Onions: The Foundation of all Cookery.

New Zealand Graphic, 1 July 1908, Page 36

Onions: The Foundation of all Cookery.

BY

A BATCHELOR.

The dislike of onions is a mere affectation of gentility. No healthy man or woman ever really disliked onions, but owing to faulty gastronomic perspective it has been thought “nice to pretend that their flavour and savour are obnoxious. e As a matter of fact, onions are the foundation of all cookery, good and bad. Moreover, there is not one of the affected onion-despisers who does not eat them, and enjoy them, without knowledge whence' comes the subtle aroma which is so alluring and individual. This is where a good cook excels. The ancient Egyptians considered the onions almost too’sacred to eat, and had

a mitigated veneration for it, which may, or may not, have been inspired by their gourmet-priests. It must always be remembered, in this connection, that in recent times it is a horticultural fact that the excessive taste of the onion has been very much mellowed.

In “The Queen of the Air,” Ruskin attributed the degradation of peasant life very largely to the use of the rankscented onion and garlic. This is absurd, although it must be remembered that throughout our literature we find frequent references to the grossness of their odour. Take, for instance, Bottom’s direction to the clowns: “Most, dear actors, eat no onions or garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.”

Among the many quaint traditional attributes of the onion is the old gardener's belief that the rose loves the onion, and puts forth its sweetest blossoms when planted in propinquity. Alphonso Karr, in his “Journey Round My Garden,” speaks of yellow garlic (the "moly” of Homer): “It is more than it appears to be; it has the power of keeping us safe from enchantments, spells, and evil presages. A crow may fly past you on your left hand, but you need not entertain any fear if you only have yellow garlic in your garden.”

The leek, which is of the onion tribe, was so esteemed by the Emperor Nero, according to the historians, that his subjects gave him the name of Porrophagus (from Allium porrum, the leek), for he ate them with oil for several days in every month to clear his voice,

abstaining from bread on these leekeating days. There is bible authority, too, for their usefulness. The Israelites in the desert pined for the “leeks and the onions and the garlic” which they had enjoyed so abundantly in Egypt. Onions are quite the best nervine strengthener known, no medicine being equally useful in cases of nervous prostration or so quick to restore and tone up the jaded physical system. The very bourgeois French Soupe a I’Oignon is a truly wonderful nerve tonic, and, properly made, one of the most delicious preparations in the world. Again, the onion absorbs all morbid matter in its neighbourhood. It has been found on more than one occasion

that during an epidemic of cholera a string of onions hanging in a house amid other houses which were all affected became unintelligibly diseased and black, but proved thereby protective to the inmates of that particular house. An onion enthusiast, writing of Italy, says: “All the social atmosphere of that delightful land is laden with the fragrance of the onion; its odour is a practical democracy. In the churches all are alike; there is one faith, one smell.” The famous and fatuous Beau Brummel, in the height of his glory, was asked whether a gentleman might eat onions immediately before going iirto the company of gentlewomen. “No man is so well-looking and fascinating,” he replied, “that on entering a ball-room he can afford to handicap himself with a strong odour.”

The naturalist, Frank Buckland, had the highest opinion of onions as a cure for insomnia. “I am sure the essential oil of onions has specific powers; in my own ease it never fails; if I am much pressed with work and feel that I am not disposed to sleep, I eat two or three small onions, and their effect is magical.” It is only by the experiment of leaving it out that it can be proved how dull, flat, and uninteresting are soups, sauces, stews, gravies, salads, and seasonings of all kinds without a suggestion of onion, shallot, chives, garlic, or leek. The flavour must “lurk,” as Sydney Smith says, and, of course, must not be permitted to predominate impertinently; it must merely hint, a suggestion, an in

nuendo, but without it there is the certainty of insipidity. FAMOUS SAUCE' The famous Sauce a la Soubise is composed of onions, and, if compounded by an artist, is of rare excellence and adaptability. Its origin is not quite certain. Some gastronomic historians allege that it was called after Prince Charles de Soubise, a field-marshal of Louis XIV., and a famous epicure. But there are other claimants, such as Benjamin de Rohan, Seigneur de Soubise who was born in La Rochelle in 1583 and died in London in 1641, after havin'' been chief of the Protestant party unde? Louis XIII.; or Francois de ‘Rohan Prince de Soubise (1631.-1712), son of Hercule de Rohan, Due de Montbazon Anyhow, the sauce is wonderful. The.usefulness of the onion as a means of divination must not be forgotten. In Folkard s ’Plant Lore and Legends” he quotes a verse common in his time in the countryside, and which, in a modified form may, it is said, yet be met with:—

In these same days young wanton gyrles that meet for marriage be Doe search to know the names of them that shall their husbands be; Four onyons, five, or eight they take, and make in every one Such names as they do fancie most, and best to think upon; Then near the chimney them they set, and that same onyon then That first doth sproute doth surely bear the name of their good man. '

Another and possibly more practical use of onions is conveyed in this old recipe: “Onyon juice annoynted on the bald head, in the sun, bringeth the haire againe very speedelie.” This, surely, must be one of the cheapest hair-re-storers on the market. Onion plaster for bronchitis, onion broth for influenza, and onion poultice for chilblains are all housewifely and old-fashioned remedies. It was Louis Eustache Ude, the great cook, who originally dubbed the onion the foundation of all cookery,” and he certainly knew what he was talking about. It is at once the most democratic and most aristocratic of roots, “a radical of the radicals,” and yet one without which the king's table would be incomplete. To despise it is at once vulgar and ignorant.