The thorough good cook

The late Viscountess Combermere, whose friendship I had the privilege to enjoy for more than fifty years, was in many respects a remarkable lady. She was an accomplished musician, a fluent writer, a delightfully humorous artist, a sprightly sayer of epigrammatic things ; and she 'was accustomed to give at her hospitable mansion in Belgrave Square dinners and luncheons which were second to none in the fashionable world of London as regarded the faultless quality of the cuisine and the spice of novelty which the noble hostess scarcely ever failed to impart to her entertainments. For example, towards the close of a wonderfully varied luncheon, a dish of Hampshire bacon boiled with Windsor broad beans would make its welcome appearance — a dish altogether after Sir Henry Thompson's heart ; and I have even seen a boiled leg of pork — a very small one, be it said — figure on the bill of fare at one of the Belgravian dinners. In very hot summer weather Lady Combermere would often give dinners which, with the exception of the soup, were entirely cold — cold fish, cold entrees, cold joint, cold vegetables, cold removes, cold sweets. On the eve of one of her feasts, at which I knew the Russian Ambassador would be present, I did my best to persuade her to have a cold soup "a la Russe," a pottage in which pieces of cold fish, cucumber, and ice form part of the ingredients ; but, after long hesitation, my proposal met with a reluctant veto. She was afraid, so Lady Combermere said, of that very ancient individual, British Prejudice. Of the cold fishes served at her table, I have always preserved the liveliest remembrance ; and occasionally, when we have an un-English summer, that is to say, a hot and sunny one, we give a quiet little dinner of six or eight, at which everything, save the soup, is cold. *But even under these circumstances, I confess that I cannot persuade my partner — who is not aged, and who has few prejudices — to tolerate cold soup " a la Russe." She lias read all the recipes for these frigid potages, and declares them to be " nasty messes." However, reserving my own opinion in the matter, I find that as regards cold fish in summer, we are perfectly in accord, and it is for this reason that I have given some recipes for cooking and serving it. Porridge. I am not a porridge eater myself; that kind of food being productive in my case more of distension than of delight ; but extensive observation in many lands during many years has led me to adopt the conclusion that civilised nations may, from a culinary point of view, be divided into two broad sections — the nations who habitually eat porridge, and those who do not care for it as an ordinary article of diet. The French are certainly not porridge eaters ; they infinitely prefer their beloved pot-au-feu to any kind of gruel ; although when they are in poor health they will swallow with tolerable gusto the preparation called panada, for which I have given a recipe.* The ancient Romans were moderately fond of oat soup. They took white oats and put them in the oven. When sufficiently dried, these were fanned, cleaned, and carried to a mill, the grinders of which were finely sharpened. The miller took care to hold the oats a little way off, in order that the grain might not be crushed.