Infipid tafte! old Friend, to them who Paris know,
Where rocambole, fhalot, and the rank garlick, grow.
Tom Bold did first begin the strolling mart,
And drove about his turnips in a cart;
Sometimes his wife the citizens would please,
And from the fame machine fell pecks of pease: 340
Then pippins did in wheelbarrows abound,
And oranges in whimfey boards went round.
Befs Hoy first found it troublefonie to bawl,
And therefore plac'd her cherries, or a fall;
Her currants there and gooseberries were spread; 345
With the enticing gold of gingerbread: 5f" flan
But flounders, fprats, and cucumbers, were cry'd,
And ev'ry found and ev'ry voice was try'd. :re
At last the law this hideous dia fuppreft,.
And order'd that the Sunday fhould have reft, 350.
And that no nymph her naify food should fell, to
Except it were new milk or mackarel.
There is no dish but what our Cooks have made, i
And merited a charter by their trade
1:354
Not French kickfhaws or oglios brought from Spain. /
Alone have found improvement from their brain: 1
But pudding, brawn, and whitepots, own'd to be 'T
Th' effects of native ingenuity,
Our British fleet, which now commands the main Might glorious wreaths of victory obtain 360 Would they take time; would they with leifure work, With care would falt their beef and cure their pork;
Would boil their liquor well whene'er they brew: Their conqueft half is to the victualler due.
Because that thrift and abstinence are good, 365 As many things if rightly understood,
Old Crofs condemns all perfons to be fops
That cann't regale themselves with muttonchops:
He often for ftuft beef to Bedlam runs,
And the clean Rummer as the Pesthouse fhuns: 370
Sometimes poor jack and onions are his dish,
And then he faints those friars who ftink of fish.
As for myself, I take him to abstain
Who has good meat with decency, tho' plain:
But tho' my edge be not too nicely set,
Yet I another's appetite may whet;
May teach him when to buy, when season 's past, What's ftale, what's choice, what's plentiful, what's
And lead him thro' the various maze of taste.
The fundamental principle of all
Is what ingenious Cooks The Relish call;
For when the market fends in loads of food
They all are tasteless till that makes them good.
Befides, it is no ignoble piece of care
To know for whom it is you would prepare.
You'd please a friend, or reconcile a brother,
A testy father, or a haughty mother?
Would mollify a judge, would cram a squire,
Or elfe fome smiles from Court you may defite?
Or would perhaps fome hafty fupper give,
To fhew the fplendid state in which you live?
Purfuant to that int'reft you propose
Muft all your wine and all your meat be chofe :
Let men and manners ev'ry difh adapt;
Who'd force his pepper where his guests are clapt?
A cauldron of fat beef and ftoop of ale
On the huzzaing mob fhall more prevail
Than if you give them with the nicest art
Ragouts of peacocks' brains or filbert tart.
The French by foups and hautgouts glory raise,
And their defires all terminate in praise.
The thrifty maxim of the wary Dutch
Is to fave all the money they can touch.
"Hans," cries the father," fee a pin lies there;
"A pin a-day will fetch a groat a-year.
"To your five farthings join three farthings more,
"And they if added make your halfpence four !"
Thus may your stock by management increase;
Your wars fhall gain you more than Britain's peace.
Where love of wealth and rusty coin prevail
What hopes of fugar'd cakes or butter'd ale?
Cooks garnish out fome tables, fome they fill,
Or in a prudent mixture fhew their skill.
Clog not your conftant meals, for dishes few
Increase the appetite when choice and new.
Ev'n they who will extravagance profefs
Have ftill an inward hatred for excefs.
Meat forc'd too much untouch'd at table lies;
Few care for carving trifles in disguise,
Or that fantastick difh fome call Surprise.
When pleasures to the eye and palate meet
That Cook has render'd his great work complete;
His glory far, like Sirloins knighthood, flies,
Immortal made as Kitcat by his pies.
Good nature must some failings overlook,
Not wilfulness but errours of the Cook.
A ftring won't always give the found defign'd
By the musician's touch and heav'nly mind;
Nor will an arrow from the Parthian bow
Still to the deftin'd point directly go.
Perhaps no falt is thrown about the dish,
Or no fry'd parfley scatter'd on the fift:
Shall I in paffion from my dinner fly,
And hopes of pardon to my Cook deny,
For things which careleffness might overfee,
And all mankind commit as well as he?
I with compaffion once may overlook
A skewer fent to table by my Cook;
But think not therefore tamely I'll permit
That he should daily the fame fault commit, 440 For fear the rafcal fend me up the spit!
Poor Roger Fowler had a gen'rous mind, Nor would fubmit to have his hand confin'd,
But aim'd at all, yet never could excel
In any thing but fluffing of his veal:
But when that dish was in perfection feen,
And that alone, would it not move your spleen?
"Tis true in a long work soft slumbers creep,
And gently fink the artist into fieep.
Ev'n Lamb himself at the most folemn feast
Might have fome chargers not exactly dreft.
Tables fhould be like pictures to the fight,
Some dishes cast in shade, fome spread in light;
Some at a distance brighten, some near hand,
Where eafe may all their delicace command:
Some fhould be mov'd when broken; others laft
Thro' the whole treat, incentive to the taste.
Locket, by many labours feeble grown,
Up from the kitchen call'd his eldest fon.
Tho' wife thyfelf," fays he, " tho' taught by me, "Yet fix this fentence in thy memory;
461 "There are some certain things that do n't excel, "And yet we fay are tolerably well: "There's many worthy men a lawyer prize "Whom they distinguish as of middle fize "For pleading well at bar or turning books; "But this is not, my Son! the fate of Cooks, "From whofe myfterious art true pleasure springs "To ftall of garter and to throne of kings. "A fimple scene, a disobliging song, "Which no way to the main defign belong, "Or were they abfent never would be mifs'd, "Have made a well-wrought comedy be hiss'd :
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