ART. VI.-1. Nouvel Almanach des Gourmands, servant de Guide dans les moyens de faire excellente Chère; dedié au Ventre. Par A. B. de Perigord. Première Année, (1825,) Seconde Année, (1826,) Troisième Année, (1827.) 3 vols. 18vo. Paris, chez Baudouin. 2. Physiologie du Gout, ou Meditations de Gastronomie transcendante; ouvrage théorique et historique, à l'ordre du jour. Par un Professeur, membre de Plusieurs Sociétés Littéraires et Savantes. 2 vols. 8vo. Paris. 1825. 3. Le Directeur des Estomacs, ou Instruction Pratique sur la nature, les qualités, et les propriétés de chaque espèce d'alimens, &c.; suivie d'une esquisse sur le régime qui convient aux differens temperamens, &c. &c. 18vo. Paris. 1827. 4. Manuel du Cuisinier et de la Cuisinière, à l'usage de la Ville et de la Campagne, &c. Par P. Cardelli. Cinquième édition. 18vo. Paris. 1826. 5. L'Art du Cuisinier. Paris. 1824. Par A. Beauvilliers. Par A. Beauvilliers. 2 vols. 8vo. 6. Le Cuisinier Royal, ou l'Art de faire la Cuisine, la Patisserie, et tout ce qui concerne l'office, pour toutes les fortunes. Par MM. Viard et Fouret, Hommes de bouche. 12me édition. 8vo. Paris. 1825. FRANCE is at present most prolific in gastronomical writings-we have put the titles of half a dozen at the head of this article, and we should find no difficulty in swelling the number: with the exception of the Physiologie du Gout, however, not one of them is very successful. It requires, in reality, no small degree of tact and practice to succeed in this style. It is very hard to steer between the low and farcical on one hand, and the bombastic on the other. The gastronomic writer labours under difficulties which his apparently kindred genius, the bard of the bottle, has not to encounter. The Bacchanalian poet has a thousand common-places on which he can enlarge, and these too consecrated, if we may use the -word on such an occasion, by having been used and embellished by the greatest names in the history of literature. Besides, he -can very soon get rid of the mere material, and describe the mental emotions which his theme calls forth. The joy, the mirth, the sociality, the warmed ideas, the care-dispelling magic of the glass, are the topics of the song-not the liquor itself, whether it be Chambertin or Burton. It is the emotion or the ease produced by his amphora, not the Februrian that it holds, which Horace commemorates-and nearer home the honest bard who sings "Dear Tom, this brown jug that here foams with mild ale," in the very next line quits the extract of Sir John Barleycorn to remind us that it is the vessel "Out of which I now drink to sweet Nan of the vale.” Here arises a new set of associations altogether, on which if we were Mr. Coleridge we could of course dissertate to the end of the sheet. In gastronomy the case is quite different. No illustrious line of poets have celebrated the pleasures of the dinner-table, or embalmed in immortal verse the recollections of deceased horsd'œuvres and demolished entrées. Homer, to be sure, the Father of poetry, "From whom, as from their fountain, other stars has never avoided the most minute description of a feast. The man who described the sorrows of Andromache or the heroism of Hector, in whose hands the glories of Olympus, the terrors of the battle-field, the romance of magic, or the horrors of Tartarus, were the common staple of poetry, he felt no scruple in devoting the same wondrous melody of verse to the description of the me thod of frying a beef-steak or serving up a pork-chop. But in him there was no idea of jest. He lived before the age of criticism had commenced, and saw nothing incongruous in describing with its due importance that event which Doctor Johnson has described as "the most important occurrence of every day." In Virgil's time critics were on the alert, and the Roman poet dared not imitate in that respect his Grecian master. The true gastronomic tone, half serious, half comic, has been taught, as far as we can recollect, but in two societies-among the literateurs of Athens and Paris. The passages preserved by Athenæus are very often admirable, and precisely in the style of the most successful modern wits; and France, in producing Grimod de la Reynière, the author of the original Almanach des Gourmands, may claim the glory of having given birth to the very greatest of writers on the subject. The bijoux of Grimod's great work are known to every one. His panegyric on the pighis encomium on the intense devotion of the goose, that forgets its sufferings in the glorious anticipation of its posthumous reputation of being made into a Strasburg paté-his description of the sucking-pig-his laudation of the thrush sauce, "with which a man would eat his father"-and many other passages of similar brilliancy will be remembered at once. We are sorry to say that his successor in the Nouvel Almanach des Gourmands has not succeeded in rivalling his chimerical vein for a moment. And yet there is now and then a readable article in the book, but they are "few and far between." The best joke we see is the map prefixed to each of the three volumes, which exhibits with geographical accuracy the various edible and potable productions of France, depicted upon the spots where they are to be found. In Burgundy, for instance, we have wine-casks, in Champagne bottles sparkling over the brim, at Pontoise oxen, at Gruyère cheese, at Cognac a still, at Cancale oysters, at Amiens eel-patés, at Brives trufled fowl, at Strasburgh carp and patés, &c. &c. A pacific critic may be allowed to remark, that a map of this kind is a much more sensible one than a map covered over with crossed swords indicating the sites of battles, for it is much more to our purpose to know where we can live, than to be told where others have died. The current of the Parisian wits appears to be anti-ministerial, and we have accordingly many a jest, in general fade enough, against the Jesuits and Mons. de Villele. The best is a remonstrance from a ministerial member of the Chamber of Deputies against the badness of the minister's dinners, but as in point of fact Mons. de Villele gives the very best dinners in Paris, the joke is not applicable. Admitting the imputation, however, it would certainly be a cruel thing to expect a man to vote against his conscience without ever satisfying his stomach; and the querulous deputy justly complains that his case is worse than that of Esau"for," says he, "if Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, that mess was at all events well dressed;" the scriptural authority for which, however, we fear it would not be easy to adduce. To us foreigners, the most amusing or instructive parts of the Almanach are the gastronomic tours through Paris and the provinces. We shall extract the passage relating to the Palais Royal, as that is generally the first spot in Paris hunted out by our countrymen : "We are at last at the Palais Royal, at that centre of Paris which forms a city in the midst of a city. We have left on the right and left hand MM. Grignon and Devictor, excellent traiteurs, whose salons attract, at six o'clock, a numerous and select society of gourmands. M. Juleau arrests us in the passage, and we are obliged to salute his petits-patés, &c. We are before the door of M. Véry. "M. Very is in fact the patriarch of traiteurs. His name has become European, and his cookery is quoted from one pole to the other. His great reputation has not, however, preserved for him the popularity which he formerly enjoyed. His magnificent salons are scarcely frequented but by some few accustomed guests. The cuisine of M. Very is nevertheless always good; his wines particularly are of an excellent quality; but who can explain the caprices of fortune? The crowd goes elsewhere; the tables and the bar are solitary. The many will say to this ancient sanctuary of the cuisine, Thou art not what thou wert!* "The neighbour of M. Véry, the old Café de Chartres, after many various fortunes, is at present one of the best-frequented houses of Paris. M. Vefour brought the crowd back, and after having made a fortune sold the property and his numerous body of clients to M. Boissier. His worthy successor has exerted himself to make us forget his fortunate predecessor, and he has succeeded. "The Café de Chartres is particularly renowned for its breakfasts. Nowhere can be better served up a sauté, a fricassee of poulet à la Marengo, or a Mayonnaise de volaille. The wines are of good quality, particularly those of Beaune and Mâconnais. The Bourdeaux, Champagne, and the wines of the South, leave us something to desire. The salons of the Café de Chartres are encumbered from five o'clock by a crowd of diners. The cookery is then very good, but in general rather relevée. The fish, and the game are remarkable for their freshness. In fine, without being an excellent restaurant, the Café de Chartres is a place where you meet good cheer at moderate prices. "The Café de Foy, which we salute as we go along the stone gallery, is still the same. Smoky chimneys, Gothic and sombre lustres, cups without handles with which we daily burn our fingers, muddy glassesbut also delicious coffee, exquisite liqueurs, and savoury ices;- -one cannot well complain of this house. But ought not the proprietor, who has purchased this property for a hundred thousand crowns, to expend five-and-twenty louis in painting it, lighting it with hydrogen gas, and, above all, in purchasing cups with handles ? "His neighbour, M. Corazza, understands his business much better. The objects of consumption in his house are of a choice equally delicate, and we are, besides, served with neatness and elegance. "M. Prevost is a restaurateur on the second floor, but he has not a less numerous company than those who are below, and the sixty steps which must be ascended to reach his brilliant salons do not frighten away his numerous customers. "At the extremity of the stone gallery, we stand before the shop of M. Chevet. What a delicious perfume exhales from this admirable store! With what art this display is arranged! How the golden pheasant, the roebuck, and the pullet are skilfully mingled with the salmon, the turkey, and the most delicious fruits! Objects the most dissimilar, productions of the most opposite nature are adroitly contrasted. What riches! what profusion! The earthen vessels of Nerac contain the patés of Strasbourg. Perigord has sent thither her truffles, Amiens her pies, Ardennes her legs of mutton, Bar her sweetmeats, Troyes her tongues, Quercy her game; Ai, Bourdeaux, Perpignan, Beaune, Cognac, pay each their tribute. It is a centre where all the gastronomic productions of France and foreign countries meet. M. Chevet is at the head of a ministry. He has his couriers, his chargés d'affaires, his ambassadors. His store is a political thermometer. In critical moments, at the period of elections, or the eve of passing a new law, M. Chevet is almost in possession of the secrets of the state. Orders arrive suddenly, aud eatables are then like the oil which facilitates the movement of the wheels. His shop is of service in more ways than one, and it is but justice to have named him the king's purveyor. "Of whom shall we speak on leaving M. Chevet,-what genius could shine near him? It would be a poor compliment to Messrs. Véron and Baron, his neighbours, to praise their cookery at this moment; and the stone gallery in which the Café Valois and two or three infamous gambling-houses are situated, is not worth speaking of. 2 "M. Corcelet, who occupies the extremity of it, forms the only inducement to traverse its length. The immense stores of this eminent trader have enjoyed for many years a high and justly deserved reputation. There will be found collected all the nutritive productions of our own and foreign countries. The gammon of Mentz, the Cheshire cheese of England, the chocolate of Bayonne, the cordials of the Islands, the turtles of the Indies, and the boars' hams so dear to the author of Atala, are at once presented to the gourmand. M. Corcelet is also well supplied with the produce of the South; his oils, wines, and cordials are delicious. He is one in whom, from his old and established reputation, we can place confidence; and the first houses in Paris, as well as strangers of distinction, supply themselves from his warehouse. "Not far from M. Corcelet is the. Frères Provençaux,' a house justly celebrated and always well frequented. At no place is there such pro vençal cookery. The Brandades of cod, fowl au karik, and fish fried in oil are beyond all praise; but this house is remarkable above every thing for the extreme trouble that is taken to satisfy the numerous guests. The master of the establishment, the attendants of the kitchen and cellar all vie with each other in civility. Every day the tables. of the Provençaux are assailed by crowds of consumers, and so difficult is it to procure a place that one must almost carry it by assault. The old pupils of the imperial Lyceum, the barbistes, &c. have their annual dinners here, where gaiety, cordiality, and the affections of youth are rekindled by the delicacy of the meats and the vivacity of the Champagne. This restaurateur holds in fact one of the first places in the consideration of gastronomists.. "Close by Corcelet and the Frères Provençaux is the Café Lemblin, which offers it is true neither brilliant gildings nor new decorations, but compensates for these imperfections by the excellence of its viands. Every thing at the Café Lemblin is of the first quality. The coffee there is justly celebrated, and is to be preferred to that of any other rival establishment. This place is always full, and yet the majority of the company are habitual attendants. No one ever quits the Café Lemblin without forming a determination to revisit it," &c.—vol. i. pp. 210-218. Such is a fair specimen of the wit of the book. It is not very brilliant, but as good as we can find. The itinerary in the country is rather amusing, but not excessively so. Some of the best things are little aphorisms or maxims on gourmanderie, of which we shall select the most piquant half dozen. |