CHAPTER XX
ON FLAVORS AND FINANCE
Next evening we met at Theodore's restaurant and sat down to a dinner,which reminded me of the best I had ever tasted in Paris.
Theodore himself was a type. Rather short in stature and stout, he had alarge head off which was combed thick hair, treated very much as asculptor would treat hair in a monument. For Theodore took himself veryseriously. He believed gastronomy to be one of the fine arts, and thathe was its high priest. He would never allow any one to joke about it,and admitted to his restaurant only those who behaved toward him withthe respect to which he felt entitled.
He received us at the door with a napkin over his arm, for of thisnapkin he was as proud as a British peer of his robes; it was the emblemof his art, and as such he bore it proudly. Ariston greeted him andintroduced us to him each by name. He bowed at every introduction.
"And now," said Ariston, turning to us, "you have before you thegreatest culinary artist in the world."
Theodore smiled sadly--as indeed he might--for possessed of the finestpalate in New York, he had for years been confined, by an ungovernableindigestion, to a milk diet.
Theodore showed us to a private room, and explained that he meant toopen the ceremonies with a _pot au feu garbure_, and that the cheeseused on the toast had just arrived from France. He left us to seatourselves, and very soon after we were settled, the door was thrown openby his son and Theodore appeared, with an air of almost stern solemnity,holding a silver soup tureen in both hands, the inevitable napkin on hisarm. He placed the soup tureen on a side table, lifted off the lid, andwith religious care ladled the soup into plates, carefully providingthat each had his share of the preciously prepared toast.
A chorus of approval from us brought the sad smile back into his faceagain, and as we sat he told us that he had "created" a new dish for us.He was very particular about the use of this word "created." He kept alist of his special dishes, and Ariston told us afterwards that he hadonce asked Theodore for this list, describing it as the list of hisinventions. Theodore had offendedly corrected him. "_Creations_, youmean." The dish he had created for us that day was a pheasant stuffedwith ortolans, all cooked in their own juice--_braise_--over a slow fireduring six hours. He explained that it was a great mistake to roastpheasants. For those who insisted on his roasting them he providedhimself with vine twigs (sarments), the fire made with them imparting asubtle flavor to the meat. But the meat of a pheasant though deliciouswas dry, and the method he had adopted was altogether the best forbringing out the full meaning of the bird. The same was true ofortolans.
Theodore did not appear more than twice: at the opening ceremony of thesoup and at the climax--the newly created combination. While we werepartaking of this last, he told us of a great discussion that was aboutto be settled as to the respective flavor of three kinds of mutton. Hehad been enlisted on the side of the Long Island breed, and had that dayselected the sheep which was to have the honor of representing LongIsland interests. He explained that much depended on the choice of theanimal. In his selection he had picked out one upon whose hind legs werethe tooth marks of the shepherd dog, for these marks showed him to beso keen on sweet pasture that it took an actual bite to drive him fromit.
Theodore was a determined individualist and warm supporter of Chairo's.It was insufferable, he said, that an artist like himself--and bowingcondescendingly to Anna, he added--"and our young lady, too"--shouldhave to work half the day for the state, when under individualisticconditions thousands of rich men would have been delighted to cover himwith gold in recognition of his services. I could not help thinking of adistinguished cook I had known in Paris once who, under these veryindividualistic conditions, had struggled with debt all his life andnever escaped from it.
After Theodore had served the birds he withdrew. We were enjoying thedish when Anna surprised us by saying, as though she had just made thediscovery:
"This is really quite nice!"
"Why, my dear child," said her father, "it is a _chef d'oeuvre_! Whathave you been thinking about all this time?"
"I have been looking at Theodore; do you know, he has a good head tosculpt."
We all laughed at this view of Theodore, and Harmes said:
"This kind of thing is rather a jump from what we have at the colony."
"Is the food bad there?" asked I.
"No, not bad; but nothing nice until we can afford to pay for it withthe wages we earn."
This led to a long account by Harmes of how the colony was managed andthe system--often proposed in my day--for slowly restoring the inmatesof a reformatory to social life.
Harmes spoke so freely of the whole subject that I ventured to ask him:
"And Neaera--was it her fault or yours?"
Harmes' eye flashed a moment, and then looking around the table, andfinally at Ariston, asked:
"Can I speak freely?"
"Certainly," said Ariston. "Our friend here knows, perhaps, more aboutNeaera than you do."
"Am I to condole with you, then?" asked Harmes.
"No," I answered. "I had the advantage over you of age and experience."
"She is a little devil," said Harmes. "And the devil of it is that if Iwere to see her to-morrow I believe I should want to make love to heragain."
"Harmes!" exclaimed his mother protestingly.
"Oh, I have learned my lesson! I won't make love to her again; but theamazing thing is that after all she has cost me I cannot make up my mindto dislike her as I ought."
"You needn't dislike her," said Ariston, "any more than you need dislikea stone that breaks your leg."
"I cannot but think, however," said Campbell, "that the punishment wasout of proportion to the offense."
"No," said Ann, to my great surprise. "You must not say that. No one hassuffered more from Harmes' confinement in the colony than I, and yet Iam bound to say that violence is to my mind--and to the mind of all ofus women--so dangerous a thing that I prefer my son should be aninnocent victim than that it should go unpunished."
We had a delicious bottle of California Burgundy with our birds, and Iasked whether this was provided by the state.
"Fortunately," said Campbell, "the state has never taken the vineyardsout of the hands of those who owned them at the time of the newconstitution. It monopolizes the distillation of liquor, but all winesnot containing more than six per cent alcohol are produced by individualenterprise. The owners have to contribute a stipulated quota to thestate, as in the case of all agricultural products. The surplus belongsto them; but as the money they get from the state has no value two yearsafter issue, we find in this very class the best customers for ourbank."
We had by this time finished our dinner; the coffee and cigars werebefore us, and the company settled themselves for a long talk on theworking of their system, all of which was of great interest to me, atraveller from the past.
The minutes passed rapidly in this interesting exchange of experiencesuntil Anna and Ann, who had long shown signs of _ennui_, arose todepart, and Ariston, noting their desire to leave, paid the bill and weleft.
The Woman Who Vowed (The Demetrian) Page 20
