Every Englishman a Cook.

Earlier this year (in the week of May 12-16), we had fun with Dr William Kitchiner and his Magazine of Taste, as described in his book The Cook’s Oracle (1817). See the links below if you wish to revisit his ideas.

Dr Kitchiner loved essences, spice mixes, and pre-made condiments of all sorts, which he used to jazz up a huge range of dishes. While acknowledging his particular passion, and the general Englishman’s love of proprietary sauces (Worcestershire, Harveys, HP etc), I had no idea that this concept of seasoning at the table was quite so – well, English - until I came across a little article in an issue of The New Monthly Magazine of 1833. The article disinguishes between seasoning in the kitchen (French) and seasoning at the table (English).

Here for your enjoyment, is most of it:

COOKERY.

There is a very general idea abroad, that the French are peculiarly artificial in their preparation of meats for the palate, and that the English taste is distinguished by its simplicity. In this, as in so many other things, we apprehend that the superficies alone is looked at. True, the Englishman prides himself on his joint, and pretends when he sits before his mountain of flesh, that he is approaching a state of nature. But with how many condiments is he not prepared to savour his viands? Has he not vinegars and sauces innumerable, mustard, pepper, salt, horseradish, and other flavourous pungencies, which, when joined to a gravy rich and hot, altogether make up a plat, worthy of any continental epicure! This is called plain living, simply because the cookery goes on in the dining-room instead of the kitchen. A Frenchman takes his dish as it pleases the chef de cuisine to send it, and he would as soon think of tampering with his coat as his meat, - both tailor and cook are artistes, and each considered equal to his business. In England a gentleman relies upon his servant, a mere subordinate, for nothing but precise roasting and boiling, and is himself in reality his own meat-preparer. England expects every man to be his own cook. All that is trusted to the kitchen is the application of heat. The composition of flavours is supposed not only an art above the Leonora of the realms below, but to require the test of each individual’s palate. Thus it would seem that a general system of cookery serves France while the individuality of this country demands that each man should interfere in the composition of his own dish. What is called seasoning is carried to an Oriental pitch at all English tables; while in France, whe are struck by the extreme insipidity of their most elaborate chef d’oeuvres. What is called French cookery in this country, is in fact truly English: it is the table composition manufactured over the kitchen stoves, and owns no originality in France, where they strive after a variety of flavours, but to the utter contempt of what an Alderman would esteem in the way of richness …. The respect felt for French cookery in England is the respect felt for regular art above empiricism … Though an individual epicure may succeed on his own plate, by means of a variety of condiments, in fabricating a delicious compound, he can neither offer it to another, nor give it a name: the French artist on the contrary, when he has studied forth a new variety of palatable flavours, can offer it to a whole table, and sanctions and canonizes the dish for ever by imposition of a title. Here are the elements of the apparent superiority of French cookery over English!

I had better let Dr. Kitchiner have the last word; from The Cook’s Oracle (1817). Here is his advice on the roasting and seasoning of geese – in the kitchen.

Green Goose.

Geese are called Green until they are about four months old.

The only difference between roasting these, and a full-grown Goose, consists in seasoning it with pepper and salt instead of sage and onion, and roasting it for forty or fifty minutes only.

Obs. This is one of the least desirable of those insipid premature productions – which are esteemed dainties.

Dr. Kitchener’s Magazine of Taste was featured in May 2008 - here, here, here, here, and here.

Quotation for the Day …

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness were the themes of universal admiration. Edged out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish) they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows.
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Keeping cool over the Christmas Ham.

Today, December 23rd …

James Woodforde was an English country parson who kept a diary for over 40 years, giving us a wonderful picture of middle class life in the eighteenth century. Like his contemporary Samuel Johnson, he minded his belly very much, and often recorded his dinners.

As Christmas approached, on this day in 1769, he bought his Christmas goose:

“To a fatted Goose at 5 Pence per Pound”

Nine years later on December 23rd 1778 he entertained guests. The ham was disappointing:

“ I gave them for dinner 3 Fowls boiled, part of a Ham, the major part of which Ham was entirely eat out by the flies getting into it, a tongue boiled, a Leg of Mutton rosted, and an excellent currant Pudding. I gave them for Supper a couple of Rabbits smothered in onions, some Hash Mutton and some rosted Potatoes, We were exceedingly merry indeed all the night.”

Folks were generally much more forgiving in the days before refrigeration, although Samuel Pepys over a century earlier recorded a dinner at which “my stomach was turned when my sturgeon came to table, upon which I saw very many little worms creeping, which I suppose was through the staleness of the pickle.” Most of us would never, ever, host a dinner party again, if we had given fly-blown ham to guests - and the guests certainly wouldn’t have stayed on for supper and been exceeding merry. An excellent pudding can only make up for so much.

It is highly unlikely that there was any sort of cookbook in the parson’s household, although they were being churned out thick and fast at the time. Charlotte Mason’s “Lady’s Assistant for regulating and supplying her table … ”, was published in the same year as the ham disaster. Here are a couple of her suggestions:

Goose roasted.
It must be seasoned with sage and onion, cut very small, and mixed with pepper and salt; an hour will roast it: boil the sage and onion in a little water before they are cut, it prevents their eating so strong, and takes off the rawness.
For sauce – gravy and apple sauce.

A very good common pudding, with currants.
A pound of currants, a pound of suet, five eggs, four spoonfuls of flower, half a nutmeg, a tea-spoonful of ginger, a little powder sugar, a little salt; boil this three hours.

On Monday: On keeping husbands at home.

Food for “Split-stomach day”.

Today, November 11 …

It is the feast of St Martin of Tours, patron saint of vintners, tavern keepers, and drunkards – which is very convenient as it is the traditional day for drinking wine from the new vintage. It was also the traditional day for slaughtering beasts which could not be over-wintered, and preserving as much as possible of the meat by salting, drying or smoking, to tide everyone over until spring. What could not be kept was eaten over a glorious few days of feasting, for the long bleak winter was a’coming in, the penitential season of Advent was imminent, and the next big feed would not be until Christmas. No wonder “Martinmas” was also called “Split-Stomach Day”.

Goose is almost obligatory in Europe at Martinmas - especially roasted, with regional variations (red cabbage or prunes or apples etc) - or in Sweden as a whole goose banquet which starts with “black soup” made from goose blood and offal, spiced and sweetened with fruit. There are various legends about St Martin and the goose for those who like symbolic explanations of their meals, but of course geese are very fat and very eatable by the end of the harvest season, which is the true and best justification.

Martinmas is also “The feast of sausages and black puddings”, for these are the quintessential dishes of the slaughtering season. It was a delicious time for those lower down the social scale, but perhaps a little too bloody and gruesome to dwell on for most of us today, with our more delicate modern sensibilities. The following recipe does include both goose and sausages, but it is from a book of “genteel” recipes for “prudent housewives”, so seems eminently suitable for today. It is from Catharine Brooks’ “Complete English cook …” (1770)

For fricaseying a Goose.
Roast your Goose, and before it is quite done cut and scotch it with your Knife long ways, and then slash it across; strew Salt and Pepper over it, then lay it in your Pan, with the skinny Side downwards, till it has taken a gentle Heat; then broil it on a Gridiron over a gently Fire; when it is enough, baste the upper Side with Butter, and a little Sugar, Vinegar, and Mustard; pour this into a Dish with Sausages and Lemon, and serve it up.

On Monday … On armadillo and hot spices …