INTRODUCTION. 13 
“There are,” according to Dr. Thudicum, “cynical persons 
who profess to despise, or, at all events, rate lowly the liking for 
good food which the French call fricandise.” Such a refinement 
of food, however, is not only the efflux of culture, but also has 
an important influence on the mind, and consequently upon 
the abilities, and manners of a man. “ Tell me what you eat, 
and I will tell you what you are,” (to paraphrase a saying con- 
cerning the influence of the company you keep) is equally true 
here. Many persons mistake a natural desirable daintiness for 
gluttony, or gloutonnerie, as Montaigne once termed it “la science 
de la gueule,” or, “ the science of the gullet.” We hold absolutely 
with the gourmandise des esprits delicats: if this cannot be 
satisfied, then vitality is diminished, and life is shortened. The 
wit of the Parisians has embalmed for themselves la fricandise 
in an imperishable form. “ Avoir le nez tourné a la fricandise 
comme St. Jacques de ? Hospital,” is an expression to the point, 
derived from an image of St. Jacques de Hospital placed over 
the building of that name, near the Rue des Oies, at Paris. In 
this street were the shops of the principal meat roasters, and as 
the saint in effigy looked in the direction of the frying shops, he 
was said to have “‘/e nez tourné a la fricandise.” 
That cookery can be made almost a fine art even by mere intu- 
ition has been exemplified humorously in Behind the Bungalow 
(1892), where Domingo, the barefooted, native, untaught Indian 
servant, exhibits a wonderful fecundity of invention, and an 
amount of manual dexterity marvellous to behold. And the 
wonder increases when we consider the simplicity of his imple- 
ments, and materials. These consist of several copper pots, « 
chopper, two tin spoons (which he can do without), a ladle made 
of half a cocoa-nut shell at the end of a stick, and a slab of stone 
with a stone roller on it; also a rickety table (a very gloomy, 
and, ominous-looking table, whose undulating surface is chopped, 
and hacked, and scarred, begrimed, besmeared, smoked, oiled, 
and stained with the juices of many heterogeneous substances.) 
On this table he minces meat, chops onions, rolls pastry, and 
sleeps ; a very useful table! He takes up an egg, gives it three 
smart taps with the nail of his forefinger, and in half a second 
the yolk is in one vessel, and the white in another. The fingers 
of his left hand are his strainer. From eggs he proceeds to 
onions, then he is taking the stones out of raisins, or shelling peas. 
Domingo observes no such formula as that of the English cookery 
