, when compared with the ordinary English ones — or to other causes, I cannot say, but simply record the fact. There is no doubt that a large class of men enjoy their food when game is in season more than at any other time.

Practical home cookery