  The animal and vegetable kingdoms furnish us with an abundant and wholesome food, whose flavour gastronomic caprice unceasingly modifies by the aid of various substances which we denominate seasonings. It is, above all, the perfect knowledge of these ingredients, the manner of employing them, and their skilful mixture, which constitute the art of the cook. Labour and custom, and a kind of routine which the palate acquires easily, will suffice for those who content themselves with this calling, and who, carefully preserving the timid traditions of the past, view progress as ruin and devastation, and the fruitful boldness of inspiration as ridiculous and fatal innovations. Heresy, and even schism (pardon these expressions), should be allowed in cookery, as soon as they receive the sanction of the doctors Ès-banquets—the sole judges competent in such matters. It is to the art professed by Apicius that the celebrated line of Voltaire appears more peculiarly to apply:— “Tous les genres sont bons, exceptÉ l’ennuyeux.” Innovate, then, studious disciples of the illustrious Roman: consult only the measures of your strength, the conscience of your genius, and the infallible good taste of some chosen guests. Create for your seasoning unheard-of combinations, the strangeness of which shall strike and astonish; whose flavour shall subjugate and stifle criticism beneath the sweet efforts of a voluptuous mastication. Learn how to make your areopagitÆ eat: this innocent seduction will insure your triumph. Treat not with too much disdain these Roman recipes; for although the formidable list may excite a smile from the reader, and, perhaps, Two Phoenicians—whose names are never mentioned by forgetful posterity—Selech and Misor, taught mankind the art of heightening the flavour of their food by mixing with it a certain quantity of salt. The science of seasoning has no other origin. SALT.The law of Moses commanded the Jews to mix salt with everything offered in sacrifice. The Asphaltite lake produced abundance of salt. The Greeks placed this substance in the list of things which ought to be consecrated to the gods; and it is in this sense that Homer gives it the epithet of divine. Pagan superstition, of which some traces may still be remarked in the 19th century, threatened with some great misfortune any one who spilt salt; and it was deemed a signal impiety to forget placing salt-cellars on the table, or to dare go to sleep before removing them. This strange superstition was common among the Greeks and Romans. Certain nations, among others the Numidians, were not acquainted with salt; The inhabitants of Troad provided themselves for a long time with salt from Tragase without cost. King Lysimachus one day thought of At Rome, in the time of her Kings, every one was free to sell salt, and its price became excessively high. The republican government withdrew this right from private individuals, and from that time the common people easily procured all the salt they required, and which they willingly eat with bread. Ancus Martius was the first Roman who established salt works near Ostia towards the mouth of the Tiber. Ancus Martius was also the first who placed a duty on salt. It was abolished after the expulsion of the Kings, but was afterwards again established. Down to the 14th century salt was a commodity of trade open to every one in France. Philip the Long and Philip of Valois were the first to impose a momentary tax on it; but after the fatal battle of Poictiers, in which John was taken prisoner, Charles, his son, in order to pay the ransom of that monarch, had recourse, among other extraordinary means, to the establishment of the salt tax. The idea was found to be good, and it has never since been given up. There are four sorts of salt which are employed to season dishes, obtained either from the evaporation of sea water, from certain lakes or salt marshes, and also from saliferous sources drawn out of the bosom of the earth in compact masses. Its particular savour is well known; it is soluble in water, and easily becomes damp. In the scientific language, this substance is called hydrochlorate of soda. BRINE.This was water in which bay salt had been dissolved. At Rome, it was served at table to be mixed with the meat precisely in the same Strong muria dura was water so completely saturated with bay salt, that no more could be dissolved in it. The brine most sought after was that of Antibes, of Thurium, and of Dalmatia. At the end of the repast, enigmas were often proposed to the guests. Some delicious dish served as a reward to those who were fortunate enough to guess them; the others were compelled to pour muria into their drink, and swallow a cup-full without taking breath. DIGESTIVE SALTS.The Romans were enormous eaters. Apicius, who was better aware of it than any one, imagined providing against those accidents to which his countrymen did not fear to expose themselves once every day, by offering to them a preparation which our habits of sobriety would, doubtless, render useless at the present day; but which the curious will not be sorry to discover in these sketches of antique gastrophagy. Take a pound of common salt, which torrefy and pulverize; mix it with three ounces of white pepper, two ounces of ginger, an ounce of lamoni, an ounce and a half of thyme, as much of celery seed, three ounces of wild marjoram, an ounce and a-half of rocket seed, three ounces of black pepper, an ounce and a-half of holy thistle, two ounces of hyssop, two ounces of spikenard, two ounces of parsley, and two ounces of anise-seed. Take a small quantity of these salts after a too plentiful dinner; and the stomach will immediately defy the most imminent indigestion. GARUM.When we have read all that has been written by the ancients on this famous preparation, we become convinced, in spite of the obscurities and The Greeks called the shrimp garos, the Romans garus: it may hence be supposed that garum had originally for basis the flesh of shrimps, if Pliny had not taken the trouble to inform us of the fact. Well, then, they macerated the intestines of fish in water, saturated with salt, until putrefaction began to show itself; they then added parsley and vinegar. A thick garum was also frequently obtained, by allowing the entrails and other parts, generally thrown away, to liquefy in salt. In the time of Pliny, mackerel This expensive garum was especially esteemed when it came from Spain: it was then called “garum of the allies”—garum sociorum—because it was received from a nation allied with the Romans; The blood and entrails of the tunny fish, mixed with salt in a vase, produced also a most elaborate garum. A hole was made in the vessel at the expiration of two months, and the rich seasoning flowed from it. This brine became exquisite, and obtained an exorbitant price when made from the liver of anchovies macerated in vinegar, pepper, salt, parsley, garlic, white wine, and sweet herbs. Amateurs who were more economical contented themselves with very little saxatile fishes, The following method was also frequently adopted:— Mackerel, or small fish, were placed in a small vase with a large quantity of salt; this was well stirred, and the mixture was then left quiet all night. The next day it was transferred into an earthen pot, which remained uncovered in the sun. At the end of two or three months, it was hermetically closed, after having added a quantity of old wine equal to one-third of the mixture. When it was wished to obtain garum without waiting any length of time, they took brine, carefully filtered, and so saturated with salt that an egg would float on it; this was placed with the fish in a new saucepan; wild marjoram was added, and the whole boiled over a gentle fire, until the fish was entirely dissolved. Then wine, reduced to two-thirds by boiling, was added. It was left to get cold; the liquid was several times filtered, till it became quite clear, and was then finally placed in an uncovered vase. Although fish was generally used, the flesh of several animals was sometimes employed in the formation of garum. Such was this wonderful seasoning, forming the chief delight of the ancients, whose praises poets have sung, and the composition of which formerly exercised the singularly mad intelligence of MaÎtre FranÇois Rabelais. The reader will doubtless remark, that the principal elements of garum are almost invariably the same: fish, salt, and a greater or less fermentation. But perhaps some one may exclaim: “This must be detestable!” No doubt, but then no one ever thought of regaling himself with this liquid; it was never taken alone; it was but reserved as a seasoning for a host of dishes, in order to heighten their flavour. It must also be observed, that a skilful cook always took care to It results from the different citations of which this chapter is composed, that recipes for the making of garum are to be obtained more easily than people seem to think at the present time. Everyone may not be of the same opinion with regard to the kind of fish generally used by the ancients to obtain this liquid, although all difficulties would be removed by admitting—which certainly is nothing but right—that they chose at one time mackerel or tunny fish; at others, gudgeons and small sardines; sometimes even the red mullet, in spite of its rarity and price. But it is evident that garum was prepared by either dissolving and liquefying these fish in their brine, either whole, their intestines, or their liver, and that, to effect this, it was only necessary to expose to the sun the vessel containing them; or that they simply put small fish into a dish, with vinegar and parsley, placed it on a charcoal fire, and stirred it for some time, when it was wanted for immediate use. It must have been remarked in reading this work, that Apicius very frequently employs garum; he places it in every sauce, but never makes use of this seasoning unmixed, never does he serve it by itself as a special dish. This celebrated gastronomist has bequeathed us the recipe for a digestive garum. It is as follows:— Mix with some honey, half an ounce of pepper, three scruples of eschalots, six scruples of cardamum, one scruple of spikenard, and six scruples of mint; add vinegar to this mixture, and then pour in some garum. The Hypotrimma, or stomachic condiment, of the same master, merits also our attention:—Mix carefully some pepper, benzoin, mint, pine-nuts, dried raisins, and dates, with fresh (not salt) cheese, vinegar, oil, honey, and wine, reduced by boiling to one half; add garum to this mixture. The Moretaria appears to be a variety of the Hypotrimma; it is a mixture of mint, rue, coriander, fennel, the whole fresh, with benzoin, pepper, honey, and vinegar; to this, garum is added. Whatever may be the opinion the reader may form of this garum, of which mention has so frequently been made, and which has been alternately praised and despised by the moderns, it is certain that the most fastidious persons were madly fond of it, and that in the time of Pliny, it was so much esteemed, that its price equalled that of the most precious perfumes. “At the present day this celebrated seasoning is forgotten in Italy, but in Turkey it is still in use. The inn-keepers of Constantinople preserve in garum the cooked fish not consumed in the day.”—Bosc. HONEY.What is sweeter than honey? Pagan antiquity ascribed the honour of the discovery of this useful substance to the Athenian AristÆus, who taught mankind to feed on it. This valuable service procured him a patent of nobility. He was made a descendant of Bacchus or Apollo. It is not necessary to say that honey was known in the east long before the rise of Athens; it is already mentioned in the first book of the holy writings. It is said that Spain owed its knowledge of this delicious aliment to Gorgor, King of the Curetes, who was polite enough to take some on the occasion of a journey which he made into that country. The Greeks esteemed honey most highly; A benevolent goddess protected bees, hives, and the honeycomb. She was called Mellona, and a grateful piety offered her honey every new-year’s day. Theophrastus distinguished three kinds of honey: that which the bees extract from flowers, that which comes from the air, and lastly, the Virgil thought that a gentle dew falls on the flowers, and became immediately the prey of bees, which deposited it in their cells. The ancients caused honey to be served at the beginning of a repast; Honey served as a basis to the wonderful seasoning of Apicius, which we present to the studious investigation of modern gastronomy:—Put fifteen pounds of honey into a brass vessel, containing two pints of wine. Warm at a very gentle fire, stir, and when it rises, pour over more wine. Let the mixture rise three times, then take it from the fire, and skim it the next day. Then add four ounces of ground pepper, three scruples of gum, a drachm of spikenard, a drachm of saffron, five drachms of dried dates, after softening them in wine; pour on the whole eighteen pints of light wine. The Oxyporon was another seasoning much in vogue two thousand years ago, and in which honey was the principal ingredient. It was composed by mixing two ounces of cummin seed, one ounce of ginger, one ounce of green rue, and six scruples of nitre, with one ounce of pepper, and twelve scruples of fine dates; nine ounces of honey were then poured over the whole. Sometimes they contented themselves with macerating cummin seed in vinegar, which they left to dry, and then pounded it; that done, it was put into honey. “The honey most esteemed is the white, granulated, and of an aromatic flavour. The honey from the French provinces of Narbonne, the Gatinais, or Britanny, is the most esteemed. Honey is next of kin to sugar, having the same properties. It is frequently used in domestic economy, and in medicine as a laxative. It enters into a number of remedies, either as a corrective, or an excipient.”—“Dictio. Encycl.” SUGAR.Theophrastus, the first among the ancients who speaks of sugar, classes it among the number of honeys. This was also the opinion of many ancient authors; The sugar cane appears to be originally a native of the East Indies. From the most remote ages the Chinese have understood the art of cultivating it. The histories of the Egyptians, Phoenicians, and Jews, make no mention of it. The Greek physicians are the first who speak of it. It was not till the year 1471 that a Venetian discovered the method of purifying brown sugar and making loaf sugar. He gained an immense fortune by this discovery. Sugar cane, well purified, and disburthened of all foreign matter, is white, solid, inodorous, soluble in water, of a soft and agreeable savour. Its specific gravity is 1.6065; it is used as a seasoning in a multitude of dishes, in preparing syrups, preserving of fruits, &c., &c. In the time of Theophrastus, it was said that cinnamon grew in a dark and silent valley, guarded night and day by fearful serpents. Animated by the hope of gain, some individuals, careless of their existence, risked their lives by gathering some of this precious bark. When they had the good luck to avoid the vigilant reptiles, they consecrated to the sun part of their booty, which the radiant orb immediately consumed to prove his acceptance of the offering. Others, thinking this little tale on the subject of cinnamon rather too dramatic, pretended that the shrub furnishing it was found only on high mountains, to which man was forbidden all access. But fortunately certain birds—the phoenix, among others—great amateurs of aromatics, make their nests of its small branches; these nests are taken, and in this manner, whether the year be good or bad, a sufficient stock of cinnamon is obtained without much trouble. Eighty years after (A.D. 164), Galen informs us that cinnamon was still very scarce in Italy; that the Emperors alone possessed any; and that they even preserved it among the curiosities they made it their pleasure to collect and keep in their palaces. The same writer regards this so precious and uncommon cinnamon as an excellent cordial and a good digestive. We may add that it was only well known in Europe after the frequent voyages of the Portuguese to India. However, in 1168, an abbot of St. Gilles, in Languedoc, having a favour to ask of Louis-le-Jeune, thought there was no better means of persuading him to grant it than to send him a small stock of cinnamon. Our forefathers (in the middle ages) had their tables furnished with cinnamon sauce; nutmeg, mustard, and garlic sauces; cold sauces; parsley and vinegar sauces, hot sauces, hell sauces, burgher sauces; cherry, plum, mulberry, grape, gorse, rose, and flower sauces. They were served with roast meat. Cinnamon is daily employed in medicine, in diarrhoea, several fevers, &c., &c., and in pharmacy. That from China is much thicker than the others, its colour darker, and its odour more powerful; essential oil is drawn from it, and preserved in flagons, sealed with the arms of government, and sold at a very high price. CLOVES.Cloves were very little known to the ancients. Theophrastus, Dioscorides, and Galen do not speak of them. Pliny says that some cloves were brought to Rome, very similar to The conquest of India by the Portuguese rendered them common throughout Europe. Cloves contain a considerable quantity of essential aromatic oil, thick, brown, and very heavy, to which it owes its aromatic properties and sharp burning savour. Cloves are employed as a seasoning or as medicine. PEPPER.The two great cities of antiquity knew how to appreciate pepper, and employed it largely in their culinary labours. They distinguished two kinds: one round, the other long and thin. Dioscorides and Pliny describe the shrub, on which are to be seen pods filled with seeds of pepper, resembling millet, according to the first of these writers, and like small beans, according to the other. Our readers no doubt remember the importance which Apicius ascribes to pepper, in the learned recipes of that skilful Archimagirus. VERJUICE.Verjuice, the use of which is very ancient, was used more in pharmaceutical preparations than in the seasoning of food. Verjuice is a kind of grape, very acid, and which never gets perfectly ripe. The suc of verjuice is used in medicine and culinary preparation as an astringent. The juice is not proper to make wine, but a very agreeable syrup is obtained from it. VINEGAR.The greater part of ancient nations were acquainted with the use of vinegar. Reapers in the east soaked their bread in it, to freshen it These masters of the world did not fancy they possessed all the comforts of life when they wanted vinegar; therefore they always had a large provision of it in their cellars, as all their seasonings proved. This passion (for it certainly amounted to a passion) is easily explained by the admirable qualities they attributed to the pungent liquid. It was believed to be astringent, digestive, antibilious, refreshing, and an antiscorbutic. The Greeks and Romans esteemed highly their pickles: these consisted of flowers, herbs, roots, and vegetables, preserved in vinegar, and which kept a long time in cylindrical vases with wide mouths. Vinegar of an exorbitant price was obtained from some precious wines, and that price was again increased by the proverbial cupidity of some butlers in great houses. We doubt much, however, whether any of those worthy personages ever made such a bill as a certain French seigneur dared to do under the reign of Louis XIII. It is said that the Duc de la Meilleraye, grand master of the artillery of France, presented to the minister a bill in which figured an article of 1,300,000 francs (£52,000), for vinegar to cool the cannons! The sum appeared rather large, but La Meilleraye was a near relation of Richelieu, and the article passed without the least contestation. TRUFFLE.A truffled turkey was to be eaten at a dinner where Buffon was invited. A few minutes before setting down to table, an elderly lady inquired of the celebrated naturalist where the truffle grew. “At your feet, madame.” The lady did not understand; but it was thus explained to her: “C’est au pied des charmes” (yoke elm tree). The compliment appeared to her most flattering. Towards the end of the dinner, some one asked the same question of the illustrious writer, who, forgetting that the lady was beside him, innocently replied: “They grow aux pieds des vieux charmes” (old yoke elm trees). The lady overheard him, and no longer thought anything of his amiability. Nevertheless Buffon was right. It was around the yoke elm trees of Lampsachus, Acarnidea, Alopecomesia, and Elis, that those famous truffles were discovered, whose reputation was spread in all parts and which Italy envied Greece. The truffle! beloved treasure that the earth conceals within her bosom—as she does the precious metals, which she seems to have yielded grudgingly to the patient researches of the gastronomist; the magiric records do not tell us at what memorable epoch this exquisite tubercle astonished, for the first time, the palate of man; but a doubtful tradition maintains that a vile animal (a pig), guided by his marvellous gluttony, found out the existence of this pearl of banquets. Pliny was very much inclined to range the truffles amidst astonishing prodigies. He fancied that he saw it at its birth increase without roots, without the slightest fibre, without the least capillary vessel likely to transmit to it nutritious juices; The Greeks thought a great deal of a delicious species of truffles, smooth outside, red within, which were found just under the surface of the ground, and did not show the slightest appearance of vegetation. The Athenians, enlightened appreciates of all sorts of merits, accepted with gratitude a ragoÛt with truffles, invented by Cherips. That culinary genius did not long enjoy his glory; a premature death carried him off from his stoves, his honours, and his fortune; but the Greeks did not bury their gratitude in his tomb; his sons became citizens of Athens, and the name of their father, more fortunate than that of Christopher Columbus, clung for ever to his brilliant discovery. The doctors of other days did not exactly agree upon the quality either good or bad of truffles. Philoxenes, whose opinion met with many partisans, would have it that a great quantity should be eaten cooked under the ashes, and deliciously impregnated with a succulent sauce. The Romans were as fond of truffles as the Greeks, and that is not saying little. After they are boiled in water, put a little stick through them, and then place them for an instant before the fire; season them afterwards with oil, a little meat gravy, some skirrets, wine, pepper, and honey, in proper proportions. When the sauce is boiling, make a thickening, and serve. The illustrious epicurean prepared them also with pepper, benzoin, coriander and rue, to which he added a little honey, oil, and gravy. The estimable Platina insists that, in the first place, truffles should be washed in wine, and afterwards cooked under the ashes; and that they be served hot, and sprinkled over with salt and pepper. This is the composition of a syrup of truffles, taken from the old Arabian medicine. We believe it to be very little known, and should not be surprised if it were, some day, to obtain the renown it seems to deserve. It was composed of truffles, balm, and holy thistle, boiled in water with sugar; and to each pound of the decoction was added one scruple of water distilled from honey, and half an ounce of some spirit—say, for example, spirits of wine—to each pound of liquor. The whole Salmasius, who knew much of the Greek tongue, and very little of cookery, avers that the ancients knew two different kinds of truffles. One species was similar to ours, and the other a variety from Africa, already mentioned, white outside and the size of a quince. If this clever Hellenist had studied this savoury tubercle with as much care as he bestowed on the writers of the history of Augustus, he would have learned that the peculiar perfume which distinguishes it retains, in the midst of seasoning the most laboriously prepared, the same power it possesses when eaten by itself, and without any dressing. Apicius had less of literature than Salmasius, but he was most assuredly gifted in a very superior degree with that mens divinior which makes great cooks and illustrious poets. This assimilation has nothing surprising in it, if we only remember that genius is nothing else than the faculty of producing; and who ever bequeathed to posterity productions more exquisite than those of Archestrates and Apicius? Let us hear from this latter how to preserve truffles. You must be careful not to put them in contact with water; that is to say, that they ought to be kept very dry. They are placed separately in vessels, and covered with iron filings, or saw-dust. Close each vessel hermetically with plaster, and keep them in a dark and cool place. The truffle is a very remarkable vegetable, which, without stems, roots, or fibres, grows of itself, isolated in the bosom of the earth, absorbing the nutritive juice. Its form is round, more or less regular; its surface is smooth or tuberculous; the colour dark-brown outside, brown, grey, or white within. Its tissue is formed of articulated filaments, between which are spheric vesicles, and in the interior are placed reproductive bodies, small brown spheres, called truffinelles. Truffles vegetate to Poultry is stuffed with them, also geese’s livers, pies, and cooked pork, besides numerous ragoÛts. They possess, it is said, exciting virtues. MUSHROOMS.Agrippina, desirous of securing the crown to her worthy son, Nero, went to a celebrated female poisoner, and procured a venomous preparation which defied the most powerful antidotes. To the poisonous effects of this vegetable have been attributed, also, the death of the Emperor Tiberius, that of Pope Clement VII., King Charles VI. of France, and many other important personages, who either knew very little of good cooks, or of morels. Notwithstanding these tragical events, mushrooms always retained a proud position, among the ancients, above the most inoffensive culinary plants; and their rather doubtful reputation has not prevented them from maintaining their ground down to our time, for we find that they now claim the same rank which they formerly occupied in the gastronomic rÉunions of Athens and Rome: a sad image of those fortunate criminals, whom society dreads, and yet often loads with its favours. This “voluptuous poison,” as Seneca, the philosopher, However, reasonable people—and there were still some to be found—abstained entirely from this vegetable, or procured it by the method which Nicander recommends; that is to say, they frequently watered the trunk of a fig tree after manure had been placed around it. That philosopher assures us that by these means we may grow mushrooms perfectly wholesome. Those of our readers who are in possession of fig trees will be able to give their opinion on the merit of Nicander’s method. To obtain the seeds of most mushrooms, it only requires to expose them, when fresh, upon glass; the superficies of the glass is soon covered with it. It is also obtained by shaking in the water the mushrooms which are sufficiently developed. This water, thus impregnated, is used to water the beds, which become thereby more productive. The natural supply of mushrooms from the fields not being thought sufficient, the art of raising them on beds during the whole year was therefore indispensable, and required a mixture of crottin de cheval, rotten dung, and mould, which is deposited in layers of one foot and a-half in thickness and width. Seeds of mushrooms are sown on these beds—that is to say, some of the mould of a former bog impregnated with it. It is then covered over with all the dung not consumed, and then copiously watered. “At the end of a very few days, the beds begin to produce mushrooms, and keep on producing until the winter.”—Bosc. |
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