Anthony Careme indeed set the royal style of "Bien Manger"
which came to flower in Napoleon's Empire. Besides being chef
to Talleyrand, Careme cooked for Emperor Alexander, Lord
Stewart, the English Ambassador to Vienna, Baron Rothschild,
inventing and dedicating dishes to these patrons, many of which
became classics and are known down to this day. Careme put
the art in artichokes, lifted the humble casserole from the kitchen
FRENCH 275
to the studio and guided "La Haute Cuisine" until Savann came
along. Savarin was the fork who hoisted the hitherto muddy
and dejected crayfish of his home creek at Belley in the Province
of Bugey into a distinguished omelet. He dignified the whis-
kered crawdad by calling him a fresh water lobster fit to mingle,
in Newburg society. His book "Physiologie du Gout" definitely
identified deglutition with the fine arts. The wisecracks of
Savarin not only filled the mouths of the elegants of his day, but
come down to us proverbially — Tell me what you eat, and I will
tell you what you are — Cookery is an art, but to roast requires
genius — To maintain that a man must not change his wine is
a heresy: the palate becomes cloyed, and, after three or four
glasses, it is but a deadened sensation that even the best wine
provokes — a last course at dinner, wanting cheese, is like a pretty
woman with only one eye.
By the middle of the nineteenth century Paris was full of
provincial kitchens, Flemish, Lyonnaise, Bordelaise, Provencal —
white-hatted chefs from Normandy, Toulouse, Burgundy, Lor-
raine, Languedoc, everywhere set up shop in the capital and
served their specialties; truffled turkey and quails, matelote of eel
(vulgarly called "the eel's hornpipe" from the frantic pan-dance
the sea-serpent performs, shimmying and simmering in white
wine and onions), confits de oie, pate de foie gras, cassoulets,
casse crout, vins de paille, sauces Robert Bearnaise, and beurre
noire, styles a la cocotte, a la jardiniere, Julienne, onion soup,
sheep's trotters, tripe, Pharamond, creme de cassis, mousse au
chocolat, marrons glace, souffles. Then Dumas the Elder put it
all down in a thousand-page cook book, the last of his career.
He was an amateur cook himself, but exotic, for he dressed his
asparagus with lobster sauce.
Queen Victoria hired herself a French chef, and a French
chevalier made a fortune teaching the British how to mix salad.
Edward Prince of Wales came along and dined more often in
276 THE EUROPEAN COOKBOOK
Paris than in London. Instead of complimenting a chef on his
sole, H.R.H. Ed said, "This Chateau d'Yquem is excellent," and
that the chef averred was the highest compliment a diner could
pay, for the dish that accompanies a wine must subtly bring
out its full flavor.
Page 114
Presented as published in 1936. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
Anthony Careme indeed set the royal style of "Bien Manger" which came to flower in Napoleon's Empire. Besides being chef to Talleyrand, Careme cooked for Emperor Alexander, Lord Stewart, the English Ambassador to Vienna, Baron Rothschild, inventing and dedicating dishes to these patrons, many of which became classics and are known down to this day. Careme put the art in artichokes, lifted the humble casserole from the kitchen
to the studio and guided "La Haute Cuisine" until Savann came along. Savarin was the fork who hoisted the hitherto muddy and dejected crayfish of his home creek at Belley in the Province of Bugey into a distinguished omelet. He dignified the whiskered crawdad by calling him a fresh water lobster fit to mingle, in Newburg society. His book "Physiologie du Gout" definitely identified deglutition with the fine arts. The wisecracks of Savarin not only filled the mouths of the elegants of his day, but come down to us proverbially — Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are — Cookery is an art, but to roast requires genius — To maintain that a man must not change his wine is a heresy: the palate becomes cloyed, and, after three or four glasses, it is but a deadened sensation that even the best wine provokes — a last course at dinner, wanting cheese, is like a pretty woman with only one eye.
By the middle of the nineteenth century Paris was full of provincial kitchens, Flemish, Lyonnaise, Bordelaise, Provencal — white-hatted chefs from Normandy, Toulouse, Burgundy, Lorraine, Languedoc, everywhere set up shop in the capital and served their specialties; truffled turkey and quails, matelote of eel (vulgarly called "the eel's hornpipe" from the frantic pan-dance the sea-serpent performs, shimmying and simmering in white wine and onions), confits de oie, pate de foie gras, cassoulets, casse crout, vins de paille, sauces Robert Bearnaise, and beurre noire, styles a la cocotte, a la jardiniere, Julienne, onion soup, sheep's trotters, tripe, Pharamond, creme de cassis, mousse au chocolat, marrons glace, souffles. Then Dumas the Elder put it all down in a thousand-page cook book, the last of his career. He was an amateur cook himself, but exotic, for he dressed his asparagus with lobster sauce.
Queen Victoria hired herself a French chef, and a French chevalier made a fortune teaching the British how to mix salad. Edward Prince of Wales came along and dined more often in
Paris than in London. Instead of complimenting a chef on his sole, H.R.H. Ed said, "This Chateau d'Yquem is excellent," and that the chef averred was the highest compliment a diner could pay, for the dish that accompanies a wine must subtly bring out its full flavor.