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Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
Digestion, much like Love and Wine, no trifling will brook:
His cook once spoiled the dinner of an Emperor read more
Digestion, much like Love and Wine, no trifling will brook:
His cook once spoiled the dinner of an Emperor of men;
The dinner spoiled the temper of his Majesty and then
The Emperor made history--and no one blamed the cook.
Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the
copper. A smell like a washing-day! That read more
Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the
copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A
smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each
other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the
pudding.
Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.
Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.
Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks are gentlemen.
Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks are gentlemen.
She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have
cleft his club to make the fire too.
She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have
cleft his club to make the fire too.
To make a ragout, first catch your hare.
[Fr., Poure faire un civet, prenez un lievre.]
To make a ragout, first catch your hare.
[Fr., Poure faire un civet, prenez un lievre.]
Ever a glutton, at another's cost,
But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
Ever a glutton, at another's cost,
But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs,
When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs
read more
Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs,
When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs
And sweeten'd by all that is sweetest in life
Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife!
But if, out of humour, and hungry, alone
A man should sit down to dinner, each one
Of the dishes which the cook chooses to spoil
With a horrible mixture of garlic and oil,
The chances are ten against one, I must own,
He gets up as ill-tempered as when he sat down.
