{"id":1182,"date":"2010-02-20T08:52:51","date_gmt":"2010-02-20T12:52:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/?p=1182"},"modified":"2010-02-20T08:52:51","modified_gmt":"2010-02-20T12:52:51","slug":"receipt-for-dressing-a-salad","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/2010\/02\/20\/receipt-for-dressing-a-salad\/","title":{"rendered":"Receipt for dressing a salad"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sometimes the best part of doing hsitory is the flotsam and jetsam that washes ashore. While looking for a copy of an 1855 cookbook I found this poem appended nonsequitorially to a “Notices of New Books” column in the New York Times<\/i>, and it was so charmingly bizarre I felt I had to share it. <\/p>\n

\"St.<\/p>\n

Alas poor dour St. Anthony<\/a>… there but for the grace of a dash of Worcestershire sauce and some decent olive oil go we.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Sydney Smith (1771\u20131845) was an Anglican clergyman and writer who, it seems, could scarcely contain himself at the prospect of a well-dressed salad. I don’t know when or where he originally published this “receipt” (or recipe), but in 1851 it was reprinted in The American matron: or Practical and scientific cookery<\/i>, and then twenty-two years later in Common Sense in the Household: A Manual of Practical Housewifery<\/a><\/cite>. The latter book sold well enough that the Rev. Smith’s poem apparently became quite well known in Gilded-Age America. <\/p>\n

I don’t think I have much hope of making Sydney Smith a household name again, but here it is anyway. <\/p>\n

\n

Receipt for Dressing a Salad<\/h2>\n

Two large potatoes, passed through the kitchen sieve
\nSmoothness and softness to the salad give;
\nOf mordant mustard add a single spoon\u2014
\nDistrust the condiment that bites too soon;
\nBut deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault,
\nTo add a double quantity of salt;
\nFour times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown;
\nAnd twice with vinegar, procured from town;
\nTrue flavor needs it, and your poet begs
\nThe pounded yellow of two well-boiled eggs;
\nLet onion’s atoms lurk within the bowl,
\nAnd, scarce suspected, animate the whole.
\nAnd lastly, in the flavored compound toss
\nA magic spoonful of anchovy sauce.
\nO! great and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat!
\n‘Twould tempt a dying anchorite to eat;
\nBack to the world he’d turn his weary soul,
\nAnd plunge his fingers in the Salad bowl.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Oddly, an 1868 issue of Lippincott’s Magazine<\/a> referred to these as the final lines of the Rev. Smith’s poem:<\/p>\n

Serenely full, the epicure may say.
\nFate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

…and notes that they were imitated from Dryden: <\/p>\n

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
\nHe who can call to-day his own;
\nHe who, secure within, can say,
\nTomorrow, do thy worst; for I have lived today.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

But those lines don’t appear in any version I’ve seen. If anybody stumbles across this who happens to know where the “receipt” was first published, please let me know. In the meantime, I’m going to make some breakfast.<\/cite><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sometimes the best part of doing hsitory is the flotsam and jetsam that washes ashore. While looking for a copy of an 1855 cookbook I found this poem appended nonsequitorially to a “Notices of New Books” column in the New York Times, and it was so charmingly bizarre I felt I had to share it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true},"categories":[1],"tags":[276,390],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8I1ci-j4","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1182"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1182"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1182\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1182"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1182"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1182"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}