Hors-d'oeuvre varies. Oeufs poches Grand Duc. Mostelle a l'Anglaise. Volaille en Casserole a la Fermiere. Patisserie. Fromage. Cafe. 1 Magnum Carbonnieux 1891. Fine Champagne 1846.

This feast cost 61 francs. The Mostelle, as I have previously mentioned, is the special fish of this part of the coast. It is as delicate as a whiting, and is split open, fried, and served with bread crumbs and an over-sufficiency of melted butter.

At Monte Carlo one is given everything that can be imported and which is expensive. The salmon comes from Scotland or Sweden, and most of the other material for the feasts is sent down daily from Paris. The thrushes from Corsica, and some very good asparagus from Genoa or Rocbrune, are about the only provisions which come from the neighbourhood, except of course the fish, which is plentiful and excellent. I was last spring entrusted with the ordering of a dinner for six at the restaurant of the Hotel de Paris, the most frequented of all the dining places at Monte Carlo, and I told Mons. Fleury, the manager, that I wanted as much local colour introduced into it as possible. He referred me to the chef, and between us we drew up this menu, which certainly has something of the sunny south about it:—

Hors-d'oeuvre et Caviar frais. Creme de Langoustines. Friture de Nonnats. Selle d'Agneau aux Primeurs. Becassines roties. Salade Nicoise. Asperges de Genes. Sauce Mousseline. Dessert.

VINS.

1 bottle Barsac. 3 bottles Pommery Vin Nature 1892.

To crown this feast we had some of the very old brandy, a treasure of the house, which added 60 francs to the bill. The total was 363 francs 10 centimes.

In this dinner the Creme de Langoustines was excellent, a most delightful bisque. The nonnats are the small fry of the bay, smaller far than whitebait, and are delicious to eat. They are perhaps more suitable for breakfast than for a dinner of ceremony, and had I not yearned for local colour I should have ordered the Filets de Sole Egyptiennes in little paper coffins which look like mummy cases, a dish which is one of the specialities of the house.

Dining at the Hotel de Paris one pays in comfort for its popularity, for on a crowded night the tables in the big dining-room are put so close together that there is hardly room for the waiters to move between them, and the noise of the conversation rises to a roar through which the violins of the band outside the door can barely be heard. Bachelier, the maitre-d'hotel at the Francais, a disciple of Francois, is quite one of the foremost men of his calling.

The restaurant of the Grand Hotel, where MM. Noel and Pattard themselves see to the comfort of their guests, is also a fashionable dining place. I first tasted the Sole Waleska, with its delicate flavouring of Parmesan, at the Grand Hotel many years ago, and it has always been one of the special dishes of the house. Poularde a la Santos Dumont is another speciality. This is a menu of a dinner for six given at the Grand, as a return for the one quoted above as a product of the Hotel de Paris:—

Creme Livonienne. Filets de Sole Waleska. Baron de Pauillac a la Broche. Puree de Champignons. Petits Pois Nouveaux. Merles de Corse. Salade. Asperges. Sauce Mousseline. Souffle du Parmesan. Friandises.

The Hermitage, in which MM. Benoit and Fourault are interested, shares the rush of fashionable diners with Ciro and the Paris and Grand, but I cannot speak by personal knowledge of its dinners.

There are other restaurants not so expensive as the ones I have written of, and further up the hill, which can give one a most admirable dinner. The Helder is one of the restaurants where the men who have to live all their life at Monte Carlo often breakfast and dine, and Aubanel's Restaurant, the Princess', which one of the great stars of the Opera has very regularly patronised, deserves a special good word. The Restaurant Re, which was originally a fish and oyster shop, but which is now a restaurant with fish as its speciality, is also an excellent place for men of moderate means. Madame Re learned the art of the kitchen at the Reserve at Marseilles, and she knows as much about the cooking of fish as any woman in the world. When it came to my turn in the interchange of dinners for six to provide a feast, I went to Madame Re and asked her to give me a fish dinner, and to keep it as distinctive as possible of the principality, and she at once saw what I wanted and entered into the spirit of it. She met me on the evening of the feast with a sorrowful expression on her handsome face, for she had sent a fisherman out very early in the morning into the bay to catch some of the little sea hedgehogs which were to form one course, but he had come back empty-handed. The menu stood as under, and we none of us missed the hedgehogs:—

Canape de Nonnats. Soupe de poisson Monegasque. Supions en Buisson. Dorade Bonne Femme. Volaille Rotie. Langouste Parisienne. Asperges Vinaigrette. Dessert.

The Soupe Monegasque had a reminiscence in it of Bouillabaisse, but it was not too insistent; the supions were octopi, but delicate little gelatinous fellows, not leathery, as the Italian ones sometimes are; the dorade was a splendid fish, and though I fancy the langouste had come from northern waters and not from the bay, it was beautifully fresh and a monster of its kind.

The Riviera Palace has a restaurant to which many people come to breakfast, high above Monte Carlo and its heat, and the cook is a very good one.

Any mad Englishman who like myself takes long walks in the morning, will find the restaurant at the La Turbie terminus of the mountain railway a pleasant place at which to eat early breakfast; and the view from the terrace, where one munches one's petit pain and drinks one's coffee and milk, with an orange tree on either side of the table, is a superb one.

After the tables are closed the big room at the Cafe de Paris in Monte Carlo fills up with those who require supper or a "night cap" before going home; and though a sprinkling of ladies may be seen there, the half-world much preponderates. The night-birds finish the evening at the Festa, some distance up the hill, where two bands play, and there is some dancing, and where the lights are not put out until the small hours are growing into big ones.

Mentone

Mentone has a splendid tea-shop at Rumpelmayer's, and a pleasant restaurant at which to lunch is that of the Winter Palace. Many people drive from Monte Carlo to lunch or take tea at the Cap Martin Hotel, and it is a pleasant place with a splendid view from the great terrace, though sometimes people not staying in the hotel complain of the slowness of the attendance there.

The Pyrenees

As a gastronomic guide to the Pyrenees I cannot do better than introduce to you my very good friend C.P., who knows that part of the world as well as any native, and whose taste is unimpeachable. I therefore stand down and let him speak for himself:—

Throughout the Pyrenees, in nine hotels out of ten, you can obtain a decently cooked luncheon or dinner—neither above nor below the average.

But in order to depart from the beaten track of the ordinary menu, abandon all hypocrisy, oh, intelligent traveller! and do not pretend that you can turn a fastidious nose away from the seductions of the burnt onion and the garlic clove, the foundations upon which rests the whole edifice of Pyrenean cooking. Pharisaical density would be only wasting time, for these two vegetables will be your constant companions so soon as you decide to sample the cuisine bourgeoise of the country. You should on no account fail to venture on this voyage of exploration, as some of the dishes are excellent, all of them interesting, and, once tasted, never to be forgotten.

To attempt to enumerate them all, to describe them minutely, or to give any account of their preparation, hardly comes within the scope of these notes. Suffice it to give the names of two or three.

First comes the Garbure, a kind of thick vegetable soup containing Heaven knows what ingredients, but all the same sure to please you. Next comes the Confit d'Oie, a sort of goose stew, utterly unlike anything you have tasted before, but not without its merits. Next, the Cotelettes d'Izard marine may interest you. The izard, or chamois of the Pyrenees, has been marine or soaked for some time in wine, vinegar, bay leaves, and other herbs. It thus acquires a distinctive and novel flavour. Don't forget the Ragout and the Poulet, either chasseur or else paysanne; nor yet the Pie de Mars if in season. By way of fish you will always find the trout delicious, either fried or else a la meuniere. (Don't miss the alose if you are at Pau.) Lastly, the Pyrenean pates, Gibier and Foie de Canard, are justly celebrated, and can more than hold their own in friendly and patriotic rivalry with any of those purporting to come from Strasbourg or Nancy.

At first acquaintance you will not care much for pic-a-pou or the wine of the country, but with patience you may possibly learn to appreciate the Vin de Jurancon. Tradition has it that Henri Quatre's nurses preferred to give this form of nourishment rather than the Mellin's Food of the time. Perhaps babies were differently constituted in those days.

In any case you will always be able to get a good bottle of claret, bearing the name of some first-class Bordeaux firm, such as Johnson, Barton Guestier, or Luze, etc. If you are lucky enough to obtain a glass of genuine old Armagnac, you will probably rank it, as a liqueur, very nearly as high as any cognac you have ever tasted.

A word of warning! Don't be too eager to order whisky and soda. The "Scotch" is not of uniform quality.

So much for eatables and drinkables. A few hints now as to where you might care to lunch or dine.

Pau

To begin with Pau. There is really a great artist there—a man whose sole hobby is his kitchen, and who, if he chooses, can send you up a dinner second to none. His name is Guichard. Go and have a talk with him. Hear what he has to say on the fond-de-cuisine theory. Let him arrange your menu and await the result with confidence. That confidence will not be misplaced.

For purely local dishes of the cuisine-bourgeoise type, you might try a meal at the Hotel de la Poste. But for general comfort the English Club stands easily first. The coffee-room is run admirably, and as for wine and cigars, they are as good as money can buy. A strong remark, eh? But true, nevertheless. For a supper after the play you might give a trial to the restaurant at the new Palais d'Hiver. Other restaurants are at the Hotel de France and the Hotel Gassion.

For confectionery, cakes, candied fruits, etc., Luc or Seghin will be found quite A1. Whilst for five o'clock tea, Madame Bouzoum has deservedly gained a reputation as great as that of Rumpelmayer on the Riviera. But again a word of warning! Be discreet as to repeating any local tittle-tattle you may possibly overhear. So much for Pau.

Throughout the mountain resorts of the Pyrenees, such as Luchon—Bagneres de Bigorre, Gavarnie, St-Sauveur; Cauterets—Eaux Bonnes, Eaux Chaudes, Oloron, etc., you can always, as was stated previously, rely upon getting an averagely well-served luncheon or dinner, and nothing more—trout and chicken, although excellent, being inevitable. But there is one splendid and notable exception, viz., the Hotel de France at Argeles-Gazost, kept by Joseph Peyrafitte, known to his intimates as "Papa." In his way he is as great an artist as the aforementioned Guichard; the main difference between the methods of the two professors being that the latter's art is influenced by the traditions of the Parisian school, while the former is more of an impressionist, and does not hesitate to introduce local colour with broad effects,—merely a question of taste after all. For this reason you should not fail to pay a visit to Argeles to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Peyrafitte. Ask him to give you a luncheon such as he supplies to the golf club of which Lord Kilmaine is president, and for dinner (being always mindful of the value of local colour) consult him, over a glass of Quinquina and vermouth, as to some of the dishes mentioned earlier in this article. You won't regret your visit.

In conclusion, should you find yourself anywhere near Lourdes at the time of the Pelerinage National, go and dine at one of the principal hotels there—say the Hotel de la Grotte. You will not dine either well or comfortably, the pandemonium being indescribable. But you will have gained an experience which you will not readily forget. Adishat!

Provence

Any one who is making a leisurely journey from Marseilles to the Roman cities of Provence, and who halts by the way at Martigues, the "Venice of Provence" should breakfast at the Hotel Chabas; and if M. Paul Chabas is still in the land of the living, as I trust he is, and you can persuade him—telling him that he is the best cook in Provence, which he is—to make you some of the Provencal dishes, the Bouillabaisse, or that excellent vol-au-vent which they call a Tourte in the land of Tartaria, or the Sou Fassu, which is a cabbage stuffed with a most savoury mixture of vegetable and meat, you will be fortunate. At Arles the Hotel Forum has a cook who is a credit to his native province; but if you stay in the house, make sure that you have a room to the front, otherwise you may only look into the well-like covered court of the house. At Tarascon, if you feel inclined to hunt for the imaginary home of the imaginary hero, a great man whom the town repudiates as having been invented in order that the world should be amused at its expense, take your meal at the Hotel des Empereurs and ask for M. Andrieu. At Avignon the Hotel de l'Europe is a very old-fashioned house with old furniture in the rooms, old latches to the doors. The servants seem to have caught the spirit of the place, and there is one old servitor, still, I trust, alive, who might have been the model for all the faithful old servants in the plays of the Comedie Francaise. The house is kept by an old lady; the cook is a man. Several people of my acquaintance choose Avignon as their halting-place on their way to the Riviera because of the quaintness of the old hotel and of the excellence of its cuisine. A breakfast on the Isle de Barthelasse, when the mistral is not blowing, is one of the holiday treats of the inhabitants of the town. At Remoulins the old Ledenon wine at the one hotel in the place is worth a note. At St-Remy, M. Teston, who keeps the hotel named after him, is an excellent cook. At Nimes, at the Hotel du Cheval Blanc, there used to be some excellent old Armagnac brandy, and probably some of it still remains.

"Cure" Places

Most of the French cure places are for invalids and invalids only, and the gourmet who goes to them has to lay aside his critical faculties and to be content with the simplest fare, well or indifferently cooked, according to his choice of an hotel.

Aix-les-Bains

The big Savoy town of baths is the principal exception to the rule, for the baccarat in the two Casinos draws all the big gamblers in Europe to the place, and one half of Aix-les-Bains goes to bed about the time that the other half is being carried in rough sedan chairs to be parboiled and massaged.

In the late spring there is an exodus from the Riviera to Aix-les-Bains; doctors, maitres d'hotel musicians, lawyers, fly-men, waiters move into summer quarters; and any one who has time to spare, and enjoys a three-day drive through beautiful scenery, might well do worse than make a bargain with a fly-man for the trip from the coast to the town on the banks of the lake. When a fly-man does not secure a "monsieur" as a passenger, he as often as not drives a brace of friendly waiters over just for company sake. Thus any gourmet who knows his Riviera finds himself surrounded by friendly faces at Aix-les-Bains. There are excellent restaurants in some of the larger hotels, and you can dine in a garden, under lanterns lit by electric light, or on a glassed-in terrace whence a glimpse of the lake of Le Bourget under the moon may be obtained; and there are at the big Casino, the Cercle as it is called, and at the smaller one, the Ville des Fleurs, quite excellent restaurants. These two restaurants are managed by first-class men from the Riviera—the proprietors of the London House at Nice and of the Reserve at Beaulieu, were, I believe, last year the men in command—and the King of Greece, who is a gourmet of the first water, sets a praiseworthy example when he is at Aix of dining one day at the Cercle and the next at the Villa. The prices are Riviera prices and the cooking Riviera cooking.

The Anglo-American bar, nearly opposite the principal entrance to the Cercle, a bar where a whisky and soda costs two francs, always has its tiny dining-room crowded. Durret's, also opposite the Cercle, a small restaurant, is good and cheap. There are half-a-dozen little restaurants in the street running down to the station, but the sampling of the most likely looking one did not encourage me to try any further experiments.

To keep up the illusion that Aix-les-Bains is a part of the Riviera, there is a Rumpelmayer cake-shop within two minutes' walk of the Villa des Fleurs.

Many of the excursions from Aix have a little restaurant as the point to be reached. At Grand Port, the fishing village on the borders of the lake of Le Bourget, there is a pleasant house to breakfast at, the Beaurivage, with a garden from which an excellent view of the lake and the little bathing place can be obtained. They make a Bouillabaisse of fresh-water fish at this restaurant which is well worth eating and which is generally the Friday fare there. At Chambotte, where there is a fine view of the lake, Lansard has a hotel and restaurant. At Marlioz, near the race-course and an inhalation and bathing establishment, the pretty ladies of Aix often call a halt to breakfast, Ecrevisses Bordelaises being a speciality. At one of the little mountain inns, I fancy that of La Chambotte, the proprietor has married a Scotch wife, and her excellent cakes, made after the manner of her fatherland, come as a surprise to the French tourists. The chalets at the summit of the Grand Revard belong, I believe, to Mme. Ritz, wife of the Emperor of Hotels, and the feeding there naturally is excellent.

Most people who go a trip to the Lac d'Annecy breakfast on the boat, though I believe there is a fair breakfast to be obtained at the Angleterre. On the boat a very ample meal is provided—the trout generally being excellent—which occupies the attention of the intelligent voyager during the whole of the time that he is supposed to be looking at waterfalls, castles, peaks, and picturesque villages.

Vichy

Outside the hotels, the restaurants attached to which give in most cases a good table-d'hote dinner for six francs and a dejeuner for four, there are but few restaurants, for most people who come to Vichy live en pension, making a bargain with their hotel for their food for so much a day, a bargain which does not encourage them to go outside and take their meals. The Restauration, in the park close to the Casino, is a restaurant as well as a cafe, and is amusing in the evening. There are several small restaurants in the environs of Vichy. In the valleys of the Sichon and the Jolan, two streams which join near the village of Cusset and then flow into the Allier, are two little restaurants, each to be reached by a carriage road. Both the Restaurant les Malavaux near the ruins, and the Restaurant de l'Ardoisiere near the Cascade of Gourre-Saillant, have their dishes, each of them making a speciality of trout and crayfish from the little river that flows hard by. At the Montagne Verte, whence a fine view of the valley of the Allier is obtainable, and at one or two other of the places to which walks and drives are taken, there are cafes and inns where decent food is obtainable.

Various

Men who know shake their heads when you ask them whether there is good food obtainable outside the hotels at Royat and La Bourboule, but I have a pleasant memory of an excellent dinner with good bourgeois cookery at Hugon's in the Rue Royale of the neighbouring town of Clermont-Ferrand. At Contrexeville I am told that the wise man finding his food good in his hotel, returns thanks and does not go prospecting elsewhere.

N.N.-D.



CHAPTER III

BELGIAN TOWNS

The food of the country—Antwerp—Spa—Bruges—Ostende.

I, the Editor, cannot do better in commencing this chapter than to introduce you to H.L., a litterateur and a "fin gourmet," living in Belgium, who has written the notes on "the food of the country" on Antwerp and Spa, and to whom I am indebted for the entire succeeding chapter on the Brussels' restaurants.

The Food of the Country

The Belgian is a big eater and a bird-eater. As a rule, in Belgium the restaurant that can put forth the longest menu will attract the most customers. There are people in Brussels who regularly travel out to Tirlemont, a little Flemish town nearly twenty miles away, to partake of a famous table-d'hote dinner to which the guests sit down at one o'clock, and from which they seldom rise before five. The following is a specimen carte of one of these Gargantuan gorges served in December.

Huitres de Burnham. Potage Oxtail. Saumon de Hollande a la Russe. Bouchees a la Reine. Chevreuil Diane Chasseresse. Becasses bardees sur Canape. Tete de veau en Tortue. Surprises Grazilla (a Sorbet). Pluviers dores poire au vin. Jambonneau au Madere. Petites feves de Marais a la Creme. Salmis de Caneton Sauvage. Faisan de Boheme. Salade de Saison. Dinde truffee Mayonnaise. Glace Vanillee. Fruits. Gateaux. Dessert.

All this for five francs! with a bottle of Burgundy to wash it down, at any price from a crown to a pound. One thing that can safely be said about the Belgian restaurants is that a good bottle of Burgundy can nearly always be bought in both town and country. It is often told that the best Burgundy in the world is to be found in Belgian cellars. Whether this is a reputation maintained in honour of the Dukes of Burgundy who once ruled the land, or whether the good quality of the wine is due to the peculiar sandy soil, which permits of an unvarying temperature in the cellars, I will leave others to determine, but the fact remains that from a Beaujolais at 2 francs 50 centimes to a Richebourg at 20 francs, the Burgundy offered to the traveller in Belgium is generally unimpeachable. Ghent is another town famous for its big feasts. The market dinner on Friday at the Hotel de la Poste is often quoted as a marvellous "spread," but the best restaurant in Ghent is undoubtedly Mottez's, on the Avenue Place d'Armes. This is an old-fashioned place with no appearance of a restaurant outside, and a stranger would easily pass it by. Here one dines both a la carte and at table-d'hote; the table-d'hote is well worth trying, though some of the dishes can be safely passed over. The wines at Mottez's are very good, and some special old Flemish beer in bottles should be asked for. A great local dish is Hochepot Gantois, a mixture of pork, sausages, and vegetables which only the very hungry or the very daring should experiment upon at a strange place. Flemish cooking as a rule is fat and porky, and there is a dish often seen on the carte called Choesels a la Bruxelloise, which is considered a delicacy by the natives, and it is supposed to be a hash cooked in sherry or marsala; it is, however, a dish of mystery. A plat always to be found in Belgium (especially in the Flanders district), is Waterzoei de Poulet, a chicken broth served with the fowl. This is usually very safe, and any one going to Mottez's at Ghent should try it there. Carbonades Flamandes is another Flemish dish which, if well done, can be eaten without fear. This is beef-steak stewed in "faro," an acid Flemish beer, and served with a rich brown sauce. Salade de Princesses Liegeoises is a salad made with scarlet runners mixed with little pieces of fried bacon. The bacon takes the place of oil, while the vinegar should be used with rather a heavy hand. When other salads are scarce, this makes a really toothsome dish. Of all the Belgian plats, however, first and foremost must be placed Grives a la Namuroise, which of course are only to be obtained in the autumn. I have said that the Belgian is a bird-eater, and throughout the country every species of bird is pressed into service for the table. A stranger visiting the Ardennes will be struck by the remarkable silence of the woods, which is caused by the wholesale destruction of the birds. How the supply is kept up it is difficult to say, but no Belgian dinner is considered complete without a bird of some sort, and when grives are in season, thousands must be served daily. A grive proper is a thrush, but I fear that blackbirds and starlings often find their way to the casserole under the name of a grive. They should be cooked with the trail, in which mountain-ash berries are often found. These give the bird a peculiar and rather bitter flavour, but the berry that must be used in the cooking is that of the juniper plant, which grows very plentifully in Belgium. A traveller through Belgium in the summer or early autumn should always make a point of ordering grives at a good restaurant. When grives go out of season, we have woodcock and snipe; and there are several houses which make a speciality of Becasses a la fine Champagne. At Mons and at Liege, and I think at Charleroi also, there is every year a woodcock feast, just as there is an oyster feast at Colchester. At these festivities a little wax candle is placed on the table beside each guest, so that he can take the head of his becasse and frizzle it in the flame before he attacks its brains. Then we have plovers and larks in any quantity, but I would not like to vouch for what are often served as alouettes and mauviettes. The one bird that we never get in Belgium is grouse, unless it is brought over specially from England or Scotland. It has always been found impossible to rear grouse in the country. In the neighbourhood of Spa there are great stretches of moorlands reaching almost to the German frontier, covered with heather, which look as if they would be the ideal home of the grouse. Here M. Barry Herrfeldt, of the Chateau du Marteau at Spa, a real good sportsman, has tried his very utmost to rear grouse; first he laid down thousands of eggs and set them under partridges, but this proved a failure; then he introduced young birds, but they all died off, and I think he has now given up the attempt in despair. Whilst speaking of partridges, I ought to mention that there is no partridge in the world so plump and sweet as one shot in the neighbourhood of Louvain, where they feed on the beetroot cultivated for the sugar factories. At a restaurant Coq de bruyere is often served as grouse, but this is a blackcock. One last note: outside the capital and at all but the best restaurants the Flemish custom is to "dine" in the middle of the day and "sup" at about seven.

Antwerp

It is strange that a big city and seaport like Antwerp, which is a favourite stopping place of English and American visitors to the Continent, should have so few good restaurants. None of the establishments near the quays can be classed as even third-rate, and it is in the neighbourhood of the Bourse that the best eating-houses will be found. At the Rocher de Cancale, usually called Coulon's (after the proprietor), the cooking and the wines are everything that can be desired, but the prices can hardly be called moderate. This restaurant is situated at the corner of the Place de Meir and the Rue des Douze Mois, a little street leading down to the Bourse. On the Place de Meir itself is Bertrand's, another restaurant of the same high character, which, to the regret of its regular frequenters, is shortly to be converted into a larger and cheaper establishment. Everything at Bertrand's has always been first class, and local people who "knew the ropes" could get there an excellent table-d'hote lunch for 3 francs. This prix fixe, however, was not advertised, and the stranger eating the same meal a la carte, would probably find his bill 10 or 12 francs without wine. Antwerp has a grill-room that can be highly recommended in the Criterium, situated on the Avenue de Keyser, near the Central Railway Station. The Criterium is also known as Keller's, and has a large English clientele. Besides chops and steaks from the grill, there are other viands, and a table-d'hote dinner is supplied in the middle of the day at 2 francs 50 centimes. The food is of the best, while a special feature is made of English beers and other drinks usually sought after by the Briton travelling abroad. The restaurant at the Zoological Gardens is well managed and much frequented.

Spa

"Les jeux sont faits! Rien ne va plus." It is not the cry of the croupier, it is the proclamation of Parliament. What will happen now that the Cercle des Etrangers at Spa has been closed, in consequence of the Belgian Anti-gambling Bill which came into operation on the 1st January 1903, it is difficult to say; one thing is certain, the hotels and restaurants will suffer, for more people came to the pretty little town on the outskirts of the Ardennes to try their luck at roulette or trente et quarante than to drink the iron waters at the Pouhon and other springs, or to take the effervescing baths and douches. Once upon a time, Spa was one of the most fashionable and most frequented watering-places in Europe, but gradually its glories have departed, although its natural beauties remain. Of the Spa restaurants as they exist to-day, there is little to be said and less to be praised. To tell the truth, there is not a really first-class restaurant in the place. To nearly all the springs, which are located in easy proximity to the town, so-called restaurants are attached, but the patronage being intermittent and uncertain, the choice of plats is limited, and the service is slow and bad. The Sauveniere Spring is nearest to the town, but the drive there is all up-hill, monotonous, and dusty. The Geronstere is more prettily situated, and is a favourite resort for luncheon during the summer season; but unless the meal is specially ordered beforehand, the visitor will, as a rule, have to be content with eggs, beef-steaks, or cutlets. The Tonnelet is situated on the roadside, and the restaurant there is often uncomfortable and dusty. Those who make the Tours des Fontaines will be best advised to stop for lunch at the Source de Barisart, which is situated in a most picturesque part of the woods, 160 feet above the town, from which it is distant about a mile. The much-written-of Promenade de Meyerbeer is close at hand, and a stroll beneath the trees before or after lunch will be enjoyed, for the surroundings are charming and romantic. If previous notice for a meal can be given, so much the better: there is probably a telephone from the town. In trout time this fish should be included, as it is caught plentifully in the district, and is, as a rule, fresh and good. As before said, there is no good restaurant in the town,—excepting, of course, those in connection with the principal hotels, where a table-d'hote is usually served at mid-day and in the evening. The Cafe Restaurant attached to the Casino is convenient, and will be found more than sufficient now that the gaming rooms have been suppressed. On the other side of the Casino is the Hotel d'Orange, well appointed and with a beautiful garden, and M. Goldschmidt, the proprietor, looks well after his guests. His dining-room has all the character of a restaurant, being open to the outside public. The company there is as a rule gay—sometimes, it is said, even a little too gay, but everything is of the best and well served. Probably, however, the gourmet will find things more to his taste at the Grand Hotel de l'Europe, where M. Henrard Richard always paid great attention to his cuisine. Although he no longer personally controls the management of L'Europe, the hotel is still under the direction of his family, and retains its high reputation. The following is a menu of a 6-franc table-d'hote dinner served in September. It has not been specially selected, and is therefore a fair specimen:—

Bisque d'Ecrevisses. Brunoise a la Royale. Truites Meuniere. Filet de Boeuf garni Beaulieu. Ris de veau Princesse. Petits pois a la Francaise. Perdreaux rotis sur Canapes. Glace Vanille. Gaufrettes. Corbeille de Fruits.

The wines here are good, the Moselle and Rhine wines being especially cheap. Other hotels with restaurants attached that may be mentioned are the Britannique (with a fine garden in which meals are served), the Bellevue, the Flandre, and the Rosette. The last mentioned is a small hotel attached to the Palace of the late Queen of the Belgians, and is run by Her Majesty's chef. The meals for the Palace were always cooked at the hotel, and the restaurant, though simply appointed, has latterly been excellent in its way. Strangers feeding there should try and secure a table on the little glass-covered terrace in front of the hotel. Mention might also be made of a couple of small restaurants that have in the past been supported by the professional players at the tables. One in a side street near the Casino, kept by a Frenchman, has a reputation for its cheap French wines; and the Macon, at a franc the bottle, is indeed drinkable. At the other, the Limbourg, the cooking is German in character and flavour. Both places may be recommended as wholesome and honest to people who want to "get through" on about 10 francs a day. There is no more to be said.

Bruges

It always seems to me that Bruges is the quietest city in the world. At least when one sits out in the garden of the Hotel de Flandre, after sampling some of the excellent old Burgundy which reposes in its cellars, and listens to the chimes from the brown belfry, a feeling of perfect peace steals over one. There are few hotels in Belgium, if any, which have such a fine selection of Burgundy as the Flandre has, and the food, if not noticeably good, is at all events not noticeably bad. Otto, who used to be the head waiter at the Hotel de Flandre, is now the proprietor of the Hotel de Londres in the station square; and though the appearance of the hotel is not inviting, he can cook a sole au gratin as well as any cook in Belgium. The table-d'hote lunch at the Panier d'Or, in the chief square, is very excellent for the money.

Ostend

I do not think that there is much to be said in favour of the restaurants of the big hotels at Ostend. One gets an imitation of a Parisian meal at half again the Paris price. I have little doubt that the cessation of gambling will bring all the prices down at the hotels, but during past years gamblers' prices have been asked and paid. At the Continental there is a 10-franc table-d'hote dinner, much patronised, because people know exactly what it will cost them; and at the Palace Hotel there is a table-d'hote room where the food served is well cooked; but it lacks the life and bustle of the restaurant, and most people who go there for a meal or two revert to the restaurant with its a la carte breakfasts and dinner. There is a Chateau Laroque in the cellars of the Palace at 7 francs a bottle which is quite excellent. There is a little restaurant, called the Taverne St-Jean, in a side street, the Rampe de Flandre, kept by an ex-head waiter from the Restaurant Re at Monte Carlo, at which the cookery is thoroughly bourgeois, but good of its kind and the prices low; and there is on the quay a house, kept by a fisherman who is the owner of several smacks, where the explorer who does not mind surroundings redolent of the sea can get a good fried sole, and a more than fair bottle of white wine.

Any one who wishes to see what a Belgian meal can be in the number of courses should go by train past Blankenberghe, which is a pale reflection of Ostend, to Heyste, and partake of a mid-day dinner there at one of the hotels patronised by the Brussels tradesmen and their families, who come to the little sea-town for change of air. Fifteen or sixteen plates piled in front, or at the side of each place, mark the number of courses to be gone through, and most of the guests eat the meal through from soup to fruit without shirking a single course.



CHAPTER IV

BRUSSELS

The Savoy—The Epaule de Mouton—The Faille Dechiree—The Lion d'Or—The Regina—The Helder—The Filet de Sole—Wiltcher's—Justine's—The Etoile—The Belveder—The Cafe Riche—Duranton's—The Laiterie—Miscellaneous.

Brussels must have been a gayer city than the Brussels of to-day when it earned the title of "a little Paris." There is at the present time very little indeed of Paris about the Belgian capital, and, in the matter of restaurants, there is a marked contrast between the two cities. Here the latter-day Lucullus will have to seek in queer nooks and out-of-the-way corners to discover the best kitchens and the cellars where the wines are of the finest crus. The aristocracy of Belgium mostly dines en famille and the restaurants that cater for the middle classes are the most patronised. There are, however, several establishments which provide for more refined tastes, but they will not be found upon the big boulevards or the main thoroughfares. Four of the best restaurants in Brussels are in two narrow little streets, and their exteriors resemble old-fashioned London coffee-houses, rather than resorts of fashion. Brussels is particularly destitute of smart rooms where one can sup in gay company "after the opera is over." Until the Savoy was opened, we had, in fact, nothing beyond the ordinary restaurant with its little cabinets particuliers. When Mr. Arthur Collins of Drury Lane was in Brussels about a couple of years ago, he asked me to take him one evening, after leaving the Scala, to the local Romano's. "We haven't such a place," I explained, "but we can go to the Helder." "I dined there this evening," said A.C., "it was a very good dinner, but deadly dull; show me something livelier." We resolved to try the Filet de Sole thinking, as it was close to the Palais d'Ete, we were certain to meet some people there, but the place was empty. The fact is, Brussels has little night-life beyond the taverns and bars of low character, and the only high-class supper-room is the Savoy. If a stranger came to pass a week in Brussels, and wanted to be shown round the restaurants, I should start him with lunch at the Savoy on Monday morning, and finish him off with supper at the Savoy on the following Sunday night, for he would then be sure of beginning and ending well. The grill is excellent, and by no means dear. 1 franc 75 centimes is charged for a chop or steak, including pommes de terre well served. The hors-d'oeuvre are a speciality at luncheon. There is great variety, and the pickled shrimps would tickle the most jaded appetite.

On Monday night I should send my friend to dinner at the Epaule de Mouton.

On Tuesday, I should say, "Lunch at the Faille Dechiree and dine at the Lion d'Or."

On Wednesday, "Lunch at the Regina and dine at the Helder."

On Thursday, "Lunch at the Filet de Sole and dine at Wiltcher's."

On Friday, "Lunch at Justine's and dine at L'Etoile."

On Saturday, "Lunch at the Belveder and dine at the Cafe Riche."

On Sunday, "Lunch at Duranton's, and, if it is summer time, dine at the Laiterie."

He will then have sampled all the restaurants in Brussels that are worth troubling about, and will be very unlucky if he has not alighted upon some dish worth remembering.

The Savoy is situated in the Rue de l'Eveque, by the side of the General Post Office. It was originally a kind of offshoot from the American bar and grill-room of the Grand Hotel. Being done in good spirit and with good taste, it soon acquired favour, and at certain times in the day the premises are almost too small. There are private dining-rooms upstairs, and a restaurant on the first floor has lately been added. Everything is a la carte. The cafe extra, for which 75 centimes is charged, is a speciality. The manager is M.A. Reynier who speaks English like an Englishman.

The Epaule de Mouton is in the Rue des Harengs, one of the little streets already alluded to, which run from the Grand Place to the Rue Marche aux Herbes. In this street, which is barely five yards wide, are some of the best restaurants of the town; but the stranger must be particular and not enter the wrong door, as they are all huddled together, and the names of some of the establishments are very similar. There is, for instance, a Gigot de Mouton next door to the Epaule de Mouton, and there is a Filet de Boeuf. It is at the Epaule, however, where the best cuisine will be found. Behind the door on entering a snug corner for a tete-a-tete is to be found. Although the title of the establishment suggests Simpson's and a cut off the joint, the cuisine will be found thoroughly French, and everything is well and tastefully done. In ordering, it must be remembered that one plat is enough for two persons, and this is the rule in most Belgian restaurants. The Burgundy at L'Epaule de Mouton is renowned.

La Faille Dechiree is at a corner of another little street, the Rue Chair et Pain, close by the Rue des Harengs. The construction and decoration are quaint; one sits in a kind of tunnel and eats Homard a l'Americaine which is a speciality of the house. Woodcock, when in season, is also a dish to be ordered here.

Le Lion d'Or is a small establishment in the Rue Gretry, and may safely be called the "chic" restaurant of Brussels. The salon downstairs is a perfect little bonbonniere, and the rooms above are extremely cosy and comfy. The proprietor is Adolph Letellier (of course called simply "Adolph" by habitues of the house), and he is extremely popular among the young sports of the town. The vrai gourmet will appreciate les plats les plus raffines on which Adolph prides himself. Everything is a la carte, prices being plainly marked. They are not cheap. The restaurant and rooms upstairs are open till two in the morning.

The Regina is a new restaurant at the top of the town, near the Porte de Namur. Although only opened in 1901, it has been found necessary to enlarge the premises, and the alterations are in progress at the moment of writing. When completed, the restaurant on the first floor will be more commodious and comfortable than it is at present. It is the good kitchen that has made the reputation of the place, and if this is maintained, the Regina will become one of the best patronised restaurants in Brussels. Some people prefer to feed in the cafe on the ground-floor but it is best to go upstairs, and, if possible, to obtain a table on the glass-covered balcony in the front, which has a pleasant outlook on the boulevards. The proprietor is Jules; he may have a surname but no one seems to know what it is; to one and all he is "Jules," a capital patron who, having been a waiter himself, knows how to look after the personal tastes of his customers. These include the officers of the grenadiers, the crack Belgian regiment, whose barracks are close by, judges and barristers from the Palais de Justice, members of the King's household (the royal palace being nearly opposite), actors from the Moliere Theatre, sportsmen who foregather here on race-days, and the better-class Bohemians. Jules has also a good English clientele, and makes a speciality of certain English dishes. This is the only place on the Continent I know which serves a really well-made Irish stew. The Flemish dishes are also safe to try here. The prices are very moderate, and the plats du jour range from 1 franc to 1 franc 75 centimes, each plat being enough for two persons. Breakfast dishes, such as Oeufs Gratines aux Crevettes and Oeufs Brouilles au foie de Volaille, are also well done here. Ecrevisses Regina is a special dish of the house. There are always two special plats du soir. The Medoc de la Maison at 3 francs the bottle is a La Rose and is very good. Although the prices are low, there is nothing of the cheap and nasty order about the place. I have before me the bill of a little lunch for two served in December, which can be taken as a fair specimen of the fare and the charges:—

Huitres de Zelande, 1 douzaine 3 frs. 1 bottle Sauterne 5 " Oeufs en Cocotte 1 " Haricot de Mouton (plat du jour) 1 " Foie gras Hummel 2.50 " Salade de Laitue 1 " Laitance de Harengs 1.50 " 1 bottle Medoc 3 " Cafe et liqueurs 2.50 " ————— 20.50 frs.

At the same time, if one likes to lunch off a plat du jour, with a glass of Gruber's beer, it can easily be done at the Regina for less than 5 francs for two persons.

The Helder is in the Rue de l'Ecuyer, near the Opera House. It is a smart restaurant and one dines well there. It is frequented by a good class of people, but it has no particular character of its own. The proprietor is M. Dominique Courtade, formerly a chef, and he should be personally consulted if a special dinner is wanted. The Pontet Canet (only to be had in half bottles) should be sampled; it is very fine.

The Filet de Sole is in the neighbourhood of the markets and close by the Palais d'Ete. The proprietor is Emile Beaud. An excellent lunch can be obtained here at a fixed price, and one can also eat a la carte. Prices are lower than at most of the first-class restaurants, but the cuisine and wines are both safe and sound. The Cantenac at 4 francs is to be specially recommended, and the Medoc de la Maison at about 2 francs is also good. There are private rooms upstairs.

Wiltcher's, on the Boulevard de Waterloo, provides the best and cheapest table-d'hote in Brussels. The price is only 3 francs, and is wonderful value for the money. The following is the menu of a dinner in January:—

Consomme a la Reine. Filet de Sole a la Normande. Quartier d'Agneau. Mint Sauce a l'Anglaise. Epinards a la Creme. Poularde de Bruxelles en Cocotte. Croquettes de Pommes de Terre. Gangas du Japon a la Broche. Compote de Mirabelles. Salade de Laitue. Glace Arlequin. Biscuits de Reims. Cafe.

In old Mr. Wiltcher's time a good many people came from outside for the excellent food here provided, but now so many families reside all the year round in the hotel, that it is difficult to get a table for dinner when it is not ordered beforehand. No matter what time of the year it is, there is always poultry and game on Wiltcher's carte, and one sometimes meets a strange bird here. Gangas is a Japanese partridge. The birds migrate to Northern Africa in winter and often cross to Spain, where they are caught in large numbers. The plumage of the gangas is very beautiful and the flesh is excellent eating. The outarde, or little bustard, is often to be had at Wiltcher's, and it is the only place at which I have eaten the great bustard, whose flesh is very much like a turkey's. White pheasant is another bird I remember here. Excepting in its plumage, it in no way differs from the ordinary pheasant. A feature of Wiltcher's dinner is that no fruit is ever included in the menu, although coffee is always served. The story goes that Wiltcher the First, who took great pride in his table, found it during one winter time almost impossible to give anything else as dessert beyond apples, oranges, pears, and nuts, there being no other fruit on the market. One day some diners rudely complained, and insisted on a change, expecting perhaps that pineapple should be included in a dinner at this price. "You wish a change in the dessert, I hear," said Mr. Wiltcher, in the suave and courtly manner which had earned for him the sobriquet of "the Duke"; "Very well, to-morrow you shall have a change." To-morrow, there was no dessert upon the menu. When the reason for this was demanded, he simply answered, "You wanted a change, and you've got it. I shall give no fruit in future." This has become a tradition. Notwithstanding, it is a remarkable dinner, and there is usually a good variety of sweets. As a tip to people who want to drink champagne and are sometimes deterred by the high prices demanded for well-known brands, while being always suspicious of the sugary tisanes supplied on the Continent, I may mention that the champagne wines bearing Mr. Wiltcher's own name and labelled according to taste as Dry Royal and Grand Cremant respectively, are specially bottled for his establishment at Rheims; and, though the price is little more than half that charged for les grandes marques, they will be found pure, wholesome, and to the English and American taste. Wiltcher's is rapidly becoming essentially an American house.

Justine's is a little fish restaurant on the Quai au Bois a Bruler, by the side of the fish market. It has distinctly a bourgeois character. It is not the sort of place you would choose to take a lady in her summer frocks to, but you get a fine fish dinner there nevertheless. There is no restaurant in the world where moules a la mariniere are served in such perfection, and you can rely on every bit of fish supplied there being fresh. The exterior is unattractive, even dirty, and the service inside is somewhat rough. On Fridays the place is always crowded, and there may be a difficulty about retaining a room upstairs, where it is best to go when you wish to be specially well served. In the old days, it was the fashion to go on Fridays (or on any day for a fish lunch) to Le Sabot, a restaurant-estaminet of the same order a little lower down on the quay, which has a reputation for its manner of cooking mussels; but, since the death of old Francois, who kept it, the place does not appear to be so much in favour, and the tide of custom now flows towards Justine's. It must be remembered that this house is mentioned simply as a feature of Brussels life and not as a representative restaurant.

L'Etoile, in the Rue des Harengs, is the most famous restaurant in Brussels. In the time of Louis Dot, it certainly held rank as the first of all, both for cooking and for wine, and Emile Ollivier, Dot's successor, is doing his best to sustain the reputation. Neatly framed and hung on one of the walls is still to be seen the card signed by the late Henry Pettitt, the dramatist, attesting to the fact that he had just eaten the best lunch of his life. This card some years later was countersigned by a Lord Mayor of London; and a Lord Mayor surely should be a good judge of a lunch. Whatever place is visited in Brussels, L'Etoile should not be missed. The stranger should be very careful to go in at the right door. The wines at L'Etoile have always been good, and Dot used to have some Burgundy that was world-renowned. His fine champagne was also famous, and he had some extra-special for which he used to charge 4 francs 50 centimes a glass. I have heard Dot himself tell the story how a well-known restaurateur from London came one evening with two friends to see how things were done at L'Etoile. After dinner they sent for Dot, to compliment him and ask him to join them with a liqueur, and he was to give them some of his best brandy. They smacked their lips on tasting it, and the glasses were filled a second time; but the gentleman who paid the bill rather raised his eyebrows when he saw the item, "liqueurs, 36 francs." "He got even with me, however," said Dot, "for when I went to London I returned his visit. I had a good dinner (not so good, I think, as I should have served), and I sent for him to join me with the coffee. While we chatted, I ordered cigars, repeating his words, 'Give us some of your very best.' He did, and he charged me 7s. 6d. a piece for them." The rooms at L'Etoile are very small, and if any one wants to prove the establishment at its best, he should take the precaution of retaining a table and ordering dinner beforehand.

Le Belveder is in the Rue Chair et Pain; it has lately been opened by Jules Letellier, ex-maitre-d'hotel of the Filet de Sole and brother to Adolph Letellier of the Lion d'Or. Here the restaurant is a la carte, and a speciality is made of fish and game. Things are well done, and it is a safe place to "take on."

The Cafe Riche is opposite the Helder, and nearer to the Opera House. It was founded in 1865 by Gautier, the nephew of Bignon of Paris, who retains the proprietorship and management until the present time. It has always had an aristocratic clientele, and is specially favoured by Parisians visiting Brussels. During the political troubles in France the Duc d'Orleans, Prince Victor Napoleon, and Henri Rochefort were all patrons of the Cafe Riche, and it required all the tact and savoir faire of the proprietor to keep apart and at the same time give satisfaction and pleasure to the conflicting parties. The Cafe Riche is one of the best places in Brussels for a banquet or a large dinner-party. Woodcock and snipe a la Riche are specialities. Although the prices are generally a la carte, one can have a lunch and dinner at fixed price by ordering beforehand.

Duranton's, on the Avenue Louise, is now "run" by Monsieur Pierre Strobbe, who took a first prize at the Brussels cookery exhibition. The restaurant is pleasantly situated, and on Sunday, if you wish to go to the races in the afternoon, it is very convenient, being on the direct route to Boitsfort. There are three rooms on the ground floor, in which you can lunch. That on the right, a small narrow room under the orders of Charles, from the Black Forest, is the smartest. He will introduce you to some special Kirsch—from the Black Forest. The cooking in all the rooms is the same, and it is good. Order your cab to be at the door half an hour before the first race.

The Laiterie is in the Bois de la Cambre. In summer time it is indeed the most pleasant place to dine in Brussels. In the Bois there are several places that supply lunches, dinners, and light refreshments, but the Laiterie is the only one that is really first class. For seventeen years it has been under the management of M. Artus and his son. The establishment is the property of the town of Brussels, and is well kept up in every respect. Here on a Sunday as many as 1500 chairs and 400 tables are often occupied. In the evenings the gardens are brilliantly illuminated, there being 1100 gas lamps. Music is discoursed by a Tzigane orchestra, and the late Queen of the Belgians, who often used to stop her pony chaise at the Laiterie to hear them play, subscribed from her private purse 200 francs every year to these musicians. Dinners are served at separate tables, under Japanese umbrellas, and the cooking is excellent; but it is as well to secure a seat as near to the main building as possible, to overcome that objection to al-fresco meals—cold dishes. The wines are good, and M. Artus has some fine Ayala—'93, in magnums—unless it is all drunk by now. There must be something about the cellars of these out-door places peculiarly favourable to beer, for no pale ale in the world can compare with that drawn at the bars of the Epsom grand-stand, and in Belgium there is no bottled Bass so fresh and palatable as that which one gets at the Laiterie.

If my friend were staying in Brussels longer than a week, the other restaurants to which I might take him would be the Taverne Royale, at the corner of the Galeries Saint Hubert, where some real 1865 cognac can be had at 75 centimes the glass; the Freres Provencaux, in the Rue Royale; the Restaurant de la Monnaie (a large place, generally noisy, with not the most rapid of service); Stielen's, in the Rue de l'Eveque; and the Taverne Restaurant des Eleveurs on the Avenue de la Toison d'Or. At the Taverne de Londres, in the Rue de l'Ecuyer, there is always a fine cut of cold roast beef with English pickles.

On Wednesdays all the Brussels restaurants are crowded, it being Bourse day, and in a wide sense "market" day, when over 5000 strangers, mostly men, come into the city from provincial towns. In conclusion, I may mention that I have failed to discover the restaurant where George Osborne gave his "great dinner" to the Bareacres a few days before the battle of Waterloo. Thackeray records that as they came away from the feast, Lord Bareacres asked to see the bill, and "pronounced it a d—— bad dinner and d—— dear!" Probably the place, therefore, is extinct; for happily the double pronouncement can nowadays be seldom applied to any of the restaurants mentioned in this chapter.

H.L.



CHAPTER V

HOLLAND

Restaurants at the Hague—Amsterdam—Scheveningen—Rotterdam—The food of the people.

The Hague

At the Hague, the capital, the best restaurant is Van der Pyl's, in the centre of the town, situated on the Plaats, where the cuisine is French and excellent, and where there are admirable wines in the cellar. A good set luncheon is served at this restaurant for the very moderate price of one florin (1s. 8d.); but it is wise to order dinner a la carte, and to give them some hours' notice. The manager is M. Anjema. It is advisable to secure a table near the window, especially in summer. Some of the best wines are not put on the wine-list.

In former years the proprietor of Van der Pyl's was possessed of a puritanical conscience, and would not allow any two people to dine alone in his private salons. So strictly did he adhere to his rule on this subject, that when a well-known man-about-town insisted on his right to dine in the petit salon alone with his wife, the inexorable proprietor turned him out of the restaurant. There was, however, another well-known member of Hague society who succeeded where the gentleman who thought that matrimony overrode all rules had failed. The hero of the little story had made a bet that, in spite of the puritanical proprietor, he would dine a deux with a lady in the petit salon. He won his bet by subtlety. He ordered a dinner for three, and when he and the lady arrived they waited a quarter of an hour for the other imaginary guest. Then, remarking that he was sure Mr. X. would not mind the dinner being begun without him, the host ordered the soup to be brought up; and so, with constant allusions to the man that never came, the dinner was served, course by course, and the bet won before the proprietor had the least idea that a trick had been played upon him.

A somewhat similar story, it will be remembered, is told of Delmonico's and its proprietor in the early history of that great New York restaurant. In the American story, the youth who had dined in a cabinet particulier with a lady, in contravention of the rules of the house, had not the sense to hold his tongue until after he had paid his bill. When that document did make its appearance, some of the items were astonishing. "You don't expect me to pay this bill?" said the astonished diner to the proprietor, who had made his appearance. "No, I do not," said Mr. Delmonico, "but until you do you will not come into my restaurant again."

The following are some of the dishes Van der Pyl's makes a speciality of:—Poule au pot Henri IV., Sole Normande, Cote de Boeuf a la Russe, Homards a l'Americaine, Poularde a la Parisienne, Perdreaux au choux, Omelette Siberienne, Souffle Palmyre, Poires Alaska, most of them standard dishes of the usual cuisine Francaise, though the Omelette Siberienne was invented to please a British diplomat who preferred a soupcon of absinthe to either rum or Kuemmel with his omelette. And this is a typical menu drawn up by M. Anjema, a menu which reads as though it were for a French banquet:—

Huitres de Zelande. Caviar. Consomme Diplomate. Truite Saumonee a la Nantua. Poularde a l'Imperiale. Noisettes de Chevreuil a la St-Hubert. Delice de foie gras au Champagne. Becassines roties. Salade St-Clair. Tartelettes aux Haricots Verts. Mousse Antoinette. Sandwiches au Parmesan. Dessert.

The Cafe Royal, in the Vijberberg, with an American luncheon bar on the ground floor and a restaurant upstairs, is fairly good.

Of the hotels to which restaurants are attached, the Hotel des Indes and Hotel Vieux Doelen have a reputation for good cookery. The former was in olden times the town house of the Barons van Brienen, and in winter many people of Dutch society, coming to the capital from the country for the season, take apartments there, and during that period of the year the restaurant is often filled by very brilliant gatherings. The manager, Mr. Haller, has been made a director of Claridge's Hotel in London, and divides his attention between the two hotels.

The following menu is a typical one of a dinner of ceremony at the Hotel des Indes; it was composed for a banquet given by Count Henri Stuergkh:—

Huitres. Consomme Bagration. Filets de Soles Joinville. Carre de Mouton Nesselrode. Parfait de foie gras de Strasbourg. Fonds d'Artichauts a la Barigoule. Grouse rotis sur Croutons. Compote de Montreuil. Coeurs de Laitues. Creme au Chocolat et Vanille. Paillettes au Fromage.

The Vieux Doelen has a beautiful old dining-room, and it is here that every year the smartest balls in the capital take place, given by the Societe du Casino, and generally attended by Their Majesties and the Court.

Hock's fish shop in the market has a room where excellent oyster suppers are served, but this is not a place to which ladies should be taken at night, for it is then patronised by damsels who take the courtesy title of actresses, and the students from Leiden.

Amsterdam

The Restaurant Riche is managed by a Frenchman, and the cuisine is French. It is necessary to order dinner in advance, and it is well to be particular. Under these circumstances an excellent dinner is obtainable. There is a cellar of good wine, the Burgundies being especially to be recommended.

The Restaurant van Laar, in the Kalverstraat, has a celebrity for its fish dinners, and excellent oyster suppers are to be had there.

Scheveningen

Curiously enough, this important seaside resort has no restaurant with any claim to celebrity. The dinners to be obtained in the hotels have to suffice for the wants of the visitors to the place.

Rotterdam

The Stroomberg here deserves a word of commendation, the food to be obtained there being excellent.

The Food of the People

The cuisine of the country, the food the people of the country eat, is not recommended to the experimenting gourmet; for the favourite dish is a sort of Kedjeree, in which dried stock-fish, rice, potatoes, butter, and anchovies all play their part. Sauerkraut and sausages, soused herrings and milk puddings also have claims to be considered the national dishes.



CHAPTER VI

GERMAN TOWNS

The cookery of the country—Rathskeller and beer-cellars— Dresden—Muenich—Nueremburg—Hanover—Leipsic—Frankfurt— Duesseldorf—The Rhine valley—"Cure" places—Kiel—Hamburg.

A German housewife who is a good cook can do marvels with a goose, having half-a-dozen stuffings for it, and she knows many other ways of treating a hare than roasting it or "jugging" it. She also is cunning in the making of the bitter-sweet salads and purees which are eaten with the more tasteless kinds of meat; but, unfortunately, the good German housewife does not as a rule control the hotel or restaurant that the travelling gourmet is likely to visit, but rules in her own comfortable home. The German Delikatessen, which form the "snacks" a Teuton eats at any time to encourage his thirst, are excellent; and the smoked sprats, and smoked and soused herrings, the various sausages and innumerable pickles, are the best edible products of the Fatherland. The German meat is as a rule poor. The best beef and mutton in the north has generally been imported from Holland. The German is a great eater of fresh-water fish,—pike, carp, perch, salmon, and trout all being found on his menus, the trout being cooked au bleu. Zander, a fish which is partly of the pike, partly of the trout species, is considered a great dainty. The vegetables are generally spoiled in the cooking, being converted into a puree which might well earn the adjective "eternal." Even the asparagus is spoilt by the native cook, being cut into inch cubes and set afloat in melted butter. Compotes sweet and sour, are served at strange times during the repast, and lastly, as a sort of "old guard," the much-beloved but deadly Sauerkraut, made from both red and white cabbage, is always brought up to complete the cook's victory. The potatoes in Germany are generally excellent, the sandy soil being suitable for their cultivation.

The cookery in the big hotels on much-frequented routes in Germany is now almost universally a rather heavy version of the French art, with perhaps a compote with the veal to give local colour. In the small hotels in little provincial towns the meals are served at the times that the middle-class German of the north usually eats them, and are an inferior copy of what he gets in his own home. As a warning I give what any enterprising traveller looking for the food of the country from the kitchen of a little inn may expect:—

Coffee at 8 A.M. with rolls, Kaffee Broedchen, and butter, and this meal he will be expected to descend to the dining-room to eat.

A slight lunch at 11 A.M., at which the German equivalent for a sandwich, a Broedchen cut and buttered, with a slice of uncooked ham, lachs, or cheese between the halves, makes its appearance, and a glass of beer or wine is drunk.

Dinner (Mittagessen) is announced between 1 and 2 o'clock, and is a long meal consisting of soup, which is the water in which the beef has been boiled; fish; a messy entree, probably of Frankfurt sausage; the beef boiled to rags with a compote of plums or wortleberries and mashed apples; and, as the sweet, pancakes.

Coffee is served at 4 P.M. with Kaffee Kuechen, its attendant cake, and at supper (Abendessen) one hot dish, generally veal, is given with a choice of cold viands or sausages in thin slices—leber Wuerst, Goettinger Wuerst, hot Frankfurter Wuerst, and black pudding.

If the above gruesome list does not warn the over-zealous inquirer, his indigestion be on his own head.

In the south the cookery, though still indifferent, approximates more nearly to the French bourgeois cookery.

A dinner-party at a private house of well-to-do German people is always a very long feast, lasting at least two hours, and the cookery, though good, is heavy and rich, and too many sauces accompany the meats. Many of the dishes are not served a la Russe, but are brought round in order that one may help one's self. Just as one is struggling into conversation in defective German, a pike's head obtrudes itself over the left shoulder, and it is necessary to twist in one's seat and go through a gymnastic performance to take a helping.

Except in large cities the Germans are not given to feeding at restaurants.

A golden rule, which may be held to apply all over Germany, is that it is safe to take ladies wherever officers go in uniform.

The Rathskeller

In most German towns where there is a Rathhaus (a town hall) one finds the Rathskeller, where beers or wine, according to the part of the country, are the principal attraction, single dishes, cutlets, steaks, cold meats, oysters, caviar being served more as an adjunct to the drink than as an orthodox meal. The most noted of these Rathskeller are at Bremen, Luebeck, and Hamburg, and that at Bremen is first in importance. It is a mediaeval Gothic hall, built 1405-1410, and it holds the finest stock of Rhine and Moselle wine in the world. The wine is kept in very old casks. One of the cellars is of particular interest as being the "Rose" one, where the magistrates used to sit in secret conclave, sub rosa, beneath the great rose carved upon the ceiling. The German Emperor generally pays a visit to the Rathskeller when he visits Bremen.

In the Luebeck Rathskeller is the "admiral's table," said to be made from a plank of the ship of the last Admiral of Luebeck, who flourished in 1570; and even more interesting than the Rathskeller is the Schiffergesellschaft, with its strange motto and its even stranger sign.

Beer-Cellars

Throughout Germany one meets in every town the large establishments, beautifully decorated in the "Old German" style, of the various beer companies, most of which are Munich ones, the Lowenbrau, the Pschorrbrau, the Muenchener Hofbrau, and others. Be careful to close the metal top of your Schopps if you are drinking with German companions, for if you do not they have the right, by the custom of the country, to place their mugs on the top of the open one and demand another "round." If when you have emptied your mug, you leave it with the lid open, the waiter, without asking any questions, takes it away and refills it.

I now once more step down to allow A.B. to chat about the various German towns.

Dresden

Dresden is not exactly an epicure's paradise, but there is one restaurant which may, I think, be safely recommended as an establishment of the first order. I am referring to the Englischer Garten, which is managed by its proprietor, Herr Curt Roething. The principal entrance is through a rather dingy looking archway in the Waisenhausstrasse, nearly opposite the Victoria Salon Music Hall. The principal public rooms are on the ground floor. The decorations used to be of a very dismal type, but a year or two ago the rooms were all done up, and, without being palatial or particularly artistic, they are now quite nice and bright in their way.

There are also some rooms on the first floor which are generally used for private parties. The atmosphere in the winter is apt to be rather too sultry for English tastes, but it is perhaps less close than in most other Dresden restaurants. At the back, there is an open space dignified by the name of a garden, running down to a nice wide street, and here in the summer a number of tables are laid, and one has the great advantage of dining al fresco.

The attendance is well above the Dresden average and the waiters there invariably clean and civil. The German waiter at his best is not often one of the highest polished specimens of humanity, although some compensation may be found in the almost paternal interest he takes in habitues or customers who have succeeded in winning his good graces. The table linen and other appointments are up to the mark without being luxurious.

In the middle of the day a huge dinner is served for 3s. By leaving out one or two courses, you can get quite as much as you can eat for lunch, and then you only have to pay 2s. This 2s. lunch is perhaps the cheapest, and, at the price, the best meal of its kind that one could possibly get at any restaurant. In its way, it is, I think, as remarkable a performance as the 1s. 6d. Sunday morning breakfast at the Grid at Oxford. It is, of course, not up to Chevillard or Paillard form, but quite good enough for ordinary requirements. In the evening everything is a la carte, and is almost as dear as the "set" meal in the middle of the day is cheap. Single portions are, however, with some very few exceptions, more than enough for two. The service is much more recherche than in the middle of the day; there is quite a large bill of fare, and you can get all ordinary restaurant dishes, in addition to a considerable selection of Delikatessen, such as oysters, caviar, fresh truffles, peaches, etc., all of which are kept in good qualities.

Game and fish are also good at the Englischer Garten, and the partridges and woodcocks are very well cooked; in fact, all their game can be highly recommended. Live trout and other fresh-water fish are kept in a tank, and you may generally rely on finding the soles and turbot fresh as well. As regards price, unless you are an habitue or make special terms, a fairly little simple dinner will average out at 10s. a head, exclusive of wine. It is well to order dinner beforehand, as the culinary arrangements are not very expeditious. In the evening the cuisine is by way of being first-class French art, but it just lacks the lightness of touch which is characteristic of the best French cookery.

Wine is rather dear, but the higher-priced brands of hock, Moselle, or claret are in some cases excellent. As to the champagnes found abroad, unless they are specially made for the English market, they must not be judged from an English standpoint, being as a rule far too sweet for our taste.

An instance of this occurred to me at Rheims, when staying with one of the champagne magnates for some shooting owned by a syndicate of some of the large champagne shippers. We met for dejeuner at their Chalet de Chasse or club-house, each gentleman bringing his own wine. The result was that one saw from ten to a dozen different famous brands of champagne on the table.

My host asked me which sort I would prefer. "Du vin Brut, if you have any," I replied. "Ah! Vous buvez de ce poison-la?" exclaimed he, smiling. So they evidently did not agree with our taste for dry wine. But you can make a pleasant and harmless drink of the sweet champagne in summer by mixing it with an equal quantity of light Moselle, adding a liqueur glass of curacoa, and putting some wild strawberries or a large peach cut up into the concoction with some ice.

To return to the Englischer Garten. They also keep some particularly good Pilsen beer which they serve highly iced: that of course is as it should be, but it is apt to have disastrous consequences if one is not accustomed to it. Being a wine restaurant they do not expect you to drink beer except as a supplement to your wine, but if you make a point of it you can have it throughout. An additional charge of 6d. per head is made for the set mid-day meal if wine is not ordered.

The clientele is by way of being "smart" in the evening, and there is generally a fair sprinkling of officers of the two crack Saxon cavalry regiments,—the Dresden Horse Guards and the Oschatz Lancers. Evening clothes, or, better still, a dress jacket and a black tie are advisable, but by no means de rigueur. The-cloth-cap knickerbocker-cum-Norfolk-jacket-get-up, unfortunately so frequently affected by travelling Englishmen in continental capitals, is certainly not to be recommended.

In the middle of the day the company is more bourgeois, and on Sundays, and occasionally on Saturdays, the place is apt to be unpleasantly crowded. In the evening, except on race nights, there is always plenty of room; in fact it is usually rather empty till after the plays are over.

The other restaurants would not appeal to a gourmet but, for a change, some of them are well worth visiting according to the season. For instance:—

The Belvedere, an old-established and very popular institution, delightfully situated on the Bruhlsche Terrasse, with a charming view over the Elbe and the principal architectural features of the town. Essentially a place for the summer, when one can take one's meals out of doors on its terraces and balconies. There is a beer and a wine department, and in the former an excellent band plays; but it is difficult to secure a table within earshot as there is always a great crowd. The attendance is indifferent and the cuisine fair and wholesome, though no doubt you could get a good dinner if you took a little trouble and ordered it.

The public dinners which take place there in the large banqueting hall are quite creditable productions, and the position, view, and fresh air all combine to render it a very pleasant hot-weather resort.

The Stadt Gotha. The wine restaurant is small and quaintly decorated. Very popular with the upper and middle classes and extremely respectable, cuisine very fair, set meals, and especially supper after the play very inexpensive. But if you order a la carte, like most other places, it is rather dear. A capital beer restaurant in connection with it and good; a thoroughly plain German cooking served here.

Tiedemann and Grahl's, in the Seestrasse, is a typical German Weinstube with a large clientele of habitues, mostly men, but ladies can go there. The owners being large wine merchants have some first-rate wine at prices averaging rather lower than the Englischer Garten. But there is a very extensive list and the quality is not altogether uniform, so if you can suborn a friendly waiter he could help you considerably. Excellent oysters and smoked salmon are to be had here, but the place is apt to be rather crowded and noisy. The appointments are of the simplest and most unpretentious kind. Prices, moderately high—about two-thirds of the Englischer Garten. Set meals are served, but a la carte is more usual. The waiters, being institutions like most of the guests, are inclined to be a little off-hand and familiar, and there is altogether a free and easy and homely tone about the place, but it is perfectly respectable.

Neues Palais de Saxe, on the Neumarket, is owned and managed by Herr Muller. Very fair cuisine; good set meals; a la carte rather more expensive; speciality made of oysters and ecrevisses, which latter are served in all sorts of fascinating ways. Not at all a bad place for supper after the theatre, but perhaps a trifle dull.

Kneist, in a little street off the Altmarkt, called, I think, the Grosse Brudergasse, is managed by the proprietor whose name it bears. This may perhaps be called the leading beer restaurant of Dresden; it is remarkably popular and considered very good. Worth a visit as a typical though favourable specimen of its kind. Much frequented by officers and officials; here you find good plain fare served in the simplest of fashions. Meals a la carte and quite inexpensive; cuisine purely German, homely and wholesome, with excellent beer, especially Erlanger. The atmosphere is usually hot, thick, and stuffy, but the clientele does not seem to mind it.

In a little back room the principal dignitaries of the Saxon Court, State, and Army are wont to forgather every morning for their Fruehschoppen,—a kind of early, largely liquid lunch, where, if rumour can be trusted, a good deal of important business is informally discussed and settled.

The Kaiser Palast, on the Pirnaischerplatz, is a huge but not particularly attractive establishment with wine and beer departments.

The best Pilsen beer in Dresden is obtainable at the Bierstall in a little street off the Altmarkt, in a somewhat disreputable quarter of the town; it is not a suitable place for ladies, but is quite respectable for men. The beer is well worth sampling, but the air is not fit to breathe.

Good Munich beer is to be had at the Zacherlbrau in the Koenig Johann Strasse.

As regards dining at hotels.

The Savoy (Sedanstrasse), the Europaischen Hof (Pragerstrasse), and the Bellevue (Theaterplatz) rank about equal. The set meals are of the usual hotel type; the a la carte prices are, of course, high. The preference of the English is generally given to the Savoy, but the Europaischer Hof is the most popular with German society. The Bellevue is very pleasant in the summer, having a large verandah with a lovely view overlooking the Elbe, where one can dine in the hot weather.

Munich

There are no absolutely first-class restaurants in Munich, although the Hotel de Russie is certainly the best and now boasts of a capital chef. It is under the same directorate as the Vierjahrzeiten, but being a better class of establishment, with more modern appointments, it has eclipsed the latter. It is now a case of the Vierjahrzeiten's nose being put out of joint by its own child. Yet the latter, though rather old-fashioned, is still very comfortable and has an American bar.

Schleich's Restaurant is very good, as is also the Continental, on the Maximiliens Platz, and the Hungaerische Hof.

You should visit the Hofbrauhaus in the Platz, if only to drink as good a glass of beer as one could wish to have. It is a fine and typical specimen of a German Bierhalle, very respectable and much frequented. After having had your first Schoppen (for having once tasted you invariably want more) you rinse out your glass at a handy fountain before presenting it to be refilled; but the person who takes your Schoppen along with several others in each hand, invariably with unerring instinct hands you back your same Schoppen. As an appetizer for the beer to which it is supposed to give an additional zest, they place a large radish about the size of an apple in a sort of turnip-cutting machine which ejects it in thin rings; it is then washed and put into a saucer with a little salt and water and eaten without any other accompaniment than the beer; it may be an acquired taste, but it appears to be very popular.

Nueremberg

Nueremberg being essentially a commercial and industrial town, it follows that expensive restaurants and high living are not one of the features of it. Yet the Bierkellers there are institutions that have existed since the time of Albert Duerer and his companions.

Among the best of these is the Rathhauskeller (or town-hall cellar), kept by Carl Giessing, a most picturesque place, as indeed is everything in Nueremberg; also the Fottinger in the Koenigstrasse and the Herrenkeller in the Theaterstrasse. At all of these good meals can be obtained at moderate prices, and hock is the best wine to order.

Perhaps the most interesting place in this storehouse of beautiful antiquities is the hostelry known as the Bratwurstgloecklein, or Little Bell of the Roast Sausage; here the specialities are excellent beer and the very best of diminutive sausages made fresh every day, also Sauerkraut. The bell is still suspended on the end wall by an ornamental, hammered iron bracket. Built about the year 1400, it is one of the most ancient, if not the oldest, refreshment house in the world, and has been used as such ever since. Here did the Meistersingers forgather, Hans Sachs, Peter Vischer, Albrecht Duerer, Wellebald Pirkheimer, Veit Stoss and other celebrated men in Nueremberg's history in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Great historical interest has always attached to this house, where the best class of entertainment is to be had. The present owners profess to have many of the original drinking-mugs, cans, etc., that these old customers habitually used and which were individually reserved for them. The proprietors of the Bratwurstgloecklein are so particular with regard to the character of their sausages that they are made twice a day. Consequently the sausage they give you in the evening has not even been made that morning; it dates its construction only from mid-day.

There is a doggerel rhyme written of the establishment that runs very much in the same strain in which I have translated it:—

Not many noble strangers Can possibly refrain, When once they've ate our sausages From eating them again. And it usually strikes them, If they have not yet found it out, That these sausages are splendid When they're mixed with Sauerkraut. The only thing they rail at, When they fain would criticise, Is to wish the little sausage Were a little larger size.

At the principal hotels, such as the Grand, Strauss, Wuerttemberger Hof, and Victoria, very good meals can be procured—the mid-day table-d'hote prices varying from 3s. to 3s. 6d. Perhaps the best of these is the Victoria, which rejoices in a grill-room, and where the delicacies of the season are available.

There are American bars at the "American Bar," Karolinenstrasse, the Hotel Strauss, same street, and at the Wittelsbacker Hof in the Pfaunenschmiedsgasse.

The cafes are the Bristol in the Josephs Platz, the Central in the Karolinenstrasse, the Habsburg and the Imperial both in the Koenigstrasse; but do not go to any of these under the idea that they represent the Cafe Anglais in Paris.

A very pleasant resort in the summer is the Maxfeld Restauration in the Stadt Park. It is in the open air, and an excellent band plays at 5 P.M. on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. A fair dinner is provided, but it is better to order in advance by telephone.

Hanover

The Georgshalle is, and has been for the last forty years, the best cafe and restaurant in Hanover, but is now incorporated with Kasten's Hotel. It was the usual and, for many years, the only place of resort where a simple and decent meal could be obtained. I am not talking of the haute cuisine, because it does not exist in this city.

Kasten's Hotel is good of its kind. The Kaiser has dined there on his occasional visits to the town. Private balls and other entertainments are given there, and the wines are generally good.

The Tip Top Restaurant, in the Karmarschstrasse, is a comparatively modern, pleasant, and cheery locale, with a good bill of fare. On account of its proximity to the theatre it is much frequented for suppers after the play.

There are several Biergaerten open in the summer where military and other bands perform, but nothing but ordinary refreshment is to be obtained here.

Leipzig

Leipzig has one good restaurant, the Restaurant Paege on the Marktplatz,—at least it is the best in the town.

The Hotel Hauffe, in the Russplatz, is an old-established hotel, is well conducted, and has a restaurant where one can get quite a decent dinner if ordered beforehand.

There is also another, Friedrichkrause, Katharinensbresse, No. 6, but with these three the culinary capabilities of Leipzig are practically at an end. Of course there are a number of Bierhalle and Kellern to accommodate the students and music pupils, for which latter Leipzig is the home of instruction.

Frankfurt-am-Main

Frankfurt gives me the idea of having more wealthy people in it than any other town I know, and I do not think I am very far wrong in this. The Central Railway Station is the finest one can imagine.

It has at least four first-class restaurants attached to hotels.

The Hotel d'Angleterre, or Englischer Hof, in the centre of the city, the Rossmarkt, is a fine old hotel. Our present king, when Prince of Wales, generally stayed there when passing through. The famous German philosopher, Schopenhauer, dined there regularly for thirty years—from 1831 to 1860, though I cannot advance that as any great recommendation, for the ways and tastes of philosophers are usually somewhat erratic. I have no doubt, however, that the cuisine has materially altered since Schopenhauer's time.

The Frankfurter Hof, built about thirty years ago, is a larger establishment with all the modern improvements. It is much frequented by Englishmen and Americans, but rather lacks the quiet of the Angleterre. It has a good cuisine, for M. Ritz, who has an interest in the hotel, has seen to that, and magnificent reception rooms where many balls, parties, weddings, etc., take place. A band plays there during the greater part of the day, and it is advisable to get as far distant as possible from it when dining. In the restaurant one can obtain a la carte a very excellently cooked dinner.

The Palast Hotel Furstenhof is of the highest class and was only recently opened. It has beautifully decorated rooms, a good restaurant, a dining-hall, and an excellent American bar. Herr Schill the former head waiter of the Englischer Hof—his nom de guerre is Mons. Jules—assiduously sees to the comfort and welfare of his guests. Like Mons. Ritz he has a large following of friends.

The Hotel Imperial was opened about two years ago, and although a little smaller than the Frankfurter Hof or the Palast has a most aristocratic clientele. Being close to the Opera House, its restaurant is much patronised in the season by people who during the entr'acte, or to pass over a more or less tedious act, prefer to partake of light refreshments and a cigarette on the terrace in the open air. There is an American bar there also. The elite of Frankfurt, on the rare occasions when they do sup after going to the theatre or opera, generally order their meals at one of the restaurants of the leading hotels; but Frankfurt does not, as a rule, keep late hours.

The Palmen Garten is a pleasant summer restaurant a little way out of the town, on the Bockenheimerstrasse. It has a fine dining-hall, or you may sit at al-fresco tables while the regimental band discourses excellent music. The cooking is good—German cuisine, but nothing high class. It is a very pleasant spot to visit in the hot weather; on fete days one is treated there to the luxury of fireworks, etc.

Buerose ought to be mentioned as a quiet restaurant, where there is a specialite of hors-d'oeuvre and excellent oysters.

Lovers of good beer will find at the Allemania, if they ask for a Schoppen of the Royal Court Hofbrau, exactly what they have been craving for; and the Pilsener at the Kaiserhof Restaurant in the Goetheplatz is equally good. One has to sample several glasses of each before one can definitely make up one's mind as to which is the best.

Duesseldorf

The best restaurant in Duesseldorf is that of the Park Hotel on the Corneliusplatz. It is one of the best on the Rhine, and was opened in April 1902 on the occasion of the Duesseldorf Exhibition; it is a fine building, and has pretty grounds and ornamental water adjoining it. It is frequented by the highest German nobility, but yet its prices are moderate.

Luncheons are served at 3 marks, dinners at 5 marks. Suppers for 3 marks are served at prix fixe, or one can order a la carte. The Moselle wines are exceptionally good. There is an American bar in the hotel. The restaurant, handsomely decorated in the style of Louis XIV., is opposite the Opera House and overlooks the Hofgaerten.

It has no specialities in the way of food beyond the usual German and French dishes.

At the Thuernagel Restaurant, also in the Corneliusplatz, you are likely to find the artistic colony in session. The restaurant dates back to the year 1858. There is a good collection of wine in the cellars, and a word may be said in favour of its cookery.

The Rhine Valley

The Rhine valley is not a happy hunting ground for the gourmet. Cologne has its picturesque Gurzenich in which is a restaurant; its inhabitants eat their oysters in the saloon in the Kleine Bugenstrasse, part of a restaurant there; and there are restaurants in the Marienburg and in the Stadt garden, and the Flora and Zoological Gardens. At every little town on either bank there are one or more taverns with a view where the usual atrocities which pass as food in provincial Germany are to be obtained, good beer, and generally excellent wine made from the vineyards on the mountain side. Now and again some restaurant-keeper has a little pool of fresh water in front of his house, and one can select one's particular fish to be cooked for breakfast. The wines of the district are far better than its food.

Rudesheim, Geisenheim, Schloss Johannisberg, the Steinberg Abbey above Hattenheim, are of course household words, and the man who said that travelling along the Rhine was like reading a restaurant wine-list had some justification for his Philistine speech. One does not expect to discover the real Steinberg Cabinet in a village inn, and the Johannisberg generally found in every hotel in Rhineland is a very inferior wine to that of the Schloss, and is grown in the vineyards round Dorf Johannisberg. I have memories of excellent bottles of wine at the Ress at Hattenheim, and at the Engel at Erbach; but the fact that I was making a walking tour may have added to the delight of the draughts. The Marcobrunn vineyards lie between Hattenheim and Erbach. The Hotel Victoria at Bingen has its own vineyards and makes a capital wine; and in the valley of the river below Bingen almost every little town and hill—Lorch, Boppard, Horcheim, and the Kreuzberg—has its own particular brand, generally excellent. Assmanhausen, which gives such an excellent red wine, is on the opposite bank to Bingen and a little below it. The Rhine boats have a very good assortment of wines on board, but it is wise to run the finger a little way down the list before ordering your bottle, for the very cheapest wines on the Rhine are, as is usual in all countries, of the thinnest description. Most of the British doctors on the Continent make the greater part of their living by attending their fellow-countrymen who drink everywhere anything that is given them free, and who hold that the vin du pays must be drinkable because it is the wine of the country. Our compatriots often swallow the throat-cutting stuff which the farm labourers and stable hands drink, sooner than pay a little extra money for the sound wine of the district. The foreigner who came to Great Britain and drank our cheapest ale and rawest whisky would go away with a poor impression of the liquors of our country. Drink the wine of the district where they make good wine, but do not grudge the extra shilling which makes all the difference in quality. The dinners and lunches on the big express Rhine steamers are a scramble for food; but on some of the smaller and slower boats, where the caterer has fewer passengers to feed, the meals are often very good. I have a kindly memory of an old head steward, a fatherly old gentleman in a silk cap shaped somewhat like an accordion, who provided the meals on a leisurely steamer which pottered up the Rhine, stopping at every village. He gave us local delicacies, took an interest in our appetites, and his cookery, though distinctively German, was also very good. In a land where all the big hotels fill once a day and empty once a day, and where the meals are in heavy-handed imitation of bourgeois French cookery, that old man with his stews and roasts, and pickles, veal, and pork, sausages big and sausages small, strange cheeses, and Delikatessen of all kinds was a good man to meet.