USTRffl L 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 The Gastronomy Collection of 
 George Holl 
 
 AGRIC. 
 LIBRARY 
 
/ - 
 
Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2006 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bachelorthechafiOOwelcrich 
 
AN AUTHORITY. 
 
THE BACHELOR 
 
 AND 
 
 THE CHAFING DISH 
 
 WITH A DISSERTATION ON CHUMS 
 
 DESHLER WELCH 
 
 CONTAINING SOME VALUABLE RECIPES GATHERED FROM FAS- 
 CINATING SOURCES IN COOKERY — TRIUMPHS OF WELL- 
 KNOWN BON VIVANTS IN CLUBS, YACHTING 
 CIRCLES, ARMY AND NAVY, AND THE 
 
 DREAMS ©F FAIR WOMEN 
 
 HEAVEN BLESS *EM! 
 
 DRAWINGS BV FRANCIS DAY AND GEORGE R. HALM 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 1896 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
Copyright, 1895, by 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY 
 
Zo l)f <• 
 

 AGRIC. 
 LIBRARY 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 THE CHUMSHIP 
 
 Entre Nous 
 
 Chasing the Rabbw . 
 
 Mushrooms for *'Jim" 
 
 Jim's Dinner 
 
 My Scotch Friend 
 
 The Lord Harry 
 
 Camping Out with "Ed 
 
 A Dinner in a Slot . 
 Nym Crinkle's Diapason 
 The Little Table d'Hote 
 Fitznoodle's Chafing Dish 
 Boiling Things . 
 A Lunch with Her . 
 
 I 
 5 
 
 12 
 14 
 17 
 23 
 26 
 
 31 
 
 35 
 41 
 44 
 47 
 52 
 
 injooo* o>i 
 
vi Table of Contents 
 
 PART II 
 THE TABLE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Language of the Menu . . . .57 
 Sayings of Savarin . . . . .66 
 Salads -and Sauces . . . . .69 
 
 The Devil Dish 79 
 
 The Autocrat and the Chafing Dish . 82 
 
 *** Under the last heading are given more than loo recipes for the 
 Chafing Dish, the majority of them especially contributed to this book. 
 
 L'Envoi 122 
 
 Index 137 
 
I HAVE more than once observed in pub- 
 lic prints, of big and little circulation, that 
 although the art of cookery ought to be the most 
 attractive study in domestic economy, yet women as 
 a general rule manifest less interest in it than men. 
 In fact, the most important piece of machinery in 
 woman's domain is usually relegated to an engineer 
 of faultlessly persuasive ignorance. The more she 
 may be mentally equipped to preside over the 
 kitchen realm the less she seems inclined to have 
 anything to do with it. On the other hand, men ap- 
 pear to have an instinctive fondness for meddling 
 with everything appertaining to the art of cookery, 
 for such it is come to be under ingenious skill and 
 logical deduction. I have partaken of a more elab- 
 orate and tasty dinner gotten up in a yacht's small 
 galley than I have ever had from " Bridget's " great 
 kitchen with all her conveniences, and I have at- 
 tended informal dinners where everything served 
 was cooked directly in front of me on a chafing- 
 dish with but very little trouble, that produced a 
 feast worthy of the gods. 
 
2 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 Since the ethics of Hafiz, the most epicurean of 
 Persian poets, including that triumphant philoso- 
 pher, Brillat Savarin, the most notable of writers 
 have also been famous cooks. Dumas took his 
 greatest delight in superintending the actual cook- 
 ing of the simplest dejeutier or a banquet, were it 
 in his own or his neighbor's house. The late 
 George Augustus Sala was not only a most ac- 
 complished cook, but his dissertations on the sub- 
 ject were exceedingly infectious. 
 
 There may, of course, be too much " larnin' " 
 even in cookery. As Goldsmith wrote : 
 
 " You've got an odd something — a kind of discerning — 
 A relish — a taste — sickened over by learning ! " 
 
 Then again the poet-chef may construct his 
 dishes so elaborately that 
 
 " Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regret- 
 ting 
 To spoil such a delicate picture by eating ! " 
 
 I have had the privilege of knowing many dis- 
 tinguished men in various walks of life, and I think 
 the most beguiling hours in their company were 
 when some new culinary "creation " was under dis- 
 cussion. No man understood the value of a genial 
 host in this respect better than the elder Sothern, 
 nor could any man turn a spit with more energetic 
 
Entre Nous, 5 
 
 interest than Dion Boucicault. But me.n*s stom- 
 achs have always been their weaknesses, and it has 
 fairly been said that if women wished to control 
 the lords of creation it was only necessary to treat 
 them as kindly as they would the brute — feed 
 them ! 
 
 The new chafing-dish — which is a most delightful 
 evolution — is accomplishing much as a civilizer. 
 It is certainly an important factor nowadays in 
 breaking formality and bringing people around a 
 festive board under the happiest sort of circum- 
 stances. Its very general use by both men and 
 women, its convenience for a quick supper or for 
 a dainty luncheon, and its success as an economical 
 provider where it is necessary — all this is putting 
 the chafing-dish upon a queenly dais. 
 
 The idea of making this little book has been sug- 
 gested to me over and over again by various friends 
 with whom I have had the privilege of testing many 
 of the recipes given. They have in every instance 
 been a happy success in the presence of carefully 
 scrutinizing don vivants on board of yachts, in 
 private dining-rooms of many clubs, in bachelor 
 apartments, and among clever men and charming 
 women at their homes. 
 
 In addition to such recipes suited to the chafing- 
 
4 The Bachelor and the Chafi7ig-dish, 
 
 dish, a number of directions are given for the prep- 
 aration of sauces, suggestions for the bachelor's 
 larder, and various hints on miscellaneous subjects, 
 that will be found more or less apropos, to which 
 is added a glossary of the various terms used in 
 cooking. This will be found especially convenient 
 to the amateur chef in the construction of a menu- 
 card. 
 
Not very many 
 or cooked cheese 
 most indigestible 
 dom suggested 
 proper article of 
 supper. But its 
 came with the intro- 
 chop-houses and 
 tanism. It can cer- 
 king of the chafing- 
 skilfully, is as di- 
 table. Nearly every 
 his o w n w a y of 
 bit to be the best, 
 company during its 
 usually the object 
 that becomes 
 ing. After numer- 
 various times and in 
 under the discussion 
 
 ^ years ago toasted 
 M* was considered a 
 dish, and was sel- 
 in this country as a 
 food for a late-night 
 sudden popularity 
 duction of English 
 latter-day cosmopoli- 
 tainly be called the 
 dish, and, if made 
 gestible as it is pala- 
 amateurcook believes 
 making a Welsh rab- 
 and in an assembled 
 preparation he is 
 of a critical comment 
 humorously provok- 
 ous experiments at 
 many localities, and 
 of men and women of 
 
 well-known good judgment, I am convinced that 
 this is the most satisfactory recipe for its making. 
 Let us say the rabbit is for six persons. 
 Two pounds of fresh American cheese should be in 
 
6 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 readiness, well cut up or grated. First put into the 
 dish, immediately over the fire, a lump of butter 
 about the size of an ^gg. Rub this around in the 
 pan until it begins to simmer. Now add to this 
 a smooth teaspoon of paprika, a couple of table- 
 spoons of beer or ale, and mix well with a spoon. 
 Empty the cheese into this and manipulate it well 
 until it becomes the consistency of batter, mean- 
 while adding more ale by degrees. Put in a modi- 
 cum of salt, and either a tablespoonful of prepared 
 English mustard or two of the French, and stir 
 well until the cheese begins to bubble. There are 
 some people who like the added flavor of Worces- 
 tershire sauce. I never had a rabbit become stringy 
 if, at this stage, I took care of it and let it thor- 
 oughly cook while stirring. Have your bread or 
 toast ready, and with a fork plunge each piece into 
 the rabbit, thoroughly covering it, and then quickly 
 serve on a heated plate. I do not think it makes 
 much difference whether ale or beer is used — in 
 fact, milk is an excellent substitute. Paprika is 
 preferable to red pepper. // actually helps to digest 
 the cheese. Ale or beer is the only thing that 
 should be drunk in accompaniment. 
 
 Many a Welsh rabbit is ruined by not being well 
 stirred. It should even be beaten. On this hang 
 the law and the prophets. 
 
Chasing the Rabbit. !j 
 
 "A golden buck" is simply a Welsh rabbit 
 with a poached tgg dropped upon it. 
 
 The late William J. Florence, the actor, once 
 asked me for a good recipe for a Welsh rabbit. I 
 was prompted to send him the following : 
 
 Should you ask me, friend and actor, 
 " Whence the flavor of the rabbit, 
 Whence its odor and its smoothness, 
 Whence its subtle fascination ? " 
 I should answer, I should tell you : 
 *' From the method of its mixture, 
 From the choice of its ingredients. 
 And the time of introduction, 
 This the way to make a rabbit : 
 
 * Give me of your cheese, O grocer \ 
 Good fresh dairy cheese domestic — 
 Cheese quite fresh, not old and mouldy.* 
 Cut it then in dainty fragments — 
 Fragments cut in sizes equal ; 
 Light the spirit-lamp and place it 
 'Neath the blazer brightly gleaming ; 
 Then a lump of butter placing 
 In the blazer, watch it creaming, 
 Creaming in the heated blazer ; 
 Then with deftness add the substance — 
 Creamy substance, cut in fragments. 
 
The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Then when it doth melt and thicken, 
 Pour on ale — the ale called Bass's ; 
 Gently add in scanty spoonfuls, 
 Lest you chill the substance melting— 
 Always stirring', stirring always. 
 
 When the cheese to heat surrenders. 
 Drop into this dish so tempting 
 Two teaspoonfuls, measured finely, 
 Only two of Coleman's mustard. 
 This you add to keep dyspepsia, 
 Grim dyspepsia, from partakers — 
 All this while keep up the stirring. 
 Always stirring, stirring always. 
 Add a touch of red paprika. 
 Made from pepper-tips Hungarian ; 
 This the foe of indigestion, 
 Deadly foe of indigestion. 
 
 Now you stir with vim and ardor. 
 
 For the rabbit nears completion. 
 
 And the appetites are whetted 
 
 By the subtle, faint aroma. 
 
 Plates, hot plates, must be beside you. 
 
 Crowned with buttered toast and waiting 
 
 For the baptism of the rabbit 
 
 Hot and smooth, and O ! so fragrant ! 
 
 Quickly bid the guests assail it 
 Ere a breath of air can chill it ; 
 Ale or beer attend the feasting. 
 And delay is most disastrous ; 
 
Chasing the Rabbit, ^ 
 
 Plates and toast and beer and glasses 
 Must be ready at your elbow — 
 Quickly served and quickly eaten, 
 And the grace be spoken after. 
 This the secret of the rabbit." 
 
 Shade of Longfellow! May I be forgiven for 
 this! 
 
 But it is no wonder too many cooks spoil the 
 broth ! I have eaten some very extraordinary 
 Welsh rabbits. As a matter of curiosity, I give 
 the following, which I find in the autobiography of 
 Brillat Savarin : " Take as many eggs as you wish, 
 according to the number of guests, and weigh them; 
 then take a piece of cheese weighing a third of the 
 weight of the eggs, and a slice of butter weighing a 
 sixth ; beat the eggs well up in a saucepan, after 
 which put in the butter and cheese, the latter either 
 grated or chopped up very small ; place the sauce- 
 pan on a good fire, and stir it with a flat spoon 
 until the mixture becomes sufficiently thick and 
 soft ; add a little salt and a large portion of pepper, 
 and serve up in a hot dish." 
 
 According to a recent English writer, " a Welsh 
 rarebit is not reckoned as among the refinements 
 of the table, but is still held in great repute by 
 gentlemen of the old school, who desire a stimulant 
 
10 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 after dinner." So, as a curious stimulant, I give 
 " Dr. Kitchiner's " recipe. Whetlier the good doc- 
 tor's name is a humorous nom de plume I know not. 
 Itiit is his own, the gods give him joy ! Here it is : 
 " Cut a slice of bread, about half an inch thick ; 
 'pare off the crust, and toast it very lightly on both 
 si<tes ; do not harden or scorch it. Cut a slice of 
 rich cheese a quarter of an inch thick, less than the 
 bread by half an inch all round ; it must be per- 
 fectly sound and the rind be cut off. Lay it on the 
 bread, and put into a cheese-toaster ; carefully 
 watch it that it does, not burn, and stir the cheese 
 gently with a spoon to prevent a skin forming on 
 the surface. As soon as it is thoroughly melted 
 and hot, serve with mustard and pepper." 
 
 It seems to be a question of doubt by the average 
 cheese-lover whether to call it "rarebit" or "rabbit." 
 It is most certainly a Welsh rabbit, just the same 
 as the addition of an ^g% makes it a "golden 
 buck," and nothing else. We also know that a 
 ** Scotch woodcock " is quite a jocular treatment 
 of an appetizing dish in which the real bird does 
 not appear. 
 
 " It may not be just to judge others by your own 
 weaknesses, but it's safe," a clever woman once re- 
 
Chasing the Rabbit. II 
 
 marked to me, and I think it is quite likely to be so 
 in almost everything but eating. But one must 
 be Napoleonic in making Welsh rabbits before a 
 number of interested guests ; one must also be 
 royal. To my taste, there must be an apparent 
 prodigality in the use of the condiments here set 
 down. 
 
9f 
 
 So far, O reader, you must have 
 observed that I have not written as an 
 ^••' " autocrat ; at least, not entirely so. Pray 
 give me credit for that ! Rather would I write 
 as Horace, with simple ejaculations of delight in 
 conjunctive ; as / like it. I am not a maker of 
 cook-books. I have not a single ambition in that 
 direction, and what I may wish to say under the 
 warm glow of conviviality will not partake of cold- 
 blooded prescription, all well indexed, and set up 
 in oil-cloth covering for ready reference by Bridget 
 in her basement kitchen. 
 
 Let us come to our bachelor apartment. Jim — 
 big, bustling, hearty fellow as he is — has come in. 
 I have been buried for the last half-hour in Charles 
 Lamb's dissertation on "Roast Pig." 
 
 " I say, old chap," says he, " I'm deucedly hun- 
 gry — what's in the larder ? '* 
 
 *' Nothing but mushrooms," I reply. 
 
 ''Ye gods!" 
 
 I knock the ashes from my pipe, and poke the fire 
 a bit. 
 
 <' Well, you are a good 'un," says Jim. *' Noth- 
 
Mushrooms for "yim.** 13 
 
 ing could be better. But oh, for a broiled mush- 
 room on toast ! " 
 
 "You shall have it." 
 
 " In a chafing-dish ? Come off, old man ! " 
 
 This is how I did it : 
 
 In the first place, they were fresh — ^just from the 
 field where I had found them. Into the chafing- 
 dish I put some sweet olive-oil — just enough to 
 flood it. Then a teaspoonful of paprika, a divina- 
 tion of black pepper, and a pinch of salt. Into this 
 I placed the mushrooms, hollow part upward, put 
 on the cover, and they browned in — well, say ten 
 minutes. Turning them into a covered dish, I put 
 two slices of bread into the hot pan with half an 
 ounce of butter. In a few seconds they were heated 
 sufficiently to serve the mushrooms upon. 
 
If 
 
 It is useless to set down 
 - y^-,mmi^^^^iis the culinary invention of 
 ff^llJDlllpr |iiiiiii'''i'W'"'"4' such a connoisseur, for 
 instance, as George Au- 
 •^ gustus Sala, before a hungry canal-boat 
 driver, and look expectantly for an intellectual 
 smile of satisfaction. Some men simply eat to live 
 until another day, not with the cheering prospect 
 that they may eat again. To-morrow's meals are, to 
 many, a tiresome necessity. And, too, I do not care 
 for the glutton who lives to eat ; but give me a 
 moderate man who thinks well, and, when free from 
 his professional duties, says to you, with a hearty 
 slap and just a suspicion of a smack to his lips, 
 " Look here, old man, what do you say to a chop ? 
 I know the cosiest place in town — something to see 
 while you eat — a regular crank on paintings and 
 etchings, don't you know — the best men go there, 
 and all that." 
 
 That's the kind of a fellow Jim is. He talks 
 just that way, and never speaks about anything 
 more serious when he is hungry than a chop or a 
 steak; but when you are seated at the little pol- 
 ished table with him, he has such an insidious 
 
Jim's Dinner, 1 5 
 
 way of making you believe you are hungrier than 
 you are, and that you know a great deal more 
 about the proper thing than you do, that the first 
 thing you know "you are like a house afire" with 
 enthusiasm, as he used to say. 
 
 Sometimes Jim would be hard up at an exceed- 
 ingly unfortunate time — just when I was. On one 
 of these occasions he said to me : " We'll have to go 
 it light, old man — simply a snack of something or 
 other." Then we would have a bisque by the way 
 of a soup, with some toast and anchovy paste, to 
 start off on. Of course nothing could be better ; it 
 was all so deucedly appetizing ! Then would come 
 some calf's tongue in brown sauce, with a trium- 
 phant tinge of flavor that Jim had suggested him- 
 self. Then a salad — chicory with plain dressing — 
 followed by Rocquefort cheese that was solemnly 
 declared to be genuine. Meanwhile we had com- 
 pletely destroyed a bottle of Chablis, and ended 
 with black coffee and Benedictine, and a cigar that 
 he knew how to recommend. There was not much 
 variety to that, was there ? Oh, but it was all very 
 hearty and chummy, and we would wax warm in 
 friendship over it. Does any woman know that.^ 
 Does any woman realize the honest, pure feeling of 
 affection that one man may have for another — that 
 feeling that is never lost as long as life lasts? I 
 
l6 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 think Jim enjoyed my enjoyment more than he did 
 his own ; I know he did. He left the table with a 
 worried brow, and I saw him talk to the proprietor 
 — old Gerot gone to his reward — then he returned 
 with a smile, and "it's all right until to-morrow ! " 
 Emerson has said, " We walk alone in the world." 
 I don't believe it. 
 
 *' Men talk of unkind hearts, kind deeds 
 With coldness still returning, 
 Alas ! the gratitude of men 
 Has often left me mourning." 
 
ir|Ay?5CoTeiifpRlEND 
 
 " Musing sit I on the settle, 
 
 By the fireUght's cheerful blaze, 
 Listening to the busy kettle 
 --=%^__ Humming long- forgotten lays." 
 
 — Heine, 
 
 It was blowing great guns outside one night, and 
 I was just in for a lazy time of it with a " church- 
 warden" and a " hot Scotch," when my friend Hen- 
 derson squeezed through the doorway, and instantly 
 filled the room with his ruddy glow of geniality. 
 From a capacious pocket in his great topcoat he 
 drew forth a sealed quart-can and placed it on the 
 table with a bang. 
 
 " There ! " said he, " is something direct from 
 Glasgow ; you never tasted the like of it. But 
 give me a Scotch haggis when I'm hungry, and I 
 call it the * hecht ' of hospitality ! " 
 
 " And what is a haggis, pray ? " I asked with some 
 astonishment, surveying the object as I might a 
 can of dynamite. 
 
 " A haggis ? " Then he stretched himself on the 
 settle, lit a warden, and said with an injured air : 
 " I thought better than that of you, old chap. I 
 knew you never tasted one, but it's not half so 
 mysterious as your American hash. A haggis ? 
 
l8 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Why, it's the stomach of a sheep filled with its 
 other good things — heart, tongue, and liver, all cut 
 up ; then there's added to it a bit of bacon, eggs, 
 anchovies, wine, and pepper and salt ! Then you 
 boil it for two hours ! " 
 
 " That's pleasant," I ejaculated. 
 
 "Of course it is," said Henderson. "Why, man 
 alive, it's the pleasantest thing on earth ! " 
 
 " I mean — sitting around for a couple of hours — 
 waiting for it to boil ! " 
 
 " But if / don't object to sitting around why 
 should you ? Come, don't you think you're a bit 
 unreasonable for a man who doesn't know anything 
 about haggis? Besides, what is time made for, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 " Of course, I know, but " — I put in — " it isn't the 
 time so much as it is the waiting. Now, look at it 
 seriously, old fellow. Say, for instance, we start in : 
 you tell that old Scotch story of yours about Doc- 
 tor McLeod's Sunday out; that will take twenty 
 minutes, possibly half an hour, if you're in the 
 humor of it. After that you'll tell me George 
 Augustus Sala's conversation with Sardou about 
 French plays being prejudicial to the morals of the 
 young ; that certainly won't take ten minutes, if you 
 get excited over it. Then you'll follow with your 
 inimitable, and, I may say, superb, description of 
 
My Scotch Friejid. 19 
 
 the Maharajah's palace ; that's another twenty min- 
 utes. Now, what are we to do the next hour ? " 
 
 This was too much. My friend snapped off 
 his churchwarden, and, as he Ht up another, said : 
 "Well, I'll be damned! Can't j'^/^ do something? 
 If I provide the haggis, it seems to me you might 
 at least wait until it cooks ! " Then he became so 
 earnest that he went off into the most unintelligible 
 Scotch dialect. Henderson always talked in another 
 language when he got mad. Finally, he ended up 
 understandingly : " When you've been aboard my 
 yacht, haven't / waited around an old iron anchor 
 hours just for a breeze that you might enjoy your- 
 self ? How was it that day off Noshone Island ? " 
 
 " Yes, how was it that day when / got up a sur- 
 prise dinner for your birthday, and you went off in 
 some other fellow's yacht — and didn't turn up ? 
 Didn't / do the waiting ? " 
 
 " Well, I'll admit that was a surprise," said Hen- 
 derson with a make-believe humbleness. Then, 
 suddenly, with a merry twinkle, " Come, old chap, 
 you never would take a chaffing. Why, that hag- 
 gis has been cooked ! It only needs steaming up ! " 
 
 " It isn't everybody who can appreciate a hag- 
 gis," said my Scotch friend half an hour afterward. 
 " You do. I can see that." 
 
20 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 "It depends greatly on the condition of one's 
 stomach, I should say," I said timidly. I always 
 tried to enjoy everything the way he did. 
 
 " Yes ; it does depend on the stomach. I can see 
 that. This one which you have just eaten is capi- 
 tal." 
 
 We puffed our pipes in silence for a few mo- 
 ments. Then, after a new brew of hot Scotch, 
 Henderson said : " Now let me fix you up some- 
 thing — just to top off with. We will have a Scotch 
 woodcock ! " 
 
 " Let's talk about it instead. Really, I haven't 
 an appetite. What is it ? " 
 
 He gave me a look of despair, and then resign- 
 edly said, between puffs : " If you want some- 
 thing appetizing, you couldn't think of anything 
 better." 
 
 As for me, I never could get up much interest 
 eating anything when once I had dined. But I'll 
 challenge any one to withstand Henderson's seduc- 
 tive ways. I have always thought that if I were a 
 housekeeper I would do all my marketing just be- 
 fore the meal hour. Even a raw carrot or a turnip 
 had charms for me then. Many a time, on such 
 occasions, have I wondered why it was difficult for 
 even the most blase housekeeper to resist the tempta- 
 tion pf a fine-looking head of cabbage. 
 
My Scotch Friend. 21 
 
 My friend was certainly a gourmand. He never 
 seemed to suffer the pangs of indigestion. No 
 matter how sumptuously he had eaten he would 
 enter into the most happy kind of a discussion con- 
 cerning why a well-regulated larder ought to be a 
 housewife's throne. " And yet," he would say, 
 " I never saw a woman take a real heart interest in 
 her kitchen, as I would in my ship's galley. The 
 average cook in a private house wouldn't be tol- 
 erated in a man's systematic domain. Now, look 
 at Richard, my steward ! Why, he has a little box 
 of a place — you could hardly turn around in it! 
 Yet what of that dinner I gave aboard the other 
 night to two and twelve club fellows ? Didn't we 
 have a dozen courses ? If you'd looked into that 
 galley an hour after, there wouldn't have been a 
 sign of it ! Ten to one Richard would have been 
 found reading * The Wreck of the Grosvenor ! ' " 
 
 "The fact of it is," my friend went on, "men 
 cook to please themselves and women cook to 
 please others. After all, I think women prefer tea 
 and toast. Now let me tell you how to make a 
 Scotch woodcock : First toast and butter some 
 bread on both sides, and spread on this some 
 chopped anchovies. Beat up the yolks of four eggs 
 ivith half a pint of cream, and thicken this for 
 
22 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 a few moments in your chafing-dish, without letting 
 it come to a boil. Arrange your small pieces of 
 toast into a little pyramid and pour this over 
 it. Then you'll want something else to eat after- 
 ward ! " 
 
The Invalid's Tray " is worth talk- 
 ing about. ■ I have a literary chum 
 <\5? who got ill simply because he didn't eat 
 enough ! He had the funniest little "den" 
 in town. It wasn't much more than ten feet 
 square, and Harry slept there, wrote there, and had 
 long chummy talks with me when we both ought 
 to have been in bed hours ago. He would begin 
 his day of work on a boiled egg, a cup of coffee, 
 and a loaf of " home made." He would keep his 
 larder in a soap box fastened on the ledge of the 
 window outside, and respectfully called it his refrig- 
 erator. He paid about two dollars a week for his 
 quarters, and laid other dollars by in the bank. 
 During the day he would forget himself in his novel- 
 ettes, verses, and " pot boilers " generally until it got 
 too late to get lunch. He would dine around the 
 corner at a dyspeptic faMe dlwte, and regale me after- 
 wards with the astounding menu, including wine, for 
 fifty cents ! He had the most wonderful system for 
 his literary business. He could lay his hands on any 
 subject as soon as he thought about it, by referring 
 to the contents of a tin cigarette box, and he kept 
 a lot of these little boxes, all duly labelled, in vari- 
 
24 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 ous corners of the room. It used to cheer me up 
 a great deal to have an old-fashioned talk with 
 Harry. I would come away feeling that if I 
 wanted to obtain the earth all I had to do was to 
 think that it was perfectly possible. He gave me 
 so many tips ! 
 
 And he had such clever, original ideas ! If 
 you'd go to him and tell him your painful story 
 about unrequited love, it would seem the simplest 
 thing imaginable, after you had laid it all before 
 him and got his advice, to win the girl by simply 
 turning your hand over, as it were. 
 
 Every once in a while, when literary work began 
 to be financially slow, Harry would accept some 
 theatrical engagement. He was a first-rate actor 
 of the Wyndham type, and had been brought up in 
 the atmosphere of the greenroom. But he seemed 
 singularly unambitious in that direction, and would 
 only speak of it as " going on simply to help mat- 
 ters." On such occasions he would dine around 
 like the veritable lord I had come to dub him. 
 
 It was after one of these periods of extravagance 
 that Harry "took ill." After seriously diagnosing 
 his case, I came to the conclusion that it was all 
 because of his stomach. Then I insisted upon 
 treating him as an invalid, and suggested certain 
 things for him accordingly. The first really tempt- 
 
The Lord Harry, 25 
 
 ing dish I gave him was " Crofite clams," then a 
 " Billy Deutsch ragout," and very frequently a 
 " Bill Traver's cocktail" There was a seductive 
 sound about the latter that caused Harry to look 
 anxiously waiting when I first mentioned it. But 
 it was nothing but very hot water. 
 
 But the thing that really saved Harry's life (and 
 it helped me a good bit, too) was a brandy mixture. 
 He liked it so well that he thought it ought to be 
 printed in some way for the good of other poor 
 devils in distress. So here it is : Mix a gill of 
 brandy and a gill of cinnamon water, yolks of two 
 eggs, half an ounce of powdered sugar, two drops 
 of oil of cinnamon. I told Harry to take three 
 tablespoonfuls of this every quarter of an hour if 
 he was very exhausted. But he took it all at once 
 and said he needed it that way ! 
 
ITRnlPi* 
 
 My friend "Ed" 
 taught me the first 
 rudiments of cookery. It 
 all began by frying fish and making 
 4 coffee after we had pitched tent in some 
 ideal place along the lake-shore in those 
 halcyon days when we were young, energetic, not 
 purse-proud, and full of appreciation for all of the 
 benefits which nature seemed to bestow purposely 
 for our delectation. 
 
 I was young in those days. When I look back on 
 those June hours, it is like the dream of Arcadia — 
 more healthy than any I have since had. Life 
 was stretched out before me like that expanse of 
 tranquil blue water. My troubles were as light as 
 the fluff on the heather ; my youthful energy was 
 never evanescent, and my air-castles were iridescent 
 with hope ! Why, I had never been in love ! 
 
 The Maud Mullers, the Evangelines, and the 
 Marguerites were merely interesting human crea- 
 tures described in rhyme. But the luminous mist 
 on the hills in the azure haze of an Indian summer, 
 
Camping out with " Ed." Tj 
 
 the mellow light that crept over the pasture where 
 cows were ruminating, the crickets' song of silence, 
 and the cry of the whippoorwill — all this was 
 poetry, and appealed to me with devout thanksgiv- 
 ing that I was permitted to be alive. For the brute 
 my sympathies were most tender. I think I had a 
 strange influence over all animal life, for the cows 
 and sheep in unfamiliar places would come to me 
 and never seem afraid. It was out of all this long- 
 ing affection that the virtue of my first real love was 
 subsequently born. But oh, this retrospection ! 
 Let me get back to practical things ; let me come 
 back to this cook-book and deal with the material ! 
 
 In those days Ed seemed much older than I. 
 Now he doesn't. I presume it was because he was 
 tall and manly, with a great, big chest, and a way 
 that so dominated me that my youthful impulses 
 oftentimes met with a frost-like observation — very 
 much as I have seen a St. Bernard dog look at a 
 setter pup. My first lessons in cooking principally 
 consisted in going for the milk. That was usu- 
 ally an errand that meant a mile over hedge and 
 stubble and along a dusty road to some near farm- 
 er's house. On my return I was sure to find Ed 
 taking a siesta while the water was boiling over the 
 drift-wood fire. Then he would say : " Humph, if 
 
28 The bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 you'd been a little quicker, I would have shown you 
 how to boil water as it ought to be boiled. If you 
 want to know how to make coffee, you must begin 
 at the very beginning. Do you suppose Booth 
 played ' Hamlet ' without studying all the stage 
 rudiments ? " Of course, I didn't realize the value 
 of all this sage advice at the time. I do now. Well, 
 I did learn to boil on that trip, and one day fried 
 some perch so thoroughly that now among the tro- 
 phies of the past I believe Ed has the pan with the 
 fish still clinging to it. As I have said, those were 
 halcyon days, when cracked wheat, served hot on 
 the Httle camp table with some New Orleans molas- 
 ses, a cup of Ed's coffee, and some berries gotten 
 on a foraging expedition, made a feast that was en- 
 joyed with more healthy zest than any I have since 
 had. We used to get great pieces of cheese from 
 pretty farmers' daughters ; but it never occurred to 
 us to make Welsh rabbits out of it. In fact, at 
 that time such a mixture would have been looked 
 upon as a patent recipe for a nightmare. No. I 
 fancy the pretty farmers' daughters' smiles made 
 that cheese more palatable and digestible than any 
 considerable amount of paprika. 
 
 One thing I at least learned to do in tho^e old 
 camping-out days, and that was to make a good cup 
 
Camping out with " Ed** 2g 
 
 of coffee. I do not think it was very good then. 
 Ed said it wasn't ; but it was the experience I 
 got that was so tremendously valuable — don't you 
 know. We were talking it over the other night. 
 Ed was smoking his old meerschaum pipe and tell- 
 ing me that I didn't know beans about cooking, or 
 even catching fish, in those days. I said that even 
 if I didn't I got pretty good milk when I went 
 for it. Then we discussed coffee, and came to 
 the conclusion that there were two good ways of 
 making it, and in the long run, unless it was 
 for a demi tasse at the end of a dinner, the old- 
 fashioned way of boiling it was the most satisfac- 
 tory. 
 
 But we hatched out three good recipes, and here 
 they are : 
 
 First. — See that you get good coffee, one part 
 Mocha and two parts Java, ground fine. Fill a 
 good-sized cup with it and mix well into this a raw 
 egg and the shell. Now let your water — say a 
 quart— come to the boiling point, then add to this 
 the mixture. Let it stand for at least ten minutes 
 and keep at the boiling point— at least let it boil 
 up twice— then pour in a cup of cold water. Let 
 stand for five minutes longer, then serve with cream 
 or hot milk. This ought to make a cup of delicious 
 coffee. 
 
3© The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 Second. — To make French coffee : Simply pour 
 hot water on well-ground coffee through the top 
 strainer. If chicory is added it will help flavor and 
 color. Delmonico and all best restaurants use it. 
 
 Third. — Same as first, except when putting into 
 it a cup of cold water add rich milk. This will 
 bring a perfect golden color to your coffee and also 
 saves extra serving. This is known on the menus 
 as cafe au lait. 
 
DINNER1NA-5L0T 
 
 Tames Clarence Harvey, the 
 '' poet with a voice of his own," 
 as the London Academy put it, 
 once confided to me something 
 about a nine-course dinner he had 
 which caused him to bemoan the fact that 
 no inventive Yankee had yet patented a folding 
 chafing-dish which could be carried in the vest 
 pocket or worn as a charm on the watch-chain. 
 Mr. Harvey is responsible for the christening 
 of paprika as the " Goddess of Good Digestion " 
 (He also confessed to me in an unguarded mo- 
 ment that he wrote that immortal poem, " Girl in 
 hammock — reading book,") and he bows at her 
 shrine as a fervent devotee. " You can eat a 
 Welsh rabbit, dish and all, without indigestion, 
 if plenty of paprika is well stirred in while the 
 cheese is- melting," he said to me once, and I 
 really believe he would have tried it if it hadn't 
 been a silver-plated affair that I was rather fond of. 
 Once upon a time he was in London, and had taken 
 the underground railway at King's Cross for Wal- 
 tham Green, He became interested in a magazine 
 article (I have often wondered what magazine that 
 
32 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 was) and neglected to change cars at Earlscourt. As 
 a consequence he suddenly found the chimney-pots 
 of London town disappearing in the distance, while 
 before him spread out the green fields and suburban 
 villas beyond Hammersmith and Ravenscourt. He 
 appealed to the guard, who told him to hurry across 
 the tracks and take the returning train; but the way 
 was circuitous and elevated, and the gate was closed 
 upon a sadder and wiser as well as a hungrier man, 
 for dinner-time was come. A good dinner had been 
 missed, and the schedule showed no train for an 
 hour. A generous station manager, however, ex- 
 tended him the freedom of the platform on which 
 to walk off his vexation. Then came a ray of hope. 
 In the dim light of an October evening he saw, 
 standing by the station wall, a row of slot machines 
 arrayed along like wailing ghosts on the ragged 
 headlands of the eternal future. 
 
 There were sixty long minutes of waiting to kill, 
 "and so," murmured the poet, "I will draw on my 
 imagination (my friend has a plethora of this) and- 
 sumptuously dine ! " 
 
 The margin of the magazine supplied an illus- 
 trated menu-card, and upon it was inscribed, " Po- 
 tage," "Hors D'oeuvres," "Poisson," ''Releve," 
 " Entree," " Roti," and " Dessert." Then began the 
 dinner, each course being attended by a musical 
 
A Dinne}- in a Slot. ZZ 
 
 prelude, which was produced by the rattling of a 
 copper in-the-slot machine. The nearest he could 
 get 10 potage was fig-paste, while, for poisson, even 
 my poet's now feverish imagination failed, and with 
 the usual prelude he weighed himself on automati- 
 cal scales. A *' tuppence " gave him entrees of 
 sugared peanuts and lemon-drops, tutti-frutti and 
 pepsin-gum. Then came the substantial roti in the 
 form of slabs of sweet chocolate. 
 
 But this being in no sense a fulness as yet, a 
 second service was requested, and two more solid 
 slabs of chocolate gave weight and dignity to the 
 solitary dinner — so much so that Harvey was about 
 to weigh himself again, but saved the expense by 
 noticing on the machine that each delivery of the 
 mechanism supplied the purchaser with just one 
 ounce of chocolate ; so he stepped on to the next 
 instrument in the line, which happened to be a slot 
 fortune-teller. The fig-paste and lemon-drops had 
 already begun their fatal work, so it was with quiet 
 heroism the diner saw, as though in letters of fire, 
 in the fortune-teller, these words : "A serious ill- 
 ness threatens you. That which you don't expect 
 is sure to come true." 
 
 With a heavy sigh the poet moved on to the next 
 machine, which told for a penny what number of 
 spectacles should be secured to make the eyesight 
 
34- The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 normal. ** I'll take that in place of the punch," said 
 the poet to the eye-tester. Another penny was ven- 
 tured for bon-bons as dessert, but it slipped into the 
 wrong slot and brought forth postage-stamps. An- 
 other one perfumed the handkerchief, into which, 
 he told me, he wept copiously as the train at last 
 rolled into the station. 
 
 "And if ever I miss another train," concluded 
 my poet-friend, "and have to draw on my imagina- 
 tion, I'll pretend I'm Nebuchadnezzar, and browse 
 on the grass of the fields." 
 
/A(RINKLE'5DIAPA50N 
 
 I READ in the Sun that the boys and 
 girls were gathering autumn leaves 
 in the* country, and a poetical descrip- 
 |-°^ ^ tion of the azure haze in the air, the 
 sunshine of gold, and the splashed colors of the 
 rainbow painted on the foliage, set me to think- 
 ing. I had really allowed myself to forget for 
 the moment that God was visiting anywhere near 
 me, and I was fired by a sudden desire to go and 
 witness some of His transformation scenes outside 
 the city gates. I had one friend in the country 
 whom I knew would welcome me ; so I telegraphed 
 to Nym Crinkle at his house in the Ramapo hills, 
 and this was his reply : 
 
 Nymsden. 
 Come on up. I have a new Alderneycow to show you; a 
 short-horn bull ; the dog has pups ; the ground is covered 
 with chestnuts and apples, and the sun rises every morning 
 where you can see it. Crinkle. 
 
 Nym met me at Spring Valley as the 4.57 train 
 came in. He was on the back seat, with an extra 
 coat for me because, as he said, I probably thought 
 it was just as warm eight hundred feet above my 
 New York ofifice. " Rube " drove, and remarked as 
 we bowled along over the road that if I'd go to 
 
36 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 the " smithy " with him the next day he would let 
 me see the sore foot of the nigh horse. 
 
 There is no other house like Nym's den. It's 
 the longest, biggest, cosiest country place I was 
 ever in. There's style about it above the lowly 
 farmer, but there are no false notes sung in its 
 hospitality. There is an atmosphere of gentle, 
 happy Bohemia, such as you like where hands clasp 
 firm. Nym built this house by his pen. He was 
 several years in building it, paying for it in ripples 
 that soon gathered into a solid wave of possession. 
 He built it as he wanted it. The boss carpenter 
 may have bossed his man, but when Nym wanted a 
 twenty-foot opening for a fireplace he bossed that. 
 He has his "morning" room, where the early sun 
 shines in from across the meadows, and he has the 
 " living " room, which the sun lightens through the 
 trees the rest of the day, and then gives the calm, 
 gentle hour of dusk, when it sinks back of the great 
 hills of Ramapo. At night big logs of wood warm 
 this living room into an embrace of comfort, and 
 around its table, under a lamp that seems to help in 
 the search to each other'^ heart, there is something 
 different discussed from the shallow gabble of the 
 club. Nature seemed never more gorgeous than it 
 did on this visit of mine. The sky was Venetian, 
 and the paint-brush that had colored the leaves had 
 
Nym Crinkle's Diapason. 37 
 
 splashed them with Etruscan. The orchards were 
 speckled with red apples, and the little touch of 
 frost the night before had made the chestnut-burs 
 drop and open on the ground. Everywhere the 
 cornucopia of plenty suggested itself, and the air 
 was so exhilarating I found myself thanking God I 
 lived, even more enthusiastically than the katydids 
 and whippoorwills declared themselves that night. 
 Do you blame me that I fell into writing such lines 
 as these before I crept into bed ? 
 
 What a profusion of leaves ! 
 Yellow and russet, red and brown, 
 All touched with a golden brush. 
 Ferns in myriad tints are casting 
 Shadows of delicate tracery, 
 And fields are dimly yellow 
 With fading golden-rod. 
 
 Above the sun-burned marsh 
 
 The heads of cat-tails peep, 
 
 Their brown pompons unravelled in the winds ; 
 
 Yellow tents of field-shocked corn, 
 
 And pumpkins piled like cannon-balls. 
 
 While through draperies of dying leaves 
 
 Rosy apples wink. 
 
 Elms and oaks, pines and maples ! 
 
 Swelling masses of green splashed red ! 
 
 The sun's aslant, the shadow's long ; 
 
 An odor of brown grass is on the evening breeze ; 
 
38 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 The hazy horizon suffused with blushes ; 
 The half-moon white as silver shining in the east ; 
 The leaf-gatherers are going to their homes ; 
 The whippoorwill is calling to its mate ! 
 
 There ! that may be faulty literature, and the 
 rhythm may be halting, and there may be a strange 
 uncertainty to my lines ; but I think when I read it 
 to Nym he'll say : " My boy, the way you read it is 
 the way we both have the painting in our hearts ! " 
 
 Singular, is it not, that when you are in the coun- 
 try there is more pleasure waiting at the pasture 
 fence for the' morning greeting to the soft-eyed 
 cows than there is to be found in a city flat ? I 
 had a great deal of honest happiness in rolling 
 through the autumn leaves with the big staghound 
 " Sport," who always seemed to be on the threshold 
 of conversation with me. The chestnuts and apples, 
 the cider and milk, that I digested inade me 
 healthier than a Manhattan cocktail would have 
 made me, and the infantile delight I took in watch- 
 ing the cook at the kitchen step making a pumpkin 
 pie would not be understood by everybody. 
 
 One day Nym's family went to town, and directly 
 afterwards the servants struck for higher wages. 
 They seemed to think that if they had to work 806 
 feet above the level of the sea they were entitled to 
 
Nym Crinkte's Diapason. 39 
 
 correspondingly higher pay. We tried to figure 
 up just about what they should have on that line of 
 argument, but found it would take so much printed 
 matter in the way of pot-boilers to meet their de- 
 mands, that we resolved to boil the pot ourselves. 
 So Nym put aside his philosophy of dramatic criti- 
 cism and his deductions concerning the amenities 
 of men and things, and donned a gingham apron. 
 We couldn't understand why the '' women folks " 
 shirked the work we then assumed. Why, the 
 hours went by in a perfect rhapsody of happy 
 rhythm ! We cooked such juicy steaks, and then 
 we smothered them in the crispest of onions or the 
 freshest of mushrooms ! We boiled potatoes with 
 their jackets on that were simply dreams of mealy 
 whiteness ! As for our scrambled eggs in thick 
 cream, they were beyond the criticism of a Savarin ! 
 Talk about the drudgery of the kitchen wench ! 
 Fudge ! Why, any woman with half an eye ought 
 to enjoy such occupation ! Why should she want 
 higher pay? No; we actually couldn't compre- 
 hend it. We could barely wait for the blue streaks 
 of morning, so eager were we to be up and doing, 
 and all day long ; whether we were rambling through 
 the woods and orchards, or visiting the pigs, or 
 cavorting with the puppies, it was only a matter 
 oi pour passer le tonps until it was the hour to begin 
 
40 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 operations on the next banquet. Of course you 
 couldn't expect us to take time to wash all the 
 dishes ! We put those aside that we had used and 
 took new ones, because Nym had a lot of *em, and 
 what was the use ? 
 
 And then, how we did just enjoy the last hours 
 of the night thinking what we would have the next 
 day ! We concocted all sorts of arrangements, and 
 finally, as a last experiment, got up a batch of 
 bread. That was a solid success. 
 
^ ^ ^- One day Tom said to me : *' I say, old 
 ' ^^f^ man, it's all nonsense, don't you know, 
 spending two or three dollars for our 
 dinners the way we have been doing ? There are 
 the Appleby-Joneses, who are rather high tarts, 
 and they get ever so much more than we do, 
 with wine included, for only fifty cents apiece ! " 
 So Tom and I determined to forsake the " Studio " 
 or the '^ Clifton " for a while, and see how things 
 worked along on Twenty-fifth Street. There were 
 three places, next door to each other, that held out 
 alluring signs, and canopies down to the sidewalk in 
 case the night was wet. Our first dinner was aston- 
 ishing. How they could do it we didn't know : half 
 a dozen courses, claret, all the black coffee you 
 wanted, and only ten cents to the waiter. To be 
 sure, the oil on the salad tasted as though it had 
 been made out of old shoes, and the salt was of the 
 quality that hides are preserved in. Yet it wasn't 
 necessary to gorge ourselves with either, and we 
 considered in the first hour of our enthusiasm that 
 we had struck oil, even if it were of an inferior kind. 
 
42 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 With the two successive nights we tried the neigh- 
 bors, and then went on to other streets hard by, with 
 the result we began laying up money in the bank, 
 and declared that one could live more cheaply, and 
 at the same time more luxuriously, in New York 
 than any other town. 
 
 After a couple of weeks had gone by with this 
 sort of thing, Tom said to me : " I don't know how 
 it is, but I'm hungry and still I'm not. Dear old 
 Bradley doctored me yesterday with a dose of pep- 
 sin-flakes, but somehow or other I'm all out of sorts. 
 What do you say to trying something better to- 
 night? I don't mind going a dollar." I said : "All 
 right ; let's go to Spagetti's ; they say he's up to 
 DeFs almost." 
 
 So we went to Spagetti's and ate with new zest. 
 It was a novelty, at any rate, and the people there 
 appeared to be enjoying their first meal on earth. 
 It entertained us to see them devour macaroni as a 
 cow would hay. They had an idea that it shouldn't 
 be cut with even ^ fork, and sucked it in with a pro- 
 vincial grimace of satisfaction that a stork would 
 have envied in trying to swallow an eel. When we 
 got through and felt like a couple of turkeys with 
 superfluous dressing, I said to Tom : " Those kid- 
 neys were pretty good, weren't they ? " 
 
 He said : " Do you mean those things on a stick 
 
The Little Table d'Hote. 4j 
 
 with bacon in between them ? For my part, I feel 
 as if I had a stick through my own. No, old chsfcp, 
 the fact is, I'm going back to a boarding-house; 
 Even pie would be a relief." 
 The next night we went to Del's. 
 
FlTZN00DLE"5(il/rpIN(jDl3H 
 
 I MET B. B. Vallentine, formerly editoi* 
 of Puck^ rushing around the Herald 
 building a few days ago. We got 
 to talking about the chafing-dish. Knowing him 
 to be almost wholly responsible for the sanity of 
 Lord Fitznoodle as we knew him in JPuck and 
 occasionally since, I asked him to speak to His 
 Lordship on the subject. The next day came Fitz- 
 noodle himself. 
 
 ** Ya-as," he said, "there was a time aw — it was a 
 ccnsiderwable perwiod aw ago — when I thought it 
 would be awfully jolly, ye know, to be what some 
 aw literwarwy fellaws, artist fellaws, and some fel- 
 laws interwested in the dwama, call a Bohemian. I 
 don't pweciselyknow how to descwibethe charwac- 
 tah of a Bohemian, but in a generwal way it is 
 supposed to be a aw fellaw who is not fond of cer- 
 wemony or of doing everwything in a cut-and- 
 dwied mannah. 
 
 " I got the ideah f wom weading some aw Fwench 
 books when I was at Cambwidge. I don't mean, 
 ye know, the Amerwican aw Cambwidge, which I 
 believe is also a descwiption of college, but the 
 English Cambwidge aw. 
 
Fitznoodles Chafing-dish. 45 
 
 " By the way, it's doosid awkward having the 
 same name aw faw such places, and must aw fwe- 
 quently lead to erwahs. 
 
 '' In twying to be a Bohemian I used to gives up- 
 pahs in my wooms in Twinity College. Jack, who 
 was aw in those days a cornet in a wahtah cwack 
 cavalwy wegiment, used occasionally to wun down 
 to see me and aw suggested on one occasion that it 
 would not be at all a bad ideah to pwactice cook- 
 erwy and the pweparwations of varvvious edibles 
 in connection with a chafing-dish. Jack wemarked 
 he had made aw quite a success of it in barwacks. 
 
 " I aw don't think my name will be handed down 
 to posterwity as a particulahly superwiah cook, but 
 it weally afforded me and the othah fellaws in 
 Twinity considerwable wecweation. 
 
 " We didn't aw welish the arwangements I pwe- 
 parwed in the chafing-dish, but serving them cweated 
 hilarwity, and I aw indeed often laughed quite 
 fweely. One fellaw, just befaw exam, faw the aw 
 degwee, got weady a verwy widiculous examination 
 papah, containing comical and humorwous ques- 
 tions, the aw answers to which would weveal the 
 pwoficiency any fellaw had acquired in the aw 
 science of chafing-dish cookerwy. 
 
 " Of course it wasn't weally aw necessarwy to we- 
 ply to these questions in ordah to pass an examina- 
 
46 The J^ackelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 tion — the fellaws only did it to have a aw jolly lark, 
 ye know. 
 
 * My memorwy is not verwy good, but among the 
 aw dishes I twied to pwepare in my chafing-dish 
 experwiments were aw Welsh wabbits, aw bwoiled 
 lobstahs, aw large Bwitish cwabs, two or thrwee 
 kinds of fwicassees and Colchestah natives — they're 
 oystahs, ye know — cooked in a mannah which has 
 escaped my wecollection. 
 
 " Many fellaws wemarked aftah I had gwown 
 tired of my chafing-dish that there was an ex- 
 twemely wapid disappearwance of the dyspepsia 
 fwom which they had been sufferwing aw." 
 
OILING 
 TtilN05 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
 One day I was walking along Forty- 
 second Street with George, when we 
 paused to look at some curious con- 
 trivances in a large show-window of 
 "a house-furnishing store." There 
 were two machines so mysterious and 
 intricate that we resolved to go in and 
 inquire of a gentlemanly clerk, if he 
 could be found, exactly as to their 
 uses. The clerk proved to be gen- 
 tlemanly enough, but extremely non- 
 committal. He treated our subsequent 
 surprise as a personal insinuation. 
 Whether he had any hopes of selling 
 either of us the first machine I have 
 never learned. He placed it before 
 us with that American complaisance 
 that distinguishes and makes brighter 
 the life of Chauncey 
 ,^3 Depew, and ex- 
 
 plained to us its 
 workings as well a§ 
 
48 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 he could. It was a nickel-plated affair, resem- 
 bling somewhat an old cider-press that I was once 
 very intimate with when I used to spend my sum- 
 mers on Calvin Ely's farm. This counterfeit pre- 
 sentment, with its hydraulic screws, jacks, and 
 levers, was a combination of ingenuity, so the clerk 
 informed me, for the purpose of squeezing the 
 marrow out of a duck's bones, and the price was 
 forty dollars ! 
 
 It seemed to us this was rather an expensive 
 method of getting out marrow. There were so many 
 simpler ways ! George suggested, for instance, that 
 any old thing would do. " What's the matter with 
 pushing it out with a lead-pencil ? " said he. 
 
 "Or a hairpin ?" I added. Then continuing : 
 
 "Although either one of those plans is good, 
 George, yet it seems to me that the subject under 
 consideration is whether this machine is not only 
 superior, but if it has not some fine points that may 
 have escaped us." 
 
 " No doubt," he answered half apologetically, 
 "we have given it but a cursory examination." 
 
 So the clerk then exhibited to us the working of 
 the machine, to his infinite satisfaction. It was 
 certainly admirably adapted for the purpose. " No 
 bachelor who possesses a chafing-dish should be 
 without one," said the clerk, 
 
Boiling Things. 49 
 
 George was now convinced, and was about to 
 buy it. He's the most amiably extravagant fellow 
 you ever met. He would hesitate at nothing, as a 
 general rule, if you could impress it upon his mind 
 that it was really a good thing — and the clerk was 
 getting in his work. It was becoming a moment of 
 intense anxiety on my part, and I was almost afraid 
 I might offend the clerk lest he should think me 
 hypercritical concerning my friend's luxurious 
 desires. 
 
 Finally I spoke up : " Why can't we take the 
 marrow out of our next duck — ourselves? You 
 have never particularly cared about marrow, and 
 why should you pay forty dollars for it now ? " 
 
 " I am surprised at you," he answered, with cer- 
 tainly a look of it. " Don't you see how much 
 more perfectly it could be done by machinery ? " 
 
 " But we may not have another duck this year ! " 
 
 "Oh, but we would; this would positively be an 
 incentive." 
 
 Just then George's eye lighted upon another 
 machine, less complex perhaps, but only about two- 
 tHirds the size. The clerk told us that it was for 
 the proper boiling of an Q,g%. I asked him why an 
 old tin pail wouldn't do in case of an emergency. 
 Then he showed us how superior this would be. It 
 Wi^s ^bout the size of a Vermont maple-syrup can, 
 
$o The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 with a door in it and mounted over a spirit-lamp. 
 Inside the first cylinder was another just large 
 enough to hold an t<gg, and the ^gg was nicely ad- 
 justed between wire springs. 
 
 " That's splendid," said George; "nothing could 
 be more perfect/' 
 
 The price was seven dollars, I think, and he would 
 have had it then and there, besides the marrow- 
 squeezer, if I hadn't rushed him out into the open 
 air. I finally compromised matters by accompany- 
 ing him to a florist's, where he bought a bunch of 
 violets as big as a cart-wheel, and dispatched it up- 
 town with an expression of serene happiness. 
 
 I have begun this chapter in a roundabout way 
 to illustrate, as I afterward did to George, that the 
 simplest way is the best way. Every cook-book I 
 have consulted, as to boiling an ^gg, for instance, 
 has some new discovery of its own. One evening 
 George popped in on me with great glee. He had 
 just purchased a beautiful new book by Mrs. Ronald, 
 and, directly he was seated, read from it as follows : 
 "Place the eggs in cold water on the fire and remove 
 as soon as the water boils ! " 
 
 Then we consulted other writers on the subject. 
 
 Said Mrs. Rorer : "Put them in boiling water ; 
 if you like the white set, about two minutes' boil- 
 
Boiling Things. 51 
 
 ing is enough. A new-laid ^g% will take three 
 minutes." 
 
 ** Isn't that something of an insinuation that the 
 eggs in the first instance are bad eggs ? " asked 
 George. 
 
 It seemed like it. Then we referred to Thomas 
 Murrey. This is what he said : " The chafing-dish 
 is just the thing for boiling eggs at table in hot 
 weather." 
 
 '' Well, that is a great recipe for boiling eggs," 
 said George. " He wants you to guess at it, and 
 then only in hot weather. Let us guess again." 
 
 We now got out Warne's ponderous English book, 
 '' Model Cookery," and found on page 82 this thrill- 
 ing advice : " Fill a pint saucepan with water" 
 (this means water — not milk, of course!), '*set it over 
 the fire and let itboir' (how very explicit!); "then, 
 as it boils, put in with a spoon " (not a shovel, mind 
 you !) " two or three fresh eggs. Do not use a fresh 
 ^g% until it has been laid ten hours." 
 
 " In other words," I said, " every hen must lay a 
 guarantee of the time with every egg." 
 
 " Just so," said George. 
 
mwimmw. 
 
 Dear Mab : 
 
 The larder is stocked with things you 
 
 like to-day : 
 There are kisses in cocoanut, and bus- 
 cuits 
 Sweet in their fresh baking, while in bottles lay 
 Tasty anchovies, ready for olives. 
 
 There's truffles, cheese ruffles, and chicken pate 
 Crammed into boxes eager to be eaten. 
 
 There's chow-chow ; and jam is in tempting array — 
 Peaches in brandy to tickle your palate ! 
 
 There's the daintiest tea from China's kitchen ; 
 There's coffee from Mocha and Java's garden ; 
 There's the smell of a leaf as in the lichen — 
 There's a great fragrance of stuff in that larder ! 
 
 The Barsac is prime and ready for drinking, 
 
 "While I am still waiting and waiting for thee ; 
 
 I love with the love that forever's a-thinking. 
 
 Hurry, dear girl, come and take tea — with me ! 
 
 Jack. 
 P. S. — Come on over ! 
 
 Mab never would consider my cooking seriously. 
 I could occasionally tempt her with a devilled mush- 
 room, and once in a while, when she insisted upon 
 l)eing ravenously hungry, she would nibble as a 
 
A Lunch with Her. 53 
 
 little mouse would on a Welsh rabbit — that is if 
 little mouse tried to eat a hot one. One day she- 
 had it all arranged to have her grandmother, or 
 somebody or other, accompany her as a chaperone 
 to my "studio," as she called it, for a little lunch, 
 and had even gone so far, in hopes to please me 
 with her appetite, that she actually went without 
 breakfast that mornmg. When the hour came Mab 
 appeared with an armful of bundles, each covered 
 with red stars, and I knew she had been shopping. 
 She came through the doorway with a tremendous 
 sweep of skirt, and in an atmosphere of violets. 
 Suddenly she stopped and looked at me aghast : 
 
 *' Where's grandmother ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, Mab, where on earth 
 your grandmother is. In fact, I had forgotten 
 almost that you had a grandmother," I answered. 
 
 Then she sat down in my big barrel chair, still 
 clutching at the red stars, and said : 
 
 '* Look here, Jack, this will never do. We have 
 simply got to have grandmother for lunch." 
 
 " Your grandmother for lunch ! " cried I. " Why, 
 Mab — Queen Mab — whatever may you be think- 
 ing of? And here when I was expecting to have 
 something quite different ! How do you want 
 her — devilled ? " 
 
 " Jack ! you are entirely too ga^ this morning;. 
 
54 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 But it isn't right for me to be here all alone with 
 — you. I expected to meet her here, I really did." 
 
 " But you can wait a little while for her, can't 
 you ? " I asked. 
 
 *' Well, I suppose I might do that." 
 
 ** Well, then we will have our lunch while we arc 
 waiting for grandmother." 
 
 This seemed to be sensible enough to Mab, and 
 she graced my escritoire by taking her hat off and 
 flaunting the ostrich plumes over it, and distribut- 
 ing the red stars on the bookcase. It just filled my 
 bachelor heart with a thrill of almost proprietary 
 pride when I sat mute and inglorious watching Mab 
 fix her beautiful brown hair with that woman's dex- 
 terity in handling film that's a mystery to man. I 
 know that my gentle reader will forgive me when I 
 say that at that moment I hoped to goodness that 
 Mab's grandmother had been carried off to Brook- 
 lyn by a runaway cable-car. 
 
 " Jack," said Mab, as if a great idea had struck 
 her, " give me a cocoanut macaroon. I must have 
 something to eat right away." 
 
 I suggested that cake wasn't the right thing to 
 begin on ; that she ought to take soup ; that it 
 would simply be the best sort of seasoning I could 
 imagine, to have her getting fearfully hungry while 
 I wss cooking it. 
 
"A LUNCH WITH HER." 
 must have something to eat right away."— Page 54. 
 
A Lunch with Her, 55 
 
 '' No, Jack," she said determinedly, " I don't 
 want soup." Then she went over to my larder — 
 an antique cupboard that I treasured — and pro- 
 ceeded to pick out such things as most suited her 
 fancy — stuffed olives, pate de foi gras^ macaroons, 
 and sardines. " There I ". she said as she placed 
 them on the table, " don't let's cook anything — let's 
 eat those ! Really, Jack, it's unbecoming in you 
 to cook ; I would much rather have you spending 
 your time writing poems to me ! " 
 
 That's the way I had my chafing-dish lunch with 
 Mab. There is no use talking — women do not take 
 half the interest that men do in cooking. But, bless 
 their hearts ! I am willing to stuff Mab with stuffed 
 olives all her life if she will only have me in the 
 bargain ! 
 
 We had been sitting at my little mahogany table 
 for more than an hour. A deeper pink flush had 
 come to Mab's dear cheeks. I think it was the sips 
 of Barsac that did it. Suddenly, with her usual 
 spasmodic mood, she exclaimed : " Jack ! this is 
 awful. I must go home. Grandmother is probably 
 having a fit ! " 
 
 There was a swish of ostrich plumes, a gathering 
 
S6 
 
 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 of red stars, a kiss that stranded on two coral reefs, 
 and I was alone ! 
 
 *' We followed the path of years, 
 
 And walked for a while together 
 Through the hills of hope and the vale of fears, 
 Sunned by laughter and washed by tears. 
 
 In the best and the worst of weather." 
 
 ** Well ! — it was long ago. 
 
 And the leaves in the wood are falling 
 As we wander wearily to and fro, 
 With many a change in our hearts, I know ; 
 
 But still I can hear you calling." 
 
I::ANQUAQE<>p™^7AENUt 
 
 Aspic. — A savory jelly of meat. ^ 
 Assiettes. — Small entrees, not 
 more than a plate will contain. 
 Atelet. — A small silver skewer. 
 
 Au Bleu. — A French term applied to fish boiled 
 in white wine with flavorers. 
 
 Au Gras. — Dressed with meat gravy. 
 
 Au Jus. — In the natural juice or gravy. 
 
 Au Naturel. — Plain, simple cookery. 
 
 Barbecue. — To roast whole. 
 
 Barde. — A thin slice of bacon fat placed over 
 any substance specially requiring the assistance of 
 fat without larding. 
 
 Bavaj'oise a VEau. — Tea sweetened with sirup of 
 capillaire, and flavored with a little orange-flower 
 water. 
 
 Bavaroise au Lait. — Made in the same way as the 
 above, but with equal quantities of milk and tea. 
 
 Bechamel. — A rich, white French sauce. 
 
 Beignet. — Fritter. 
 
 Bisque. — A soup made of shell-fish. 
 
 Blanc. — White broth, used to give a more deli- 
 cate appearance to the flesh of fowl, lamb, etc. 
 
 Blanquette. — A fricassee usually made of thia 
 
58 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 slices of white meat, with white sauce thickened 
 with egg-yolk. 
 
 Blonde de Veau. — Double veal broth used to en- 
 rich soups and sauces. 
 
 Boudin. — A delicate compound made of quenelle 
 forcemeat. 
 
 Bouilli. — Beef which has been boiled in making 
 broth. 
 
 Bouillie. — A French dish resembling that called 
 hasty-pudding. 
 
 Bouillon. — Clear beef soup. , 
 
 Bourguignote. — A ragout of truffles. 
 
 Braise. — Meat cooked in a closely covered stew- 
 pan to prevent evaporation, so that the meat retains 
 not only its own juices, but those of any other 
 article, such as bacon, herbs, roots, and spices, put 
 with it. 
 
 Braisiere. — A saucepan with ledges to the lid, so 
 that it will contain firing. 
 
 Brider. — To truss fowls with a needle and 
 thread. 
 
 Buisson. — A cluster or bush of small pastry piled 
 on a dish. 
 
 Callipash. — The glutinous portion of the turtle 
 found in the upper shell. 
 
 Callipee. — The glutinous meat of the turtle's 
 under shell. 
 
Language of the Menu. ^9 
 
 Cannelons. — Small rolls or collars of mince-meat, 
 or of rice and pastry with fruit. 
 
 Capilotade. — A hash of poultry. 
 
 Cass?role. — The form of rice to be filled with a 
 fricassee of white meat or a puree of game; also "a 
 stewpan. 
 
 Civet. — A dark, thickish stew of hare or venison. 
 
 Cotnpiegne. — Sweet, French yeast cake, with fruit. 
 
 Compote. — Fruits stewed in sirup. There are also 
 compotes of small birds. 
 
 Confitures. — Sweetmeats of sugars, fruits, sirups, 
 and essences. 
 
 Cojtsomme. — Strong, clear gravy obtained by stew- 
 ing meat for a considerable length of time. 
 
 Coulis. — A rich, smooth gravy used for coloring, 
 flavoring, and thickening certain soups and sauces. 
 
 Croquant. — A kind of paste or cake. 
 
 Croquettes. — A savory mince of fish, meat, or fowl, 
 made with a little sauce into various shapes, rolled 
 in ^g% and bread-crumbs, and fried crisp. 
 
 Croustacles. — Also known as Dresden patties. 
 They are composed of mince incased in paste, and 
 moulded into various forms. 
 
 Croustades. — Fried forms of bread to serve minces 
 or other meats upon. 
 
 Crouton. — A sippet of bread fried, and used for 
 garnish. 
 
6o The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Cuisine Masquee. — Highly seasoned or unusually 
 mixed dishes. 
 
 Cuisson. — Method of cooking meats, or the liquor 
 in which they have been boiled. 
 
 Curried. — Flavored with curry powder. 
 
 Dariole. — A sweet pate baked in a mould. 
 
 Daube. — Meat or fowl stewed in sauce. 
 
 Daubiere. — An oval stewpan. 
 
 Desosser. — To bone. 
 
 Devilled. — Highly seasoned. 
 
 Dorure. — Yolks of eggs well beaten for covering 
 meat and other dishes. 
 
 Entree. — A corner dish for the first course. 
 
 Entremet. — A side dish for the second course. 
 
 Escalopes. — Collops. 
 
 Espagnole. — A rich, brown Spanish sauce. 
 
 Earce. — Forcemeat. 
 
 Feuilletage. — Puff paste. 
 
 Financiere. — An expensive, highly flavored, mixed 
 ragout. 
 
 Flamber. — To singe fowl or game after picking. 
 
 Elan. — A French custard. 
 
 Elancs. — The side dishes of large dinners. 
 
 Eoncer. — To put in the bottom of a saucepan 
 thin slices of veal or bacon. 
 
 Eondue. — A light and pleasant preparation of 
 cheese. 
 
Language of the Menu. 6l 
 
 Fricandeaux. — May be made of any boned pieces 
 of veal, chiefly cut from the thick part of the 
 fillet, and of not more than two or three pounds 
 weight. 
 
 Fricassee. — Chickens, etc. , cut in pieces in a white 
 sauce, with trufiles, mushrooms, etc., as accessories. 
 
 Galantiiie. — Meat freed from bones, tied up in a 
 cloth and boiled and served cold. 
 
 Gateau. — A pudding or baked cake. 
 
 Gauffres. — A light, spongy sort of biscuit. 
 
 Glaze. — Stock boiled down to the thickness of 
 jelly, and used to improve the appearance of braised 
 dishes. 
 
 Godiveaux. — Various varieties of forcemeat. 
 
 Gras.—y<l\\h or of meat ; the reverse of niaigre. 
 
 Gratin. — Au Gratin. — A term applied to certain 
 dishes prepared with sauce and baked. 
 
 Gratiner. — To cook like a grill. 
 
 Haricot, — So called" from the French word for 
 beans, with which the dish was originally made. 
 Now understood as any thick stew, or ragout of 
 mutton, beef, or veal, cut in pieces and dressed with 
 vegetables and roots. 
 
 Hors-d'ceuvres. — Small dishes of sardines, ancho- 
 vies, and other relishes. 
 
 Lardiniere. — Vegetables stewed down in their own 
 sauce. 
 
62 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Lardon. — The piece of bacon used in larding. 
 
 Liaison. — The mixture of ^gg and cream used to 
 thicken white soups, etc. 
 
 Maigre. — Without meat. 
 
 Marinade. — The liquor in which fish or meat is 
 steeped. 
 
 Mask. — To cover meat with any rich sauce, ra- 
 gout, etc. 
 
 Mayonnaise. — Cold sauce, or salad dressing. 
 
 Mazarines, or Turbans. — Ornamental entrees of 
 forcemeat and fillets of poultry, game, or fish. 
 
 Mignonnette Pepper. — Coarsely ground pepper- 
 corns. 
 
 Miroton. — Small, thin slices of meat, about as 
 large as a silver dollar, made into ragouts of vari- 
 ous kinds, and dished up in a circular form. 
 
 Mouiller. — To add broth, water, or other liquid 
 while the cooking is proceeding. 
 
 Nouilles. — Strips of paste made of eggs and flour. 
 
 Panada. — Soaked bread used in the preparation 
 of French forcemeat. 
 
 Paner. — To cover with bread-crumbs fried or 
 baked food. 
 
 Papillate, En. — The pieces of paper greased with 
 oil and butter, and fastened around a cutlet, etc., 
 by twisting it along the edge. 
 
 Pate. — A small pie. 
 
Language of the Menu. t'^ 
 
 Paupiettes. — Slices of meat rolled. 
 
 Piece de Resistance. — The principal joint of the 
 dinner. 
 
 Pilau. — A dish of meat and rice. 
 
 Piquer. — To lard with strips of bacon fat, etc. 
 
 Potage. — Soup. 
 
 Printaniers. — Early spring vegetables. 
 
 Profiterolles. — Light pastry, creamed inside. 
 
 Puree. — The name given to a soup the ingredi- 
 ents for thickening which have been passed through 
 a sieve, then thinned with broth to the proper con- 
 sistency. Meat and fish are cooked and pounded 
 in a mortar; roots and vegetables are stewed till 
 soft in order to prepare them for being thus con- 
 verted to a smooth pulp. 
 
 Quenelles. — Forcemeat of various kinds composed 
 of fish or meat, with bread, yolk of tg%^ and some 
 kind of fat, seasoned in different ways, formed with 
 a spoon to an oval shape, then poached in stock, and 
 used either as garnish to entrees or to be served 
 separately. 
 
 Ragout. — A rich sauce, with sweetbreads, mush- 
 rooms, truffles, etc., in it. 
 
 Releves. — The remove dishes. 
 
 Remoulade. — Salad dressing. 
 
 Rifacimento. — Meat dressed a second time. 
 
 Rissole.— h mince of fish or meat enclosed in 
 
64 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 paste, or formed into balls and other shapes. Used 
 either as side dishes or garnish. (See also Fricas- 
 see.) 
 
 Roti. — Roast meat. 
 
 Roux. — A mixture of butter and flour used for 
 thickening white soups and gravy. 
 
 Salmi. — A hash of game cut up and dressed 
 when only half roasted. 
 
 Santon. — To dress with sauce in the saucepan 
 by keeping it in motion. 
 
 Sauce Piquant. — A sharp sauce in which lemon 
 and vinegar predominate as a flavor. 
 
 Sauter. — To toss over the fire in a saute-pan with 
 a small quantity of fat only. 
 
 Serviette, A la. — Served in a napkin. 
 
 Sippets. — Small pieces of bread cut into various 
 shapes, either soaked in stock, toasted, or fried, to 
 serve with meats as garnishing or borders. 
 
 Souffle. — A light pudding, 
 
 Timbale. — A sort of pie made in a mould. 
 
 Tourte. — A tart baked in a shallow tin. 
 
 Trifle. — A second-course dish, made of sponge 
 cake, macaroons, jams, etc. 
 
 Trousser. — To truss a bird. 
 
 Vanner, To. — To make a sauce smooth by rapidly 
 lifting it high in large spoonfuls, and allowing it to 
 fall quickly again for some time. 
 
Language of the Menu. 65 
 
 Veloute.—^\z\i sauce used to heighten the flavor 
 of soups and made dishes. 
 
 Voi-au-vent. — A light puff paste, cut round or 
 oval, enclosing any delicate mince-meat. 
 
SAY(N05 0K5AVARIN 
 
 But for life the universe were 
 nothing, and all that has life re- 
 quires nourishment. 
 
 Animals feed, man eats ; the man of sense and 
 culture alone understands eating. 
 
 The fate of nations depends upon how they are 
 fed. 
 
 Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what 
 you are. 
 
 In compelling man to eat that he may live, 
 Nature gives appetite to invite him and pleasure 
 to reward him. 
 
 Good living is due to that action of the judgment 
 by which the things which please our taste are pre- 
 ferred to all others. 
 
 The pleasures of the table are common to all 
 ages and ranks, to all countries and times ; they 
 not only harmonize with all the other pleasures, 
 but remain to console us for their loss. 
 
 It is only at table that a man never feels bored 
 during the first hour. 
 
 The discovery of a new dish does more for the 
 
Sayifigs of Savarin. 67 
 
 happiness of the human race than the discovery of 
 a planet. 
 
 ' A drunkard knows not how to drink, and he who 
 eats too much, or too quickly, does not know how 
 to eat. 
 
 In eating, the order is from the more substantial 
 to the lighter. In drinking, the order is from the 
 milder to that which is stronger and of finer flavor. 
 
 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. 
 
 Cookery is an art, but to roast requires genius. 
 
 In a cook the most essential quality is punctu- 
 ality ; it should be also that of the guest. 
 
 It is a breach of politeness towards those guests 
 who are punctual when they are kept long waiting 
 
 for one who is late. 
 
 He who receives friends without himself bestow- 
 ing some pains upon the repast prepared for them, 
 does not deserve to have friends. 
 
 As the coffee after dinner is the special care of 
 
68 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 the lady of the house, so the host must see that the 
 hqueurs are the choicest possible. 
 
 To receive any one as our guest is to become re- 
 sponsible for his happiness during the whole of the 
 time he is under our roof. 
 
If Hamlet was offended to his soul 
 to hear a robustious periwig-pated 
 fellow tear passion to tatters, what 
 shall I say of the man or woman who 
 tears a salad to very rags ? It is the 
 one thing on the menu that should 
 be considered a legal offence if served improperly. 
 I do declare unto all of you beginners that a plain 
 salad should not be prepared until the time has 
 arrived for its eating. Most any sort of salad 
 material will become withered and toughened by 
 standing for any length of time after being mixed. 
 First of all look to your oil. Cheap oil will spoil 
 anything. Pure sweet olive-oil, such as any repu- 
 table grocer can guarantee you, is the only stuff 
 to be used. The simplest mode of preparing a 
 salad is called " French dressing." In a large 
 tablespoon held over the salad put quarter of a 
 teaspoonful of salt ; add to this about a quarter of 
 a teaspoon of pepper, and then fill up the large 
 spoon with oil, and mix with a fork. Throw this 
 over the salad, and follow with three more table- 
 spoons of oil, then one tablespoon of good vinegar. 
 In plain dressing about four parts of oil to one of 
 
JO The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 vinegar is a good rule. After the dressing is thus 
 put upon the salad, turn the material over gently 
 with the spoon and fork, and then serve. Remem- 
 ber, O Plebe ! the same rule about cutting an 
 oyster with a knife applies to salad. 
 
 That glorious old wit and bon vivant, Sidney 
 Smith, gave this recipe for a " winter salad " : 
 
 Two large potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve, 
 
 Unwonted softness to the salad give. 
 
 Of mordent mustard add a single spoon ; 
 
 Distrust the condiment which bites so soon : 
 
 But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault 
 
 To add a double quantity of salt. 
 
 Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, 
 
 And once with vinegar procured from town. 
 
 True flavour needs it, and your poet begs, 
 
 The pounded yellow of two well-boil'd eggs. 
 
 Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, 
 
 And, scarce suspected, animate the whole. 
 
 And, lastly, on the favour'd compound toss 
 
 A magic teaspoonful of anchovy sauce ; 
 
 Then, though green turtle fail, though venison's tough, 
 
 And ham and turkey are not boil'd enough, 
 
 Serenely full the epicure may say — 
 
 " Fate cannot harm me — I have dined to-day." 
 
 The simplest green salads are lettuce, chicory, 
 watercress, fetticus, dandelion, escarole or endive, 
 
Salads and Sauces. Jl 
 
 and they are all more or less appetizing when 
 treated with plain dressing. Escarole, chicory, and 
 fetticus are especially good if there is attached a 
 suspicion of garlic, and this can best be done by 
 taking a clove of garlic, and with a little salt rub 
 into a crust of bread, and add this to the bowl. 
 This is called the " chapon." 
 
 In preparing all green salads take care to select 
 only the ripest and crispest. It is astonishing to 
 me to find how little is known in the average house- 
 hold concerning all the salads just mentioned. I 
 find them extremely popular in New York markets 
 and restaurants, but in the West, with the exception 
 of lettuce, they are seldom seen. 
 
 Alexandre Dumas devised this salad : 
 " Put in a salad-bowl a yolk of egg boiled hard ; 
 add a tablespoonful of oil and make a paste of it ; 
 then add a few stalks of chervil chopped fine, a 
 teaspoonful each of tunny and anchovy paste, a 
 little French mustard, a small pickled cucumber 
 chopped fine, and a little soy. Mix the whole well 
 with two tablespoonfuls of wine vinegar ; then add 
 two or three steamed potatoes sliced, a few slices 
 of beet, same of celeriac, same of rampion, salt and 
 Hungarian pepper to taste ; toss gently twenty 
 minutes, then serve." 
 
72 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 I had several talks with the late Ward McAllister, 
 but I neglected to ask him if he endorsed such a 
 concoction as this. I think Mr. Dumas, in his 
 desire to astonish his palate, sometimes forgot 
 the culinary art studied under the philosophy of 
 chemistry. 
 
 Potato Salad. — Potato salad is of all seasons, 
 and accessible to poor and rich. It is simply made 
 of cold boiled potatoes sliced and seasoned with 
 vinegar, salt, pepper, or any more recherchee salad 
 sauce. Beetroot, gherkins, or any other cold vege- 
 tables, may also be added as an improvement, and, 
 for ornament, any of the graceful herbs of the 
 season. 
 
 Lobster Salad. — The m.ost universally ap- 
 proved of all fish salads is the lobster salad, whether 
 as a dinner or supper dish. First half-nil the 
 bowl with the most delicate young salad herbs, 
 then blend the coral of the lobster with the sauce, 
 and cut the meat of the tail and claws into small 
 pieces, which place on the vegetables, intermixed 
 with hard-boiled eggs in slices, and slices of cu- 
 cumber. Surround with long slices of lettuce and 
 young radishes, and serve with the sauce poured 
 over. Sauce Mayonnaise is often used. Crabs, 
 
Salads and Sauces. 73 
 
 prawns, or shrimps are dressed in the same way as 
 salads. 
 
 Sauce Mayonnaise. — Beat up well the yolks of 
 two fresh raw eggs, a teaspoonful of salt, and a 
 quarter as much Cayenne ; mix with this by slow 
 degrees four tablespoonfuls of oil, till it is about 
 the consistence of cream, and then stir in grad- 
 ually two tablespoonfuls of vinegar. It requires 
 great care in mixing. A half a teaspoon of mus- 
 tard may be added. 
 
 Sauce A l'Italienne. — Chop an anchovy quite 
 small, and rub it quite smooth with a teaspoonful 
 of made mustard and a tablespoonful of oil ; then 
 add by degrees three more tablespoonfuls of oil, one 
 of garlic vinegar, and one of good wine vinegar; stir 
 till all be smooth and creamy, and serve in a 
 separate bowl, to be added to the salad at table. 
 
 A salad can be made of almost anything — from 
 tomatoes and cucumbers to sardines, or veal in place 
 of chicken. A great deal in mixing and dressing 
 must be left to the judgment of the salad-master, 
 and any one with good taste and love of feasting 
 stands an equally good chance with Dumas in hit- 
 ting upon something tasty in the way of an original 
 juxtaposition of condiments and meats. 
 
74 The Bachelor and the Chafijig-dish. 
 
 My last injunction is to remember the old Spanish 
 proverb : 
 
 ^'A spendthrift for oil ; a miser for vinegar; a 
 barrister for salt, and a madman to stir it up." 
 
 But you mustn't be a madman when you stir up 
 lettuce or other dainty leaves. 
 
 The story of the salad had its most famous reg- 
 ister in a Frenchman of Limousin, who made his 
 fortune in London by his skill in mixing a salad. 
 Savarin tells it as follows: Although his means 
 were very limited, Albignac (so he was called if I 
 remember aright) went one day to dine in one of 
 the rnost famous taverns in London. Whilst he 
 was finishing his succulent beefsteak there were 
 five or six young dandies of good family regaling 
 themselves at a neighboring table. One of them 
 came to him and said very politely : '' Sir, it is said 
 that your nation excels in the art of making salads. 
 Will you be so good as to oblige us by making 
 one?" 
 
 D'Albignac consenting after a little hesitation, 
 ordered all that he thought necessary for the ex- 
 pected masterpiece, used his best endeavors, and 
 had the good luck to succeed. Whilst studying 
 the ingredients he answered frankly all questions 
 about himself. ' He said he was an emigrant, and 
 
Salads and Sauced. *j$ 
 
 admitted, not without some natural shame, that he 
 was receiving assistance from the English Govern- 
 ment — a circumstance which no doubt authorized 
 one of the young men to slip into the exile's hand 
 a five-pound note and insist upon his keeping it. 
 He had given his address, and some time after he 
 received a very civil note requesting him to go and 
 mix a salad in one of the finest houses in Grosvenor 
 Square. D'Albignac arrived punctually, after fur- 
 nishing himself with some special seasonings and 
 maturing his plans. He had the good luck to suc- 
 ceed again. 
 
 The first party for whom he had manipulated had 
 exaggerated the merits of his salad, and the second 
 company made so much more noise about it that 
 d'Albignac's reputation was already made. He was 
 known as the fashionable salad-maker, and soon had 
 a gig in order to keep his appointments, with a serv- 
 ant to bring in his mahogany case, containing all 
 the ingredients, such as vinegar of different flavors, 
 oils with or without a fruity taste, soy, caviare, 
 truffles, anchovies, ketchups, gravies, and even 
 hard-boiled eggs. Later he got cases made to 
 order, furnished them completely, and sold them 
 by the hundreds. In short, having diligently car- 
 ried out his plans with sense and discretion, he came 
 to realize a fortune of more than eighty thousand 
 
j6 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 francs ; and, returning to his own country when 
 peace was restored, he invested sixty thousand in 
 the public funds — then selling at fifty per cent. — 
 and the rest in a small estate in Limousin, his 
 native country. 
 
 Sauce Bordelaise for Meats. — Put one table- 
 spoonful of butter in saucepan and brown ; add 
 two tablespoonfuls of flour ; brown again ; add one 
 pint of stock. When boiling add a slice of onion, 
 an ounce of chopped ham, a bay-leaf, a clove of 
 garlic, a half teaspoonful of salt, a dash of Cayenne. 
 Simmer ten minutes ; strain ; add another table- 
 spoonful of butter, a quarter pound of peeled 
 mushrooms. 
 
 Perigueux Sauce. — Chop up fine two truffles. 
 Place them in a pan with a glass of Madeira wine ; 
 boil for about five minutes. Add a dash of Es- 
 pagnole sauce. Allow this just to come to a boil ; 
 remove from the stove and serve while very hot. 
 
 Sauce Ma^tre d'H6tel. — Melt half a pound 
 of butter, strain the juice of one lemon into it, and 
 add Cayenne, salt, and spoonful of parsley to suit 
 the taste. Simmer one minute. 
 
 Sauce Tartare. — Put into a dish yolks of two 
 
Salads and Sauces. 77 
 
 eg'gg, a teaspoonful of vinegar, and a little salt. 
 Mix this quickly into a cream. Then add a tea- 
 spoonful of mustard well mixed, a little Cayenne, 
 and a pinch of parsley. The oil (two spoonfuls) 
 should now be added drop by drop. 
 
 Sauce Robert. — This sauce is served hot. Cut 
 two onions in small pieces, fry light-brown in but- 
 ter, dredge a little flour in the pan, add a teaspoon 
 of vinegar and a little pepper and salt. Boil up, 
 and add half pint of stock or water. Stir over Ihe 
 fire for half an hour, then mix in a teaspoonful pf 
 mustard and one of anchovy. Stir for two or three 
 minutes, and then pour on your chops, cutlets, or 
 steak. 
 
 Chutney Sauce. — Four pounds of apples cut in 
 quarters, and boil until tender in a quart of vinegar. 
 Now boil in another quart of vinegar three pounds 
 of brown sugar. Mix both together, and, when cold, 
 add one pound of currants, one pound of raisins, 
 half a pound of salt, quarter pound of ginger, three 
 ounces of clear garlic, and one ounce of red pepper. 
 The fruit must be minced fine. 
 
 Sauce Financiere. — A pint of rich stock, an 
 ounce of brown thickening, one glass of Madeira, 
 
y^ The Bachelor ajtd the Chafitig-dish. 
 
 one glass of mushroom ketchup, a pinch of Cay- 
 enne, and a piece of glaze. Boil the stock well up 
 with the thickening, then other condiments. Sim- 
 mer fifteen minutes, skim it, then add the glaze. 
 Strain for use. 
 
 Epicurean Sauce. — It takes time to make this, 
 for after its preparation it must be kept corked in 
 a warm place for a fortnight, and should be shaken 
 every day. Then it must be strained and put in 
 small bottles for use. It is a most delicious and 
 valuable sauce, and is made as follows : Half a 
 pint of mushroom ketchup, half a pint of walnut 
 ketchup, two glasses of port wine, two of Indian 
 soy, three ounces of shallots, half an ounce of 
 Cayenne, half an ounce of cloves, pint and a half 
 of vinegar, and a little pepper. Mix well. 
 
.fILlDlSH 
 
 " . . . Curious viands are prepared 
 To please all kinds of appetite." 
 
 — Massinger. 
 
 " Deviling " is simply the art of 
 frying anything well in a chafing-dish, in various 
 hot condiments to suit the taste. Our bachelor with 
 a convenient larder should never be at a loss to get 
 up a snack of something for a suddenly desired 
 little luncheon at any hour of the day. Canned 
 herrings, shrimps, sardines, boned chicken, turkey, 
 tongue, salmon — even Bologna sausage— all can be 
 easily deviled, and the appetite tempted. 
 
 Stir in the chafing-dish enough olive- oil to flood 
 it, a spoonful of mustard, half a spoonful of papri- 
 ka, a little salt, and the same of black pepper- 
 Fry until the meat is well browned. Rare roast 
 beef cut in slices is excellent served this way, and 
 further zest may be obtained by adding a few 
 whole olives. The dish should be watched and 
 covered between times. 
 
 The English admiral Ross left to the cooking 
 world a successful recipe for '' Indian Devil Mix- 
 ture." This is it : 
 
8o The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Four tablespoons of cold gravy, one of chutney- 
 paste, one of ketchup, one of vinegar, two tea- 
 spoons of made mustard, two of salt, and two of 
 butter. Mix these ingredients first smoothly in a 
 soup-plate. 
 
 Deviled Duck. — A dish that is generally liked 
 is deviled duck. To prepare it remove the skin 
 and bones of cold roast duck and cut the meat into 
 moderate-sized pieces. Boil the livers and mash 
 to a paste, and put in a saucepan with one table- 
 spoonful of dry mustard, one teaspoonful of salt, a 
 dash of Cayenne pepper, and two tablespoonfuls of 
 lemon juice. Mix thoroughly and gradually ; add 
 two tablespoonfuls of melted butter and the same 
 amount of water. In this put one and one-half 
 pints of the cold duck and one gill of Madeira. 
 Place the saucepan over the fire and stir until the 
 mixture is smoking hot. Turn on a hot dish. 
 
 Deviled Kidneys. — Twelve sheeps' kidneys 
 split in half ; remove the white tubes and the cen- 
 tre fat portion ; scald the kidneys and remove the 
 skin. Put two ounces of butter in a saucepan ; 
 when hot throw in the kidneys ; cook quickly ; 
 dust with salt and pepper ; put over a tablespoonful 
 of onion juice, tablespoonfijl Worcestershire sauce^ 
 
The Devil Dish. 8 1 
 
 and four tablespoonfuls sherry. Serve smoking 
 hot. 
 
 Deviled Lobster. — Make a paste with salt, dry 
 mustard, curry powder, black pepper, and table oil ; 
 spread it over the lobster, melt an ounce of butter 
 in the dish, lay in the lobster, cook ten minutes if 
 fresh, and simply heat through if canned. 
 
 Devil — *' Like my Mother used to Make."— 
 Cold rare roast beef sliced, well buttered as you 
 would bread ; cover with mixed mustard, a little 
 black pepper and salt, a spoonful of vinegar, and 
 fry until it curls. 
 
 Deviled Eggs and Anchovy Toast. — Put a 
 walnut of butter in the chafing-dish, half a tea- 
 spoonful of dry mustard, two tablespoonfuls of 
 tomato sauce, one of Worcester and one of mush- 
 room sauce. Put into this four hard-boiled eggs 
 sliced, salted and peppered. When heated place 
 the eggs on toast, previously spread with anchovy 
 paste. 
 
HE-AUToCRATa^ 
 tteGHAFIN(i-DI3H 
 
 " What will this sister of mine do with 
 rice ? But my father hath made her mis- 
 tress of the feast and she lays it on ! " — 
 Winter's Tale. 
 
 Curried Rice. — One of the 
 simplest and most palatable of 
 dishes is curried rice. Wash half 
 a pound of rice in two waters 
 and pick it very clean. Put it 
 into two quarts of boiling water, 
 in which two teaspoonfuls of salt 
 have been thrown ; stew slowly, 
 uncovered, keeping down the 
 boiling by adding a cup of cold 
 water once or twice, for fifteen 
 minutes, taking care the grains 
 do not break. Turn it out and 
 drain it on a napkin till dry, 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafiiig-dish. 83 
 
 then put it into a stewpan with an ounce of butter. 
 Do not stir or touch the rice while boiling ; the 
 water will keep the grains apart, and preserve them 
 from breaking. Dish up separately, and serve with 
 any curry. 
 
 It will add much to the flavor to boil an onion in 
 with the rice. The Arabs steep the grains in butter 
 (ghee) before boiling, to prevent the escape of the 
 gluten, or starch, and declare that the nourishment 
 is withdrawn from the grain and communicated to 
 the liquor without this precaution. 
 
 However, in serving rice with curry, mix a 
 spoonful of the curry paste with brown gravy, and 
 pour on the rice as it is ready to serve. It will be 
 further improved by squeezing in half of a lemon. 
 
 Curry of Meats. — Put a " walnut " of butter, 
 or a tablespoon of olive-oil, into the chafing-dish. 
 When it is quite melted, add a tablespoonful of 
 minced onion, and after that is browned add a full 
 teaspoon of curry powder. Now cook for five 
 minutes ; then add a pint of soup-stock, couple of 
 pinches of salt ; then simmer until reduced to nearly 
 one-half. Into this put the picked meat and warm 
 up. Other curries are, of course, made the same 
 way, or slightly varied to suit the taste — by the ad- 
 dition, for instance, of paprika, chutney sauce^ etc 
 
84 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Curries of lobsters, scallops, shrimps, and crabs 
 are especially delicious. Veal chops, sweetbreads, 
 and salmon may be treated the same way. 
 
 Rice Compote. — This is the way I saw Mrs. 
 Rorer make it : Into the chafing-dish went four 
 tablespoonfuls of sugar, four of sherry (claret is 
 equally good), and one sliced banana. To this was 
 added four tablespoonfuls of cold boiled rice. It 
 was kept covered while the banana cooked tender 
 to keep the wine flavor from escaping. When the 
 cover was raised to add one-half a pineapple, 
 shredded in with a silver fork, the odor was de- 
 licious, and everybody sniffed approvingly. Two 
 minutes' cooking finished it. 
 
 Calf's Liver and Bacon. — Slice both liver and 
 bacon quite thin : cook well in the chafing-dish 
 until the liver is thoroughly browned and curled. 
 
 Chops or Steaks. — Dredge them with flour. 
 Have the frying-pan perfectly clean and hot, then 
 put in butter or clarified, fresh beef-suet, which 
 makes excellent fat for frying ; put in the steaks 
 (or chops), and turn them frequently to preserve 
 the gravy. In fifteen minutes, if the fire be in 
 proper condition, they will be cooked ; dredge them 
 \yith a little salt and pepper before you take thent 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 85 
 
 from the pan ; transfer them to a hot dish, pour 
 the fat from the pan, and put in two ounces 
 of butter rolled in flour, and a cup of gravy or 
 stock, and when it has simmered for a minute, pour 
 it over the meat. 
 
 Cut the fillet 
 n^^f* y^\^ of a roast sirloin 
 
 of beef into 
 pieces about 
 two inches 
 square ; dredge 
 them with flour, 
 and fry in but- 
 ter till they are 
 brown; then 
 put the meat into a stewpan with half a pint of 
 good gravy, a teaspoonful of salt, half a teaspoon- 
 ful of pepper, and one anchovy ; add a tablespoon- 
 ful of port wine, and let it simmer five minutes ; 
 then turn out and pour the gravy over, with a table- 
 spoonful of lemon juice after the meat is dished. 
 
 :i ^^cr^-' 
 
 Mock Venison a la Murrey. — A heaping tea- 
 spoonful of butter was put in the handled dish and 
 worked with a spoon until it began to cream and 
 foam ; then two very thick slices from a well-hung 
 leg of mutton were put in, turned in the butter 
 
S6 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 once or twice, seasoned with salt, Cayenne, two 
 tablespoonfuls of currant jelly, and a gill of port, 
 and simmered for five or six minutes longer. 
 
 Chicken Livers a la James Clarence Har- 
 vey. — Wash and dry a dozen and a half selected 
 livers after scalding. Melt a walnut of butter in the 
 blazer, and for three minutes move the livers about 
 as they change color; then add quarter of a glass 
 of white wine, in which place half a dozen fresh 
 mushrooms, medium size, chopped fine; season with 
 salt, pepper, and a dash of paprika; reduce the heat, 
 and, after five minutes of simmering, serve on hot 
 toast, crisp and brown, from which the crust has 
 been cut before toasting. 
 
 Live and let live is a maxim good. 
 
 But to live on these livers the chick must die; 
 And the liver preparing them just as he should 
 
 Will evermore chuckle when chicks pass by. 
 
 Sausage a la '* D. W." — Fry sliced sausage 
 quickly in fresh butter, add chopped celery and 
 paprika, and serve on toast, without the gravy, 
 previously spread while hot with anchovy paste. 
 
 Sweetbreads Larded. — Parboil two sweet- 
 t)reads. When cold lar4 them down the centra 
 
The Autocrat ajid the Chafing-dish. %'J 
 
 With strips of bacon, on each side with thin shreds 
 of lemon-peel, and on each side of the lemon with 
 very small pieces of pickled cucumber. Put them 
 in the chafing-dish, with three-quarters of a pint of 
 rich gravy thickened with flour. When done stir 
 in mushroom ketchup, to the taste, a little lemon 
 juice, and serve very hot. 
 
 Sweetbreads A la Roumage. — Have ready 
 four medium-sized parboiled sweetbreads, firm and 
 cold. Fry in a tablespoonful of butter two table- 
 spoonfuls of minced onion, four cloves, a bit of 
 mace, and a trifle of bay-leaves, with four bruised 
 peppercorns ; when the onion is very brown, add a 
 pint of broth ; boil until reduced one-half, and strain 
 if the bits of onion and seasonings are objected to. 
 Add half a can of mushrooms, cut into slices, to 
 this gravy, with four sliced truffles ; thicken with 
 half a teaspoonful of flour, color with kitchen bou- 
 quet, add a tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup and 
 a gill of port ; lay in the sweetbreads and simmer 
 a few minutes. 
 
 Sweetbreads with Peas. — Put into the lower 
 dish (hot-water dish) a walnut of butter, and turn 
 in this three or four small sweetbreads, which have 
 first been in cold water, parboiled, and the tough 
 
SS The bachelor and the Chafi7ig-dish, 
 
 parts removed. Add half a pint of beef gravy, a 
 chopped celery-leaf, and season with salt and pep- 
 per—or celery salt may be used instead of the leaf. 
 Put in half a teaspoon of browned flour. Now put 
 the blazer over this dish, into which has been 
 emptied a can of French peas and a tablespoon of 
 butter, with salt and pepper. When the peas have 
 been just heated through serve together. 
 
 Kidneys and Mushrooms. — After scalding six 
 lambs' kidneys, skin them. Cut into slices half a 
 can of French mushrooms. Put into the blazer a 
 walnut of butter, a minced onion, and a bay-leaf ; 
 when the onion is brown add a teaspoon of 
 browned flour and a pint of beef-broth. Add a 
 spoonful of kitchen bouquet, half a teaspoon of 
 sak, some pepper. Now put in the kidneys and 
 mushrooms and stir for six minutes. 
 
 Calf's Liver en Matelote. — Cut the liver 
 into rather thick slices and soak for a few moments 
 in cold water. Drain and then dredge with flour 
 and fry a nice brown in butter. In the meantime 
 mince two shallots and put into the stewpan with 
 a sprig of chopped parsley, pepper and salt, and 
 a couple of cloves. Pour in a glass of wine, and 
 when it is boiled up add the fried liver and serve 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. ^9 
 
 very hot. It will take a good half-hour to cook 
 this dish, but it is worth the trouble. 
 
 Entree of Veal Cutlet. — Dip the cutlets in 
 the yolks of beaten eggs and cover with bread- 
 crumbs mixed with Cayenne, salt, nutmeg, table- 
 spoonful of minced herbs, and peel of half a lemon 
 chopped fine as possible. Fry a nice brown in 
 butter. 
 
 Pork Cutlets with Sauce Robert. — Pour 
 sauce Robert over some nicely trimmed cutlets in 
 the stewpan that have previously been brushed 
 over with yolk of ^%g and sprinkled with chopped 
 herbs. 
 
 Chops. — Put four little lamb chops into the dish, 
 with a teaspoon of butter for each chop. Heat the 
 butter first, and when the chops are added cover 
 for a moment. Turn and season with salt and 
 pepper, and they should be a golden brown and 
 done to a turn in four and a half minutes. An 
 English chop will take twelve minutes and a mut- 
 ton chop seven. 
 
 Breakfast Kidney and Eggs. — Prepare four 
 lamb kidneys by scalding and skinning. Put into 
 
90 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 the chafing-dish a walnut of butter and half a tea- 
 spoon of chopped onions. When browned add a 
 tablespoonful of water, and then drop into the dish 
 four raw eggs. As soon as these set serve the dish. 
 
 Kidneys with Potatoes. — Prepare kidneys 
 same as above. Fry in small dice pieces three 
 raw potatoes. Keep them well stirred in a table- 
 spoon of butter. Then put in the kidneys, with 
 half a pint of brown gravy, if you have it. Season 
 with salt and pepper and a little mushroom ketchup. 
 
 Steak Gollasch. — Cut up a raw tenderloin 
 steak into small pieces and cut into dice two raw 
 potatoes. Put into the dish a tablespoonful of 
 olive- oil, and when hot add a teaspoonful of onion 
 and half a teaspoon of paprika, and the potatoes 
 and meat with half a pint of brown gravy. Season 
 to suit, put on the cover, and stir often during the 
 ten minutes required to. cook it. 
 
 Tenderloin Steak, Whole. — A tenderloin 
 steak an inch and a half thick can be cooked to a 
 nicety in the chafing-dish. Flood the dish first 
 with olive-oil, and when hot put in the steak and 
 cover up. Cook three minutes on each side, season 
 to suit, and when removing the steak add two 
 tablespoons of water and pour over it. 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish, 9I 
 
 "Howard's Hash : The Kind of Hash that 
 Mother Used to Make." — Chop the corn-beef 
 and the boiled potatoes together very fine ; put 
 into the chafing-dish (over the hot-water dish) 
 with a prodigaHty of butter, and season well. Keep 
 up constant turning until well heated through. Add 
 a little water if too dry, and let simmer for a while. 
 
 Hash a la Murrey. — Cut into small pieces two 
 pounds of corn-beef, and cut into dice raw potatoes 
 which, when cut up, will equal in bulk the cut-up 
 meat. Cut up one large sour apple, and chop all 
 together. Cut up fine two medium-sized onions 
 and a large sweet Spanish pepper. Now put into 
 a large frying-pan a scant tablespoonful of beef 
 drippings or oil — butter will not do ; when hot 
 add the onion and fry a delicate brown. Next add 
 the pepper, toss about for a few moments, then 
 add a gill of strong beef-stock, after which the 
 other chopped ingredients and a pint more of beef- 
 stock or strong broth. Mix well, cover, and sim- 
 mer thirty minutes. Should the moisture evaporate 
 too quickly before the ingredients are cooked, add 
 more of the broth. Stir to prevent sticking to the 
 pan. Taste for seasoning, and put away until next 
 day, when it should be warmed in the chafing-dish 
 with hot-water dish underneath it. 
 
92 
 
 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Commodore Gerry Crab. — A large slice of 
 good cheese mashed to a paste with vinegar, mus- 
 tard, salt and pepper, and eaten on toasted cracker. 
 It has the flavor of a crab. 
 
 Salmi. — Cut up remains of cold birds ; put some 
 butter in the pan, a glass of port wine, two spoon- 
 fuls of ketchup, one of lemon juice, and a shallot. 
 Cook your game in this sauce. 
 
 Directly after 
 _^- the battle of 
 
 .rCnOO Marengo, Napo- 
 \^ leon Bonaparte, 
 fatigued and 
 hungry, ordered 
 a fowl for his 
 supper. His 
 cook discovered that there was no butter, so he 
 poured oil into his skillet instead. To this he 
 added some seasoning and a glass of white wine. 
 The dish was served hot, garnished with mush- 
 rooms, and Bonaparte said it was as great a 
 success as the battle. 
 
 Spring Chicken. — A dainty and tender spring 
 chicken can be split and cooked in a chafing-dish 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 93 
 
 almost as well as it can be treated in broiling. 
 But fry it in the best oil, instead of butter, and you 
 will find it delicious if handled properly. 
 
 Chafed Duck. — Cut the ducks into six pieces 
 each, wash each piece and roll in flour, sprinkle 
 salt and pepper and a tiny bit of dry mustard over 
 each, and then dip in a beaten ^g% and bread- 
 crumbs, and fry in butter to a nice brown. Slice 
 some small tomatoes and fry in the same dish with 
 the ducks. Put the pieces of duck in the centre 
 of a heated dish, and place the tomatoes around 
 them. Meanwhile cook some French peas, and 
 make a border around the tomatoes. Scatter 
 chopped parsley over the whole, and serve. 
 
 Duck Ragout. — To make a ragout of duck, 
 cut the duck into pieces large enough to serve, and 
 place in a saucepan with half a pint of clear stock, 
 season with salt and a little Cayenne pepper, and 
 let it heat slowly until it comes to boiling point. 
 Add half a can of mushrooms and one dozen pitted 
 olives, and cook five minutes. Then add half a 
 pint of Spanish sauce, and cook until it again boils; 
 then add half a tumbler of sherry or Madeira and 
 the juice of a lemon. Heap the pieces of duck 
 in the centre of a hot platter, and arrange the 
 
94 'The Bachelor and the Chafing-dis,^^ 
 
 mushrooms and olives around them. Finish the 
 edge with triangular pieces of toast. Pour the 
 sauce over the duck and serve hot. 
 
 Chicken A la Poulette. — This is the way 
 Mrs. Lemcke made it in a chafing-dish before an 
 audience : She placed a chicken weighing three 
 pounds over the fire and covered it with boiling 
 water, after putting in two onions, one bouquet, 
 and one-half tablespoonful of salt. This she 
 covered and cooked slowly until done, when she 
 removed the skin and bones, and cut the white 
 meat into pieces one- half an inch in size. Then 
 she stirred two ounces of butter and two table- 
 spoonfuls of flour over the fire three minutes, add- 
 ing to it gradually one pint of chicken broth, one 
 teaspoonful of salt, one-half teaspoonful of nut- 
 meg, and a small bouquet, choking all five minutes. 
 Next she mixed one-half pint of cream with the 
 yolks of four eggs, a teaspoonful of fine-chopped 
 parsley, and added this to the sauce, stirring it a 
 few minutes over the fire without boiling. Then 
 she drew the saucepan to the side of the stove and 
 put in the fine-cut chicken and a pair of fine- 
 chopped sweetbreads, which she had previously 
 prepared by putting them in a pan and covering 
 them with cold water. In another pan over the 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish, 95 
 
 fire she put a tablespoonful of butter. The sweet- 
 breads were drained and dried, put into the butter, 
 covered, and cooked slowly after an even teaspoon- 
 ful of seasoning salt had been added to them. 
 
 Ham.— Put half a walnut of butter in the chafing- 
 dish, and, when melted, add two tablespoons of 
 jelly — any fruit — a dash of red pepper, and half 
 a glass of sherry. Place sliced or cut-up ham in 
 this and simmer for a few moments. Dried beef 
 may be served the same way. 
 
 Crabs, Soft-shell. — Clean and rem^ove sand- 
 pouch and gill-like growth under the shells. Dry 
 with a towel, dredge with flour, and fry in chafing- 
 dish with oil or butter. 
 
 Canape Lorenzo. — This locally famous dish, 
 the recipe of the late Lorenzo Delmonico, can only 
 be partly made in a chafing-dish, for in its finale it 
 needs a quick baking. One will find this canape 
 on the menus of the Waldorf or Arena cafes, but 
 it can only be obtained in all its glory at Del's. 
 For a lunch, with " a cold bottle," I prefer it infi- 
 nitely to "a hot duck." Ah, but it has "a get 
 there " aroma ! So I chronicle it here for history's 
 sake : Drop six live hard-shell crabs into boiling 
 
96 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 water, add one tablespoonful of salt, boil fifteen 
 minutes; then remove. When cold enough to 
 handle, take off the upper shell, extract all the 
 meat, crack the claws and pick out the meat ; 
 season with one even teaspoonful of salt and a 
 little Cayenne pepper ; then measure — there should 
 be a good pint of crab meat. Place a small sauce- 
 pan, with a tablespoonful of butter, over the fire ; 
 add two tablespoonfuls of fine-chopped white 
 onions, cook five minutes without browning ; add 
 one heaping tablespoonful of flour, stir and cook 
 two minutes ; add half a cupful of white broth, 
 stir for a few minutes longer ; then add one pint 
 of crab meat, stir and cook eight minutes. Cut 
 six slices of bread, cut off the crust, and fry light 
 brown in butter on both sides. Spread the crab 
 mixture in equal portions over the bread and set 
 aside. In the meantime melt one tablespoonful of 
 butter, add one tablespoonful of flour, cook and 
 stir a few minutes ; remove from the fire, add four 
 tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese and the 
 same of grated Swiss cheese ; mix the ingredients 
 well and form into round balls of equal size. Place 
 them in the centre of the canapes, pressing a little 
 in the centre. Put the canapes into a baking-pan 
 and bake light brown in a hot oven, which will 
 take about ten minutes ; then remove ; arrange 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 97 
 
 them on a hot dish and serve at once. If Swiss 
 and Parmesan cheese are not handy, take either 
 the American or English cheese. Canapes of lob- 
 ster are prepared in the same way. 
 
 Corn Oysters. — To a can of green corn add 
 one tablespoonful of butter, one-half of a cup of 
 milk, three eggs, and one tablespoonful of flour, 
 salt and pepper to taste. Stir the mixture thor- 
 oughly and fry as pancakes in a chafing-dish 
 containing equal quantities of hot butter and lard. 
 
 Oyster Crabs. — Heat a pint of oyster crabs 
 with a little butter, and serve on small pieces of 
 toast without further seasoning. This is a delicate 
 way of beginning a luncheon. 
 
 Crabs A la Creole. — Into the hot-water dish 
 melt an ounce of butter, and cook in it for five 
 minutes a small onion and a sweet Spanish pepper 
 minced ; stir while frying, and add a half-pint 
 of strained tomato pulp, a gill of chicken broth, 
 and four soft crabs cleaned and cut in two. Use 
 celery salt in the seasoning, and simmer seven 
 minutes. 
 
 Clams a la Newberg. — Open twenty-five fresh 
 soft-shelled clams. Put into a saucepan with one 
 
98 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 tablespoonful of butter ; stir until heated ; add one 
 tablespoonful of flour and cook until it thickens. 
 Beat the yolks of two eggs light ; add one cup of 
 cream ; beat well and pour over the clams ; stir 
 thoroughly until heated and cooked, but do not 
 boil. Take them from the fire, add two tablespoon- 
 fuls of Madeira, and serve at once. 
 
 Clam Bisque. — Drain twenty-five clams, pour- 
 ing over them one cup of cold water. Put the 
 liquor over the fire ; let it boil, and skim. Chop the 
 clams very fine ; add them to the liquor ; let boil 
 again, and skim. Rub together one large table- 
 spoonful of butter and three of flour, and add to 
 the clams with a quarter of a cup of bread-crumbs ; 
 stir and cook until it thickens. Press through a 
 sieve ; return to the dish, and when ready to serve 
 add one pint of cream. 
 
 Clams A la Boston. — Cut into pieces size of 
 dice eighth of a pound of salt pork and fry it crisp 
 in the chafing-dish. Add a dozen soft clams, freed 
 from the tough part, and saute them in the pork 
 fat. Serve on Boston brown bread. 
 
 Cro(jte Clam a la Halm. — Take a Vienna 
 roll, cut out a piece of the crust the size of a half-.. 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 99 
 
 dollar, and remove the soft bread from the inte- 
 rior. Open as many of the smallest little-neck clams 
 as will fill the roll, replace the small piece pf crust, 
 and place in the oven for ten minutes. Take the 
 juice from the clams, make a little thickening of 
 flour and the juice, mix with it, to taste, paprika, 
 black pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and tabasco, 
 and heat. Remove the croute from the oven, and 
 pour sauce over the whole. Serve on hot plate, 
 and quickly. This recipe may not properly belong 
 to the chafing-dish on account of the baking that 
 is needed, but it may come in apropos sometime. 
 
 Oysters. — To fry: Choose large, plump oys- 
 ters ; put into the stewpan with their own liquor 
 only, and simmer for three minutes, then dip them 
 into batter, and fry in a quantity of oil or butter a 
 delicate brown ; add no seasoning. 
 
 To stew : Put fresh oysters into a stewpan with 
 the whole of the liquor from the shells, and sim- 
 mer very gently for five minutes ; then add a 
 quarter of a pint of cream and two ounces of but- 
 ter rolled in flour, and continue to simmer for five 
 minutes longer, being very careful not to allow 
 them to boil, or the oyster will become hard. Just 
 before taking from the fire, a large teaspoonful of 
 lemon juice may be added ; but any addition must 
 
loo The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 be made carefully, lest the delicate and peculiar 
 flavor of the oyster should be injured. 
 
 Oysters A la George Trimble Davidson. — 
 Butter the size of two eggs melted first in the dish, 
 then pour in a quart of oysters and as much of the 
 broth as desirable, flavor with salt and pepper, a 
 teaspoonful of paprika, and a dash of tabasco. 
 Cut up celery and put in about two tablespoonfuls, 
 squeeze in the juice of half a lemon, and add two 
 tablespoons of sherry. Cook about four minutes, 
 and serve on hot toast. A pint of rich cream added 
 to the broth of the oyster makes the dish richer, 
 though it is not absolutely necessary. 
 
 Oysters A la John Chamberlin. — This dainty 
 dish, invented by the famous viveur of Washing- 
 ton, is made as follows : — 
 
 Add to the juice of one dozen large Lynn Haven 
 Bay oysters two heaping tablespoonfuls of finely 
 chopped celery, a saltspoonful of salt, and two of 
 paprika. Bring slowly to a boil, then simmer five 
 minutes. Now add two pats of butter and a gill 
 and a half of cream. When simmering, add two 
 sherry-glassfuls of fine Madeira, stir quickly, and 
 add the oysters. Watch these carefully, and the 
 moment the gills begin to curl, extinguish the 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. lol 
 
 light, add another glass of Madeira, stir quickly, 
 and serve at once. 
 
 Oysters MaItre d'Hotel.— Dry the oysters 
 in a napkin. Put a walnut of butter into the dish, 
 and when it is hot add the oysters. Saute them on 
 each side and season with pepper and salt; squeeze 
 a little lemon over them, and serve. 
 
 Oysters a la Newberg. — This is a very good 
 receipt from Mrs. Lemcke, told to a woman's class 
 in cookery : " I'll tell you all, to start with, that 
 oysters prepared in this way are an excellent thing 
 with which to get your husbands m a good humor. 
 I have here twenty-five large oysters, such as are 
 used for frying. I will now place them, without 
 their liquor, in a saucepan, adding one tablespoon- 
 ful of butter, one gill of white wine, one even tea- 
 spoonful of salt, and one-half of pepper. I now 
 place them on the stove to cook until the oysters 
 stiffen, and in the meanwhile I will cut, very fine, 
 one gill of mushrooms into another saucepan, and 
 also one truffle. To this I add one-half an ounce 
 of butter and one-half a gill of mushroom liquor. 
 This I will cook for five minutes, and while that's 
 cooking I'll mix the yolks of four eggs with one- 
 half pint of rich cream." By the time this was 
 
I02 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 accomplished the oysters and mushrooms were 
 ready to be put together, and the eggs and cream 
 were mixed with them. The whole was allowed to 
 get very hot without boiling, and was served with 
 pieces of puff paste cut into half-moons. 
 
 Oyster Rabbit. — Clean and remove the hard 
 muscles from half a pint of oysters ; parboil them 
 in the chafing-dish in their own liquor until their 
 edges curl, and remove to a hot bowl. Put one 
 tablespoonful of butter, one-half pound of cheese 
 (broken in small bits), one saltspoonful each of salt 
 and mustard, and a few grains of Cayenne into the 
 chafing-dish ; while the cheese is melting, beat two 
 eggs slightly, adding them to the oyster liquor ; 
 mix this gradually with the melted cheese ; add the 
 oysters and turn at once over hot toast. 
 
 Oysters in a Loaf. — Drain fifty good, fat oys- 
 ters. Put them over the fire ; watch carefully to a 
 boil. Drain ; add to the liquor sufficient milk to 
 make one pint. Rub together two tablespoonfuls 
 butter and two of flour. Add milk and liquor. 
 When boiling add oysters, the yolks of two eggs 
 added quickly, a tablespoonful of parsley, and a 
 palatable seasoning of salt and pepper. Serve hot 
 in a boat made from stale bread nicely fried. 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 103 
 
 .Oelricbs \ 
 5ed5t:)re6G 
 pop T^p' 
 
 Stir the yolk 
 and white of six 
 
 eggs in a soup- 
 plate. Cut up 
 twelve medium- 
 si z e d oysters, 
 moderately fine, 
 in another soup- 
 plate. Rub the 
 bottom of chafing-dish with anchovy paste, put 
 in a good-sized piece of butter, and proceed to 
 scramble the eggs. Just as the eggs are turning 
 put in the oysters and stir well until cooked, then 
 serve on toast lightly spread with anchovy paste. 
 Three eggs and six oysters is about the right pro- 
 portion for each person. 
 
 Anchovy. — Anchovy paste spread instead of 
 butter on hot toast is a most delicious appetizer 
 preceding a lunch. Bottled anchovies in oil served 
 with olives, or olives stuffed with anchovies, are 
 full of zest, and can readily be purchased in orig- 
 inal packages. 
 
 Fish — Smelts. — For the chafing-dish smelts are 
 particularly well adapted. They are declared to 
 have the singular perfume of violets and syringa ! 
 

 104 The J^achetor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 Pull the gills out, and the inside will follow. Wipe 
 dry, dredge them with flour, first dipping in milk, 
 and fry gently in butter. 
 
 Be tw ee n 
 three or four 
 slices of nicely 
 toasted and 
 ^ buttered bread 
 '^ ^ on both sides, 
 
 spread a dozen anchovies chopped fine. Beat up 
 the yolks of four eggs with half a pint of cream 
 and thicken over a fire. Don't let this come to a 
 boil. Pour this over the toast after it is arranged 
 in pyramid form on a hot plate. 
 
 Perches aux Fines Herbes. — Scale and clean 
 fresh small perch and lay in the chafing-drsh. 
 Pour oil over them, sprinkle with pepper, salt 
 parsley and sweet herbs minced fine. Mix minced 
 herbs with bread-crumbs and cover the fish. Then 
 fry, and serve with any sauce. 
 
 Salmon, Kippered. — A pound of salmon, half 
 pint of best oil, a little pepper. Don't begin to 
 fry until the oil is boiling. 
 
 Shad-roe. — Scald a pair of shad-roe first. Put 
 a pint of hot water into the chafing-dish, a gill of 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. \6^ 
 
 vinegar, a bit of mace, and a bit of lemon peel, 
 three peppercorns, and the roe. Boil fifteen 
 minutes. Spread with butter, the juice of lemon, 
 and chopped parsley. 
 
 Terrapin a la Maryland. — Plunge two cow- 
 terrapin into boiling water and boil for fifteen 
 minutes. When cool rub off the skin from the 
 legs, and take the shells apart carefully. Cut 
 away the meat, take the gallbag from the liver, 
 removing claws, sandbag, head, etc., and saving the 
 eggs. The next day cook in the chafer as follows : 
 Rub together the yolks of four hard-boiled eggs 
 and a quarter of a pound of butter until it becomes 
 a paste. Add to this gradually, while stirring, a 
 half-pint of cream and half a gill of good sherry. 
 Pour this mixture in the chafer (a half-pint of hot 
 water being previously placed in the lower dish), 
 light the fire, stir while warming, and when hot 
 add the terrapin. Simmer for a few moments. 
 
 Sardines A la George Trimble Davidson. — 
 Have some sardines broiled and placed on individual 
 pieces of toast, and then, on a chafing-dish, make 
 a thin milk-rabbit. Butter, the size of a small ^g%^ 
 should be melted first in the dish, then the fresh 
 cheese cut up fine and melted with the butter ; a 
 
lo6 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 little salt, a little pepper, and a dash of tabasco. 
 Stir the melting cheese in one direction only, and 
 keep adding a little cream, just enough to make it 
 the consistency of molasses. When all is well 
 melted and evenly stirred, pour it over the broiled 
 sardines and serve hot. 
 
 Sardines a l'Indienne. — Put a pat of butter 
 into the chafing-dish, and stir in the yolks of four 
 beaten eggs, salt and Cayenne to taste, and a tea- 
 spoonful of chutney ; when it forms a smooth paste 
 mash with it some trimmed sardines from which 
 the oil has been wiped, dip in ^gg and bread- 
 crumbs, fry in hot butter, and dish up on strips of 
 thin toast. 
 
 Creamed Shrimps. — Mix in the handled dish 
 the yolks of two eggs, with a teaspoonful of an- 
 chovy sauce and a gill of cream ; lay in some 
 bottled shrimps, let them just get hot, not allowing 
 the eggs to curdle, and pour over strips of toast. 
 
 Rissoles of Lobster. — Mince up the meat from 
 a boiled lobster very fine and season with pepper, 
 salt, and a little pounded mace. Add two ounces 
 of melted butter and some bread-crumbs ; roll into 
 balls, dip into yoke of beaten tgg^ put more crumbs 
 over them, and fry to a brown in lard. 
 
The Autocrat ajid the Chafing-dish. 107 
 
 Lobster a la Newberg. — Extract the meat 
 from two freshly boiled lobsters, weighing two 
 pounds each, and cut it into small pieces. Put two 
 ounces of butter in a pan over the fire, and as soon 
 as it melts put in six fine-chopped button mush- 
 rooms, which must cook three minutes without 
 browning. Then the lobster meat must be added ; 
 also one even teaspoonful of truffles and one-half 
 pint of sherry. Let this cook three minutes. Mix 
 one and one-half cupfuls of cream with the yolks 
 of four eggs and mix it well with the lobster, allow- 
 ing it to remain a few minutes over the fire without 
 boiling. Lobster Newberg can be made more sim- 
 ply by leaving out the mushrooms and truffles, and 
 many people prefer it that way. 
 
 Frying Fish A la Savarin. — Brillat Savarin, 
 in \{\9~ Physiologie du Gotlt, which was, according to 
 Balzac, a veritable decalogue of gastronomers, irref- 
 ragable as the laws of Kepler, wrote : " The beauty 
 of a good fry is in carbonizing or browning the 
 surface by sudden immersion — the process known as 
 the 'surprise.' It forms a sort of vault to enclose 
 all that is valuable, prevents the fat from reaching 
 ic, and concentrates the juices so as best to develop 
 the alimentary qualities. Don't forget when you 
 have any of those trout weighing scarcely more than 
 
IbS The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 quarter of a pound, and fetched from streams that 
 murmur far from the capital — don't forget, I say, to 
 fry them in the very finest olive- oil you have. This 
 simple dish, properly served up with slices of lemon, 
 is worthy of a cardinal. In exactly the same way 
 you should treat smelts, of which adepts think so 
 much. The smelt is, among the fish, what the 
 fig-pecker is amongst the birds : the same in size, 
 the same in flavor, the same in excellence." 
 
 Turtle Steak A la Henry Guy Carleton. — 
 After melting two ounces of butter in the chafing- 
 dish add a tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, two 
 tablespoonfuls of currant jelly, a gill of port wine, a 
 dash of Cayenne, and a little salt. In this simmer 
 the steak till tender ; finally add the juice of half 
 a lime, and serve hot. 
 
 Scallops. — Scald the scallops, then dry them in 
 a napkin, and fry in the chafing-dish with a couple 
 of walnuts of butter. To stew : Parboil for fifteen 
 minutes, then put them in the dish with a pint of 
 boiled milk, a walnut of butter, and season to taste. 
 Simmer for eight or ten minutes. 
 
 Thackeray's Bouillabaisse. — Put a gill of 
 olive-oil into the chafing-dish, a minced clove of 
 
The Au to era t and the Ch afing-dis h. 1 09 
 
 garlic, a tablespoonful of chopped onion, two 
 cloves, six peppercorns, and, when browned, put in a 
 pound of canned salmon with its liquid. Now add 
 a little salt, piece of bay-leaf, two or three sHces of 
 lemon, a pint of tomato pulp, a pinch of curry- 
 powder or saffron, a gill of Rhine wine, with water 
 enough to cover the fish. Simmer for twenty min- 
 utes. Line a deep dish with toast, remove from 
 the pan all seasoning in sight, and then pour the 
 contents of the pan over the toast. This dish was 
 made famous by Thackeray. 
 
 Eggs — Omelet A la Celestine. — Break four 
 eggs in a bowl, beating them only enough to mix 
 the whites and yolks thoroughly. Add a table- 
 spoonful of powdered sugar and a very little butter. 
 Put a teaspoonful of butter in the omelet pan. As 
 soon as hot turn in the eggs, shake the pan so the 
 eggs do not set and brown until the raw ^g% is all 
 cooked, lifting the cooked part every few seconds 
 to allow the raw ^^'g to run upon the hot pan. As 
 soon as the omelet is set add three tablespoonfuls of 
 strawberry jam ; fold over the omelet, turn onto a 
 platter, dust with powdered sugar, and serve at once. 
 
 Scrambled Eggs for Four. — One pint of cream, 
 orve ounce of butter, ten eggs. Beat well together 
 
tlO The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 in the dish before putting over the fire. Season to 
 suit with a little red pepper. Do not cease thor- 
 oughly stirring until the whole is scrambled, then 
 serve on toast. 
 
 To Poach Eggs.— Have a wide stewpan half 
 filled with perfectly clean boiling water, in which 
 a teaspoonful of salt or vinegar has been thrown ; 
 break each ^gg into a small cup and slide it gently 
 into the water ; in about three minutes the whites 
 will be firm ; then lift them from the water in a 
 wire poaching-spoon, which will drain off the water. 
 Serve the eggs on bread toasted and buttered. 
 
 To Fry Eggs. — Break the eggs carefully into 
 cups, as for poaching. Have the frying-pan ready 
 with plenty of boiling butter or oil ; slide the eggs 
 gently in, and with a spoon baste a little of the 
 butter over them, for they must not be turned. As 
 soon as the yolk appears white, showing the deep 
 color through, and the white is firm though trans- 
 parent, which will usually be in two minutes, lift 
 them out with a perforated slice, that they may be 
 drained. 
 
 Eggs a la Meyerbeer. — Cut one mutton kidney 
 in half and broil or stew it. Butter a dish and break 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 1 1 1 
 
 into it two eggs, which cook for two minutes; then 
 add the kidney to the eggs, and serve with Peri- 
 gueux sauce. 
 
 Mrs. Rorer's Omelette. — Break four eggs into 
 a bowl ; give them twelve good, vigorous beats ; 
 add four tablespoonfuls water, tablespoonful finely- 
 chopped parsley, and a bit of butter size of a wal- 
 nut. Put a tablespoonful of butter in a saucepan ; 
 when melted turn in the eggs ; shake, dust with salt 
 and pepper ; drain so that the soft part will go un- 
 derneath ; fold and roll, and turn on to a heated dish. 
 
 Scramble eggs with 
 cream and grated 
 American cheese, 
 chopped green pep- 
 pers, tomato ketchup, 
 paprika, and serve en 
 casserole (individual stewpans), and just at serv- 
 ing cover with Parmesan cheese. 
 
 Eggs with Macaroni. — Heat a gill of milk in 
 the chafing-dish ; add two walnuts of butter ; two 
 tablespoons of canned mushrooms, cut fine ; a 
 cupful of cold, boiled macaroni ; then four eggs 
 which have been well mixed. Stir over boiling 
 )vater for tpi> minutes^ and season to suit. 
 
112 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 Plain Omelette. — For a small one take four 
 eggs and beat them up briskly ; add a tablespoon 
 of milk, and beat that up with the eggs, and pour into 
 the dish directly over the fire. As soon as it sets, 
 lift off the dish, slip a knife under it half-way, then 
 slant the pan and fold over. Hold your platter 
 against the dish and turn into it. Don't mix salt 
 with it ; that will make it flabby ; reserve that for 
 the table. 
 
 Omelette au Rhum. — After preparing as above, 
 dust sugar over it, and then singe the sugar in 
 stripes with a red-hot iron. Pour a wineglass of 
 warm Jamaica rum over it, which set fire to. Then 
 with a spoon dash the rum over the omelette, and 
 serve. 
 
 Omelette Souffl^. — In preparing an omelette, 
 beat the whites of four eggs separately from the 
 yolks of two, then put together ; add a tablespoon- 
 f ul of sugar and a few drops of vanilla ; then bake 
 ten minutes or so. 
 
 Omelette with Chestnuts. — All sorts of 
 things may be introduced into a plain omelette — 
 jelly, mushrooms, etc. A particularly tasty ome- 
 lette, that w^s suggested to me by " Her," iya§ 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 113 
 
 stuffed with boiled (then mashed) French chest- 
 nuts. 
 
 The CuRiS's Omelette a la Savarin. — Hash up 
 together the roes of two carp, carefully bleached, 
 a piece of fresh tunny, and a little minced shallot. 
 When well mixed throw the whole into a saucepan 
 with a lump of the best butter, and whip it up till 
 the butter is melted. Then in an oval dish mix 
 separately a lump of butter with parsley and chives, 
 and squeezing over it the juice of a lemon, place it 
 over hot embers in readiness. Next, complete the 
 omelette by beating up twelve eggs, pouring in the 
 roes and tunny, stirring till all is well mixed ; then, 
 when properly finished, and of the proper form and 
 consistence, spread it out skilfully on the oval dish, 
 and serve up to be eaten at once. This dish should 
 be reserved for breakfasts of refinement, for con- 
 noisseurs in gastronomic art — those who understand 
 eating with judgment ; but, especially, let it be 
 washed down with some good old wine, and you 
 will see wonders. 
 
 Eggs in Marinade.— Put four dessertspoonfuls 
 of water in the stewpan, a tablespoon of vinegar, 
 and two of veal gravy with seasoning of pepper 
 and salt. Beat well yolks of two eggs and stir in 
 
114 The Bachelor atid the Chafing-dish. 
 
 gradually ; then light your lamp and heat just 
 until it thickens — not boiling. Pour this sauce 
 over poached eggs. 
 
 Eggs A la Powerscourt. — Five eggs, a few 
 anchovies or sardines, hot toasted bread, anchovy 
 paste, Cayenne. Poach the eggs and put them 
 on round pieces of toast, size of the ^gg, nicely but- 
 tered, first covering the toast with anchovy paste and 
 a little Cayenne ; cut some sardines or anchovies 
 into slips, and lay them transversely across the eggs. 
 
 Eggs with Ham. — Cut ham thin and keep in 
 hot water for half an hour ; wipe the slices dry, dip 
 into beaten eggs, and then bread-crumbs. Then 
 fry lightly in oil and cover with poached eggs. 
 
 Stewed Codfish. — This is a good breakfast or 
 luncheon dish. Picked cod comes prepared. Put 
 half a pound of it in the stewpan, with a table- 
 spoonful of butter, worked into the same of flour, 
 and enough milk to moisten it. Stew gently for 
 ten minutes, add pepper, and serve hot, covering 
 with sliced hard-boiled eggs. 
 
 Chestnuts and Oysters. — This is an elaborate 
 dish, but worth the while for an occasion. As 
 naany o;ysters a? chestnuts, jrolks of fpijr eggs^ half 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 115 
 
 a grated nutmeg, peel of half a lemon, two sprigs 
 of parsley, a spoonful of the juice of spinach, six 
 spoonfuls of milk or cream, flour, bread-crumbs, 
 half a pint of white wine, half a blade of mace, 
 three ounces of butter. Now to proceed : Make a 
 thick batter with the yolk of two eggs, the nut- 
 meg, the lemon peel minced fine, the spinach 
 juice, a little flour, and two spoonfuls of the milk. 
 Dip the oysters one by one into this batter, roll in 
 bread-crumbs, and fry with butter quickly to a 
 bright brown, and set aside to keep hot. Take 
 the chestnuts (shelled and skinned) and fry in bat- 
 ter. Pour fat out of the pan, dredge some flour 
 in, rub a piece of butter over it with a spoon, put 
 in the liquor from the oysters, mace, the chestnuts, 
 and half a pint of white wine. Let them boil ; 
 thicken the liquor with yolks of two eggs beaten 
 up with four spoonfuls of cream, and when it is 
 thick pour it over the oysters and serve. 
 
 If the amateur cook accomplishes this dish very 
 successfully, he will satisfy himself as well as his 
 guests. 
 
 Savarin's Fondue. — This dish is of Swiss ori- 
 gin. It is a healthy, savory, and appetizing dish, 
 quickly dressed, and always convenient to place 
 before unexpected guest§. Take first as many eggs 
 
Ii6 The Bachelor and the Chajiftg-dish. 
 
 as there are guests, and then about a third as much 
 by weight of the best of Gruyeres cheese and the 
 half of that of butter. Break and beat up all the 
 eggs well in a saucepan ; then add the butter and 
 cheese, grated or cut in small pieces ; place the 
 saucepan on the fire, and stir with a wooden spoon 
 till it is of a thick and soft consistence ; put in salt 
 according to the age of the cheese, and a strong 
 dose of pepper, that being a special attribute of 
 this ancient dish. Finally, let it be brought to 
 table on a hot dish, and if some of your best wine 
 is brought and the bottle passes briskly, you will 
 see wonders ! 
 
 The Queen's Toasted Cheese. — This is the 
 recipe from the Royal Lodge at Windsor : Grate 
 half a pound of cheese very fine and add three 
 tablespoons of ale and a small glass of champagne. 
 Mix well in a silver dish over a lamp for ten min- 
 utes, then serve in the dish with toast. 
 
 Cheese Balls. — To one cup of grated cheese 
 add a half-cup of grated bread-crumbs, one tgg 
 well beaten, and five drops of V/orcestershire 
 sauce. Mix thoroughly and roll the paste into 
 small balls with the hands. Place them in a wire 
 J)aske|: and fry in very hot .lar4. 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. wj 
 
 Potatoes Boiled par Excellence. — Boil 
 medium, smooth potatoes in brine. If you have 
 no brine handy make it with salt and water. 
 Boil until tender, serve with the jackets, and, if 
 you are hungry, will be found delicious with butter. 
 
 Fry Ordinaire. — Boil, then pare the potatoes 
 required, and slice about one-quarter of an inch 
 thick. Fry in boiling butter until light brown. 
 Drain and serve on napkin, sprinkled with salt. 
 
 Another. — Fry raw in plenty of lard. Do not 
 put the potatoes into the pan until the lard is 
 at a boiling point. 
 
 " Mother's" Stewed Potatoes. — Cut potatoes 
 into dice that have been previously boiled. Put in 
 stewpan with two walnuts of butter, season with 
 pepper and salt, and add enough cream to reach 
 them. Stew quickly and keep well turned mean- 
 while. 
 
 Asparagus. — Select good " Oyster Bay " plant, 
 and, after scraping well, boil fifteen minutes, adding 
 a teaspoon of salt to the water. When cold, serve 
 with a dish of melted butter or olive-oil to which 
 has been added a little paprika ; or, dip into epi- 
 piirean sapce, 
 
1 1 8 The Bach el or ait d the Ch afing-dish . 
 
 Canned Vegetables. — Corn, tomatoes, peas, 
 beans, etc., as they are now prepared, are especially 
 adapted to the chafing-dish for luncheon service, 
 as well as all the canned soups. The latter may have 
 at least one-third their bulk added to by water or 
 milk, if desired, and with a little seasoning, such as 
 Worcestershire or mushroom sauce, are very tasty. 
 The vegetables are all ready for simply heating 
 through, and can be nicely seasoned with butter, 
 pepper, and salt. In fact, there is hardly anything 
 now that cannot be gotten preserved in some way, 
 and thus easily adapted for the chafing-dish. 
 
 Soups. — As all soups that could possibly be de- 
 sired either by the man or woman bachelor are 
 obtainable ready for heating in the can, there is 
 hardly any need to give directions for the making 
 of any soup. All canned soups are improved by 
 emptying into the dish and adding a seasoning as 
 desired. Let the soup just come to a boil. 
 
 Soup according to Savarin. — "To have good 
 soup the water must be heated gently in order to 
 draw out the albumen before it is coagulated, and 
 the boiling must be almost imperceptible in order 
 to mix thoroughly and gradually the soluble parts 
 which the meat successively yields. Sometimes 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 119 
 
 Cub 
 
 vegetables or roots are added to the plain soup to 
 improve the flavor, and macaroni or bread to make 
 it more nourishing ; it is then a potage, or vege- 
 table soup, or broth — a wholesome, light, and nu- 
 tritious food, suitable for all ; not only satisfying, 
 but giving tone to the digestive organs. To make 
 good soup, the pot must only simmer — * smile,' as 
 the phrase is." 
 
 A silver or 
 D €5 r ^^.% metal teapot 
 
 draws out the 
 strength and 
 
 * ^:£^^^^^^^"' ^^//l ^^^ ^^'^ more 
 
 readily than 
 one of earthen- 
 ware, and one 
 of a globular 
 form is most effectual. Boiling water should first 
 be poured into it to heat the metal before the tea- 
 making is commenced, that less heat may be ab- 
 stracted from the infusion, and thus the action be 
 more powerful ; then into the heated vessel put the 
 quantity of tea required, and half fill with boihng 
 water. If the tea be of very fine quality, you may 
 let it stand ten minutes before filling up ; if of 
 coarser kind, five minutes is long enough, or you 
 
120 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 will draw more of the bitterness than the fragrance 
 of the tea. Never drain all the infusion from the 
 teapot before you refill it ; leave at least one cup, 
 and when the strength of the leaves is exhausted, 
 do not add more tea to them, but turn them out 
 and commence afresh, or the bitterness of the old 
 leaves will destroy the flavor of the tea. 
 
 Spaghetti. — Put the ends into boiling water 
 for a moment. This will soften them, so you can 
 coil the spaghetti into the water without break- 
 ing. Boil for fifteen minutes, then drain in a 
 colander and pour cold water over it. Now put in 
 a hot dish and heat through, first pouring over it 
 a tomato sauce, good and hot, with paprika. 
 
 Violet Luncheon. — A luncheon for six people 
 that I had the pleasure of attending recently was 
 an exceedingly dainty affair. The table was luxu- 
 riantly decorated with violets ; the china service 
 was all, more or less, hand-painted, with the violet 
 as the chief color. The menu was as follows : 
 
 Bier re de Malaga 
 
 Toast with anchovy paste 
 
 Oysters k la John Chamberlin 
 
 Eggs en casserole 
 
 Quail, chafing-dish style 
 
 Cr^me Yvette sorbet a la Waldorf 
 
The Autocrat and the Chafifig-dish. I'll 
 
 Three silver chafing-dishes stood ready on the 
 side-table, one being placed in front of the host 
 for each course. The servant passed him the ma- 
 terials for making each dish just as they were 
 wanted, everything being temptingly placed on 
 the side-table close at hand. The first was simply 
 an imported appetizer. Directions for the three 
 following courses can be found by consulting the 
 index. The quail was cooked as the recipe is given 
 for spring chicken. The last, a violet sorbet, espe- 
 cially delighted the women ; the recipe I obtained 
 from the Hotel Waldorf, as follows : One gallon 
 orange and lemon ice, one-half bottle Creme Yvette, 
 and two teaspoonfuls of vegetable violet color. 
 
 Creamed Oysters a la Eugene McCarthy. 
 — Here is a recipe for two : One pint oysters, one 
 cup cream, one-half cup sherry, two tablespoonfuls 
 Worcestershire, two drops tabasco, two walnuts of 
 butter, small bunch celery cut fine, salt to suit. 
 Stew until the gills of the oysters frill. 
 
L'ENVOI. 
 
 My dear Cook Man : 
 
 You're great on la eat; but don't forget la 
 drink. Par example, the little trick of turning 
 new wine into old — no miracle— a teaspoonful of 
 very hot water in the table d'hote red wine of 
 California, and at once you have a fair St. 
 Emilion or St. Estephe or Macon of five years 
 old. Then the raw young whiskey, if it is good, 
 treated with two lumps of sugar to the quart and 
 left open a few hours, takes on age and mellow- 
 ness with astonishing rapidity. Urge Christians 
 not to drink foreign champagnes that don't come 
 out of a king's or a Rothschild's cellar. San 
 Franciscan champagne, if tabulated ten dollars a 
 bottle, would be in demand the world over. Cool 
 it, but don't ice it. Vat'en au diable, prie. 
 Ton ami. 
 
 Saint Maur. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 I have loved that alliterative complement, Sala 
 and Savarin, not because {eiitre nous) I think life's 
 enjoyment is mainly what the little pigs may be 
 
LEnvoi. 123 
 
 thinking of, sketched in my first chapter, but 
 because in all that they have written (not the pigs, 
 but S. and S.) there has been created an atmos- 
 phere of the most genial bonhomie. Poor Sala died 
 the month this was going to press, and his last 
 parting gift to the library shelf was a book on 
 cooking, the result of his contemplation of years. 
 But he alludes to the fascination the kitchen had 
 for him, in both his bachelorhood and married state, 
 in his " Life and Adventures." 
 
 He begins by saying : "■ I should be false to the 
 scheme which I laid down for myself many years 
 ago, when I first thought of writing my life at all, 
 were I not to say something about the great change 
 that came over me when I had to work for some- 
 body else besides myself ; and when my toil was 
 requited by the devotedness and love of a young 
 and intelligent partner. A bachelor must be, to a 
 certain extent, selfish ; he cannot help it ; he thinks 
 of himself in some shape or another from morning 
 till night ; and selfishness begets self-indulgence 
 and hard-heartedness. It is not so with a wid- 
 ower ; he has enjoyed the bliss of wedded life. Is 
 there a nobler passage in Johnson's letter to Ches- 
 terfield than that in which he says, 'The notice 
 you have been pleased to take of my labours, had 
 it been early, had been kind ; but it has been de- 
 
124 I'J^^ Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 layed till I am indifterent and cannot enjoy it, //// 
 / am solitary and cannot impart it^ till I am known 
 and do not want it ' ? To my mind it is impossible 
 to be really happy unless you can impart at least 
 one moiety of your happiness to others. Never 
 mind what the moiety is — a ticket for the opera, 
 a bunch a flowers, a new garment, a dinner at 
 Greenwich, a drive in the park — it will not be 
 thoroughly enjoyed unless you can share it with 
 somebody you love. It was my great good for- 
 tune to espouse a pious, charitable, and compas- 
 sionate young woman ; and she did her best, during 
 a union of five and twenty years, to weed out of me 
 my besetting sin of selfishness, and to soften and 
 dulcify a temper naturally violent and unreasoning. 
 . . . During the dark days of the long night- 
 mare of Bohemianism I did not forget how to 
 cook, but my culinary faculty was in a state 
 of suspended animation. After my marriage the 
 cunning of the archimogeiros came back unbidden 
 to me, and it was one of the earliest and most de- 
 lightful of my experiences as a Benedict teaching 
 Beatrice how to cook. I bought a very nice little 
 batterie de cuisine made of brown Wedgwood ware ; 
 and with the aid of a spirit lamp and some char- 
 coal embers we managed to get up the most dainty 
 little repasts imaginable. My wife's capacity for 
 
V Envoi, 125 
 
 cooking developed with surprising rapidity. She 
 became in years, as she grew, a veritable cordon 
 bleu ; and between 1875 and 1885, when we had a 
 roomy old house in Mecklenburg Square, and I 
 was prosperous, and could afford to be hospitable, 
 we concocted a number of lunches and dinners 
 which won the admiration of the most distin- 
 guished gourmets in London. The manner of our 
 procedure was as follows : I settled the menu. If 
 there was any made dish or any sauces with which 
 she was unacquainted she asked me for informa- 
 tion and I gave it to her. Then she took three 
 days to think out the dinner. Afterwards she 
 would repair to her laboratory, which was a little 
 room overlooking the garden, and which we had 
 fitted up with shelves, on which she arranged all 
 her condiments, her miniature stewpans and brais- 
 ing-pans, and saucepans, and so forth. The place 
 came to look at last like that gastronomic library 
 which forms the frontispiece to one of the volumes 
 of Reyniere's ' Almanach des Gourmands,' in 
 which the articles on the shelves are not books, but 
 hams, capons, /^/^'i- de foie gras, pots of conserves, 
 bottles of oil and vinegar, and other creature com- 
 forts. In that laboratory, standing before a broad 
 kitchen table, and aided by one of the neatest- 
 handed parlourmaids I ever knew, the artistic por- 
 
126 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 tion of the dinner used to be accomplished ; the 
 ingredients for the made dishes were mixed ; there 
 was white stock and there was brown stock sim- 
 mering over the charcoal ; the sauces were all 
 made, labelled and placed in different casseroles in 
 a bain marie pan of boiling water ; and all Mrs. 
 Cook in the regions below had to do was to make 
 the soup, dress the fish and vegetables, and roast 
 the joints and game. We had a worthy soul at 
 ;^3o per annum who stayed with us several years ; 
 and when I went to Australia in 1885 she was fit 
 to be cook at a London club. She used to beg 
 and pray to be taught to make sauces and entries ^ 
 and when my wife had any leisure she used to in- 
 struct her; but on the occasion of an exceptionally 
 recherchd banquet, she herself, and she only, wa§ 
 la sauci^re.'* 
 
 * * 
 
 Concerning the famous cooks of this century 
 (and 1 do not know to whom I owe this uncredited 
 scrap from my note-book) : 
 
 " Each has left a record of his accomplishments 
 in the form of a treatise on the culinary art. Of 
 these, Beauvilliers in his * L'Art du Cuisinier,' 
 Careme in his ' Maitre d'Hotel Fran9aise ;' Ude, 
 * The French Cook ; ' Soyer in * The Gastronomic 
 Regenerator,' Francatelli in his * Modern Cook,* 
 
LEnvoi. 127 
 
 and Gouffe in his * Le Livre de Cuisine/ have car- 
 ried to the utmost limit all that is possible in the 
 science of cookery. Beauvilliers was renowned for 
 his entrees and roasts. In the absolute perfection 
 of these he in his time stood alone as the master 
 par excellence. His book, even at this day, offers 
 an example of what a treatise on cookery should be; 
 moreover, it reveals the position of the culinary art 
 at the fall of the First Empire. Careme is probably 
 that cook whose reputation surpasses that of all his 
 contemporaries and successors. Careme excelled 
 in entremets and sauces. It was said of him that if 
 it were wished to eat of a grandfather or an ele- 
 phant, he was the one to prepare the sauce to dis- 
 guise the flavor of either. He died before he had 
 completed that part of his work relating to sauces 
 and entrees. Careme as a writer on the culinary 
 art indulged in romantic elaboration. This is at- 
 tributed to the influence of the time — the reign of 
 Louis XVIII, At that period eating and drinking 
 were ostentatious and vulgar. The King, whose 
 dinner was always one of forty courses, was respon- 
 sible for this, and Careme yielded to the fashion of 
 the day, probably, however, through natural incli- 
 nation as much as through necessity. He devel- 
 oped a mania for decoration, in which he employed 
 stearine with a lavish hand. Under this decorative 
 
128 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 influence he revealed the skill of a sculptor, color- 
 ist, and draughtsman, three accomplishments that 
 he considered indispensable in a cook. Ude was 
 the kitchen director of the famous Crockfords of 
 London. He was a good cook and a bombastic 
 author. His famous axiom was that it was easier 
 to compose an oratorio or an opera than to create 
 a new entree, and that a cook was a greater artist 
 than a Royal Academician or a professor of music. 
 Soyer was also an extravagant and exaggerated 
 writer on culinary topics. Apart from his Services 
 to the English troops during the Crimean war, he is 
 mainly remembered by his hundred-guinea dish, to 
 produce which a hundred turkeys had to be killed, 
 of which each supplied only the two dark-meat 
 lumps on each side of the rump, called by the 
 French le sot Vy laisse. Francatelli's ' Modern 
 Cook ' has become a classic through the ease with 
 which his recipes are susceptible of practical appli- 
 cation. He was Queen Victoria's chef and the 
 innovator in reducing the number of dishes served 
 at dinners of the time. Gouffe was a culinary 
 artist of the first class. His book is a standard 
 grammar of the French school of cookery, and no 
 work treating of superior domestic and higher 
 cookery has surpassed it in practical exactness and 
 painstaking minuteness." 
 
V Envoi. 129 
 
 " Dixie's dishes are quoted, or rather misquoted, 
 so often that I am emboldened to take up my pen 
 in defence of my country," said a Southern woman 
 to a writer in the Sun. 
 
 " ' Hog and hominy ' have been declared our 
 staff of life ever since Mason and Dixon marked 
 their boundary line between the two sections, 
 whereas hog and hominy only play their part in 
 special seasons, known in Dixie as * hog-killing 
 time.' 
 
 " How the collection of that savory season lin- 
 gers in memory ! The yards and yards of delicious 
 sausages, the backbones and spare ribs, the hog's- 
 head cheese and brains, the tenderloins and pigs' 
 feet, and the saucy-looking little roast pigs with 
 red apples in their mouths. Then the old smoke- 
 houses, hung around with sugar-cured hams, 
 which, baked brown, garnished with cloves, and 
 served with champagne sauce, were always vis-a- 
 vis with the roast turkey or canvas-back ducks at a 
 dinner of any importance. 
 
 "And our big, yellow, sugar 'yams,' how they 
 are outraged by being spoken of as * boiled sweet 
 potatoes ' ! Who ever heard of a Southerner eating 
 boiled sweet potatoes ? He would just as soon 
 think of eating a boiled owl. They are baked, or 
 roasted in their jackets, from which they easily 
 9 
 
130 The Bachelor a7td the Chafing-dish. 
 
 slip, when properly cooked, and are covered with a 
 delicious saccharine coating. The only time they 
 are boiled is when they are to be converted into 
 croquettes or candied. The latter method is in this 
 style : 
 
 ** Parboil the potatoes, cut them lengthwise, lay 
 in baking dish, sprinkle thickly with brown sugar 
 and powdered cinnamon, and cover liberally with 
 lumps of butter. Pour over water enough to 
 moisten the sugar, and bake in an oven, basting 
 frequently with the rich sauce that will soon form. 
 
 " *■ Sweet potato pone ' is another specifically 
 Southern dish, used as a dessert. The potatoes 
 are peeled raw and grated on a coarse grater. 
 Five or six potatoes will make a good-sized dishful. 
 Add one cup of molasses, one of brown sugar, and 
 the yolks of three eggs, two teaspoonfuls of ground 
 ginger, one of cinnamon, half a teaspoonful of 
 cloves, pounded orange peel, and nutmeg, table- 
 spoonful of butter, half a teaspoonful of baking soda 
 mixed with the molasses, and a little salt. Mix all 
 together, put in a pan, sprinkle sugar on top, and 
 bake brown. 
 
 ** * Hoppin* John ' is a dish peculiar to South 
 Carolina ; I have never seen it anywhere else. 
 It is made of cow peas (red peas), rice, and bacon. 
 It sounds awfully* plebeian and uninviting, but it 
 
L Envoi. 131 
 
 isn't. Eat it once and you'll always want a second 
 experience. A New York clergyman residing in 
 Charleston, S. C, declares that he would feel dis- 
 loyal both to his stomach and to .his adopted 
 home if he did not have * Hoppin' John * at least 
 twice a week. 
 
 *' The peas are boiled until tender, a piece of 
 bacon and a pod of red pepper being boiled with 
 them. When done, a portion of the liquid is taken 
 out and poured over the rice, that has been washed 
 the same as for ordinary cooking. The pea liquor 
 is used in the place of water. This is boiled in a 
 double boiler for half an hour, or until thoroughly 
 done, and salted to taste. When done, turn out 
 rice, place bacon on the top, and serve hot. 
 
 " ' Pilau rice,' or * k la Creole,' is a dish known 
 only in South Carolina and New Orleans. The 
 rice is boiled with the water in which a ham or 
 chicken has been boiled, with whole allspice and 
 whole black pepper added. It is served with the 
 ham or chicken. 
 
 '* * Crab gumbo ' is another dish fit for the gods. 
 Fry two tablespoonfuls of flour in one of lard until 
 the flour is browned, but not burned. Add a 
 chopped onion, a chopped Irish potato, thyme, 
 parsley, salt, and red pepper, and fry a few min- 
 utes. Then put in eight hard crabs that have been 
 
132 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish. 
 
 scalded and cleaned. Add three pints of boiling 
 water, and boil the whole for half an hour. When 
 ready to serve, rub a teaspoonful of powdered sas- 
 safras to a paste, with a spoonful of butter. Stir 
 this in soup until well mixed through it, then pour 
 in tureen and serve with rice. If okra is used in- 
 stead of sassafras fillet, it should be cut up fine and 
 fried with the lard, flour, and herbs before putting 
 in the crabs and water. The fillet must never be 
 put in until dinner is about to be served, as it spoils 
 quickly by standing in the pot." 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 Dean Hole, in his book " A Little Tour In Amer- 
 ica," praises our food, and the variety of it, but 
 declares that the dulness of our table-knives is an 
 abomination. He says also that our fish do not 
 compare to those in English waters, but what cer- 
 tain fish we may lack is very satisfactorily made up 
 for by a variety of others. We may not have sole 
 or turbot, but we have Spanish mackerel, terrapin, 
 smelt, pompano, and Lord knows what not. Our 
 oysters are finer and of better flavor — although 
 Dean Hole, like Thackeray, does not care for their 
 largeness. 
 
 * * 
 
 It is said of Carlyle, a Scotchman of the old 
 school, even after a long residence in London, that 
 
L Envoi, 133 
 
 he always clung to the culinary processes of Scot- 
 land. The meals served at his house in Cheyne row 
 are described as awful examples of old Scotch gas- 
 tronomic methods. No cook would remain with 
 him for any length of time, and the revelations 
 of these functionaries when they left his employ 
 appalled even natives of his own land. Carlyle 
 thought he knew something of cookery. A rice 
 pudding, however, that he frequently concocted 
 was the cause of many estrangements between 
 his friends and himself. 
 
 Dr. Johnson ridiculed the cooking of the Scotch, 
 and now a writer in an article in the New Review 
 calls attention to the rapid if not total disappear- 
 ance of most of the national dishes of Scotland. 
 Tartan, pansowdie, scadlips, brochan, and dram- 
 mock are gone. Even haggis, consisting of a 
 minced leg of mutton, suet, bread crumbs, spices, 
 mushrooms, and red wine, enclosed in a skin and 
 baked in a quick oven, is becoming a thing of the 
 past. 
 
 * * 
 
 It is claimed that the insidious and fascinating 
 *' cocktail" was the invention of Colonel Carter of 
 Culpeper Court House, Va. " Many years ago," 
 says an anonymous contributor, " in that locality 
 there was a wayside inn named * The Cock and 
 
134 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 Bottle,* the semblance of an old English tavern, 
 and which bore upon its swinging sign a cock and 
 bottle, meaning thereby that draught and bottled 
 ale could be had within^the 'cock,' in old ver- 
 nacular, meaning the tap. He, therefore, who got 
 the last and muddy portion of the tap was said to 
 have received the * cocktail.' Upon one occasion, 
 when Colonel Carter was subjected to the indig- 
 nity of having this muddy beverage put before 
 him, he threw it angrily upon the floor and ex- 
 claimed : * Hereafter I will drink cocktails of my 
 own brewing ; ' and then and there, inspired evi- 
 dently by the spirit of Ganymede, he dashed to- 
 gether bitters, sugar, the oil of lemon peel, and 
 some old Holland gin, and thus and then and there 
 was the original cocktail concocted." 
 
 * 
 
 Mr. Delmonico says that " lobster Newberg " 
 was so called by him after a gentleman named 
 Wenberg, who was a great frequenter of the 
 famous restaurant, and asked for the concoction 
 so often that it was finally put down on the menu 
 as CL la Wenberg. But his patron not wishing the 
 notoriety, objected so seriously that Mr. Delmon- 
 ico finally disguised it by reversing the letters of 
 the first syllable of the name. 
 
LEnvoL 135 
 
 But the amenities of cooking and eating obtain 
 more or less interest in comparing the atmosphere 
 of a locaHty. A foaming glass of beer and a 
 Swiss-cheese sandwich made out of rye bread are 
 consumed with a zest by a hungry man in a Ger- 
 man saloon that could not possibly be obtained in 
 one's parlor. Perhaps beans taste better in Bos- 
 ton than they do in New York, even if the pot is 
 from the same baker. In Syracuse, or rather a 
 few miles away from it on the country road, is a 
 wayhouse kept by an Irishman, and it is a fad 
 among the Syracusans to drive there and eat 
 boiled potatoes. They are cooked in brine, and, 
 when served, the jacket has on a heavy overcoat. 
 It is declared that there have been many- imitators 
 of these famous boiled potatoes, but without suc- 
 cess in obtaining the delicious flavor. In Buffalo 
 there is a woman who bakes brown bread in an 
 old Dutch oven. The " upper ten " buy all she 
 can possibly make herself, and she will not employ 
 help. It has a peculiar quality of its own, and 
 she has had many offers for her recipe. One 
 grocer tendered his check for $2,000 simply for 
 
 the use of it. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 I may some time possibly aspire to be a poet or 
 
 a biographer — even a novelist — but if my expecta- 
 
>36 
 
 The Bachelor and the Chafing-dish, 
 
 tions are realized in any way, pointing to books, I 
 can hardly fancy that " The Bachelor and the Chaf- 
 ing-dish" will ever be an authority. Perhaps I 
 am trifling with my publisher and my public alike. 
 It will surely be thought so if, perchance, some 
 dyspeptic being should fail in any one of the 
 recipes here given, and I may have much to answer 
 for. But I can truthfully say that naught has been 
 set down in malice, and if some testy fellow may 
 upbraid me, I pray that the one to whom I have 
 ascribed as my incentive will forgive with "his 
 intentions are well meant ! " 
 
 D. W. 
 
INDEX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Anchovy, I03 
 
 Asparagus, II7 
 
 Beef k la Kelpie, 85 
 
 Brandy Mixture, 25 
 
 Best Cup of Tea, ........ 119 
 
 Bedspread for Two, a la Herman Oelrichs, . . . 103 
 
 Chicken Livers a la James Clarence Harvey, . . 86 
 
 Calf's Liver en Matelote, 88 
 
 Curried Rice, ........ 82 
 
 Curry of Meats, 83 
 
 Calf's Liver and Bacon, 84 
 
 Chops and Steaks, . 84 
 
 Cheese : Cheese Balls, 116 
 
 *' En Casserole, . . . • . . . . m 
 
 " Queen's Toasted, n6 
 
 Welsh Rabbit, 5 
 
 Golden Buck, 7 
 
 " k la Savarin, 9 
 
 " k la Kitchiner, lO 
 
 Clams : k la Newberg, 97 
 
 " Bisque, 98 
 
 " k la Boston, 98 
 
 ** Croute k la Halm, 98 
 
 Corn Oysters, 97 
 
13^ Index. 
 
 PAG8 
 
 Codfish Stewed, 114 
 
 Crabs : Commodore Gerry, 92 
 
 " Soft-shell, 95 
 
 ** Canape Lorenzo Delmonico, .... 95 
 
 ** k la Creole, '97 
 
 " Oyster, 97 
 
 Canned Vegetables, 118 
 
 Chicken : Spring, 92 
 
 *' a la Poulette, 94 
 
 Chafed Duck, 93 
 
 Creamed Shrimps, ....... 106 
 
 Coffee, .......... 29 
 
 Chestnuts and Oysters, 114 
 
 Deviling : Roast Beef, . . . . . . .81 
 
 " Indian Mixture, -79 
 
 Duck, . . 80 
 
 " Kidneys, 80 
 
 '* Lobsters, 8« 
 
 Eggs, 81 
 
 Duck Ragout, 96 
 
 Eggs: Omelette with Chestnuts, 112 
 
 Omelette au Rhum, 11.2 
 
 Omelette Souffle, 112 
 
 Scrambled, 109 
 
 4 la Celestine, 109 
 
 Poached, no 
 
 Fried, . . . . . . . .110 
 
 4 la Meyerbeer, no 
 
 Omelette, 112 
 
 ila'*D. W.," Ill 
 
Index, 139 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Eggs : k la Savarin, 113 
 
 *' with Macaroni," Ill 
 
 ** in Marinade, 1 13 
 
 *' a la Powerscourt, • 114 
 
 *' with Ham, II4 
 
 Entree of Veal Cutlet, 89 
 
 Fish : Smelts, ' . 103 
 
 Perch, 104 
 
 " Salmon, Kippered, 104 
 
 " Frying k la Savarin, , . . . . . 107 
 
 Howard's Hash, 91 
 
 Hash ^ la Murrey, 91 
 
 Kidneys with Potatoes, 90 
 
 Kidneys and Eggs, 89 
 
 Kidneys and Mushrooms, 88 
 
 Lobster ^ la Newberg, 107 
 
 Lamb Chops, , , . 89 
 
 Mock Venison 4 la Murrey, ...... 85 
 
 Mushrooms, 13 
 
 Oysters : Fried, 99 
 
 " Stewed, 99 
 
 *' i la G. T. Davidson, 100 
 
 *' i la John Chamberlin, lOO 
 
 " Maitre d'Hotel, loi 
 
 *' k la Newberg, loi 
 
 •' Rabbit, 102 
 
 •' in a Loaf, 102 
 
 '* Creamed, i la Eugene McCarthy, . . .121 
 
 Potatoes : Boiled, 117 
 
 Fried . 117 
 
I4d Indent. 
 
 Pag6 
 Potatoes: Stewed, . , . « • * .ny 
 Pork Cutlets, ....•,.. 89 
 
 Rissoles of Lobster, .•..,.. i!o6 
 
 Rice Compote, 84 
 
 Shad Roe, 104 
 
 Sausage, i»i . . . 86 
 
 Sardines k la G. T. Davidson, 105 
 
 Salads : Lettuce, etc. , 69 
 
 " Winter, a la Sidney Smith, .... 70 
 
 •* d la Dumas, 71 
 
 ** Potato, 72 
 
 •' Lobster, 72 
 
 Sauces : Mayonnaise, 73 
 
 '* i ritalienne, 73 
 
 *' Tartare, . .76 
 
 *' Maitre d'Hotel, . . . . . .76 
 
 ** French Dressing, 74 
 
 ** Perigueux, 76 
 
 •' Robert, 77 
 
 '* Chutney, 77 
 
 •' Epicurean, 78 
 
 *' Bordelaise, , .76 
 
 ** Financiere, 77 
 
 Scallops, 108 
 
 Soups, . 118 
 
 Scotch Woodcock, 104 
 
 Salmi, 92 
 
 Stewing k la Marengo, 92 
 
 Sweetbreads: ^ la Roumage, 87 
 
 Larded. 86 
 
index. 14 1 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sweetbreads with Peas, 87 
 
 Spaghetti, , ... 120 
 
 Sardines a I'Indienne, . 106 
 
 Scotch Haggis, iS 
 
 Steak Gollasch, 90 
 
 Savarin's Fondue, 115 
 
 " Soup, 118 
 
 Turtle Steak i la Henry Guy Carleton, . . .108 
 
 Tenderloin Steak, 90 
 
 Terrapin i la Maryland, 105 
 
 Thackeray's Bouillabaisse, . , • • . . 108 
 
 Violet Luncheon 120 
 
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 most of it might have come from so severe a moralist as 
 George Eliot or even Bayard Taylor. . ." 
 N.Y. Commercial "A. very vivid and touchingly told story. 
 Advertiser The tale is interesting because it re- 
 
 fleets with fidelity the life led by certain sets of art 
 students. A genuine romance, charmingly told." 
 Congregationalist, "Vivid, realistic. There is much of 
 Boston nobility in it. A decided and excel' 
 
 lent moral influence. It is charmingly written from cover 
 to cover. . ." 
 Vogue, " The author is to be congratulated on the liter- 
 
 New York ary skill shown in what is reported to be his 
 first attempt at novel writing, his characterization being 
 especially clever. The author treats his theme with a re- 
 finement that softens, but does not gloss over, the excesses 
 of temptations that beset youths ; and he shows himself 
 keenly observant of everyday life of the Latin Quarter. . ," 
 Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 Cents. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 CHICAGO. New York. 
 
FATHER STAFFORD 
 
 BY ANTHONY HOPE. 
 The Most Remarkable of Mr. Hope's Stories. 
 
 Minneapolis " This story is in the genuine Hope style 
 Tribune and for that reason will be widely read." 
 
 Public L-edger, " ' Father Stafford " is extremely clever, 
 Philadelphia a bold privateer venturing uj)on the 
 
 high seas." 
 San Francisco " It is a good story, the strong parts of 
 Chronicle which are the conflict between love and 
 
 conscience on the part of a young Anglican priest. The 
 charm of the book, however, lies in the briskness of the dia- 
 logue, which is as finely finished as any of Hope's novels." 
 Nashville " ' Father Stafford ' is a charming story. The 
 Banner whole book sustains the reputation that An- 
 
 thony Hope has made, and adds another proof that as a 
 portrayer of characters of sharp distinctness and individ- 
 uality, he has no superior." 
 Evening: " A writer of great merit. . . . Mr. Hope's 
 Wisconsin work has a quality of straightforwardness 
 that recommends it to readers who have grown tired of 
 the loaded novel." 
 Phillipsburg " This is considered by his critics to be one 
 Journal of the strongest, most beautiful and in- 
 
 teresting novels Mr. Hope has ever written. There is not 
 a dull line in the entire volume." 
 Amusement "The dialogue Is bright and worldly, and 
 Gazette the other characters do not suffer because 
 
 so prominent is the hero ; they are well drawn, and quite 
 out of the ordinary." 
 Tanity, " A very interesting narrative, and Mr. Hope 
 
 New York tells the story after that fashion which he 
 
 would seem to have made peculiarly his own." 
 Kansas City "There is something more than the romance 
 Journal of the action to hold the reader's mind. It 
 
 is one of the author's best productions." 
 Every Saturday, "Anthony Hope is axnaster of dialogue, 
 Elgin, 111. and to his art in this particular is due 
 
 the enticing interest which leads the reader on from page 
 to page." 
 Hebrew •' The strife between the obligation of a vow of 
 Standard celibacy and the promptings of true love are 
 vividly portrayed in this little book. . . . It contains an 
 admirable description of English country life, and is well 
 written." 
 Boston Dally " It has enough of the charm of the au- 
 Olobe thor's thought and style to identify it «a 
 
 characteristic, and make it very pleasing." 
 
 QudM-am* Qilt Top. Retail, 75 C«nt». 
 
The King in Yellow. 
 
 BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. 
 
 Edward " The author is a genius without a living equal, 
 Ellis so far as I am aware, in his peculiar field. It 
 
 is a masterpiece. ... I have read many portions sev- 
 eral times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of the 
 painting. None but a genius of the highest order could 
 do such work." 
 N. Y. Commercial «' The short prose tale should be a syn- 
 Advertiser thesis ; it was the art of Edgar Poe, 
 
 it is the art of Mr. Chambers. . . . His is beyond ques- 
 tion a glorious heritage. ... I fancy the book will 
 create a sensation ; ... in any case it is the most 
 notable contribution to literature which has come from an 
 American publisher for many years ; and fine as the ac- 
 complishment is, ' The King in Yellow ' is large in promise. 
 One has a right to expect a great deal from an author of 
 this calibre." 
 Timeg- " The most eccentric little volume of its (little) 
 Herald day. 'The King in Yellow ' is subtly fascinat- 
 
 ing, and compels attention for its style and its wealth of 
 strange, Imaginative force." 
 New York "Mr. Robert W. Chambers does not have a 
 Timies system to work up to ; he has no fad, save a 
 
 tendency to write about the marvelous and the impossible; 
 painting pictures of romance that have a wild inspiration 
 about them. Descriptive powers of no mean quality are 
 perceptible in this volume of stories." 
 The N, Y. **Mr. Chambers has a great command of 
 World words; he is a good painter. His situations 
 
 are most delicately touched, and some of his descriptions 
 are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors 
 rather than ideas. . . . The best drama in the volume 
 means madness. The tenderest fancy is a sad mirage. 
 . . . ' The King in Yellow ' is a very interesting contri- 
 bution to the present fund of materio-mysticism. . . . 
 To read Mr. Chambers' little book is to escape from the ac- 
 tual on poetical wings." 
 Minneapolis "They have a mysterious, eerie air about 
 Tribune them that is apt to stimulate the reader's 
 
 curiosity." 
 Philadelphia " Charming, delicate, skillful, vivid." 
 Times 
 
 Philadelphia •' Expected to make a sensation, charming, 
 Item full of color and delicately tinted." 
 
 Cleveland " It is wondrous strong, dramatic, full of color, 
 Gazette weird, uncanny, picturesque, and yet a gem 
 
 of exquisite coloring, dreamy, symbolic, exciting." 
 Detroit " ' The King in Yellow ' compels attention." 
 Journal 
 
 Denver "Treated in a most fascinating way I Weird, 
 Times mysterious, powerfull", 
 
 aupkram, Qilt Top. Retail, 7^ Centf. 
 
OYSTERS IN A CHAFING-DISH. 
 
 The chafing dish is especially nice for 
 cooking the oyster. A few receipts may 
 be acceptable. 
 
 For panned oysters-^When the dish 'be- 
 comes hot put in two tablespoonfuls of 
 butter, add two dozen oysters, half a cup 
 of cream on oyster liquor, salt and pap- 
 rika to taste, cover the dish and cook 
 three minutes. Turn the oysters upon 
 squares of buttered toast. 
 
 Another way to pan oysters — ^Malt a 
 large tablespoonful of butter in the heat- 
 ed dish, put in a teaspoonful of flour, and 
 stir until it is well bl^^nded. Add oysters 
 / enough to cover the bottom of the dish 
 !i -witiiout crowding, and stason v/ith salt 
 and cayenne pepper. Cover the dish and 
 ! cook the oysters until the edges are ruf- 
 I fled, stirring them to have both sides 
 i cook alike. Pour over the oysters a 
 I coijple of spoonfuls of s'herry and serve 
 } on pieces of crisp toast. 
 >\ Another method is this — Put in a cha- 
 I fing dish a tablespoonful of butter, and 
 Ji when it is melted add a dozen and a half 
 ;; large oysters. Scatter over the oysters 
 ^; some finely chopped celery, sailt and cay- 
 I enne pepper. Cover the dish and cook 
 j until the oysters are plump and the edges | 
 i| rufiled. Then pour over them two table- ' 
 'i spoonfuls of lemon juice and serve on 
 i toasted crackers. 
 
 j For a curry of oysters— -Put one table- 
 .; spoonful of butter in the heated dish. 
 i When it is melted stir in one tablespoon- 
 i ful of grated onion, ihe same amount of 
 1 flour and a teaspoonful of curry powder. | 
 j Gradually stir in a cup of oy.^ter liquor 
 
 and stir until it thickens, add two dozen 
 oysters and season with salt. Cover the 
 dish an4 cook about two minutes and 
 serve. 
 
 Crea-med oysters— Put one tablespoon- 
 ful of butter into the chafing dish ar.d 
 stir into it the same quantity of flour. 
 When they are frothy add one cup of 
 cream and let the mixture come to a boil, 
 then stir in one and a half dozen oysters 
 that have been heated to a boiling point 
 in their own liquor and drained. Add 
 one egg well beaten and two tablespoon- 
 fuls of sherry or not, as one may desire. 
 As soon as the eg-g is stirred in cover the 
 burner and serve. 
 
 For oyster saute — Put two ta/blespoon- 
 fuls of butter in the dish, and when hot 
 put a single layer of large, well-drained 
 oysters in the bottom of the dish. When 
 (browned on one side turn them and 
 brown upon the other, adding more but- 
 ter if it is needed. Season with salt and 
 paprika, and serve -with toasted crackers 
 and sliced lemon. 
 
^