Food and Flavor: A Gastronomic Guide to Health and Good Living: Chapter V - A NOBLE ART

Food and Flavor: A Gastronomic Guide to Health and Good Living, by Henry Theophilus Finck is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. Chapter V: A NOBLE ART

NO one who has read the last chapter, and Chapter II can fail to be convinced that cooking is not only a science, but the most important of all sciences—the science on which our health depends more than on any other; a science concerning which Sir Henry Thompson has truly said that an adequate recognition of its value in prolonging healthy life and in promoting cheerful temper, prevalent good nature, and improved moral tone, "would achieve almost a revolution in the habits of a large part of the community."

Nor is cookery merely a science, it is also an art. It can and will be classed in the future as one of the fine arts.

A famous French lawyer once declared that he would not believe in the advent of real civilization until a chef had been elected a member of the Institute of Arts and Sciences.

The details given in the preceding chapter show how a good cook can vary the Flavors of food as a composer varies his orchestral colors; and if she does her work with intelligence and con amore she can get genuine artistic delight therefrom. At the same time she will have the moral satisfaction of knowing that she is giving gastronomic pleasure to those who benefit by her art.

A cook can be genuinely creative, inventing new sauces, new flavors, new combinations, new dishes, with appropriate names for them, thus acquiring universal fame, as did Carême and many others, among them Béchamel, whose name has become a household word the world over, not because he was a marquis but because he invented a new sauce.

From a moral point of view, cooking is one of the noblest of the arts. The old adage that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach is often sneered at as being materialistic if not coarse. It is no such thing; it simply hints at the truth that it is extremely difficult for a man to be amiable and loving when he suffers the pangs of dyspepsia. On this subject one of the 30,000 persons who wrote to the London "Telegraph" in answer to the question, "Is Marriage A Failure?" made some remarks which every young woman who is, or expects to be, a wife should ponder deeply:

Where the husband is an intellectual man, and engaged in intellectual pursuits, good cookery assumes a tenfold importance, as the want of physical exercise entailed by most intellectual occupations renders it imperative that all food eaten shall be of first-class quality and cooked to perfection. The most intellectual man in existence ceases to be intellectual while he has a couple of pounds or so of bad food slowly decaying in his stomach instead of digesting. Is "A Young Girl's" ideal of married life to have the man she loves always bright and cheerful, always intellectual, and generally at his best, and to have as strong and healthy, and even brighter and better company, at sixty and seventy than at twenty-four? I am sure it is. Then let her give him a chance of realizing that ideal by giving the utmost attention to his dinners, so that the food he eats is on his stomach and brain like feathers, and not like lead. If she wishes him to degenerate into an ill-tempered, exacting grumbler before forty, or to prefer dining anywhere rather than at home, then let her devote herself wholly to the drawing-room department of the house, and leave the kitchen and the dining-room to hired servants. Good cooks quickly become bad ones where the mistress neglects personal superintendence, and just so long as ladies have a soul above cookery will ill-temper and dyspepsia, with all their consequent train of ills and discomforts, be the rule, and not the exception, in middle-class English homes.

THE SOCIAL CASTE OF COOKS.

One of the most amazing phenomena in the United States is the great number of girls of all classes who consider kitchen work beneath them and not worthy of serious attention.

Girls of the working classes are not in the least ashamed to confess their absolute ignorance of the art of cooking, though they know that after marriage they must cook for their families. Then they bewail their fate if their husbands, tormented by dyspepsia, seek relief in strong drink. France, it has often been said, is on the whole a sober nation because it is a nation of good cooks.

American girls should remember that, as a Chicago expert has testified, "few men abandon or get a divorce from a woman who is a good cook."

The most amazing of our young women are the factory workers and shop-girls who imagine they are of a higher social caste than cooks, and look down on them.

What makes this attitude the more ridiculous is that the mothers of all these girls were cooks (mostly very bad ones!) and that all of these girls themselves, when they marry, must spend much of their time in the kitchen.

To be sure, they are not paid for this work, as professional cooks are.

Some of the social "reformers" are now demanding that husbands pay their wives for domestic work. If that point should be carried, what would be the social status of the wives—nine out of every ten in the country—who cook for their families?

In future, if there is any looking down, it will be done by the cooks, whose work is infinitely more elevating, refined, scientific and artistic than that of factory and shop girls, who, instead of enjoying the cooks' splendid opportunities for exercising their brains, their taste, and their inventive powers, are reduced to the level of mere machines by the deadly monotony of having to make so and so many dozen shirt-waists or paper boxes, or ruining their health by standing behind a counter, serving the same things, day after day and year after year, to customers most of whom look down on them as being of a lower social status.

That settles the foolish notion that American girls refuse to become cooks because they do not wish to lose social caste. Society women are no more addicted to inviting the girls who wait on them in stores to their banquets or teas than they are the girls who wait on them at home or preside over their kitchens.

Moreover, no mistress would dare to treat her cook so contemptuously, so insultingly, as shop girls and factory girls are often treated, or as chorus girls are treated habitually on the stage.

French supremacy is demonstrated in many ways, not the least of which is the recognition, generations ago, of the noble status of the cook, domestic or professional.

It may not be literally true that French girls read cookery-books with the avidity with which ours read novels, but certainly they are proud of their ability to cook savory dishes.

An article in the New York "Times" (February 11, 1912) on the most exclusive clubs in Paris, where the chefs receive the salaries of ambassadors, states that members "have obtained permission for their daughters—young women, belonging to well-known French families—to be present in the kitchen while the head cook is preparing dinner every afternoon. While the chef officiates in front of the huge furnace which stands in the center of the kitchen he is surrounded by a group of fashionably dressed young women, who follow all his movements with the greatest interest and listen eagerly to his explanations as he initiates them into the mysteries of his art."

The French cuisine is preëminent to-day because a century ago the daughters of the best French houses were taught to cook. And, as Anatole France has remarked, these girls knew that "there is no humiliation in washing dishes."

To be sure, dish washing, as done at present, is monotonous and hardly entertaining. But if we tried to avoid all things in this world that are monotonous and not entertaining, what would happen?

My own work includes some hours of daily drudgery. What busy man's or woman's doesn't? Why discriminate against the kitchen? Read Marion Harland's delightful little book on Household Management (New York: Home Topics Publishing Co., 23 Duane St.); you can do it in an hour and you will benefit particularly by the chapter on "Fine Art in 'Drudgery,'" in which, writes the distinguished author, "I give a recipe for dishwashing as carefully and with as much pleasure as I would write out directions for making an especially delicious entrée or dessert."

Women and men who prepare for the stage, dramatic or musical, have to undergo an enormous amount of drudgery and keep it up all their lives. In the summer of 1912 I heard the greatest of all pianists, Paderewski, daily practising elementary "five-finger" exercises, and he admitted that it took great strength of will to keep it up; but he knows the truth of the remark once made by Hans von Bülow that if he neglected his practicing one day he knew it; if two days, his friends knew it; if three days, the public knew it.

That is a kind of drudgery compared with which dishwashing is a picnic. Most dishwashers, moreover, dawdle dreadfully. They could do their work in one half if not one quarter the time it takes them. See the remarks of the astonished Isabella Bird Bishop in her book on the Rocky Mountains on the way she saw two young bachelors disposing of their kitchen work in the twinkle of an eye.

ROYALTY IN THE KITCHEN.

England is in a state of transition. As the London "Times" (October 29, 1910) remarked, there are in that country many women who would be proud, and even consider it rather smart, to cook a dish of savory eggs in a chafing-dish on a silver-strewn sideboard, but who would nevertheless be ashamed to say that they could knead and bake a loaf of bread which could rival that made by their cooks.

A change is, however, impending, and the good example comes from those socially highest up. Queen Victoria's daughters had to spend many hours in the kitchen, and the present Queen also is, as the "Times" informs us, an expert cook, and altogether "a pattern mother and a skilled housekeeper, who would put many middle-class mistresses to shame by her accurate and up-to-date knowledge of details."

Queen Alexandra was the chief patroness of the Universal Cookery and Food Association, founded in 1885.

Noblesse oblige. The English royal family feels that it is its duty to set a good example to the women of the whole country in this matter, and the example is being followed widely. There is, indeed, a nationwide awakening in the United Kingdom regarding the importance of the culinary art, as we shall see in a moment, in considering the subject of cooking in schools.

Sarah baked and cooked for Abraham, though she could command as many servants as a queen.

It would be easy to give a long list of queens and other women of the highest nobility who recognized the nobility of the art of cooking by their interest and participation in it.

Kings, too, have not held it beneath their dignity to prepare savory dishes with their own hands. Louis XVIII invented the truffes à la purée d'ortolans, and always prepared the dish himself, assisted by the Duc d'Escars.

Frederick the Great was too busy with his political work and his flute to spend his time in the kitchen, but he wrote a poem in praise of his cook.

In Germany, as in England, it is obligatory on the princesses of the Empire to learn how to cook a good meal; and the daughters of the aristocracy of all grades follow their example.

Louis XIII prepared his own game, and prided himself on his preserves, while Louis XV also was an amateur cook. He was particularly fond of making rich sauces.

Under Louis XIV Condé won international fame as inventor of an improved bean soup. A Papal Cook Book was printed in Venice in 1570 by order of Pope Pius V. Richelieu and Mazarin invented dishes still named after them. The philosopher Montaigne wrote a book on the science of eating (Science de la gueule). Sauce Colbert is named after the statesman who originated it. Béchamel was immortalized by a new sauce of his concoction. When Carême went with Lord Stuart, the English Ambassador to Vienna, he was treated as a personal friend. Louis XVIII, George IV and other crowned heads vied for his allegiance but he preferred to bestow the benefit of his supreme art on Rothschild in Paris to whom he had been presented by Prince Louis Rohan.

Volumes might be written regarding the personal interest in culinary art taken by rulers of all kinds. The highest form of royalty is genius.

In France, particularly, the rulers in the world of science, art, and literature have been as devoted gastronomes as the political rulers; and with astonishing frequency these great men have taken not merely an epicurean interest in the pleasures of the table, but have endeavored to multiply them.

Striking confirmation of this statement may be found in "L'Art du Bien Manger," by Gustave Geffroy and Edmond Richardin, 375 pages of which are devoted, under the heading "Ecrivains Cuisiniers," to the recipes of dishes originated and promulgated by well-known men of letters, among them such eminent writers as Alexandre Dumas, father and son, André Theuriet, Jules Claretie, Edmond Rostand, etc.

Lord Bacon thought it no shame, as Frederick W. Hackwood recalls, "to bend his mighty intellect to the problems of the kitchen."

David Hume, on retiring from public life, declared that he would devote the remaining years of his life to the science of cooking.

Henry VIII made a gift of a manor to his cook for originating a good pudding, and royal honors have been paid to many culinary inventors. By the ancient Romans Apicius was "almost deified for discovering how to maintain oysters fresh and alive during long journeys." In Athens Dionysos was highly esteemed as the inventor of bread; in his honor there were street processions of men carrying loaves.

A fifteenth century kitchen in France

ROSSINI, CARÊME AND PADEREWSKI.

Just as Caruso is prouder of the caricatures he draws than of his achievements as the leading tenor of his time, so Rossini prided himself more on his skill in dressing a salad than on his having written successful operas. He frequently delighted his guests with dishes prepared by himself, and used to declare, half seriously, that he had missed his vocation.

One day, when a friend, taking him at his word, asked him why he had not become a cook, he replied that he would have done so had not his early education been too much neglected.

A famous French chef, proud of his profession, declared that while there have been musicians and other artists who were already famous at the age of twenty, preëminence in cooking has never occurred under the more mature age of thirty.

Carême, at an early age, had the ambition, as he relates in his memoirs, of elevating his profession to an art. For ten years he studied with the most eminent chefs, besides reading books and taking notes like a scholar.

Like all genuine artists, he was grateful for true appreciation of his art. Of Talleyrand he wrote: "He understands the genius of a cook, he respects it, he is the most competent judge of delicate progress, and his expenditures are wise and great at the same time."

Why do not great culinary artists abound in America?

Because there is too little appreciation of their art.

Paderewski, in his château on the shores of Lake Geneva, where he lives like a king of epicures, thanks to the intelligent and artistic housekeeping of his devoted wife (the Baroness of Rosen), told me an anecdote which illustrates this point.

During one of his first tours in the United States he enjoyed a dinner which was equal to anything he could have expected in one of the best Parisian restaurants. He was so surprised and pleased that he sent his thanks and compliments to the chef.

A few years later, happening to be in the same city, he again went to that restaurant. The meal he got was still far above the average, but was not as good as before. However, on the occasion of a third visit, he again tried the same place. The food was uninteresting from the beginning of the meal to the end.

He asked the head waiter whether the former chef had left. He had not left, the waiter informed him; and, on being pressed for an explanation of the change in the quality of the meals, he said:

"If you had to play, night after night, before an audience of barbarians who did not appreciate the best things in your performances, would you continue, year after year, to play as well as you do now?"

Paderewski had to confess to him that, in all probability, he would not.

LOOKING DOWN ON OTHERS.

In my career as a musical critic I have found that I could do much more toward improving the artistic doings of singers and players by praising their best things than by finding fault with their poorest.

In the culinary art, likewise, the reader will find that far better results are reached by praising the cook for her successes than by never speaking to her except to find fault. It makes her try to earn more praise, not only in the making of that particular dish but in the making of others.

Above all things, a mistress who expects artistic dishes from a superior cook should never appear to be looking down on her.

This looking down business, perhaps more than anything else, stands in the way of our getting good cooks.

At the same time, perhaps more than anything else, it shows what fools these mortals be.

All over the country, but particularly in the West, I have found that most families look down on other families. It is chiefly a question of money. Those who have an income of $3,000 look down on those who have only $1,000 or $1,500, while those who have $10,000 do all they can to show their superiority to three-thousanders, only to be, in turn, snubbed by those whose income is $20,000; and so on.

One day in a California village where I was spending the winter, I was surprised at the rudeness of a storekeeper with whom I had had some pleasant chats. He hardly answered my questions; in fact, he snubbed me. I found out next day that he had just inherited a large fortune, a piece of luck which he celebrated by promptly looking down on everybody he knew.

As a rule, however, I regret to say, the women are more addicted than the men to this preposterously silly habit of looking down on others. Not to speak of its being extremely ill-mannered it is the most deadly obstacle to the solution of the problem of domestic help.

We shall never have a sufficient supply of good helpers until mistresses recognize the fact that cooking is a fine art, and that those who practise it should be treated, not as servants, but as practitioners of the most important profession in the world—a profession which stands to the medical in the relation of prevention to cure; and that prevention is better than cure we all know. It's cheaper, too.

An old English writer has justly remarked that "the kitchen is the best pharmacopœia."

F. W. Hackwood calls attention to the suggestive fact that all the best old cookery books in the English language were written by medical men. Sir Kenelm Digby and Dr. Mayerne in the seventeenth century, Dr. Mill and Dr. Hunter in the eighteenth, and Dr. Kitchiner in the nineteenth gave to the world "the best English cookery books of their respective eras."

Queen Anne's physician, Dr. Lister, declared that "no man can be a good physician who has not a competent knowledge of cookery."

That is the opinion prevalent among the best medical men of to-day, who hold correct advice in regard to diet and the proper cooking of the food recommended to be usually of more importance than drugs.

Many thousands of invalids have been killed by improper or badly cooked food.

The foolish factory and shop girls who look down on kitchen work should be reminded of the fact that none of the contributors to the pages of the various women's journals are more honored than those who are famed for their skill in cooking and giving others the benefit of their experience. Some of these women, like Mrs. Rorer, Marion Harland, Mrs. Lincoln, Christine Terhune Herrick, Janet MacKenzie Hill, Mary Ronald, and Helen S. Wright, have won international repute.

It is a curious fact that whereas in Europe most of the cook books have been written by men, in America the authors of such books are mostly women. From American women, with their keen intelligence and good taste, great things may be expected in the way of gastronomic progress.

After the appearance in the "Century Magazine" of my brief remarks on the nobility of the art of cookery I heard of a wealthy young lady (I hope and believe there were many others) who was impelled, after reading them, to take up cooking and found it so fascinating that she neglected all her other pet diversions. I know educated young ladies who would rather cook than do anything else except, perhaps, go to the theater; they find it "so entertaining and engrossing."

Many anecdotes might be related of women known to fame who love kitchen work. To take only one case: Mrs. Champ Clark, who came so near being first lady of the land, is a noted cook and domestic science expert. One who knows her writes that "she does much of her own cooking, especially when intimate friends dine with her and they rave over her dishes. It has the good old Southern taste, and is minus the fingle-fangle garnishments often employed to cover up inferiority. Mrs. Clark's bread is a delight, and when she has the opportunity she always bakes it herself. She took first prize in a bread-baking contest once. She holds that such labor is not undignified for any of the first ladies of the land. The word 'servant' has been much abused, its early meaning 'to serve' being beautiful, and certainly there is nothing better than to do something for somebody."

There are signs that the ladies of our time will take up the culinary art as a fashionable cult, as did the ladies of the French aristocracy in the seventeenth century.

Many American society women are expert cooks and delight in inventing and concocting diverse dishes. One of the wealthiest women in the world is Mrs. George J. Gould. In summer, in her Adirondack camp, she spends much time in the kitchen helping to cook and to make preserves and jams. She has, it is said, "a perfect genius for combining things and creating new sensations of taste." Her children, boys as well as girls, understand cooking in all its branches. Grace Aspinwall, in the "National Food Magazine" (May, 1910) gives details regarding the culinary doings of other society women—Mrs. Philip Lydig, Mrs. Joseph Widener, Mrs. Norman de R. Whitehouse, Mrs. Oliver Harriman and Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt, Jr.

Mrs. Woodrow Wilson is also fond of cooking, and after her husband was elected President of the United States the newspapers printed pictures of her at work in the kitchen.

DOES COOKING PAY?

The profitableness of the art also is a point not to be overlooked at a time when all professions, except cooking, are so overcrowded.

Had Rossini become a chef, he would not have earned nearly as much money as he did with his operas. But he was exceptionally successful. The vast majority of musicians, and other artists of all kinds and grades, have not only much more drudgery to undergo than cooks, but they also have much less chance to boast of a fat bank account. The best chefs command $5,000 to $10,000 a year with free board and lodging. Not to speak of other advantages, what a splendid chance this gives them to "look down on" people who earn less!

The average income of physicians, clergymen, and teachers in the United States is about $600 a year, and it is not rising steadily like that of cooks. The better class of "plain cooks" now get, in New York, $25 to $30 a month with room and board. Such a cook can easily put into the savings bank $200 to $300 a year, or half as much as is earned by the physicians, clergymen, and teachers, who have to pay for their board and lodging. Does cooking pay?