“Yes, sir, a private room for two.”
“No, not for two—for six.”
“Oh! I don’t mean that, sir: I want a rump-steak for two,” said he; “stewed tripe for one—three grogs—bottle pale Bass.” And off he went to the coffee-room.
“Plague upon the fellow!” said I to myself.
As the barmaid could not give me any information upon the subject, and I perceived through a half-opened door on the right-hand side of the bar a table laid for six, I went in, making sure it was for my friends, and that they had not yet arrived. Indeed, I had myself returned from my appointment much sooner than I had expected. I sat down, and was reading the evening paper, when a waiter came in. “After you with the paper, sir.”
“I have done; you may take it.”
“There’s the Times, sir, if you have not seen it.”
“No, I have not; let me have a look at it.” After reading one of the leaders, my attention was drawn to a long article written by the Crimean correspondent of that journal. When I had read it carefully a second time, a few minutes’ reflection on my part enabled me to collect my ideas, and established in my mind a certain assurance that I could, if allowed by Government, render service in the cooking of the food, the administration of the same, as well as the distribution of the provisions. These were matters in which I could detect, through the description of that eye-witness, the writer of the above-mentioned article, some change was much needed. I therefore wrote the following letter to the Times, it being then nearly one o’clock in the morning:—
THE HOSPITAL KITCHENS AT SCUTARI.
To the Editor of the Times.
Sir,—After carefully perusing the letter of your correspondent, dated Scutari, in your impression of Wednesday last, I perceive that, although the kitchen under the superintendence of Miss Nightingale affords so much relief, the system of management at the large one in the Barrack-hospital is far from being perfect. I propose offering my services gratuitously, and proceeding direct to Scutari, at my own personal expense, to regulate that important department, if the Government will honour me with their confidence, and grant me the full power of acting according to my knowledge and experience in such matters.
I have the honour to remain, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
A. Soyer.
Feb. 2, 1855.
After despatching this letter, I again inquired about my friends and my anticipated supper, which for some time had escaped my memory. “Did you ring, sir?”
“No, I did not, sir, but the bell has;” recognising my stupid waiter.
“Oh, sir! are you here?”
“Of course I am; don’t you see me?”
“Well, sir, your friends have had supper; they inquired everywhere for you; I told them you could not wait, as you had two ladies to see home as far as Brompton.”
“You foolish fellow! I never spoke to you about ladies, Brompton, or any such thing; I merely asked you where my friends were to sup; to which you replied, ‘Rump-steak for two, tripe for one, two taters, pat of butter, one pale Bass, and three kidneys for a gentleman, underdone.’”
“No more you did, sir. It was number three who told me to say so; not you, sir; you’re quite right, sir!”
“I am sure I am right; but as for you, your head is quite wrong!”
“Well, I assure you, sir, we have so much to do at times, we hardly know what we are about.”
“I don’t think you do,” said I, sharply.
“But I tell you what, sir, they are there still, and you had better go to them.”
“No, it is too late now; give them this note from me when they go out; and here is sixpence for yourself, for through your mistake you have after all rendered me a service. I did not wish to come here this evening, as I have an early engagement for to-morrow, so I will have a bit of supper and go home.”
“Well, do, sir; I thank you, and am very glad I have given you satisfaction at last.”
“Send Little Jack here; he knows what I like for supper.”
“Hallo, Mr. Soyer, everybody in the coffee-room has been inquiring after you this evening,” said Little Jack upon entering.
“I know; but that foolish waiter who was here just now made such a mull of everything, that he quite upset our party; I could not get any answer from him, so I made sure this table was laid out for us, and here I stuck.”
“No, sir, your friends supped in the coffee-room, and are still there, if you like to have your supper near them.”
“No, no; give me what you like here.”
“What shall it be, sir? oysters, broiled kidneys, chops, steaks, stewed tripe, broiled bones?”
“Have you nothing else?”
“Yes, sir, grilled fowl and scalloped oysters; only they will take some time preparing.”
“Well, give me scalloped oysters, and my favourite Welsh rare-bit, made in my style—you know; a pint of port wine, and fresh toast for the rare-bit.”
“Yes, sir; the cook knows—I’ll tell him it is for you.”
“But how is it you never vary your supper bill of fare? it is very scanty of choice for such a large tavern as this. I do not mean to complain, but give a little change now and then, by introducing a few new dishes.”
“Ah! you’re right, sir; it would please the customers, and be much better for us waiters, to have something new to offer; but, bless you, sir! I have been many years in this place, and it was always the same; and no doubt will remain so for as long again, unless a gentleman like you takes it in hand—they would then attend to it; but, of course, you have something else to do.”
“So I have; yet I don’t see why, in my next book upon cookery, I should not devote a few pages to the London suppers. I intend doing so, and, when published, I shall be happy to present you with a copy.”
“That will be first-rate, sir; I thank you, and wont I recommend the new dishes à la Soyer, as some of our customers call them!”
“Well, my man, upon second thoughts, as you seem so anxious about it, and I am not going to join my friends, give me a pen and ink, and while supper is preparing, I will write a few practical receipts, which can be easily introduced without interfering with your duty or the kitchen; they will, no doubt, prove agreeable to your customers, who are in general a class of bon vivants, fond of good things as well as of variety in the bill of fare.”
“Here is the pen, paper, and ink, sir.”
“Thank you; come again in about twenty minutes, and they shall be ready; or, if you are not in a hurry, stay.”
“No, sir, I am not; our supper business is over.”
“Well, now listen: first, I do not intend to criticise your bill of fare, which is as much varied, if not more so, than that offered at other large taverns, and it is quite as well executed. Now, respecting kidneys—you consume a large quantity of them?”
“So we do, sir.”
“Then I will give you a receipt or two for dressing them:—
No. 1.—Take two kidneys, split them lengthways as close to the sinew as possible without parting them; remove the thin skin, lay them flat upon the table,