In my
never-ending study of food and cooking, I’ve been dipping into the
writings of the 19th century French essayist Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, in particular, his Physiology of Taste
(a delightful translation by M.F.K. Fisher).
Now, I love to
throw dinner parties, so I was particularly interested in the chapter
in his treatise dedicated to “the Pleasures of the Table.”
“This pleasure,” Brillat-Savarin says, “can be savored almost
to the full whenever the four following conditions are met with: food
at least passable, good wine, agreeable companions, and enough time.”
“The Professor” (as M.F.K. Fisher
refers to him) then goes on to query, “[b]ut...how can one possibly
assemble, in this year of grace 1825, a meal which will meet all the
conditions necessary to attain the ultimate in the pleasures of the
table?” In response to this question, he provides us with a list of
rules:
I am about to answer that question. Draw near, Reader, and pay heed:
it is Gasterea, the loveliest of the muses, who inspires me; I shall speak more
clearly than an oracle, and my precepts will live throughout the
centuries.
“Let the number of guests be no more than twelve, so that
conversation may always remain general;
“Let them be so chosen that their professions will be varied, their
tastes analogous, and that there such points of contact that the
odious formality of introductions will not be needed;
“Let the dining room be more than amply lighted, the linen of
dazzling cleanliness, and the temperature maintained at from sixty to
sixty-eight degrees Farenheit;
“Let the gentlemen be witty without pretension, and the ladies
charming without too much coquetry;
“Let the dishes be of exquisite quality, but limited in their
number, and the wines of the first rank also, each according to its
degree;
“Let the progression of the former be from the most substantial to
the lightest, and of the latter from the simplest wines to the
headiest;
“Let the tempo of eating be moderate, the dinner being the last
affair of the day: the guests should behave like travelers who must
arrive together at the same destination;
“Let the coffee be piping hot, and the liqueurs of the host’s
especial choice;
“Let the drawing room which awaits the diners be large enough to
hold a card table for those who cannot do without it, with enough
space left for after-dinner conversations;
“Let the guests be disciplined by the restraints of polite society
and animated by the hope that the evening will not pass without its
rewarding pleasures;
“Let the tea be not too strong, the toast artfully buttered, and
the punch made with care;
“Let the leavetakings not begin before eleven o’clock, but by
midnight let every guest be home and abed.”
If anyone has attended a party combining all these virtues, he can
boast that he has known perfection, and for each one of them which
has been forgotten or ignored he will have experienced the less
delight.
Although nearly two centuries have now
passed since the Professor’s time, I believe that he is right: Most
of his precepts do indeed still live on—and hold true perhaps even
more so now, in this era of instantaneous satisfaction of ones
desires (think cell phones, laptops, fast food), than they did in the
19th century.
We could all stand to learn from the
Professor, and take more time to sit down with friends at the table
and pass a leisurely evening in animated conversation whilst savoring
a homemade meal (not to mention that buttered toast and punch which
follow!).
