A famous French writer on gastronomy is responsible for the aphorism:—"dis-moi ce que tu manges, et je te dirai ce que tu es." There is much wisdom in this epigram yet I believe that it contains only a moiety of the truth. The other half I should phrase thus:—"dis-moi comment tu manges, et je te dirai ce que tu es." Taking together "what one eats" and "how one eats it" we obtain an accurate index of one's social development. In this instance it is not alone the manner which makes the man; no less important a share in the making is lodged in the matter; it can hardly be denied that this nice adjustment was in the poet's mind when he wrote,
"But civilized man cannot live without dining."
It is impossible to exaggerate the influence upon our well-being, both physical and mental, of a daintily set table, at which good, well-cooked food is served by neatly attired, quiet, orderly and skillful servants, in an apartment so furnished as to soothe the senses and lull the willing guest into that holy calm which is the concomitant of healthy receptivity. In our ordinary existence, nature or custom, as you will, imposes on us the obligation of three meals a day. Surely it is fitting and proper to aid the discharge of this obligation in all reasonable ways. While it is entirely correct to hold that a pleasant repast presupposes the presence around the board of congenial spirits, of a conversation touching upon subjects of interest just enough stimulating in their character to maintain an easy flow of talk, but skillfully piloted to avoid those topics which arouse antagonisms or heated discussion, we cannot ignore the part in this happy result played by the caterer, the steward, the waiters and last, but not least, the cook, who together lay the foundation upon which is erected that superstructure of wit, jest, badinage, anecdote and episode, the very demonstration and crown of an agreeable repast. It is possible to arise from a picnic of cold sardines and biscuit, washed down by spring water and feel that in the company with which we are honored ample atonement is found for any deficiency in the bill of fare. Such experiences must, however, be the exception and not the rule. Life is not a continual picnic and proper respect for the demands of our appetite, not only as to "what" but as to "how" compels us to pay some attention to the details of the day's triple ceremonial which, if not carried too far, will amply reward us in a genial satisfaction with our surroundings, a larger sympathy with our neighbors and a toleration or even rosy view of these sublunary affairs in general.
There is a reverse side to this medal, reflecting the result of willful or careless indifference to the art of the late lamented Brillat Savarin, which concerns us only in so far as it affects that chief aim of all naval officers—the good of the service. Unless gastronomy and the efficiency of the ship can be linked together as interdependent the former has no place in our technical discussions and its consideration in the pages of these grave and valuable proceedings is as out of place as a clown in a ball room. Let us see, therefore, whether or no good messing and a healthy tone in the man-of-war's atmosphere may not go hand in hand.
It has, I fear, been the lot of other officers in the navy besides myself, on occasion, to serve on board of a ship where harmony was distinctly absent. The reason of this regrettable state of affairs differs of course with the individual case. Sometimes it may be found in the physical discomforts of the ship's design; or the futile arduousness of the duty assigned her; or persistently boisterous and inclement weather; or an over-tropical or over-boreal climate, too long extended; or continued remoteness from civilization; or needless deprivation of communication with those at home; or the uneven administration of affairs on board; or a captain who seems animated by the fiend's desire to render all work difficult and distasteful; or an executive officer who fails to command the professional respect and personal esteem of his messmates; in short, a host of reasons into whose enumeration it is not worth while to enter. I think, however, no one will deny that, in every instance coming within his knowledge, one condition invariably obtained; his mess was unsatisfactory, his bodily nutrition not a pleasure but an obligation imposed upon him by the necessity of supplying his physical wants. I am almost tempted to go so far as to assert that, on board of all unhappy ships, the mess, and by that I mean particularly the "wardroom mess," falls conspicuously short of what it might be and what it should be; while on the other hand, no matter how unsympathetic or harsh the exercise of command on ship, that no ship is really unhappy wherein the "wardroom mess" is properly conducted. While this may not be the unbroken rule, I am sure it has been my unvarying experience.
I believe that too little attention is paid to this point by officers afloat; that they accept poor and badly cooked food, a slovenly table and slip-shod service as a matter of course, an unavoidable incident of the profession, a hardship to be endured patiently as one of the customary conditions of sea life. The incomprehensible part of this fatalistic attitude is that it is assumed with a resignation worthy of the cloistered nun by men who would not in their own homes tolerate for a moment the least departure from the daintiest standard. They receive uncomplainingly, at the hands of an Asiatic or African steward, what would produce a domestic quarrel only to be settled by the husband or wife taking a trip to North Dakota and its accommodating divorce court. In my judgment, their view is hideously incorrect. Our ships nowadays are generously supplied with everything essential, both in material and personnel, to a well ordered table and an excellent bill of fare. It is only the apathy of the officers themselves that is responsible for their not having everything about them of the nicest. That this opinion is not held as a theory but is based upon facts, I propose to show by repeating the story of what happened once upon a time in the Korea as related to me by an officer whom I shall term "X," in deference to his desire for anonymity. I hope he will forgive me for this quasi betrayal of his confidence.
"X" always maintained that the chief cause of indifferent food, wretched cooking, miserable servants and an unattractive table lay in the dependence implicitly placed by the average naval officer upon the steward; that the steward's place is and should be subordinate; that he should only execute the orders received from the caterer; and that the caterer must do something more than to act merely as the mess treasurer. For the benefit of his colleagues I am led to present the picture of "X's" active management in one case which he has been induced to quote at length, leaving it to them to decide whether or not he was justified by his practice in cherishing and expounding so radical a doctrine. He began at the beginning and spun his yarn much as I am giving it.
Some years ago he was assigned to duty as executive officer of a vessel about to be placed in commission. This was, by the way, before the present liberal regime of the Navy Department was instituted by which officers' messes are furnished with china, silver, glass, table linen, etc., and when no small number of dollars was exacted of each member of the mess in order to secure a "mess outfit." Practically nothing was provided by the government except a few (a very few) cooking utensils; everything else had to be purchased by the officers themselves. It happened that "X" preceded his messmates by a few weeks, having been ordered to duty in connection with preparing the Korea for commissioning. As soon as the list of his messmates was completed and made known, he addressed to each one a communication requesting authority to make temporary arrangements for messing prior to their arrival. To these letters he received in all cases affirmative replies. Acting upon this authority, "X" shipped an excellent steward, an approved cook and a few mess attendants, just enough to start with. From a restaurant on shore he rented, temporarily, some china, glass, linen, plated ware, etc. He then wrote that, instead of going to a hotel, the officers might repair directly on board the ship where they would find their rooms in readiness. As a fact they did so come and shifted into the prescribed uniform for reporting to the commandant of the navy yard. From the office of the latter officer they returned to the ship and reported to the commanding officer for duty, the Pennant having been hoisted. Immediately afterwards, the wardroom mess sat down to a decently spread table and partook of a good luncheon. An organization was effected, a caterer elected and empowered to buy the "outfit." It would seem as if a mess beginning existence under such auspices could not fail of success. Unfortunately it belied its augury, and started down hill at once, surely and steadily. There were a few spasmodic bursts towards better things but the general decline was not interrupted although each month the members felt that it was impossible for things to be worse and that the change of caterership which occurred with every new moon must result in a marked improvement. In practically every case these fond anticipations yielded to keen disappointment.
For nearly two years this deterioration continued. The mess bill was always high, the food was always poor, the servants always inefficient. Poor creatures! it was inevitably upon their guiltless heads that the universal dissatisfaction was vented. When not cowed by incessant rebuke they were indolent and careless. How, indeed, could they be expected to take more interest in their duties than did their masters?
One day the caterer, whose traditional term of office had not expired, rose from his seat at the table, threw down the account book and with it tendered his resignation in forcible terms; he stated, what was known to all, that most of the china and glass was broken and the table linen worn out; he added that the mess was heavily in debt, owing several hundreds of dollars; he mildly advanced as a saving clause that the storeroom was well filled with provisions; and he concluded that he would have no more to do with the caterership. This officer had about completed the full tally of the occupants of the wardroom, each of whom had had his trick at the wheel and had resigned more disgusted than his predecessor with the annoyance of a thankless office. When a resignation is tendered in such a spirit there are two courses open; one, to accept it as quickly as possible; the other, to compel the recalcitrant gentleman to take an extra tour. As the latter method involves the certain punishment of the entire mess it is not to be highly recommended. In this case, the caterer's resignation was accepted and a solemn stillness fell upon all. What was to be done? At this juncture "X" arose and nominated himself for the vacant office. His readiness to assume so undesirable a task was greeted with a rapture which may be well imagined. But "X" qualified his candidature by laying down certain conditions to be observed by the mess if it desired his services. In the first place, he stipulated that there should be no discussion of mess matters in public; no criticisms of the food : no reference to the cook or his cooking; to the steward or his delinquencies; above all, no chiding of the mess boys; that any complaints touching mess affairs should be made in private to him, promising that he would endeavor to remedy any defect if his attention were called to it in this manner, but firmly refusing to pay the least attention to a public complaint except to request that the mess discipline the officer guilty of so gross an infraction of its own rules; that he should not pose as a caterer in the readily accepted term; that things had reached such a pass that what the mess wanted was not a caterer but a dictator, a tyrant with complete powers; that the mess bill would be fixed at thirty dollars per month; that no additional assessment would be levied at any time for any purpose whatsoever; that he should endeavor to pay off the indebtedness by careful regard to economy; that, if elected, he would accept the office for no definite period of time; that what he desired in common with the rest was to see the mess running in a satisfactory manner; that as he could only please one person, to wit, himself, he would not undertake to satisfy some eighteen or twenty others; that until the mess had arrived at such a condition, of which he alone should be the judge, there would be no election of a caterer; that a vote of want of confidence on the part of the mess would naturally end his tenure at any moment; that when the mess attained the degree of development at which he aimed he would then resign the caterership; that he proposed to spend some of the mess money in unaccustomed ways, in order to secure the comfort of its members; that he would not, unless so desired, explain the nature of these outlays hoping that the officers would have sufficient confidence in his judgment and integrity to believe, without proof, that this money would be wisely hid out; that every member must, so far as mess matters were concerned, yield cheerful and unquestioning obedience to any of the directions which the caterer might formulate; lastly he desired a unanimous election. With the exception of one foolish member who voted in the negative, as he explained to "X" more in a spirit of jest than otherwise, all of these conditions were accepted not only without reluctance, but with eagerness, and "X" took charge.
"X" held to be true the very converse of service public opinion, which exempts the executive officer from acting as caterer, believing that (if he only will) this individual is peculiarly fitted by the power lodged in his hands to establish and maintain the military virtues of an inflexible mess routine and of a high standard of drill and efficiency on the part of the servants.
At this time the wardroom of the Korea left much to be desired on the score of neatness while the personal wants of the officers were attended to by the mess attendants in a slip-shod and perfunctory manner. "X's" first care, therefore, was to thoroughly clean the wardroom in every nook and cranny; to break out, scrub, and renovate the pantry which, by the way, was in close proximity to the officer's sleeping apartments; to make out stations for the boys so that each square foot of paint work, along the sides and bulkheads and over head, and each square foot of deck was the task of some particular boy and to define in writing the scope of each one's duty whether daily or periodical. As executive officer, "X" possessed, as he admitted, certain great powers which had been wanting in his predecessors. He applied these powers by sending for the master-at-arms' assistant (ship's corporal was the rating in those days) and giving him charge of the wardroom and of the wardroom boys during the morning watch. This was the programme. When all hands were called he was to muster the boys at once, take them into the wardroom and see that each performed his allotted share of the general cleaning, the washing of the paint work and of the oilcloth on the floor, the polishing of the brass sills at the doors, and of the other bright work, etc. This done, each boy took the clothes and boots of the officers upon whom he waited outside of the wardroom, brushed and folded the former, polished the latter, and returned all to the rooms ready for use when the owner awakened. Each officer's bath was then prepared. The boys now were taken out on the berth deck and made to scrub themselves from top to toe; and, frequently, to change into clean clothes throughout. After this the officers were called and their breakfasts ordered. The master-at-arms' assistant was warned that this duty must be executed on the part of the boys with promptness, thoroughness and, above all, with silence; that for the satisfactory performance of this duty he would be allowed $to a month from the wardroom mess funds conditional upon there being no discontent in this particular. Should complaint arise as to careless work on the part of the boys or disturbing noises made by them during the morning watch, he would lose this honorarium but would still be compelled to perform the duty. The change in the appearance of the wardroom and in the comfort of the officers was immediate. As closing this part of the episode it may be said that no complaints were ever made, so that the ship's corporal enjoyed his monthly stipend of $10 to the end, while the officers entered upon a new phase of existence. Until after breakfast, at least, everything was as smooth and delightful as possible.
The catering in the strict sense of the word, that is to say the making out of the bills of fare had up to this time been left, as is still the unfortunate custom, in the hands of the wardroom steward. As a result it was practically impossible to distinguish one dinner from another. Day after day the wardroom mess had practically the same menu. In order to introduce a new and unwonted variety, "X" sat down at his desk the first evening of his encumbency and made out a general type of bill of fare for each of the three meals of the day. The breakfast was informal and consisted mostly of coffee, rolls and eggs, the latter in any shape the individual desired. Breakfast proper or lunch was at 11 o'clock. It was rather a French "dejeuner a la fourchette." For this, "X" decided that two hot dishes, a salad, fruit and black coffee would suffice; while dinner meant a soup, a fish, a roast, salad, dessert and fruit followed by black coffee. The question was how to arrange a series of bills of fare and avoid too frequent repetition. So he took another sheet of paper and, beginning with dinner, wrote down in a column all the kinds of soup he could think of and which inquiry proved to be among the accomplishments of the cook. Another column was then made following down every available kind of fish and way of cooking. The third column included the various kinds of meat such as beef, veal, mutton, turkey, fowls, etc., cooked in a number of different modes. The fourth and fifth columns gave a large variety of salads; and sweets. "X" now had the necessary elements for his table. To his surprise he found that he could easily make twenty odd dinner menus absolutely unlike each other before having to repeat. These he arranged systematically so as to secure a pleasing variety; then into two books he wrote these bills of fare, giving each its appropriate number. One of these books he retained, the other he placed in the hands of the steward. A similar procedure yielded an equal number of menus for lunch, or breakfast as "X" preferred to call it; these again were entered into the record books mentioned. In the case of lunch, certain dishes were improvised of what was left over unconsumed of the preceding dinner, thus saving much which would otherwise have been wasted. This whole planning occupied not more than a couple of evenings of "X's" time and it answered at one blow the vexed question of "what shall we have for dinner tomorrow?" Every night the steward would come to the caterer, settle up his daily account of mess money received and expended and obtain his orders for the following day which usually took the form of "Well, steward, we had No. 17 today, we will have No. 18 tomorrow." Only by one who has sat down to the never-ending recurrence of the same dishes can the great relief in this change of living be appreciated. Instantly the whole tone of the mess altered while the actual work thrown on the caterer was practically nothing.
"X" perceived that no matter how many officers were likely to be present at the table the same amount of mess money had always been expended each day and he knew, moreover, that the full tally of covers at the table had always been spread. The frequent result of the latter circumstance was a broad and desert waste of linen, when in port, unoccupied save that here and there a member sat without a neighbor, for oftentimes a bare half dozen of the entire mess would be present. Every day "X," therefore, speculated upon the probable number of those who would be on hand the following day. Knowing, as he well did, the habits of the mess, he could estimate very closely the number of places to set and the amount of food to be provided; therefore, each evening he would tell the steward how many were expected at the mess the next day and would give him carefully considered directions as to the amount of food to be bought, placing in his hands barely sufficient money to cover this outlay. It was only at sea, as a rule, that all of the chairs were claimed by the officers; so, the wardroom table being in two parts, it was possible for "X" to have one table fairly well filled, daintily set and decorated. Starting off with a heavy initial indebtedness, "X" was enabled to save enough money out of the mess bills to pay off the outstanding obligations with great promptness.
Another feature of the new mess life was the cultivation of the aesthetic side of dining. "X" bought handsome rugs and carpets for the mess room floor; he hung in the skylights baskets of vines and flowers; he bought pretty jardinières for the table, and kept them filled with plants; he replenished the mess outfit of white china, for ordinary and for sea use; he bought a handsome set of decorated china for mess entertainments; he renewed the glass and linen and bought additional silver meat platters and dishes so that the service of the table might proceed on both sides at once. After struggling for a while with the wardroom steward, he changed him for a more competent man. Finally after four months or so of this new regime, wherein not a word of dissatisfaction ever reached his ears, he addressed to his messmates a speech which ran somewhat as follows:—"Gentlemen, when I assumed the position of caterer I made, as you remember, a statement that I would retain it until the mess should be running in a way satisfactory to myself. That end has now been reached; I am fully satisfied with the mess, with the food, with the cooking, with the table appointments and with the service. I may even go further and defy any one of you to say that he has ever before, afloat or ashore, lived as well as he is now living on board this ship."
To this challenge there was no answer.
"When I took charge the mess was deeply in debt, its outfit had literally disappeared. I have renewed the latter and discharged its debts. Your wardroom is clean and it possesses many handsome decorations which make it a beautiful and attractive home. Your immediate wants are well provided for and the mess attendants are cheerful, respectful, and well trained. The wardroom mess of this ship owes not a single penny and I hold in my hand a bag containing $25 in gold for each member. Under these circumstances I am justified in tendering my resignation and in begging that you accept it and choose my successor."
The answer came in a chorus of appeals to the effect "Don't leave us now. You have brought us out of the wilderness. We are happy and more than contented and we implore you to retain the caterership. It does not take half an hour of your time a day." "X" could not remain insensible to this urgent demand, neither could he deny the allegation that the whole business of running the mess consumed only a few minutes daily. So complete was the organization that things ran as smoothly as clock work. He remained attached to that vessel a few months longer and only gave up the caterership when he received his orders home. In the meantime, he paid out of the funds, for a hand some gift voted by the mess to the wife of a retiring and much beloved captain; defrayed, without extra assessment, the whole share of the wardroom officers in a series of entertainments in a very hospitable port among a critical and refined community; nevertheless he had increased the amount of gold in hand by another $10 and was contemplating a large reduction in the monthly mess bill.
The typical and practical working of the schedule of bills of fare was shown in a sea passage of about ten days. At the bottom of the mess refrigerator was placed a heavy layer of ice; upon this were spread out the materials say for No. 10; then a layer of ice, then No. 9;another thin layer of ice, then No. 8; and so on. The result was that on the day of the ship's arrival in port the wardroom mess dined sumptuously and wound up with ice cream, a luxury unprecedentedly rare in those days. All this was prior to the introduction on board our ships of cold storage rooms and ice machines. "X's" story is corroborated by his messmates, who recall with pleasure the change from the poor messing, squalid table, and the absence of things pleasing to the eye in the mess room itself to the excellent fare and its aesthetic accompaniments, the outcome of a very small application on the part of the caterer of the care and forethought which every officer must exercise in carrying out his daily tasks on board ship. If these things were more costly than the usual mess service I should only say that "X's" methods were for those who can afford them, but this he distinctly assured me was not the case. They are productive not only of that harmony of spirit which renders the wardroom independent of irascible skippers and disagreeable duty, but also of a distinct economy in expenditure. There is really no excuse for a mess table whose only decorations are a bottle of unspeakable catsup, a cloth stained with the souvenirs of previous meals and a row of napkins each in its own ring proclaiming too unmistakably a second, or third, or sixteenth appearance. Officers owe it to themselves and to the good name of their ship to have everything as fresh and dainty as if they always expected ladies as their guests.
Moreover, the same dignity and formality of service should be insisted upon at every meal without exception; otherwise the waiters grow slack and careless so that the presence of a stranger or two throws them into "conniption fits" in which they stumble over each other and possibly spill the soup on some costly gown. "X" mentioned quite incidentally a rule adopted by the wardroom mess of the Korea at the beginning of the cruise, which he asserted had been of great value in banishing unfortunate topics of conversation. Either explicitly or implicitly, it may be found in the navy regulations, still he thought the mess wise in giving expression to the unequivocal sentiment of its members. By this rule it was forbidden so much as to refer to the President of the United States, the Secretary of the Navy, the Commander-in-Chief, or the Captain of the ship. Whether for praise or blame their names were taboo. Moreover, nothing was permitted to be said to which a lady might not listen with "ears unvexed."
Surely a few little silver bonbonnieres, even if not filled with Huyler's best, a few similar dishes with olives and salted nuts, a handful of flowers in small cut glass bowls or silver vases, some sprigs of green about the center, a darkened room, the only light thrown by shaded candles on the table itself, spotless linen, not more than one or two vacant seats, all these cost next to nothing and they make dining a real pleasure, drawing messmates together in the bonds of a good comradeship which will inevitably manifest itself in a smart ship with an enviable record for general efficiency and a high standing in the target score.
The individual napkin, mostly soiled, should be banished, "X" averred, with the equally nauseous individual salt-cellar. Nice little breakfast napkins neatly hemstitched cost less than $1.50 a dozen. To keep them fresh, should be a regular duty of the mess attendants. Water and soap are not unprocurable on board ship, while an electric flat iron, at say $10 or $12, would make the pressing of two or three dozen daily, the work of a few minutes at most.
Upon interrogation, I elicited from "X" a few hints drawn from his experiences which I take pleasure in repeating. He thought it most unwise to lock up mess money in stores unless absolutely required for an extended cruise at sea. Theoretically, he said, it is economical to buy in large quantities, practically it is better to live almost from day to day. A well-filled storeroom tempts to extravagance, sometimes to pilfering, on the part of the cook and steward. For example, the former's failures go overboard and fresh supplies for a second trial come from the storeroom while no one is the wiser. Be liberal, he said, in supplying the cook with special utensils and forms which encourage and facilitate loftier flights in his art. Few cooks, he found, can be trusted with pepper. Generally they use this condiment to conceal the defects in their work. The foundation of all his soups and sauces being a rich stock, do not begrudge him the necessary materials in the shape of shins and knuckles. They seem to cost a good deal but in reality they are money-savers. Borrow from the French their "pot au feu" and chuck into it the unused portions of joints and meat bones. It will yield an excellent "potage maigre."
"X" was further good enough to show me a few of his schedules. No. 10 ran thus:
Lunch. Dinner.
Clam broth. Soupe a la Reine.
Corned beef hash. Lobster farcie.
Lyonnaise potatoes. Stuffed breast of veal.
Tomato salad. Mashed potatoes.
Cream cheese. Summer squash.
Fruit. Asparagus salad.
Coffee or tea. Floating Island.
Fruit.
Coffee.
No. 11 shows the lapping over from yesterday which makes for thrift:
Lunch. Dinner.
Fried pan fish. Vegetable soup.
Minced veal on toast. Broiled fish.
Baked potatoes. Boiled fowl.
Baked apples and cream. White sauce.
Fruit. Stewed potatoes.
Coffee or tea. Stuffed peppers.
Lettuce salad.
Cheese.
Farina with cream.
Fruit.
Coffee.
When I inquired how he was sure of the quantities needed for these bills of fare he replied that every housekeeper knows them, if not intuitively then, by experience. He gave me the quantities he thought Nos. m and 12 would require but I have not cared to turn this appeal for better living into a cookery book. The earnest seekers after truth may consult Mrs. Rohrer, Miss Marion Harland or other accepted authorities.
For each season, a new set of schedules would be demanded. Moreover, he had found it expedient to authorize the steward to substitute other dishes for those named in the schedule if the market did not offer what was called for in proper quality or if something particularly good was obtainable. For any departure from the written text, however, the steward had to make satisfactory explanation. The latter submitted his proposed list of purchases each evening to "X" who discussed and amended, when necessary, calculated the probable amount of the whole bill and gave the steward the money. The latter's "rake off," for which most wardroom messes appear to exist, must have been scanty at best, yet in the service today "X" believed it could be estimated by the hundreds of dollars every month. "X" thought that $30 a month might fairly be charged when a great deal of entertaining was done, the wine included: that on our own coast, where stays in port are long, leaves of absence frequent, and the markets cheap and plentiful, $20 a month ought to be ample. A general level of habitual good living should be aimed at and banquets should be avoided at all hazards. He also condemned the foolish weakness of allowing any servant his ration, whether it be cook, steward or mess attendant. Nothing is gained thereby and the mess bill is just that much higher.
I may be permitted to add a reflection of my own to the effect that the abolition of the evening dress coat and its replacing by a blue mess jacket similar to that which was in use when I entered the service would be a great blessing; it would by choice be habitually worn at dinner and would complete the picture of an attractive table surrounded by gentlemen in comfortable, easy, and befitting attire.
I hope I am not wrong in thinking that "X's" methods very properly merit the consideration of all who would wish to raise the standard of living and lower the mess bill, producing results most striking in their outward effect while adding materially to the comfort of the wardroom messes and incidentally to that contentment which is an indispensable condition for every zealous officer and every creditable ship.