The cult of the chafing dish

Other times, other manners. Contrast with the severe simplicity of the above the sort of thing that gratified the palates of our forebears. In the fourteenth century, Sacchetti says, a baked goose stuffed with garlic and quinces was esteemed an excellent dish In Italy, and when the Gonfalonier of Florence entertained a famous doctor he gave him the stomach of a calf, boiled partridges, and pickled sardines. Old Samuel Pepys, too, had a nice taste in food as in music, and other things. His idea of " a fine dinner " was to this effect : " A dish of marrowbones, a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, a dish of fowl ; three pullets and a dozen of larks, all in a dish ; a great tart, a neat's tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese." For those who are curious in such things it is easy to find quaint recipes in old books. For instance, if you want to know how to bake a hedgehog in clay — and very good it is too — you have only to read Albert Smith's " Christopher Tadpole " and you will know all about it. It is truly said that comparatively few people read Disraeli's novels nowadays, but those who are culinarily inclined would do well to turn to the opening chapter of •' Tancred," where there is a delightful conversation between a grand old maitre de louche, " Papa Prevost," and his pupil, the eminent chef, Leander. The pompous spirit of the culinary artist is delightfully caught and the gastronomic jargon wonderfully reproduced. But gastronomy has never lacked its historians. Great painters have come to its aid, as witness the glowing canvases of Snyders, Teniers, Jordaens, Ruysdael, Jan Weenix, Melchior de Hondecoeter and Jan Fy t. Their pictures of still life, the poulterers' shops, the heaped baskets of good cheer, the brilliant lobster, the callow lemon, the russet hare, and the lustrous plumage of the pheasant, have inspired the hand of the Masters, who must have appreciated all such culinary delicacies in order to have painted them with such loving-kindness. Yesterday's Pheasant. " If partridge had the woodcock's thighs, 'Twould be the noblest bird that flies ; If woodcock had the partridge breast, 'Twould be the best bird ever drest." Yesterday's Pheasant can be made into a most tempting dish by cutting up the remains into convenient chunks, omitting the bones. Put one tablespoon of butter in the Dish, add a tablespoon of flour, and keep on stirring till the mixture is smooth and light brown. Add a glass of claret, a tablespoon of Worcester sauce, pepper and salt, and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Now put in the chunks of pheasant, and simmer for eight minutes. An excellent accompaniment to this is chestnut and celery salad. Any game bird may be treated in like manner, save always the woodcock, that little epitome of all that is toothsome and delicate. A curious thing about the woodcock is its extraordinarily rapid digestion, A single bird has been known to consume in a night more earthworms than half filled a moderatesized flowerpot. Few people know the different expressions for flocks of birds. Here are some of them : a building of rooks, a bevy of quails, a watch of nightingales, a cast of hawks, a nide of pheasants, a muster of peacocks, a plump of wildfowl, a flock of geese, a pack of grouse, a chattering of choughs, a stand of plovers, and a wisp of snipe. A woman I know had a very good cook, who was also a plain cook — or rather, a plainspoken cook. She had been In the place many years, and much was forgiven her. The mistress, visiting the kitchen, inspected a turkey, and remarked that it was a very thin bird. "Just you wait, M'm, till I've stuffed it with chestnuts," said the cook, " you won't know it then. It'll be quite another thing. Just like you, M'm, when you has your di'monds on."