Alexis Soyer - A Culinary Campaign

TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD PANMURE, K.T.
ETC. ETC. ETC.

My Lord ,

Grateful, indeed, do I feel for the unlimited confidence reposed in me by your Lordship during my late Mission in the East, and especially so for your kind condescension in permitting me to dedicate to your Lordship this work, which at once puts the final seal to your Lordships appreciation of my humble services.

With the most profound respect,
I have the honour to remain,
My Lord,
Your Lordships most humble and dutiful Servant,

Alexis Soyer .

THE Author of this work begs to inform his readers that his principal object in producing his Culinary Campaign is to perpetuate the successful efforts made by him to improve the dieting of the Hospitals of the British army in the East, as well as the soldiers rations in the Camp before Sebastopol.

The literary portion the Author has dished up to the best of his ability; and if any of his readers do not relish its historical contents, he trusts that the many new and valuable receipts, applicable to the Army, Navy, Military and Civil Institutions, and the public in general, will make up in succulence for any literary deficiencies that may be found in its pages.

At the same time, the Author takes this opportunity of publicly returning his most grateful thanks to the late authorities at the seat of war for their universal courtesy, friendship, and great assistance, without which success would have been an impossibility.

Old DruryJuvenile mirthA sudden arrestAn invitationNo excuseGetting homeMind your pocketsA trip to the WellingtonAn intelligent waiterReading the newsA sudden inspirationLetter to the TimesThe stupid waiter againLittle JackSupper fareReceiptsTough kidneysHow to cook themKidneys la Roberto DiavoloKidneys la brochetteNew bill of fare for London Suppers.

Hurrah! hurrah! bravo! bravo! For a few minutes rounds of applause and shouts of laughter from the juveniles were heard and loudly re-echoed throughout the vast cupola of Old Drury, sending home the delighted spectators, in fits of sneezing and coughing, through a variegated atmosphere. Sir Henry W, turning to me, exclaimed, Hallo, Mr. Soyer, the pantomime is over early this evening! and looking at his watch, continued, Why, it is only half-past eleven oclock.

Yes, Sir Henry; but quite late enough for children, who after this time begin to mingle gaping with laughter.

True enough, replied Sir Henry; it is painful to see those dear cherubs kept at the theatre till midnight, or even later. Have you been long here?

No, I replied, only a few minutes; just time enough to witness the grand finale, and to hear the screaming and laughter of the children, which to me is always very amusing.

Very true, very true; I am of your opinion, and never tire of childrens mirth.

In a few minutes the theatre was nearly emptied of spectators, but still full of smoke. Considering myself that evening as free as a butterfly on a spring morning, though unable, like that light-hearted insect, to flit from flower to flower, I was trying to escape, with the swiftness of an eel, down the gigantic and crowded staircase, hoping to get off unobserved, as I had to start early in the morning for the country, when suddenly a friendly hand pressed me forcibly by the arm. The owner of the same cried, Stop! stop! my friend; I have been hunting all over the theatre for you. I at once recognised an old Devonshire acquaintance, whom I was indeed much pleased to see, having received a most kind reception from him at my last visit to that delightful countyso justly named the garden of England.

Well, my dear sir, said he, myself and several acquaintances of yours are here for a few days, and have ordered a supper this evening at the Albion. We heard you were at Drury Lane, and I have come to ask you to join us.

I must say it is very kind of you, Mr. Turner; but you must excuse me, as I am going as far as St. Jamess-street, by appointment; besides, I leave for the country early to-morrow morning. But I shall be happy to spend to-morrow evening with you and your friends; therefore, I beg you will apologise for me.

To-morrow very likely we shall be off again; we only came for a couple of days, to breathe the London air, and then return.

I beg your pardonyou mean London fog, not air.

Why, yes, fog should be the word; but for all that, I love London in any season; so no excuseI shall not leave you; you must join us, or your friend the squire will be greatly disappointed. He came from the Great Western Hotel this evening on purpose to see you.

Finding it almost impossible to get out of it, and my friend having promised we should break up early, I accepted, saying, You must allow me to go as far as the Wellington, as I have an appointment there; I will be back in about half-an-hour.

My incredulous country friend would not grant permission till I had assured him that I would faithfully keep my promise, and return.

This dialogue took place in the entrance of the vestibule, where a number of ladies and children were waitingsome for their carriages and broughams, others for those public inconveniences called cabs. This bevy of beauty and group of children, the pride of young England, seemed to interest my provincial friend so much, that I had some trouble to get him out. It was then nearly twelve oclock. The front steps were also crowded; the weather was chilly and damp; a thick yellowish fog, properly mixed with a good portion of soot, formed a shower of black pearls, which, gracefully descending through the murky air, alighted, without asking permission, upon the rosy cheeks of unveiled fair dames, spotting their visages, if not la Pompadour or la Watteau, at least la Hogarth. A few steps lower we entered a dense crowda most unpicturesque miscellany of individuals, unclassically called, the London mob. Mind your pockets, said I to my country friend.

By Jove, its too late, said he, feeling in his pocketmy handkerchief is gone!

Is that all? I inquired.

Well, let me see, he observed, feeling again: yes, thank God! my watch and purse are quite safe.

Ah, I continued, laughing, the old adage which prompts us to thank God for all things is quite correct; for you are actually thanking Him for the loss of your handkerchief.

Not at all, he replied; I was thanking Him for the safety of my watch and purse. After a hearty laugh we parted, he going to the Albion, and I to the Wellington.

On my arrival there, I found that my friend had been and was gone. My intelligent cabby soon brought me back through the dense atmosphere to that far-famed temple of Comus, at which crowds of celebrities meet nightlysome to restore themselves internally, others to sharpen their wits at that tantalising abode of good cheer. Upon entering, I inquired of a waiter, a stranger to me, if he could inform me where my six friends intended to sup.

Yes, sir, directly. Speaking down the trumpet: Below! a Welsh rabbit and fresh toasttwo kidneys underdonescalloped oystera choptwo taters! Look sharp below! To the barmaid: Two stouts, missone palefour brandies hot, two withoutone whiskythree ginpint sherrybottle of port!

What an intelligent waiter! thought I, to have so good a memory. Having waited till he had given his orders, I again said, Pray, my fine fellow, in which room are my friends going to sup? They have a private room, no doubt?

Yes, sir, a private room for two.

No, not for twofor six.

Oh! I dont mean that, sir: I want a rump-steak for two, said he; stewed tripe for onethree grogsbottle pale Bass. And off he went to the coffee-room.