Our viands

It often sur- prises colonists that they cannot obtain here the piece especially prized by them, and known in South Africa as the hump, but either our oxen are destitute of that appendage, or our butchers cut the carcase differently. The consumption of beef is now so great that our native supply has to be largely supplemented by the cattle reared on ranches in America and New Zealand, either brought over frozen or in tins. Chicago, the chief tinning manu- factory, is supplied with oxen in such profusion that they are described as forming a constant stream moving ever 76 OUR VIANDS onwards up an inclined plain to be killed when they reach the top; being skinned, cut up, and tinned immediately, almost entirely by machinery. Since the introduction of diner ct la Russe> the great joints which formerly appeared on our dinner, supper, and breakfast tables have almost disappeared. We no longer see, except in cooks' shops, the great salted rump, formerly a famous breakfast dish ; and the baron is reserved for the Queen's table, whilst the sirloin no longer appears entire, but is cut into several pieces to suit the requirements of the household. Doubtless, we lose much of the juices and flavour of the meat in these small joints, but the national taste has become of late more assimilated to that of the French, and prefers made dishes to the simple cut-and-come- again joints of our ancestors. It would appear that at Christmas in the olden days the great boar's head, eaten with mustard, held the first place ; then came the peacock in his plumes, and geese, capons, " pheasants drenched with ambergrease," and pies of carps' tongues. Of these savoury dishes many have disappeared from the modern menu, whilst some are retained in the form of survival, and amongst the latter is the boar's head, which, in its ancient and natural form, is no longer seen amongst us except at the Queen's table, and perhaps on that of some other princes and potentates, but the ancient dish is still imitated by our cooks in forcemeat, and at almost every supper at Christmastide holds a conspicuous place, brown and glazed, with long, curved, white tusks of some composi- tion, lemon in mouth, and buttered adornments, altogether a travesty of that great cruel beast, the pursuit of which has in all ages been deemed such noble sport, which formed CHRISTMAS FARE 77 the standing dish of Scandinavian heroes, in the Valhalla to which they aspired, and of which the ancient Romans were so fond, that it is related of Anthony that eight wild boars were usually roasted for his supper, not that they were all served and consumed at once, but they were held in various stages of preparation, that one might be ready whenever called for. The mode of dressing this boar appears to have have been to roast it stuffed with game and poultry. Horace writes of — ' A Lucanian boar of tender kind, Caught, says our host, in a soft southern wind ; Around him lay whatever could excite, With pungent force, the jaded appetite ; Rapes, lettuce, radishes, anchovy brine, With skerrets, and the lees of coan wine.'