"  *    *    *    *    *
Mais qui vient détruire
Ce rêve enchanteur?
Amis, j'en ai honte,
C'est quelqu'un qui monte
Apporter le compte
Du restaurateur."
(But who would dispel
This dream all-divine?
Friends, to my shame,
'Tis the restaurant's claim—
The bill of the entrées
And score of the wine.)

The menu of the dinner at the Rocher will prove attractive reading—in marked contrast to the average bill of fare, which is so often made up for the eye and is generally without originality or distinction. What an embarrassment of riches in the entrées! how imposing the large pieces! what a pageant of delectable entremets! How majestically the bisque of crabs leads off the fête, and pike and turbot proudly stem the tide! The comparative absence of vegetables need not be criticised, as these naturally figure as garnishes of several of the dishes. The asparagus, too, would take the place of a salad which is not included; and with so varied a programme oysters may well have been dispensed with for lack of sufficient space. That each individual dish was a triumph we may rest assured, or some word of depreciation for future guidance would certainly have appeared in the "Almanach."

Menu de 24 Couverts, pour le Jeudi

28 Novembre, 1809.

4 Potages.

Une bisque d'écrevisses.

Un potage à la Reine au lait d'amandes, avec biscotes.

Une Julienne aux pointes d'asperges.

Un consommé de volaille.

4 Relevés de Potages.

Un brochet à la Chambord.

Une dinde aux truffes.

Un turbot.

Une culotte de bœuf au vin de Madère, garnie de légumes.

12 Entrées.

Un aspic de filets mignons de perdreaux.

Une jardinière.

Des filets de poularde, piqués aux truffes.

Des perdreaux rouges au fumet.

Des filets de mauviette sautés.

Des scaloppes de poularde, au velouté.

Des filets de lapereaux, en turban.

Un vol au vent à la financière.

Des ailerons piqués, à la chicorée.

Deux poulets de grains au beurre d'écrevisse.

Des scaloppes de saumon, à l'espagnole.

Des filets mignons, piqués de truffes.

Second Service.

4 grosses Pièces.

Une truite.

Une pâté de foies gras.

Des écrevisses.

Un jambon glacé.

4 Plats de Rôt.

Un faisan.

Des éperlans.

Des bécassines.

Des soles.

8 Entremêts.

Une jatte de blancmanger.

Un miroton de pommes.

Des asperges en branche.

Des truffes à la serviette.

Une jatte de gelée d'orange.

Un soufflé à la vanille.

Des cardons à la moelle.

Des truffes à la serviette.

This menu, which was termed "illustrious and astounding" by La Reynière, tells its own story too well, as he observes, to need any comment. It is only to be regretted that there is no record of the accompanying wines or of the previous training of the guests who sat down to the feast. The item un faisan will be understood in the plural, there having been twenty-four persons present, and among that number it is to be presumed that more than two or three would stand ready to attack a well-hung pheasant resplendent in his tail-feathers. Still, there are only two poulets de grains specified in the list, which would indicate that the menu was strictly one of quality, not of quantity—a thing to coquet and flirt with, rather than to charge upon with no thought of the penalty of the morrow. As the mention of truffles à la serviette occurs twice at the end of the lecture, it may be assumed that this was considered a doubly important entremets—the last to leave its perfume in the mouth and accentuate the sève diffused by the final glass of Château Lafite or Clos-Vougeot. On the restaurateur and the chef the editor enjoins continued efforts looking to the advancement of the grand art of dining, exhorting them that to cease their exertions would mean to recede, and that to maintain their exalted reputation they should labour daily as if it were yet to be won.

Altogether, the "Almanach" will be found most remunerative reading by those who peruse it with a proper sense of its important aim. We may not hope to equal the appetite of the author, it is true, but its attentive study will assuredly stimulate appetite and amply instruct us in the æsthetics and delights of the table. The only dietetic heresy that presents itself to the writer is the eulogy of the strawberry as an article of diet, for which Linnæus the botanist and Dr. Boteler are originally responsible, it being well known that this fruit in gout and rheumatism—two frequent colleagues of good cheer—is often as deadly as port. Preserved Wiesbaden or Bar-le-Duc strawberries, safely tucked in the folds of an omelette, are less pernicious, and may be partaken of occasionally if convoyed by the right wine. The raw fruit should always be sparingly indulged in by the epicure; boys and women alone may eat it with comparative impunity. To this one exception has been chronicled—"Strawberries and cream render me sad," said Mme. du Deffand; and, remembering Malherbe's praise of women and melons, madame wisely left them alone.

Finally, among all those who have discoursed upon the theme, it may be said that La Reynière comes the nearest perhaps in illustrating Montaigne's expression, l'art de la gueule. And, despite the laudations of the venders with which it is so generously interlarded, the "Almanach" well merits a full morocco binding by Ruban, with dentelle borders à l'oiseau, and a pâté stamped on its covers in gold.


THE CHEF

From a print after an old Dutch master