More Science from an Easy ChairLankester, E. Ray (Edwin Ray), Sir
History
More Science from an Easy Chair
Lankester, E. Ray (Edwin Ray), Sir
Natural history; Science
The Englishman who is disgusted by the new mechanical methods of
cookery in the great hotels of Continental "resorts," returns to
London, and finds the same atrocious system at work--not only in the
public restaurants, but in his club. Nowhere in London can you rely on
being served with really fresh fish, however highly you may pay for
it. Rarely it is fresh, usually it is not. The ice storage people take
good care that you shall not obtain fresh fish, and so retain your
taste for it. Nowhere at club or restaurant, with rare exceptions, can
you obtain meat roasted in the old-fashioned way on a roasting-jack,
carefully "basted" during the process, and served when exactly cooked
to a turn. There were, only a few years ago, one or two such places
surviving--both clubs and restaurants--where proper roasting was done,
but, like the rest, they have now adopted lazy, economical,
money-saving methods. Their managers calculate that what they do will
serve. It is good enough for the crowd! So at last you abandon the
efforts to obtain decent simple food, in club or hotel, and dine with
your friend _en famille_. The same thing confronts you. The joint has
been baked in an oven, of which it smells, and is surrounded by a
sickly gravy, produced by pouring hot water over it! In conversation
with your hostess, you find that she knows nothing whatever about the
simplest elements of the preparation of food. She tells you she avoids
roasting because it necessitates a large fire and an extra expenditure
of L5 a year on coal, and she also purchases those mouldy,
frost-bitten potatoes instead of the best, because they cost half as
much as sound ones--and she herself does not care for potatoes. They
are fattening!
Sometimes at a restaurant or club, served by a foreign "chef," a
Yorkshire pudding, as hard as a stale loaf of bread, is handed round
in slabs with the so-called "roast" beef. It is not roasted: it is
baked beef, and the pudding is an ill-tasting baked mess, also.
Nowhere in London in public or private house do I ever see the
properly cooked article. True Yorkshire pudding can only be made by
placing it under the roasting joint, which drips digestion-promoting
essences into the pudding whilst itself rotating, hissing and
spluttering--as did the joints roasted in the caves long ago by the
prehistoric Reindeer-men. The scientific importance of good roasting
and grilling is that a savour is thereby produced which sets the whole
gastric and digestive economy of the man who sniffs it and tastes it,
at work. Possibly our successors, a generation or two hence, will have
learnt to do without this, and will have acquired as intimate and
happy a gastronomic relation to what now are for us the nauseous
flavours of superheated fat (rarely renewed), and of the all-pervading
gravy fabricated by chemical treatment of yeast, as that which we
ourselves have acquired in regard to the old-established and
painstaking cookery of the early Victorian and many preceding ages.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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