Chapter XVII: Sweets to the Sweet 428 (12)

The truffle! what a fragrance its very name exhales. A flower like the rose, but more enduring, say its admirers. This strange food product has been studied by botanists, sung by poets, extolled by epicures, and accorded certain rare attributes by physicians. Unseen, it is sought for by entire communities; and discovered, it is treasured as a priceless gem of the table. Savarin defined it as the diamond of the kitchen. By La Reynière it was previously referred to as a sample of Paradise, and later eulogised as possessing a torrent of delights; while by Dumas it was pronounced the _sacrum sacrorum_ of the gastronomer. It may, in truth, be regarded as the superlative of esculents, its powerful and delectable aroma dominating that of all other aliments with which it may come in contact. To the cuisine of winter it is what the violet is to the chaplet of spring. The old Greeks and Romans were extremely partial to it, although the varieties known to them and mentioned by Pliny differed from the famous Tuber melanosporum of southern France--the blackest and, as regarded by many, the most perfumed and delicious of its curious and widely distributed family. About 1825, under Minister Villèle, it came into greatest vogue in Paris, when the subject was taken up by the press, and so much was written in praise of the tuber that the demand soon increased threefold, and its price became correspondingly augmented.

Like the mushroom, the truffle is impatient of keeping when gathered. Preserved truffles, as a rule, are but a semblance of the fresh product when eaten at its precise maturity; and those who know this thallogen only in the former state have little idea of its marvellous flavour when fresh and in full possession of its virtues, whether it be served by itself or utilised as a vehicle for heightening the flavours of other dishes. Its use demands the knowledge of an artist; for it is only with certain forms of aliments that it should be employed. The onion and the mushroom detract from its savour, and it is chiefly in conjunction with fatty substances that its most expressive results are attained. By French epicures it is tacitly understood that there can be no grand dinner without truffles. "Who would dare to say," exclaims Savarin, "that he has attended a repast where a _pièce truffée_ did not figure! However good an entrée may be, it should always be accompanied by truffles to set it off advantageously." Its harmonious association with grain-fed fowls is proverbial,--so much so, it has been remarked, that at a well-composed dinner every phrase which may have begun should be suspended upon the arrival of a truffled turkey. Berchoux thus alludes to its use with fowls,--

"L'abondance est unie à la délicatesse,
La truffe a parfumé la poularde de Bresse."

(The truffle yields its most adored caress
When tuck'd within a tender fowl of Bresse.)

At a dinner where the renowned naturalist Buffon was present, a truffled Périgueux turkey was brought in with great éclat. Inspired by the penetrating aroma, an elderly lady who was among the guests inquired of Buffon where the tuber grew. "At your feet, Madame," was the ready reply. The lady not understanding, it was thus explained to her: "_C'est aux pieds des charmes_" (at the feet of yoke-elm trees). The compliment passed as a happy one. Towards the end of the dinner some one asked the same question of Buffon, who, forgetful of his elderly vis-à-vis, innocently replied, "They grow _aux pieds des vieux charmes_" (old yoke-elm trees). The lady overheard him, and it is unnecessary to state was no longer impressed with his genius as a naturalist, or with the fact that a soup had been named in his honour by the great Carême.

Though common to many countries, and comprising numerous species, the truffle attains its greatest excellence in France, unless the white truffle of Italy, which is considered equally good by many, be excepted. Its chosen haunts are clayey soils mixed with sand and limestone, moist, shaded, and temperate localities, southerly and easterly expositions, protected slopes, and especially the umbrage of oaks, as also of aspens, black poplars, nut-trees, yoke-elms, willows, and white birches. Limestone or carbonate of lime is accounted as necessary to its formation, while the presence of iron imparts to it an added firmness and aroma. Despite persistent efforts, all attempts to cultivate it have proved fruitless. It is only of recent years that it has become known in part how it is propagated or how it grows. Among trees, the oak is its most favoured companion, its artificial production having been accomplished wholly through the cultivation of oaks and certain other trees in soils and expositions corresponding to its natural habitat.

By general consent Périgord is credited with producing the best truffles, the next in commercial repute being those obtained from Provence and Dauphiné; the finest of the former come from the canton of Sarlat, the best of Dauphiné from the cantons of Tain and Valence. Among authorities, Beauvilliers preferred the black product of Provence (T. melanosporum), of which there are two varieties, the so-termed violet and the grey; and Savarin the white species (T. magnatum), obtained preferably from Piedmont, where it occurs beneath poplars and oaks during summer. The whitish-brown truffle of Italy, in its early stage, similar to the whitebait described by Thackeray, possesses an "ambrosial flavour," and is difficult to surpass, combining as it does all the most ethereal qualities of the Allium tribe with the dulcet pungency of Gorgonzola when in its freshest flower. A species exists which emits a powerful scent of musk, while numerous others occur with odours so rank as to be utterly unfit for edible purposes. Northern Spain produces excellent truffles, but these are comparatively short-lived. T. æstivum, called "summer truffle," indigenous to many countries, is extremely plentiful in southern France. It is common to England, where it grows most frequently under beech-trees. This exhales a strong and penetrating smell which has been compared to that of sheep-folds. The effluvium of garlic is always very marked in the white truffle of Italy, and by some it is said to recall the odour of garlic mixed with onion, high game, and matured cheese. After standing for a time, when its garlic flavour has become somewhat modified, it is also suggestive of the flavour of vegetable-oysters. Indeed, the truffle is as strange in its odours as it is in its manner of growth, and in certain respects it brings to mind some characteristics of that strangest of flowers, the orchid.

From November to March is the season when the prized dark tuber is most abundant, and during which its highest qualities are evolved. The black pearl of Provence and Périgord begins to take on its rich ebon hue in October, lasting until April: æstivum and its varieties being gathered during May and June in Provence, and from October to January in Burgundy and Champagne. The species of greatest repute in southern France is found at variable depths, mostly beneath certain oaks known as _chênes truffiers_, or truffle-oaks. With it often occurs another species, T. brumale, which is likewise held in much esteem and figures as a large commercial factor. Among the inhabitants the truffle harvest forms an extensive industry; pigs, dogs, and professional hunters being utilised for the quest, and the crop always commanding high prices, which are fixed by the Paris market. When the supply happens to be short, many inferior species are substituted or are mixed with the genuine.

Of recent years artificial _truffières_ have been largely planted in the favoured districts of southern France. To M. Rousseau, a proprietor of Vaucluse, has been erroneously ascribed the discovery of this means of production. Already during the middle of the eighteenth century M. de Montclar, procureur-général at Aix, discovered truffles as the result of sowing acorns on his lands; but, the truffles disappearing subsequently, no further attention was paid to the matter, and the relation between cause and effect passed unnoticed or was forgotten. Since then Poitou, Périgord, and Provence have each claimed to be the discoverer of artificial truffle culture. It is within a comparatively short period only that the merit of originating the system, now a source of great revenue, was adjudged, after painstaking investigation, to Joseph Talon, a small landholder of Vaucluse, who about eighty years ago sowed some acorns in an unremunerative piece of ground. Ten years afterwards, while passing through the plantation with the pig he employed in hunting, he was not a little surprised to find truffles beneath the oaks; when, recollecting that he had obtained the acorns from a truffle-oak, he repeated the sowing on another plot, which in course of time proved equally successful. The theory was established beyond a doubt, and the result finally became generally known, despite his efforts to keep it secret.

Many unsuccessful attempts at artificial truffle-raising have been made. In 1830 Alexander Bernholz, a German, published a long treatise on the subject, his theory being that by planting truffles in soil composed of certain ingredients, and in localities and expositions corresponding to their natural habitat, they could be successfully grown. Count Noé, in the south of France, is said to have succeeded in raising truffles in his woods by irrigating the ground, after a certain degree of preparation, with water in which the skins of truffles had been rubbed. But this statement, as well as other reputed successful attempts at reproduction, would not seem to have been borne out in France, where the planting of young truffle-oaks, the acorns of truffle-oaks, or certain other truffle-producing trees alone has accomplished the desired result.

In artificial plantations the truffles form in from six to ten years, usually disappearing when the trees are twenty-five or thirty years old. Then, after a variable period of non-production, the tuber often forms again. As the truffle-tree develops, the vegetable growth which surrounds it begins to decline, a certain index that truffles are commencing to form--the ground round a truffle-producing tree being always sterile. When the truffles cease the herbage again appears.

Though many unsatisfactory reasons have been ascribed for the phenomenon, it has been traced by M. Grimblot to the simple fact that the filaments of the mycelium invade and destroy the roots of herbaceous vegetation. Similarly, vegetation asserts itself when the cause is removed. With young trees the truffles are usually found close to the trunk, whereas with old trees they generally appear near the periphery of the circle formed by the outer roots, as well as at a distance further removed, but usually within the shade of the tree. To what extent the humus of the soil formed by the droppings of the leaves is responsible is not stated. In many respects the subject remains, as it has always remained, a complex phenomenon that baffles the naturalist, who is usually content to refer to the truffle as an "underground fungus," or "an order of sporidiiferous fungi of subterranean habit." Perhaps the definition of Dr. C. de Ferry de la Bellone, which may be summarised as follows, is as accurate as any: "A subterraneous mushroom with a mycelium or filamentous body, from which it is developed, like the mushroom, and which requires the roots of certain trees for its formation."[52] The theory that the truffle owes its genesis to the roots of trees, or is in some mysterious manner connected with them, might be accepted as satisfactory were it not that species are also found in open places where the argument could not apply.

While the roots of most kinds of oaks, both deciduous and evergreen, appear to be favourable for its generation, it has been found that in a given region the best species to propagate are those which have already produced the tuber in the locality in question, certain varieties seeming to be more liable to reproduce it than others. Climate, altitude, and exposition are also to be considered as regards the choice of the kinds selected for plantations. The arboriculturist and mycologist will be interested in the various truffle-producing oaks that may be utilised, according to the site, soil, and climatic conditions. These embrace the following species and varieties: Quercus pedunculata, Q. ped. pubescens, Q. semi-ped., Q. sessiliflora nigra, Q. nigra sessil. glabra, Q. nigra sessil. pub., Q. sessil. pub., Q. sessil. laciniata, Q. sessil. magna pubes, Q. ilex, Q. coccifera. All kinds of nut-trees are likewise favourable to its production, and may be planted almost indiscriminately. The range of T. melanosporum is broadly defined as between latitude 49° north and 40° south; the question of quality depending, like that of many other esculents, largely on climate and habitat. As in the same vineyard certain portions yield a superior wine, so on particular slopes of localities that favour the truffle a product of finer quality is obtained.

Besides the usual means of locating the truffle, its presence is revealed by several species of coleopterous and dipterous insects which, during late autumn and winter, on temperate days swarm in the truffle-woods, attracted by the scent. These insects seek the tuber in which to deposit their eggs, and are observed entering and leaving the ground--a circumstance which gave rise to the opinion that the truffle was only a gall. This form of truffle-hunting is practised chiefly by poachers, and is known as _la chasse à la mouche_.

The statement that the canned truffle is but a shade of its original will bear modifying in certain instances where only the best species have been utilised, after scrupulous selection, before they are wormy or overripe, and where they have been preserved by the "Appert process," _au naturel_, without oil, brandy, or vinegar, in hermetically sealed cans, and used before they have been thus preserved for a long period. Under these conditions the species melanosporum and magnatum retain no little of their pristine virtues, and may still glorify a sauce or dignify a Châteaubriand. To the skill of the cook the result will be principally due. Inasmuch as the truffles have already been subjected to several hours' ebullition, they should only be finely sliced and gently heated in order that their flavour may not be dissipated by the cooking. The dish they are to grace should be prepared first, and so soon as the truffles are ready it should be immediately served under cover. Perhaps as good a medium for utilising the preserved product is a steak with a bordelaise sauce in which garlic or shallots should figure very lightly. The comparative excellence of the preserved truffle will depend, of course, upon freshness and the probity and care of the merchant.

One may obtain all sorts of truffles with attractive labels, as one may obtain attractively labelled Château wines that may "leave everything to be desired."

At a dinner where a _bon vivant_ was expected, the truffle figured in a novel manner.

"A friend who is very fond of good things is to be my guest over Sunday," said the host to the cook, who was an excellent practitioner in certain lines; "and I want you to use truffles plentifully some way."

"How shall I cook them, Mr. S? Mrs. S. isn't here."

"Oh, I don't know; anyway, I'm in a great hurry, and I'll leave it to you."

The soup was admirable, the lobster _à la Newburgh_ perfect, and the entrée and pommes soufflées left nothing to be wished for. To the surprise of all, a large, heaping dish of truffles, charred, highly spiced, and finely minced and served as a vegetable, appeared with the roast.

The host remained imperturbable, a vestige of a frown clouded the usually placid face of madame, the butler poured the Chambertin, and the truffles were passed by.

"You are the most expensive guest I have had in a long time," remarked the host, with a smile, the following day. "I must think what we can have this evening for dinner; or, better, consult with madame. There is plenty of champagne in which to cook truffles, if the cook and the truffles were in evidence. I told her I wanted plenty of truffles for you, and the remaining eleven cans of the dozen in the larder were tendered you last night."

The truffle has formed the theme of numerous books and treatises. To the French gastronomer who may obtain the fresh product during a large portion of the year, the work of M. M. Moynier will unquestionably prove of the greatest value--a major portion being devoted to a scientific analysis of the various dishes, with their recipes, in which the esculent may properly figure. It is justly claimed by the author that wine is an indispensable accompaniment of this "astonishing production" or any dish in which it may enter; but that sweet champagne to which women are so partial masks rather than quickens its flavour.[53] The mycologist who simply wishes to know the species and habits of hypogæus fungi will no doubt prefer the monograph of Vittatini, Milan, 1831; that of M. Tulasne, Paris, 1852; and the instructive work of Dr. de Ferry already cited. Few more interesting fields for research offer themselves than that presented by the black pearl which is concealed beneath the soil--living its strange life beyond the ken of human eye, and revealing itself only through the agency of the animals employed by man to discover it, and of the insect tribes that hover above it in their dance of rivalry and love.

Savarin, above all writers, has considered the truffle philosophically in his comparatively brief reference; and although he failed to answer the question, "What is the truffle, how is it produced, and how does it grow?" he has still appraised its virtues in his own inimitable way. That it is digestible has been amply proven before, and this point did not require his researches to substantiate. The only charges that history records against it are gluttony in eating it, and the fact that Lartius Licinius, a person of prætorian rank, while minister of justice at Carthage in Spain, upon biting a truffle found a denarius inside, which cost him the loss of a tooth--a proof to Pliny that it was nothing but an agglomeration of elementary earth. Of certain attributes it is supposed to possess, the sixth Meditation of the "Physiology," to which the reader is referred, will speak clearly for itself; and it will be sufficient to transcribe the conclusion of the learned chancellor's deductions:

"_La truffe n'est point un aphrodisiaque positif; mais elle
peut en certaines occasions rendre les femmes plus tendres et
les hommes plus aimables._"

Referring to Savarin's conclusion, Dr. de Ferry makes this statement, based on professional experience:

"_Sur l'individu sain et bien portant, la truffe excite des
fonctions spéciales.... La truffe peut ajouter seulement
aux qualités de ceux qui possèdent; elle n'est plus d'aucun
secours à ceux qui, n'ayant pas géré leur capital en bons
pères de famille, ont consommé leur ruine._"

Little attention has been paid to the question whether edible truffles equal to the best European species exist within the broad area of the United States, whence so many useful and delicious food products and flavourings have sprung. M. Moynier states that he has tasted most excellent truffles from Brazil; and that a grey species of merit, round in form, is found on the right bank of the Mississippi--a somewhat vague statement, in view of the length of that river. The only species that Saccardo's "Sylloge" credits to this country is T. macrosporum, said to have been found in Pennsylvania. Some years ago Mr. W. R. Gerard reported having discovered T. dryophilum on Staten Island. Rhizopogon rubescens, a puff-ball, grows underground in the Southern States, and is sometimes mistaken for the truffle; also certain species of Scleroderma, or puff-balls which are partially underground. There are besides some of the false truffles of the genus Elaphomyus in the Eastern States. It will thus be seen that the subterranean fungi belong to three distinct orders. Dr. H. W. Harkness, in 1899, issued in the California Academy of Science Proceedings an illustrated article on the Hypogæus Fungi of California, wherein he describes thirteen species, of which seven are new and all of which he pronounces edible, though few, if any, of them are found in abundance or are worth considering from a practical standpoint.

Facsimile of frontispiece, 1822]

From this it may be inferred that if these fungi could be diligently sought for in other States by those who have carefully studied the haunts and habitat of the tuber abroad, many desirable species might be found to belong to our country. Dr. Harkness does not mention T. melanosporum among Californian species. At present we do not know whether this or T. magnatum, or some form possessing equally adorable qualities, occurs in our country at all; but they and others, it is possible, may yet be unearthed to disclose to the epicure a true "sample of Paradise." To do this, trained truffle-pigs and-dogs must be brought into requisition; and should the search then be unrewarded, the truffle-oak must needs be imported and planted under conditions corresponding to those of its native habitat. Let America add the truffle to her already rich alimentary resources, by all means, even if she must remain content with the wines of France as supplied from oversea.

* * * * *

If the truffle may be described as an occult vegetable substance with no stem, cap, or visible mycelium, in great repute with epicures, and most generally found firmly embedded beneath the surface of _pâté de foie gras_,--the mushroom, common to nearly all latitudes, grows in visible profusion, and may be readily obtained for the seeking. Some knowledge of genera and species, nevertheless, becomes necessary if one would avail himself of this nutritious esculent. One must know what to avoid as well as what to choose; for often highly dangerous sorts are very nearly allied to the harmless.

Of recent years the study of fungi has received considerable attention, and the mushroom has become much better known with us than formerly. Compared with European countries, however, the average person still knows little concerning its edible varieties. Few are unacquainted with the most prevalent form, Agaricus campestris, whose shining white pileus dots the meadows, pastures, and roadsides. But whether familiar or unknown out of doors, no introduction to it will be required at table. Its very mention makes one's mouth water, and evokes a longing for the cool shadows of fall and the restful minor of the crickets' choir.

To appreciate it thoroughly, one should gather it himself, or, rather, in congenial companionship. And as its form is typical of femininity in its rounded contours, its white satiny gown and rose-silk petticoat, to say nothing of its dainty veil and frill, it is eminently proper that madame or mademoiselle, as the case may be, should join in the quest. On a bland September day, therefore, let the lanes and pastures remote from the highway be explored in company when the first ripening sprays of the sugar-maple are commencing to brighten and the clusters of the everlasting are beginning to unfold. Then will the delights of the chase prove doubly enjoyable; and with the common agaric as the object of pursuit there will equally be little danger from mistaken varieties. At most, the harmless horse-mushroom may obtrude, to be plucked and cast aside.

But the mushroom is far from being confined to the pastures and fields, or its duration limited to a few weeks of autumn; and despite the excellent general dietetic advice of the fourth satire of the second book, Horace's dictum should not be taken too seriously,--

"Best flavoured mushrooms meadow-land supplies,
In other kinds a dangerous poison lies."

By many A. Rodmani, the small compact species common to cities and found growing along the sidewalks and curb, is preferred to campestris. Less rich, it still possesses a full, nutty fragrance and flavour, and is more digestible. Even more distinguished is another agaric, Lepiota procura, or the tall parasol-mushroom--one of the most delicious of all edible fungi. Many valuable species throng the woods and shady places during a large portion of the genial season, to push through the mould or clothe the stumps and decaying logs--in most instances ungathered or unseen. And though Claudius, Tiberius, Pope Clement VII, Charles V of France, Czar Alexis of Russia, and many other celebrated personages met their death from eating deleterious mushrooms, and every year scores of families are poisoned through them, the esculent continues to occupy a highly exalted place among aliments. Ignorance and carelessness are almost entirely responsible for disastrous results, owing to its use as food, although ill effects naturally occur through over-indulgence in eating perfectly harmless varieties, or where these may have passed the edible stage. Extremely rich in nitrogenous elements as well as in sapid properties, mushrooms should be sparingly partaken of. Sliced and placed on hot toast which has been moistened with broth and the juices of the cooking, one may often obtain all the flavour of the mushroom by its employment in moderate quantities, and thus over-ingestion will be avoided.

The study of fungi has always proved a fascinating one for the botanist. With the aid of nearly any of numerous monographs in which the various genera are described, as also faithfully reproduced in colours, the student and nature-lover may easily familiarize himself with at least the more important species. In his search for practical information he will be led through many a smiling scene removed from the haunts of man; while his chief precaution in his pursuit out of doors need only be to avoid the Taurus and the deadly Amanita. The trained mycologist, however, will readily distinguish between the beautiful toxic Fly-Amanita and the inviting edible orange variety, which, having graced the table of a Roman emperor, received the name "Cæsar's mushroom," whence its botanical appellation. This is the "Oronge" of the French and "Kaiserling" of the Germans, more prized, perhaps, than the Morel, the white Helvella, or the handsome Chanterelle. Its odour is said to resemble a combination of vanilla and truffles. The variety rubescens is also regarded as one of the best of edible mushrooms. Of all fungi the Amanitas are most to be feared; and while numerous other kinds possess unwholesome and forbidden properties, the dangerously poisonous belong principally to this single genus. To them Gerard's definitions, "excressences," "Toadstooles," "very venomous and full of poison," may well apply.

By the seventeenth-century poet William Browne, bard of "Britannia's Pastorals" and "The Shepherd's Pipe," the mushroom is thus alluded to:

"Down in a valley by a forest's side,
Near where the crystal Thames rolls on her waves,
I saw a mushroom stand in haughty pride
As if the lilies grew to be his slaves."

Then, after praising the daisy, violet, and other flowers whose beauty was overpowered by the fungus, he thus concludes a much-admired sonnet:

"These, with a many more, methought complained
That Nature should those needless things produce,
Which not alone the sun from others gained,
But turn it wholly to their proper use.
I could not choose but grieve that Nature made
So glorious flowers to live in such a shade."

Where noisome toadstools crowd out violets and daisies, it may be right for poets to protest. As it is, we have little in the description to guide us to the species, whether it was a desirable or an undesirable kind. There is no allusion as to its toxic properties, nor yet to its colour; and its seeming size--if the simile of the lilies be considered--may only be a license which poets are allowed. But the bard of Tavistock, whose "oaten melodye" still rings sweet and clear, has written too lovingly of trees to suppose he could perceive no use or beauty in a striking vegetable growth; and therefore the particular form he refers to would appear to have been a noxious one.

Surely, it was not the lovely mauve-coloured Cortinarius, that seeks the "forest's shade"; the expanded pea-green cope of the sweet and nutty Russula; or the glowing orange hood of the dulcet Lactarius that incurred his disapproval! Nor can one conceive it to have been the tall-stemmed, fluted-capped Coprinus, or the stylish parasolled Lepiota, which stands as upright as the stilted Bartramian sandpiper, and that is held in equal esteem by the epicure. Rather let us suppose it was the great poison Amanita, which has slain its thousands, and whose brilliant reds and salmons and yellows, and white scales borne aloft on their hollow pedestal, cry aloud from every gill, "Beware!" Or if it was not this or the equally deadly A. phalloides on which his graceful sonnet was based, it must have been the Lycoperdon which cast its shade upon the violets--the giant puff-ball that the poet did not recognise as a valuable food product when neatly sliced and fried, and that it is still the rule to kick out of one's way.

In like manner, one is curious to know what was the enormous fungus or mushroom Thoreau describes as meeting on one of his rambles, and which, in turn, incurs his malediction,--the huge thallogen he found and plucked high up on the open side of a dry hill, in the midst of and rising above the thin June grass, its sharply conical parasol in the form of a sugarloaf slightly turned up at the edges, which were rent half an inch for every inch or two. The whole length, he states, was sixteen inches, the cap being six inches long by seven wide, the stem about one inch in diameter and naked, the top of the cap pure white within and without. He marvels how its soft cone ever broke through the earth. It represents to him a vegetable force which may almost make man tremble for his dominion. It carries him back to the era of the formation of the coal measures, the age of the Saurus and the Pliosaurus, when bull-frogs were as big as bulls. What part has it to perform in the economy of the world? It brought before him pictures of parasols of Chinese mandarins; or it might have been used by the great fossil bull-frog in his walks. Returning home with it, he placed it in the cellar to note its decay. Like the mighty, it fell. By night there remained not more than two of the six inches of the height of the cap, and it went on rapidly melting from the edges upward, spreading as it dissolved till it was shaped like a dish-cover and the barrel head beneath it and its own stem looked as if a large bottle of ink had been broken there. It defiled all it touched. Is it not a giant mildew or mould? he inquires. The offspring of a night, it was wasted in a day. One thinks of Coprinus comatus--a colossal specimen of the "shaggy mane"; and doubtless this was the species encountered by the Walden sage, rearing its silver shaft through the thin June grass in his early morning tramp to Pinxter Spring.

Who has not seen and wondered at the Fairy-ring, dotting the lawns or pastures, with its eccentric habit of growing in circles or arcs of circles, and shrinking and expanding under the influence of drought and moisture? Yet how few are acquainted with its admirable qualities! But even here one must distinguish between the false and the true, and not mistake it for two of its genus, the poison buff-coloured Champignon and poison Fairy-ring, which it resembles and with which it is sometimes found associated. In like manner, the rufous hues of several edible Russulas must not be confounded with the engaging crimsons of the alveolate Boletus, or the brilliant shades of the unwholesome R. emetica, one of the most tempting of fungi to the eye. Its glowing satiny scarlet cap, set off by its white stem and gills, forms a dash of colouration on the woodland carpet that immediately challenges admiration. With various others of the alluring but dangerous fungi, it suggests some luscious tropic fruit, the flame of tulips, or the flush of Ghent azaleas. What a revel of reds, what greens and golds, what soft violets and greys, what rich russets and maroons are not unfolded by these strange fungoid flowers! The beefsteak-mushroom (Fistulina hepatica) is familiar to many as it reveals its red velvety layers or shelves on the dead trunks of oaks and chestnuts in the midsummer woods. But despite its appetising name, it has a somewhat acid flavour and leathery taste, and cannot be said to possess very palatable qualities, conditions also shared by the common Agaricus ostreatus, or oyster-mushroom.

While the canned French button-mushroom of commerce is not to be compared with the same species in its freshly gathered stage, it is nevertheless useful as a garnish, and possesses a certain flavour. Far different is the large French cèpe, one of the most delicious of esculents, corresponding to the German "Steinpilz" and our own edible Boletus, which is much less known than it deserves to be. Of the French Boletus there are two principal varieties--the _cèpe franc à la tête noir_ or _charbonnier_, common to oak woods, and the _tête rousse_ or _brune_, common to chestnut woods. The former is much more esteemed, and is most abundant in the southern departments. These, like the truffle in the preserved state, should be as fresh as possible, and those of the previous autumn gathering, put up _au naturel_ in large cans, be selected in preference. Boletus edulis, though not over-plentiful with us, may be found during warm, damp weather from July to September in woods and their margins, and sometimes in open places. Prepared _à la bordelaise_, it is a most delicious and nutritious dish, a form of preparation that may be utilised to advantage with many other firm-fleshed species. Dumas' favourite mode of preparing them was after Vuillemot's recipe; and for those who are not fond of oil, which the bordelaise and provençale manner calls for, this will doubtless prove more acceptable:

"Cut and chop the stems, adding minced parsley, breadcrumbs,
shallots, fresh butter, and a clove of chopped garlic; make
a pâté of it all, season with salt, pepper, and a little
allspice, garnish the bottom of the cèpes, sprinkle some
breadcrumbs on top, brown in a hot oven, and serve."

Here again, as Baron Brisse would say, "the trouble is trifling and the succulence extreme."

The United States has a number of edible Boleti, some distinctive and some identical with the best French species. Unfortunately, the genus contains several deleterious sorts, and these frequently are not readily distinguishable from description alone. Several of the Boleti have long been considered as among the most dangerous of the toadstool or mushroom tribe; but recent investigations tend to show that the majority are at least harmless, while many are most desirable.

Of Morels and puff-balls none is said to be poisonous. The puff-ball, however, is unfit for eating, if not absolutely poisonous, after the formation and ripening of its spores; and in gathering puff-balls great care should be taken not to mistake for them several of the poison Amanitas in their younger stage, these being similarly enveloped in a spherical sack or volva. Most mushrooms, apart from the Amanitas, are now regarded as not deadly poisonous. Indeed, McIlvaine declares that R. emetica, which he and others repeatedly partook of in liberal quantities while in the Carolinas, proved to be perfectly harmless. The viscid, glutinous types, all the so-called trembling toadstools, together with such as are unpleasant to the sense of smell, will of course be shunned, while those not well acquainted with fungi will also view with distrust the various beautiful and gorgeous species which haunt the shade.

No reliance may be placed in the "test" of the silver spoon. The novice should first of all familiarise himself with the more common species through some of the less technical treatises, or take a practical lesson from a specialist out of doors. The manner of distinguishing doubtful varieties adopted by mycologists may also be utilised by the amateur: first be guided by the shape and smell, being careful to avoid all cup-shaped kinds, or those whose juices change colour on cutting; then taste sparingly without swallowing, when, if not acrid, burning, or disagreeable, a little of the juice may be swallowed the following day, increasing the amount day by day, if no feelings of nausea occur, until the wholesomeness of the species is demonstrated. By discarding all kinds with cups or suggestion of cups, the Amanitas will be avoided. "Any mushroom, _omitting the Amanita_, which is pleasant to the taste and otherwise agreeable as to odour and texture when raw, is probably harmless," says Gibson, "and may safely be thus _ventured on_ with a view of establishing its edibility." Still, it is always well, even by the initiated, to remember the apothegm of Gavarni, "Mushrooms are like men--the bad most closely counterfeit the good."

Of the scores of treatises devoted to the subject may be specially instanced W. Hamilton Gibson's artistic volume,[54] the finely illustrated "Report of the New York State Botanist,"[55] Professor Atkinson's illustrated "Studies of American Fungi,"[56] and, finally, Captain McIlvaine's elaborate and exhaustive monograph.[57]

Recipes for the cookery of mushrooms are abundant in the cook-books and treatises on fungi; and, like the cook-books themselves, these vary from good to bad and indifferent. Some general rules regarding their proper preparation are well and briefly laid down by the Marquis de Cussy in his "Art Culinaire":

"This kind has a thick and firm texture--you will see that it
is cooked long. This other has a fine and tender flesh--you
will cook it gently in a hermetically sealed receptacle in
order that its light particles, full of life and dainty
fragrance, are not dissipated. If your mushrooms contain a
fixed and resinous matter, sprinkle them with a dry wine to
dissolve this sapid principle. With these plants you may make
intoxicating mixtures, unique infusions. Turn to Carême, he
will guide you and tell you what wine belongs to such and such
kinds--whether Pomard with its fresh taste, or Saint-Georges;
whether the delicate and sparkling Aï, or the stomachic
Haut-Brion. Read also the witty and elegant pages of M. Joseph
Roques."

The group of fungi known as mushrooms and toadstools constitutes a valuable accessory, both in themselves and in their properties of accentuating the flavour of other foods; and to those who are capable of distinguishing their many delicious species they may form, through a considerable portion of the year, a marked addition to the variety and pleasures of the table.

From an engraving after A. Couquet, R.A.]

SALLETS AND SALADS

"First then to speak of Sallets, there be some simple, some
compounded, some only to furnish out the table, and some both
for use and adornation."--GERVAISE MARKHAM: The
English Housewife.

To remember a successful salad is generally to remember a successful dinner; at all events, the perfect dinner necessarily includes the perfect salad. The mere process of salad-making is among the most simple of all those that appertain to the table: a little oil, a little vinegar, of salt and pepper each a little, the onion and the mixing, with such other herbs and condiments as the artist may elect. And yet an unexceptionable salad is as rare in the average household as a piece of old Gubbio, or a fine old Ghiordes prayer-rug. Seldom, indeed, is this refreshing dish met with as one usually finds it in France--crisp, tender, and appetising, with none of its ingredients perceptibly dominant in the _liaison_ which, first pleasingly addressing the taste, is afterwards destined to soothe and tranquillise digestion. The reason is not difficult to analyse; the happy touch which is necessary in salads and sauces being largely a matter of individual address and a growth of advanced gastronomy. For in the preparing of salads no formula that is absolute may be given, success depending upon practice, a correct taste, and minute attention to detail. Here, as in everything else that is faultless, care and experience are factors requisite to attainment. But though an infallible recipe may not be laid down, certain broad lines may be specified, the observance of which, with application, will render a good salad possible even to the neophyte.

At every season of the year some of the innumerable products of the vegetable world present themselves to be converted with the aid of the caster from the crude into the finished form; and more is the pity that the artists are not as numerous as the esculents. From the first tributes of the hot-bed--the lettuces, radishes, and garden-cress of early spring, and the cos, lettuces, and water-cresses of summer to the endives of autumn and corn-salad and chicory of winter, one has an abundance of material to choose from in what may be broadly designated the lettuce tribe, alone. When to these are added other esculents like celery, the tomato, cucumber, potato, beets, carrots, beans, celery-root, celery-turnip, etc., together with the manifold herbs and bulbous plants that may be utilised in connection with them, surely the roast should never be lacking in this its most harmonious _appoggiatura_, or the supper-table fail in one of its greatest attractions.

The salad imparts a zest to the dinner that were otherwise unattainable. What were those most delectable of game-birds that reward the sportsman's skill--the snipe and the partridge--without it? It was rightly held by Evelyn that sallets are an essential part of the daily food of man, and that no dinner is complete without one; although those who are not confirmed devotees of the salad-bowl might possibly prove sceptical as to two forms which he specifies in "Sylva,"--"I am told that those small young _Acorns_ which we find in the Stock-doves Craws are a delicious fare, as well as those incomparable _Salads_ of young herbs taken out of the maws of Partridge at a certain season of the year, which gives them a preparation far exceeding all the art of Cookery."

Of the virtues of lettuce, at any rate, there can be no doubt, Parkinson having declared that "Lettices all cool a hot and fainting stomache," and Gerarde averring that "Lettuce cooleth the heate of the stomache, called the heart-burning, and helpeth it when it is troubled with choller." And if these assertions be not sufficient, we have Savarin's assurance that "salad refreshes without weakening, and comforts without irritating"; not to mention the dictum of his illustrious predecessor La Reynière, that "the inseparable partner of the roast may reappear at each meal without ever wearying." In 1758 a German work by J. F. Schutze was published in Leipzig with the title, "Treatise on the Advantages and Disadvantages of Salads." It is difficult to imagine how a German could find aught but delight in this form of food, unless the native black radish was alluded to, or possibly the cucumber when improperly served. Rather let us at once accept the unqualified encomium of Jack Cade while in Iden's Kentish garden,--"I think this word 'sallet' was born to do me good." By the majority, the name of Sydney Smith is held to be almost synonymous with that of salad; and even though his recipe be widely familiar, it may not be overlooked in considering the literature of gastronomy:

"Our forte in the culinary line" [says the witty prelate] "is
our salads; I pique myself on our salads. Saba always dresses
them after my recipe. I have put it into verse. Taste it,
and if you like it I will give it you. I was not aware how
much it had contributed to my reputation till I met Lady----
at Bowood, who begged to be introduced to me, saying she had
so long wished to know me. I was of course highly flattered
till she added, 'For, Mr. Smith, I have heard so much of your
recipe for salads, that I was most anxious to obtain it from
you.' Such and so various are the sources of fame.

"To make this condiment your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two hard-boil'd eggs;
Two boiled potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve,
Smoothness and softness to the salad give.
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, scarce suspected, animate the whole.
Of mordant mustard add a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment that bites so soon;
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault
To add a double quantity of salt.
Four times the spoon with oil from Lucca crown,
And twice with vinegar procured from town;
And, lastly, o'er the flavour'd compound toss
A magic soupçon of anchovy sauce.
Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat!
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl.
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
'Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.'"

This is the original and more familiar "A Recipe for Salad," as given by the author's daughter, Lady Holland, in her "Memoir"--a recipe that was subsequently placed by the gifted divine in somewhat altered form, slightly abridged, and the quantity of the ingredients in one or two instances slightly changed. In the variant it will be seen that the portions of potato and anchovy were increased and the relative quantities of oil and vinegar were amended.[58]

It is a question whether this celebrated recipe, so enthusiastically expressed and so tempting to the uninitiated who would naturally be led astray by the climax of the ode, has done more harm or more good in the important interests of salad-making--whether the evil inculcated in the prescription as a whole has not overbalanced the good results of extolling the virtues of salad itself. The niceties of salad-making are so subtle--so little may make or mar--it were unwise to prescribe either eggs or potato to the inexperienced. The anchovy sauce must, perforce, be banished as fatal; while mashed potatoes should always be used with discretion. In corn-salad a little potato assuredly adds to the unctuousness; and where lettuce is inclined to be tough or stringy, it may be advantageously employed. It is likewise eminently useful where the vinegar may have been dealt out too liberally. But with tender, brittle, well-blanched cos or endive, who would think of utilising either egg or potato! And how may mustard be appropriately blended with chicory, water-cresses, or radishes, so rich themselves in pungency? In the employment of condiments one should ever well consider the special greenmeat to be treated, or what Montaigne has termed "the differences of Sallets according to their seasons." Cayenne, tabasco, and garlic are yet more dangerous in unpractised hands, and may readily, like the brass of an orchestra run riot, drown with their dissonance the _arpeggio_ passages and more dulcet notes of the other instruments.

All things considered, the counsels to the little boys and girls in the olden French reader, "Rôti-Cochon," such as "the ham of the pig, well minced, is good to eat, but not without drinking," and "fresh eggs and salt herrings are good for Lent and other days either fat or meagre, according to one's appetite and the state of the market," are perchance safer gastronomic guides than the recipe of the worthy English prebendary. For in any formula bearing upon the fashioning of salads for the benefit of the many, it is better to hold strictly to oil, vinegar, pepper, salt, and onion, and thus create no confusion in the mind of the tyro, who should proceed by degrees until he becomes proficient in the art,--

"And thus, complete in figure and in kind,
Obtains at length the salad he designed."

But Sydney Smith has contributed such a host of good things, that any slight divergence from orthodoxy in his salad may be freely forgiven. Infinitely more baneful than anchovy sauce is the bottled "salad-dressing" of commerce, in whatever guise it may appear--that milky, mysterious compound which is set upon certain restaurant and hotel tables, and through the cajoleries of the merchant-grocer or blandishments of the advertiser often even invades otherwise respectable households. As for the abominations that so frequently masquerade as "pure olive-oil," and boldly flaunt themselves as "wine vinegar" in many hostelries, they are too dreadful to consider; and one's only recourse is to order them off, with the catsup, pepper-sauce, sour pickles, and other "incongruities of good cheer," and subsist in imagination on the salads that have been.

If oil has been termed the soul of a salad, it is no less true that vinegar is its _vivendi causâ_. There should be no trouble in procuring excellent virgin olive-oil, French or Italian, at a moderate price. It should be bright and limpid, and possess a delicate, not a strong flavour of the olive from the first gentle pressing of the slightly underripe fruit. The juice expressed by heavy crushing of overripe fruit is to be avoided, being dark in colour and possessed of a strong taste. No other product, however refined or clarified, or however vaunted in the interests of trade, can take the place of olive-oil. For those who are indifferent to quality, cottonseed oil, as well as the juices of countless other seeds, will continue to be supplied or used as adulterants in connection with olive-oil. Good oil, like good wine, is a gift from the gods. The grape and the olive are among the priceless benefactions of the soil, and were destined, each in its way, to promote the welfare of man.

It is even more rare to find good vinegar than good oil or wine on the average hotel, restaurant, or household table. Pure cider or sound wine vinegar should alone be employed, and this is best obtained by making it one's self and not trusting to the labels and brands of commerce. The best wine vinegar is that made from red Bordeaux or red or white Burgundy; the best cider vinegar being the product of fine, selected apples like the Russet or Northern Spy, with absolute cleanliness in manufacture. The liquid should draw clear and be possessed of a fresh vinous fragrance; and no other material should be mixed with it than what is necessary of the same kind for replenishing the barrel. Where vinegar is excessively sharp, it may be corrected, when using, by the addition of a little Bordeaux wine. Lemon juice is an excellent substitute for vinegar where this may be lacking in quality; and by some is preferred in the dressing of delicate salads like cos and lettuce. The use of tarragon vinegar is extremely unadvisable in company dinners. To many it is very disagreeable; and even to those who might not be averse to it occasionally, its frequent abuse causes them to anathematise instead of bless the architect of the salad.

As regards pepper, the adulterated powdered article is far superior to the genuine Piper nigrum; the white pepper being the same condiment freed from its outer husk by maceration in water and subsequent rubbing. The genuine black peppercorn is much too spicy and high-flavoured to enter largely as a salad component; and where it is laboriously ground out from a mill at table, as is often the case,--the host preoccupied with the task where he should be considering the sequence and temperature of his wines,--it is always coarse; while its pronounced resemblance to allspice mars the delicacy which is the charm of a salad. Moreover, the energy which should be expended upon the mixing, where the nature of the salad renders it advisable to be made just before serving, is largely spent upon the exacting process of turning the box-wood mill.[59]

"The difference between a perfect salad and one that has failed is immense," says the observant Baron Brisse. It must be remembered that in salad-making many forms of the crude material may not be prepared to advantage immediately before serving. Among such may be included corn-salad, dandelion, curled endive, cabbage, and all species of lettuce, endive, or chicory that may be in the least coriaceous. These require to be prepared a considerable period before using and to be thoroughly mixed, even to pressing them with the fork and spoon, in order that the dressing may be partly absorbed by the leaves to render them tender. The same rule will apply to all species in which the bitter element is pronounced. Thorough mixing should never be neglected. The bowl should be ample, the material dry and freshly plucked, and the onion, chives, parsley, celery, or whatever herbs are employed should not be chopped until just before they are required. Above all, a salad, like white wine, should be served cold.

The too frequent latter-day custom of creating a separate course of salad and cheese, in order to prolong the number of courses, is incongruous. The salad belongs to the roast, and it should not be called upon to perform the service of a separate bridge between this and the sweets. The mission of the salad is to correct the too liberal ingestion of rich and fatty substances, to prepare for the dessert, to stimulate and divert the taste, and to promote stomachic harmony at a time when the appetite has begun to flag and the palate is impatient of a long delay between the roast and the _demi-tasse_.