BELOW STAIRS IN A PARISIAN CAFE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue VIII, 14 August 1897, Page 248

BELOW STAIRS IN A PARISIAN CAFE.

It is no unusual thing to pay £6 for a dinner at a first-class restaurant in Paris. Some may think thia a high price, bnt when we come to look into the matter the charge is not unreasonable. Leaving out of the question the enormous capital invested in the enterprise, often approaching half a million dollars, and the cost of maintaining the elegant service, the great expense ie in the indispensable batterie de cuisine and the costliness of the food. This can be beet understood when it is explained that into a pint of Bechamel sauce enter ten chickens simmered to a liquid, with cream, mushrooms and a liberal supply of champagne. A batterie de cuisine baa no relation to pots and pans, M some people might suppose. The cooks are the batterie, which, to be perfect, must number one chef and eleven sou chefs. Every one is more or less conversant with the appointments of a first-class restaurant, bnt in Paris they far exceed in splendour those of any city in the world. The table d'hote is one of the chief, if not the supreme, pleasures of life, and therefore, to the chef d'oeuvres of a first-class chef, the cafe glittering with gilding and frescoes and resplendent with minors and velvet fsuteils furthers that end. With the Parisian dejeuner, or mid-day lunch, is also an important event. Unlike Americans, who generally tear themselves away from their affairs in order to eat what is necessary to satisfy hnnger, the Parisians leave business at a fixed time to partake, in leisurely fashion, of a light and well-cooked repast, followed by coffee and liqueur, and a repose of an honr for digestion. Here again the cafe rises to the occasion, for all the principal establishments are well supplied with newspapers, dominoes, checkers and other games, and a large number of them contain billiard tables. The Parisians meet after dejeuner day after day, and year after year, in their favourite cafe, arriving and leaving with unvarying punctuality. Later in the day it is the custom to take a glass of absinthe, vermouth or other appetizer for dinner, after which coffee is again in demand, so that the cafes are well patronized at all hours between 1 p.m. and 7 p.m. and again from 8 p.m. to midnight. Cookery in Paris is a fine art, and the kitchen is run on scientific principle?. Economy of space being a necessity, the kitchen—and its necessary offices—is invariably in a deep basement far below ground without either window or grating. Fresh air is admitted by a system of shafts and the odours are carried off in like manner. The walls are tiled. The floor, although hard and polished, is absorbent. The lower stratum consists of two feet of puddled earth ; next a layer of brick, then a stratum of rolled charcoal, and finally a composition of lime, sand, and cinders, all beaten and gronnd topether. A good scouring with pumice stone gives it a fine black polished surface. Whatever moisture may be thrown upon it quickly disappears, and in a few moments the floor is quite dry again. In an open grate burns a monstrous fire, requiring a hundred weight of coal at each'replenishment, and before it hang roasting spits worked by a current of air from above. The range, never less than twelve feet long by six wide, stands in the centre of the kitchen. It is a solid strncture of brick, always red hot with the charcoal in its stomach. At one end, in a copper, stock for soup simmers everlastingly, and the chef tells you

this stock is tyur times the concentrated strength of aby he could buy for the same purpose. Behind a stone partition, so constructed as to exclude the heat, is the garde manger. Here, on stone and marble slabs, fish are arranged as if for sale, and lobsters, all alive, and game, and great joints of meat. In another section are tanks containing varieties of live fish and frogs brought in to provide against the demands of the day. On shelves are terrines of game, sauces in their solid state, and foie gras— which every high-class restaurant no* prepares for iteelf. Half the secret of French cooking is in the exquisite sauces. The foundation of all these is the Franeaise, the grandmere of sauces. From that grandmother spring five others, called les sauces meres', respectively the Espagnol, the Allemande, the Bechamel, the Velonte and the mere tomate. Out of these five, aided, of course, by their grandmother, spring two thousand lesser ones. There is not any real connection between the sauce and its name. All are French purely, and all date from ancient days. Many of the Parisian cafe-keepers are

wealthy men, in' some instances awning their own farms and vineyards, from which they obtain the bn llt of their supplies. Whenever anything to to be purchased, it is customary for the proprietor to attend to the matter personally, so cautious is he in this respect. Wines and champagnes hold an important place in the Parisian cafe. They are selected with rare judgment from the beet sources. Of the quality of his beverages the caterer prides himself. Some of the old wines in these eaft cellars are famed the world over, and instances have been known where the growers themselves have offered to buy them back at retail rates. In comparison with what French cAe/r receive in the United States and England, they are poorly paid in Paris, the average annual stipend being $1,600 But it must be remembered that an education in a Parisian caft of the premier order is in itself a fortune. Graduates of these schools carry their diplomas over all the world, earning position and money thereby. Usually waiters receive nothing but their board, their income being derived from the compulsory tips and further gratuities of patrons. This, however, is no-insignificant compensation, for it is estimated thatParisian waiter* receive in this manner anaverage of £2OO a year.

Emma Endres.