Showing posts with label cuisine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cuisine. Show all posts

24 August 2013

Wildbirds on National Hotel Bill of Fare

Dining, yesterday, with a friend at Guy & Brigg's "National Hotel," we were struck with the refutation of the New York Herald's pert and sweeping allegations against all such Washington establishments as was embraced in the bill of fare, the capital manner in which the dinner was prepared and served, and (what is by means a matter of indifference to one who has a penchant for good living) the promptness, quiet and efficiency with which the requirements of the guests were attended to.

We publish the bill of fare to verify our assertion, that it afforded any man an opportunity of making really as good a dinner as is obtainable in any other quarter of the country — New York not excepted — at a hotel table d'kote.

Gentlemen's Ordinary — Soup — Terapin.
Fish — Baked codfish, claret sauce.
Boiled — Corned beef and cabbage, chicken and pork, smoked tongue, turkey and oysters, celery salad.
Cold Dishes — Ham, tongue, pressed corned beef, chicken salad.
Side Dishes — Fricandeau of veal, tomato sauce; oyster pies, Parisian style; macaroni, a l'Italienne; pork cutlets breaded; fillet of venison, jelly sauce, rice birds, Maderia sauce; apple fritters glacie; calf's head fried in butter; veal cutlets, a la Jardiniere; ragion saute, port wine sauce.
Roast — Beef, leg of mutton, turkey, ham, champagne sauce.
Game — Canvas back ducks, black ducks, leg of bear, redheads, mallard ducks, mongrel goose.
Pastry — Apple pies, mince pies, custard pies, charlotte Russe, cabinet pudding, cocoanut drops, ebglars a la vanilla.
Dessert — Almonds, raisins, filberts, oranges, prunes, pecan nuts, apples, lemon ice cream.
Washington Hotels. January 2, 1857. Washington D.C. Evening Star 9(1236): 2.

21 August 2013

Reed Bird Cuisine from the 1880s

Reed-bird Dumplings

Prepare very carefully one dozen or more reed-birds, wash them through several waters, and season with salt. black pepper, and dredge with flour; then make a light crust, as for apple dumplings, roil out a piece of moderate thickness about the size of a saucer, in which place two birds, and between them a small piece of butter and six large oysters; tie each dumpling in a cloth, drop them in boiling water, and let them cook for one hour; then take them from the cloths and send to table hot.

To Dress Reed Birds

Pick, open and wash carefully one dozen reed-birds, after which place them between the folds of a clean towel, and, with a rolling gin, mash the bones quite flat; then season with pepper and salt; put one or two tablespoons of butter into a small skillet, let the birds simmer slowly, basting them constantly, and holding the skillet so that they may brown. This is the richest way to serve the birds, or they may be prepared exactly as oysters for frying, or broiled on an oyster gridiron. In broiling place them over a clear fire, broiling the inside first, and when a light brown turn the gridiron. Serve on buttered toast, and baste them with butter, pepper and salt.

October 2, 1880. Washington D.C. Evening Star 56(8578): 7. From the Philadelphia Ledger.

Broiled Reed Birds

This way of cooking the reed bird, though it be simple, certainly ought to please the most fastidious palate: Pluck, draw and split the birds down the back, and place them on a folding wire broiler over a clear fire, turning them from side to side. When done send to the table immediately on a hot dish, pouring over them just before serving a little plain melted butter in which has been mixed a teaspoonful of Johnston's fluid beef.

September 27, 1884. Washington D.C. Evening Star 64(9805): 6. From the Caterer.

Reed Birds on Toast

Very Good for the Palate, but Bad for the Purse

"Reed birds on toast" is the first sign that one now observes on entering a first-class restaurant, and naturally the observer shoots his eyes along the eating bar, and there lay the jolly fat little rascals, brown and seasoned, curled upon a section of seal-brown toast, the whole not more than a single mouthful for a healthy feeder. Reed birds

Are in Their Prime

of fatness and juiciness now, and it makes a fellow's mouth water to think about them, but his mouth will have to water on unless he has a healthy pocketbook, for these delicious morsels rate high. Served to order they now demand $1.20 per dozen. A dozen is just about an ordinary meal. Add to that a bottle of claret, seventy-five cents, and we find the total cost of such luxuries to be $1.95. Rather

Steep for the Average Eater.

"They come high, but we must have 'em," said a Treasury clerk who sat munching the bones of a dozen reedbirds in an uptown cafe to-day, and he munched and smiled and put on as many airs as though he owned a railroad. In the meantime, the market is being well supplied. Just now, the neighboring marshes are alive with reedbirds and blackbirds, and

The Professional Gunner is On the Field

blazing away hourly creating sad havoc. Amateur gunners are blowing down their gun-barrels preparing to enter the warfare and the coroner and local newspaper reporter on the alert for casualties. Just what the innocent victims of these sanguinary invaders think of all this is better described in the following lines that floated in from the marshes to-day.

The Reed Bird's Song.

On a swaying reed in the marsh so green
Sits a reed bird and a reed bird lean,
Chatting and Chirping so merry and gay,
And watching the hills and the clouds far away,
"Tis here," they chirrup, "we'll make our home,"
"Till the murderous gunner and dogs all come
"To scatter shot and drive us out,
"With banging and barking and deafening shout.
"No harm to them could a reed bird bring."
These two little reed birds went on to sing,
"Till 'bang' went a gun from a tuft hard by,
And the two little chaps lay down to die.
No doubt they would rather have lived to see
The season out, to fly off in glee,
But fate and a gunner's steady aim,
Removed then from future praise or fame;
And so it will happen, through all this weather,
Has passed in his chips, and become a ghost,
Of his former self served up on toast.
September 2, 1882. Washington Evening Critic 15(4220): 1.