BAD COOKS MAKE BAD MEN.

Press, Volume L, Issue 15023, 18 July 1914, Page 2

BAD COOKS MAKE BAD MEN.

(By TVelk IJrox. in tiu* London ••Daily Mail.") What will arouse us to tho lamentable decay of English cookery and the infinite ills o! a nation of dyspeptics? In the bright pages of tho "Irish Cyclist" a witty Irishman has amused mc with this:—''Tho Saxon thinks out his lunch most carefully, li a house has a reputation for a particular dish, he will go fchere for it, though it be a mile, out of his way. If he is inclined to be frugal, and is having a simple chop or steak, he doesn't say 'chop' or 'steak' to the waiter. Ho goes over to the place near the furnace where these delicacies are laid out, and examine;; each one with a keen and critical eye, the chef discussing the merits •oi each, much as men go over the points of a horse. Alter a thorough examination he makes Ins choice, and awaits its arrival on the table with an i>ir of placid satisfaction, and an anticipation of one hi the greate-i joys on tiU'.li."' isarbaric cookery ix the iioml:. The writer oi tin's rnu.se have lunched in one of thoie lainous oiu eimp-houses that lurk in the narrow alley.-, between Cor.'ihill and Threadnoedle .street. Where, else but in tiiese ancient hostelrie.s can his assertion !>e justitied that the (Englishman oV to-day is exacting as to the quality or the cooking of wiiiit he eats- . Is it in innumerable private homes, wiiere the great and •lUinane art ot cookery, despised _by Use housewife, biuiah.-,cii by entirely untaught servants, has related into !;a,b:ui.Mtii' Is it in the average hotel c>: ie-;Uiu:ant, whore we .ire coiueinul a'ujiii! with the achievements of the decorator, and judge our repast by the gold braid on" the hall porter, the pio-li-Mon of page-boys, the smartness oi o.ir fellow-guests, and the triumphant blare of an orchestra: . Or has he been nappy enough to strike upon one _ol thosV remaining old country inns tiiat iire sacred to t;ie commercial traveller, who alone among modern Englishmen knows where to get good l'lod, and .11----i sists upon it witli a solemnity that tie,it- the punted word? i'or nowhere eUc (except in a few old "lubs! can you obtain the be.st of plain food cooked in. mc best of plain manner—ihu one food t'-at despite all the inventions and trickeries of the gastronomies, is K-ilt tl-c- best stimulus 01 tne pnysniue and mentalily of us English, and the food whereon our lathers built up tii«. whole iabric of national strength Oiilv a few day* ago, racking n. t \ kr.un ledge of London lor a gue.sr who •ilc.-uUmI for the simplest oi dinners, «'' Served I thought of v certain renowned rosLaurant unvisited for some years. The hi" room wa.s full, and here at least was not installed that slayer oi table talk the orchestra. Rut not one course of the menu was a* passably irosh as one might expect in a f^ 0 " 1, -" 1 *!; boardinghouse, nor as tolerably cooked a< one would expect from a sulky "cook-general." But all these people, well bred, prosperous, mundane, and experienced, seemed gaily satisfied. Lenviii" our restaurant (prudently as hungry" as we entered) wo passed one of those apathetic street encampments where the asphalt-layer stakes out his claim. Ono tho blade ot a spado, si - vered with wear, a jovial labourer grilled his steak over the camp hre. Ine nostrils of my unhappy guest dilated to that warm and irresistible aroma. 1 .•ifkod you,' , he complained, "to take n?o to one of the last haunts .of honest English cookery—why on earth didn't •on bring mc here?" VALUE OF PLAIN FOOD. Tho writer quoted above is probably only half-jesting when Ho speaks of a t >orfecUy cooked chop as '"one of the greatest joys on earth.' . It is, Ibe li'eve, considered by the gourmets to ' bo Philistine to have a taste for sue.* [ simple fare, hut, in reality, tho tradi- ! iion.il plain food of the Englishman is the most .esthetic of all tood. For only he who lives to eat, and not he who oats to live, cannot dine unless his menu is constmcted with the artificiality of a drama by Sardou. The man who must work with his brains and would uufotter his soul from his body may indeed enjoy his meals, but to him they are uicals only, stoking-up of the engine that is to drive his life. He is as impatient to get thorn done as a captain is restless to have done with the coaling of his ship. So, to him, plain food, well cooked, is a double joy, not only in the satisfaction of hunger, but in the knowledge that he is fuelling his body and brain like a good engineer. The pangs of indigestion and that lethargy of mind and body which punishes the poor victim of bad cookery are not atoned for to him by the bow of the hallporter, by Louis Quatorzo decorations, and by an orchestra devised to drown his criticism as the cornet of the itinerant tooth-drawftr is devised to drown the shrieks of his patients. Tho man who is a stickler for eood cookery need not be thinking at all of tho pleasures of the table. He need think only of tho good meal's aftermath of mental and bodily fitness, and the bad meal's aftermath of mental and bodily misery. Ho has noticed that be can only r>ut forth the best that is in him when ho is well fed; and he knows that a man with chronic indigestion can become a sort of second cousin to the devil. AN INSPIRATION TO POETS. How many of the noble achievements, the great thoughts, the genorous deeds of all time, have been begotten, not by men's innate nobility, but by the ministrations of cooks and housewives? Who, if they had a magic --robe into history, might not fijd that Shakespeare frequented a tavern whose cook was a genius, and that those monarchs whose nameshave come down to us as "The "Good," "The Wise," or "The Benevolent" -were only good, wise, and benevolent because they happened to have excellent digestions? On the other hand, how many incompetents, how many criminals, tyrants, fanatics, and cross-grained fellows who have set 'the world by the ears have not been helpless victims of that arrogant, puissant, and revengeful over-lord of man's brain and heart, the stomach i Have the blackeners of Nero ever considered the physical and mental results of underdone peacock's tongue, or the revilers of the ruthlessness of Napoleon ever reflected on the effects on a growing and impetuous constitution of tho execrable cookery of Corsica? Gome to our own surroundings. Do you know a husband and wife who are at loggerheads? Look into their kitchen. ~ Do you know a poor wretch who is flying for stimulus to the bottle? Discover what he is flying from at his domestic table. Do you know a wheyfaced fellow who is the kill-joy of any company? Find out where he dines. Do you, yourself, know all those symptoms that are so graphically described the advertisements of the patent medicines? Then remember who is your butcher. And when one of those perfect days descends upon ydli when, even at the breakfast-table, you can smilo on your family; when the mirror has told* you that you still look remarkably young; when your work runs on oiled "wheels, and whatever you do is done well; when even those terrible arbiters, those who meet you every day, almost speak from their kindling glances, ''What a witty, sunny, jolly good fellow Jones is!" do not preen yourself, do not think for a minuto of your ability, your genius, and your kindness. It is your over-lord, the digestion, that speaks within you—and if you are an honest man. when you return home, you will go into the kitchen and very Ijumbly, and in all reverence, salute the cook. The Duchess of Abercorn writes:— 1 "%Ve have used McClinton's Colleen Soap for years, and delight in it.' , 13