Part 11

No work on cookery in the German language, it is true, has obtained a great reputation outside of its own country. But although the Teuton is a midday diner, a custom that must prove inimical to gastronomical perfection and thereby the highest social evolution, it were extremely unjust to charge him with a lack of understanding in eating. On the contrary, no one, not even the Gaul, enjoys eating and drinking more than he, or eats and drinks amid pleasanter surroundings during a large portion of the year. The open-air restaurants and beer-gardens are a feature, and a most delightful feature, of German life. In the shaded bowers of the Wirthshaus, under the umbrage of horse-chestnuts and limes, to the plash of fountains in suburban Gasthof gardens, amid the consonance of viols and reeds in the attractive temples of Gambrinus, do the Germans voice the refrain,

"Isz, trink, sei fröhlich hier auf Erd', Und denk nicht dass es besser wird."

(Eat, drink, be merry, seize the present hour, Deem not the future holds a fairer flower.)

It must not be forgotten that in the course of time the cookery of every nation gradually becomes complementary to the national beverages. Conversant with the popular drinks of a people, one may promptly form an opinion of their alimentation and characteristics. The cookery of Germany has become subservient to, and, as it were, revolves around Münchner and Pilsener, Hochheimer and Deidesheimer. If, therefore, one cannot appreciate its innumerable brews and the juices of the Riesling and the Traminer, its forms of nutrition will naturally prove distasteful, in the same manner that the virtues of French entrées would be found wanting if deprived of the ruby pressings of the Sauvignon and Pinot. The rosy Schweinerippchen, after its bath in saltpetre, and also Sauerkraut would be impossible without their syncretic accompaniment, beer or a German white wine; and it is only since the general use of beer in the United States that the last-named dish, from being considered a vulgar one has become so popular, notwithstanding it is usually but a shade of its original as one knows it in its own home. The same may be said of sausages, in the compounding of which the Teuton is master of the world. Different nations, like different individuals, enjoy things in their own way, and who shall determine whether the Gaul or the Teuton makes the most of the fleeting hour, which necessarily includes the pleasures attendant upon the daily nourishment of man?

Who that has visited the land of the three fluvial graces--the Rhein, the Neckar, and the Donau--does not retain pleasant memories of some native dish partaken of amid picturesque surroundings?--a Hasenbraten, a Pfannkuchen, a duck, a Bockwurst, Knackwurst, or a Wienerwürstle that fairly melts in one's mouth. How lovely those trout which were served at the Wolfsbrunnen at Heidelberg, which you savoured in the cool of the evening after seeing them caught fresh from the spring itself! The Spätzle and Nudeln and sour sauce, too, which rival the national dish of Italy; the veal cutlets and sautéd potatoes, which one never meets as perfect as in southern Germany, and that attain their supreme excellence in a summer Gasthof garden, must likewise ever be held in grateful remembrance. How golden the landscape looked through your Rhein wine Römer, how drowsily the clouds floated over the Odenwald, and how delightfully the evening breeze awoke the responsive chords of the beeches! In whatever direction one may turn, there is always a haven for the hungry and the thirsty. No hill is too high, no valley too remote for its font of refreshment, where the tap is invariably fresh and the shrine of more substantial "restoration" is seldom to be despised. On every hand one may find the welcome of an inn, as hearty as Shenstone's, and, where the nature of the surroundings will allow, one may readily verify the lines of the old poet:

"Nun kommt der grüne Berg wo selbsten auch nichts fehlt, Von dem was das Gemüth ermuntert und erfreuet; Deshalb wird er auch vielfältiglich erwählet, Er hat den schönsten Stof zur grösten Fröhlichkeit."

(Well stored with all that gladd'neth man, The green hill rises, cool and fair; And many a pilgrim, spent and wan, Doth quaff from font of Münchner there.)

Clearly, the _Gemüthlichkeit_ of the Germans, a word for which an equivalent scarcely exists in any other language, may be traced to the national beverages and an alimentation with which they harmonise--with golden opportunities to cultivate it in the Wirthshaus, Gasthof, restaurant, and beer-garden.

In many of the larger restaurants and beer-gardens which are conducted on a scale that is well defined by the favourite term, "kolossal," the great Speisekarte, ornately decorated and rubricated in the olden style, is grandly in evidence. A typical index to good cheer may be taken from almost any of the vast breweries of Munich, with their long lists of Braten, Wildpret, Pfannengerichte, Eierspeisen, Salat and Compots. On some of these appears an epitome of the corps of assistants, including the white-aproned waitresses with their names and characteristics, and the great array of help that is necessary to slake the thirst and appease the hunger of a German multitude. The conclusion of the Speisekarte of the Löwenbräukeller may be cited as an example:

=Gesammt-Personal der Restauration Löwenbräukeller München=

Concert-Saal oder Garten

1 Ursula, die Oberkellnerin, 18[24] 2 Therese, die Schwarze, 8 3 Grethi, die Dicke, 13 4 Marie, die Schwarze 5 Marie, die Tirolerin, 17 6 Anna, die Schwiegermutter, 13 7 Gertraud, die Schlanke, 9 8 Leni, die Durstige, 7 9 Marie, 6 10 Marie, die Dicke, 6 11 Pepi 12 Lina 13 Kathi, die Schwabingerin 14 Marie, die Freundliche 15 Therese 16 Marie, die Schöne 17 Veronika 18 Anna, die Stille 19 Babette 20 Anna, die Brave 21 Emilie, die Stramme 22 Marie, die Schwäbin 23 Röschen 24 Hildegard } 25 Marie, die Blonde } Gallerie 26 Marie, die Schwarze } 27 Emma } 28 Elise } I. Nebensaal 29 Betty } 30 Klara } 31 Thekla--Spiel oder 1 Thurmzimmer 32 Paula } 33 Amanda } II. Nebensaal 34 Lucie } 35 Rosa } 36 Hulda } Löwenterrasse 37 Emmy } 38 Louise } 39 Martha } untere Terrasse 40 Gusti } 41 Cäcilie } 42 Hanna } obere Terrasse 43 Adelheid } 44 Grethi, die Kleine 45 Therese, die Schwarze 46 Elise, die Große 47 Anna, die Schlanke 48 Cenzi, die Hübsche 49 Toni, die Sanfte 50 Marie, die Dicke

50 Kellnerinnen

* * * * *

1 Geschäftsführer 1 erster Cassier 2 zweite Cassiere 2 Ceremoniers 2 Billeteurs, 2 Controleurs 1 Programm-Verkäufer 4 Postkarten-Verkäufer 1 Garderobier 2 Garderobe-Cassiere 8 Garderobe-Gehilfen 1 Velociped-Aufbewahrer 1 erster Metzger 2 zweiter Metzger 1 Lehrjunge (Piccolo) 6 Schenkkassiere 6 Einschenker 1 Hausmeister 1 Hausschreiner 1 Monteur für electrische Beleuchtung 1 Hausgärtner 1 Hausknecht (Bieraufzieher) 1 Laufbursche 2 Besteckputzer 1 Buchhalterin und 1 Buffetdame 4 Buffetdamen 1 erste und 1 zweite Küchenbeschließerin 1 Weißzeugbeschließerin 1 Ober-Köchin (_chef de cuisine_) 1 erste Köchin (für Braten, Geflügel u. Wildpret) 1 zweite Köchin (für Pfannengerichte u. Ragouts) 1 dritte Köchin (für Gemüse und Eierspeisen) 1 vierte Köchin (für Spieß- und Rostbraterei) 4 Kochpraktikantinnen (Kochfräulein) 1 erste und 1 zweite Küchenmagd 1 Kupferputzerin 1 Mädchen für Speiseaufzug im Bräustübel 1 Mädchen für Speiseaufzug im großen Saal 1 Mädchen f. Speiseaufzug f. Gallerie u. Nebensaal 3 Biermädchen 1 Zimmermädchen 1 Waschmagd 6 Hausmägde

135 Personen

The cookery of Germany is, on the whole, both appetising and wholesome. In the better class of restaurants and hotels it has absorbed many modes of preparation from France, combining these with its own. Where cookery has stood still in the latter country, it has advanced in the former; and one may dine as well, perhaps, in many of its smaller towns as in most provincial hostelries beyond its borders. Its private cookery remains more distinct and preserves its local flavour. If the French are more successful with the chicken, the Germans may be relied upon to do full justice to the goose and duck. Nowhere does the fowl which saved Rome rise to the sublime heights that it does in the district of the Vosges, not only as a roast with "Compot," but in its more ethereal perfection--the goose-liver "Pastete," or pâté de foie gras.

If one desires a roast goose after the German mode, let him proceed after the following manner: Rub a young dressed goose overnight with salt, pepper, sage, thyme, and sweet marjoram inside and out; in the morning prepare a dressing as follows--a large handful of stoned raisins and Zante currants, bread crumbs, a couple of sour apples chopped fine, and one mealy potato, with butter mixed in, and all well rolled together, but put no spices in the dressing. For the gravy, boil the giblets in a little water and mash the liver in a spoonful of flour, chop the gizzard, stir these in the liquid they were boiled in, add it to the gravy in the dripping-pan, sprinkle in a little thyme, sage, and sweet marjoram, and it is done. Serve the gravy separately. When cooked and served, garnish with sliced lemons and parsley. A "Compot" of some kind, like Hagenmark, cherries with Kirsch, or even applesauce, if not too tart, should complete the dish.

The duck may be similarly treated; but a goose or duck _à l'Allemande_ would scarcely meet with favour in France, where the rules are laid down so strictly that even a slight deviation from accepted canons would be met by a hiss from parquet and gallery alike. Thus the "Almanach des Gourmands," in speaking of the young wild duck, or albran, which in October becomes a canardeau and in November a canard, mentions, among various ways of preparing it, that of serving it with turnips, adding that this honour belongs more strictly to _monsieur son père_. This gastronomic slip--that of serving turnips with a _wild_ duck--on the part of La Reynière, who is rarely caught napping in anything relating to foods or food preparations, aroused the ire of Savarin, who protests against it in these vigorous words: "The adjunction of such a vegetable as this to this noble game would be for a young wild duck an improper and even injurious proceeding, a monstrous alliance, a dishonourable degradation." On the other hand, Savarin himself was roundly denounced by M. de Courchamps for assigning a truffled turkey a place among the roasts instead of among the large pieces of the first service. This culinary heresy, he states, has lessened the esteem in which M. Brillat-Savarin has been held in other respects, and seriously hurt the reputation of his book. The ethics of gastronomy, it will be seen, are as marked as those of society, and the arrangement of a bill of fare calls for as much finesse as do the functions of a chaperon.

While the pâté de foie gras is a dish of modern times, the ancients nevertheless knew the secret of enlarging the liver of the goose; but with the relapse into barbarism the secret became lost, to remain undiscovered until the beginning of the seventeenth century. Alsace is the chosen home of the goose, and this fowl has rendered its capital more celebrated than the siege of 1870 or the marvellous façade and clock of its Münster. "My idea of heaven," said the Rev. Sydney Smith, referring to the Strassburg product, "is eating foies gras to the sound of trumpets!" For although the pâté is produced in numerous localities on the Continent, in no other place does it attain the superlative bloom and delicacy that it does in the more important manufactories of the historic city on the Ill. To think of Strassburg is to think of Doyen and his confrères and their incomparable productions, around which rise the Gothic glories of the mediæval fane, the quaintly gabled houses embellished by the craft of the wood-carver, the statues of Gutenberg and Kleber, and the town's great girdles of fortifications and inner ramparts.

It is said the pâté de foie gras is the invention of a Norman cook named Close, who was in the employ of the Maréchal de Contades, military commandant of the province from 1762 to 1788. On the retirement of the maréchal, his cook remained in Strassburg, and began the manufacture of the dish which had rendered the table of his employer famous. There were truffles in the Wasgenwald, with trained dogs to hunt them; the goose everywhere stood ready for sacrifice; while the near-by vineyards of Neuwiller, Morsbrunn, and Westhausen contributed their wines in abundance as its fluid concomitant. But the pâté did not reach its highest excellence until some time afterwards, when Doyen, a pastry-cook of great genius, already celebrated for his _chaussons_ of veal and inimitable apple-puffs, substituted the blacker, larger, and more fragrant truffle of Périgord, adding a _bouquet-garni_ composed of numerous spices. Upon the proper blending of these depends to a large extent the success of the dish, just as the special flavour of a brand of champagne results from the precise adjustment of its liqueur.

All through Alsace, wherever ponds or streams exist, may be seen daily vast flocks of geese during the summer and autumn, screaming, splashing, and diving in the water. The landscape is white with them, and the plain resounds with their clamour. Each flock, which often numbers a thousand, has its goose-herd and goose-dog. At dawn the herder sounds his reveille, beginning to assemble his charges from the most remote part of the village or hamlet. These take their place in the procession of their own accord, until the ranks are complete, and they eagerly wend their way to the coveted goal. Here they remain until evening, when, at a summons from the herder, the return journey is accomplished, each individual flock leaving the phalanx on arriving near its home. Less idyllic is the life of the town goose, when large ponds and succulent herbage are not readily accessible, the birds being confined in yards where, in place of a daily round of bathing and gossiping, they are compelled to watch the flight of the storks overhead and mark the monotonous passing of the hours as they are tolled from the Rathhaus tower. Nearly every other house or yard of the poorer classes has its geese, the young fowls alone being utilised for their livers. In late October or early November the fattening begins, a process lasting usually from two to three weeks, the prized livers--the true "golden egg" of the bird of St. Michael--then weighing from two to three pounds.

The humanitarian will protest against the cruelty of gorging the fowl to repletion, depriving it of drink, and imprisoning it in close cages to gratify the voracity of man. Yet it must be admitted that hitherto everything possible to the maintenance of the health and pleasure of the subject has been lavishly supplied, and that a brief span at most would elapse ere time must claim its victim. The fox and the goose have always been closely associated, and what applies to one may well apply to the other. "Certainly," reasons Bulwer, "in the chase itself all my sympathies are on the side of the fox. But if all individuals are to give way to the happiness of the greatest number, we must set off against the painful fate of the fox the pleasurable sensation in the breasts of numbers which his fate has the honourable privilege to excite." Without the inconveniences that the Strassburg goose is compelled to undergo in behalf of the metamorphosis of its liver, the list of _plats de prédilection_ were shorn of one of its greatest attractions, and a city now of world-wide fame must soon drag out a monotonous existence and be forgotten unless by the student of architecture--a fact duly set forth in the following stanza:

"Strasbourg tire vanité De ses pâtés de foie; Cette superbe cité Ne doit sa prospérité Qu'aux oies!"

(Can roasted Philomel a liver Fit for a pie produce?-- Fat pies that on the Rhein's sweet river Fair Strassburg bakes. Pray, who's the giver? A goose!)[25]

One should taste a pâté in Strassburg itself on a crisp November day, after a protracted stroll through the sleepy town. Then one may saunter anew through its mediæval streets and labyrinthine corridors to view the Münster whose gargoyles glower so weirdly in the moonlight, ere pausing at the Luxhof or the Spaten, where cool fountains of Münchner continually flow.

That the pâté de foie gras is a factor of gout and a prolific cause of indigestion, as is commonly asserted, is true to the same extent that holds good with many other viands when inordinately indulged in or partaken of too frequently. It was never intended to be eaten by the "terrine," and much also depends upon its freshness and the source of its manufacture. A generous slice of a fresh authentic Strassburg pâté, eaten with bread, need hold no terrors for a healthy digestion, or prove other than a source of the most delightsome recollections. Savouring it, one may again summon the surroundings of its native land--the verdant meads of the Alsace plain, the herder tending his argent flocks, the soft contours of the Vosges outlined against the distant sky.

But the alimentary resources of Germany are nowhere revealed to greater advantage than in the innumerable forms of the sausage, and it may well be questioned whether the songs of the Lorelei are not, after all, inspired by the perfection of this product, rather than called forth by the beauties of the Lurlenberg or the merits of the vineyards of the Rheingau.

To become a connoisseur of sausages in all their protean phases is no simple task. Only a German may analyse intelligently all the species and varieties, from the huge Cervelat of Braunschweig and goose-liver Trüffelwurst of Strassburg to the Salamis of Gotha and Blutwurst of Schwaben. And as the sausage is fashioned with a special view to its harmonious combination with beer, it is self-evident that one must be a beer-drinker of experience in order to pronounce upon the virtues of a given kind. "Wurst" and "Durst," Uhland long since pointed out, not only rhyme, but belong together in a material way. But by this he in no wise implied that one might choose a variety at random, with no thought of consonance as regards its liquid accompaniment, or even that one should be unmindful of climatic conditions. Thus the variety that blends best with the dark, potent Gerstensaft of Nürnberg as one quaffs it in great Seidels thick with its head of creamy foam in the Mohrenkeller, or in cool Steins in the Bratwurst-Glöcklein, would be entirely out of place as a complement to the amber Pilsener of Austria, the Weiss beer of Berlin, or even the many malt extracts of Württemberg. It is likewise equally easy to understand that a particular sausage which might appeal to one in Hanover might be utterly incongruous to the climate of the Elbe or the Neckarthal.

The delicate Bockwurst, composed of veal and pork, should be used with Bock beer, for which it was especially designed. The juicy Knackwurst, with its flavour of garlic, which belongs to the family of the Frankfurt and Wienerwurst, is eminently worthy its exalted place as a garnish to Sauerkraut, where the Mettwurst and the Schwartenmagen would sound a discordant note. To determine the precise kind that should be taken with the Münchner Hof-Bräu, as it is dispensed in the Café and Garten of the Hotel Royal at Stuttgart, where the regal beer of Munich reaches its apotheosis, would require a more extended experience than might be contributed by the writer. A Knackwurst, possibly, may be suggested during the summer, and a Bratwurst in winter. And yet this would depend largely upon the hour of the evening, as well as on the recommendations of the Kellnerin. Not more dissimilar are the hams of the thick-jowled swine of Westphalia and those of the long-snouted brindled hogs of Rothenburg an der Tauber, than are the various sausages of different districts. Indeed, with the sausage alone Germany might form a rampart round the world, and float a navy upon her daily tide of beer.

Of the innumerable varieties, the well-known Cervelat is the largest, and of these the most colossal come from Braunschweig, which also produces the finest Knack-and Zungenwürste, the finest truffled geese-liver as well as calves'-liver sausages coming from Strassburg. Although the Plockwurst, the diminutive Wienerbrühwürstchen, the tiny Lübecker Saucisschen, the Schlackwurst, and very many other kinds are not included in the subjoined list relating to this specialty, its perusal will be found of absorbing interest by the connoisseur, and its study remind the too unobservant traveller who has sojourned in Germany of, alas! how many neglected opportunities. The quotations are given in marks and kilograms, the mark equalling twenty-five cents and the kilogram being equivalent to a little over two pounds. The record being that of a north-German shop, southern Germany is only meagrely represented, and the list sounds its own praises too well to call for comment:

_Preis Verzeichniss._

_Per Kilo._ _Braunschweiger._ _M._ _Pf._ Cervelatwurst 4. Mettwurst 3. 60 Trüffelleberwurst 4. Sardellenleberwurst 3. 60 Feine Leberwurst 3. Zungenblutwurst 3. 20 Blutwurst, geräuchert 2. 40 Frische Sulze in Blase Blut- und Leberwürste, Stück 25

_Gothaer._ Cervelatwurst I 3. 60 " II " homöopatische " Grobschnitt Salamis 4. Mortadella gekocht 4.

_Göttinger._ Mettwurst

_Colmar._ Gänselebertrüffelwurst 7

_Gothaer._ Feine Leberwurst, geräuchert 3. 60 Knackwürste, Paar 35 Jagdwürste 65 Zungenblutwurst 3. 20 Blutwurst 2. 80 Paaszsülze 3. 60

_Thüringer._ Cervelatwurst Schwartenmagen 2. 80 Blutwurst, frische, haussch 2. 80 Knackwürste, Paar 40

_Westfälischer._ Schinkenroulade 4.

_Strassburger._ Gänselebertrüffelwurst 7. Kalbslebertrüffelwurst 4. Salamis di Verona Mortadella di Bologna

_Wiener._ Selchwürstchen, Paar 25 Saucisschen 13

_Frankfurter._ Bratwürste, Paar 45

_Janer'sche._ Bratwürste, Paar 45

_Regensburger._ Wurst, Paar

_Berliner._ Erbswurst, Stück 65

_Schomberger._ Delikatesswürstchen

How they shine in their silken skins, these triumphs of the _Metzgerei_, seen through the plate-glass of a Delikatessen shop--ebon and bronze, russet and red, blonde and grey, mottled and veined, of all hues and all sizes: long and slender, plump and fat, curved like a crescent, round-barrelled and egg-shaped, as if their juices and spices were eager to be set free; some that gain in succulence by time; others that, like the rose, have but their hour in which to be plucked.