(enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) We may live without poetry, music, and art; We may live without conscience and live without heart; We may live without friends; we may live without books; But civilized sorts cannot live without //cooks//. They may live without books-what is knowledge but grieving? They may live without hope-what is hope but deceiving? They may live without love-what is passion but pining? But where is the sort who can live without //dining//? Adapted from Owen Meredith's "Lucile" [[Join us]] at the 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte of Maria J Moss(enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) A Table d'hôte, or the table of host, is a multi-course prix fixe set menu. That's not to say you can't change the order of the courses you consume. ''Who doesn't enjoy the option of having dessert first?'' Think of this curated collection of Moss's poetical recipes as a book of poetry in which you can jump from each individual poem to another, or read them all, in any succession. Or you may think of this as a cook book that you may consult any individual recipe to prepare, or make them all for consumption at a single dinner, serving them as you like. Books of poetry and cookery books have something functional in common, //their ability to be referenced with or without the consideration of order.// To start at the beginning, request the Bread Basket. Or, consider indulging elsewhere. * [[Bread Basket]] * [[Salad Course]] * [[Main Course]] * [[Dessert Course]] * [[Syllabub]] * [[Punch]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Actually, I'm not hungry.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) In 1864, Maria J. Moss created (link-replace: "A Poetical Cookbook") [ A Poetical Cookbook, which according to Bauman Rare Books, was "a charity cookbook, intended to raise funds for the Union wounded during the Civil War, featuring a whimsical and wide-ranging collection of recipes inspired by famous poems. Originally written by the author as a pastime, this work was subsequently published in 1864 and became the first cookbook sold to benefit the Civil War’s wounded, widowed, and orphaned."]. It was published in Philadelphia by C. Sherman, Son & Co. "I request you will prepare To your own taste the bill of fare; At present, if to judge I'm able, The finest works are of the table. I should prefer the cook just now To Rubens or to Gerard Dow." [[On the Menu]](enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) TO DRESS SALAD. Two large potatoes, pressed through kitchen sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give; Of mordant mustard add asingle spoon; Distrust the condiment that bites too soon; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault, To add a double quantity of salt. Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, And twice with vinegar procured from town; True flavor needs it, and your poet begs The pounded yellow of two boiled eggs; Let onion s atoms lurk within the bowl, And, scarce suspected, animate the whole; And, lastly, in the flavored compound toss A magic spoonful of anchovy sauce. great and glorious ! herbaceous treat ! Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat, Back to the world he d turn his weary soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl. //REV. SIDNEY SMITH.// (text-colour: "purple")[''I hope your hungry.''] -[[Wonderful, yes please.->Main Course]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) STEWED DUCK AND PEAS. I give thee all my kitchen lore, Though poor the offering be; I'll tell thee how tis cooked, before You come to dine with me. The duck is truss d from head to heels, Then stew d with butter well, And streaky bacon, which reveals A most delicious smell. When duck and bacon, in a mass, You in a stewpan lay, A spoon around the vessel pass, And gently stir away; A tablespoonful of flour bring, A quart of water plain, Then in it twenty onions fling, And gently stir again. A bunch of parsley, and a leaf Of ever verdant bay, Two cloves, I make my language brief,- Then add your peas you may; And let it simmer till it sings In a delicious strain; Then take your duck, nor let the strings For trussing it remain. The parsley fail not to remove, Also the leaf of bay; Dish up your duck, the sauce improve In the accustom'd way, With pepper, salt, and other things I need not here explain; And if the dish contentment brings, You'll dine with me again. (text-colour: "purple")[''Are you still working on that?''] -[[No, I've had sufficient.->Dessert Course]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) EVE'S PUDDING. If you want a good pudding, mind what you are taught: Take eggs, six in number, when bought for a groat; The fruit with which Eve her husband did cozen, Well pared and well chopped, take at least half a dozen; Six ounces of bread let the cook eat the crust And crumble the soft as fine as the dust; Six ounces of currants from the stalks you must sort, Lest they husk out your teeth, and spoil all the sport; Six ounces of sugar won t make it too sweet, And some salt and some nutmeg will make it com- plete. Three hours let it boil, without any flutter, And Adam won t like it without sugar and butter. //ANONYMOUS.// (text-colour: "purple")[''We've got a special treat in store for you next!''] -[[Oooooo...how exciting!->Syllabub]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) BUCKWHEAT CAKES. Do, dear James, mix up the cakes: Just one quart of meal it takes; Pour the Avater on the pot, Be careful it is not too hot; Sift the meal well through your hand, Thicken well don t let it stand; Stir it quick, clash, clatter, clatter! what light, delicious batter! Now listen to the next command: On the dresser let it stand Just three quarters of an hour, To feel the gently rising power Of powders, melted into yeast, To lighten well this precious feast. See, now it rises to the brim! Quick, take the ladle, dip it in; So let it rest, until the fire The griddle heats as you desire. Be careful that the coals are glowing, No smoke around its white curls throwing; Apply the suet, softly, lightly; The griddle s black face shines more brightly. Now pour the batter on; delicious ! Don t, dear James, think me officious, But lift the tender edges lightly; Now turn it over quickly, sprightly. Tis done ! Now on the white plate lay it: Smoking hot, with butter spread, Tis quite enough to turn our head! BUTTER. Vessels large And broad, by the sweet hand of neatness clean'd, Meanwhile, in decent order ranged appear, The milky treasure, strain d thro filtering lawn, Intended to receive. At early day, Sweet slumber shaken from her opening lids, My lovely Patty to her dairy hies; There, from the surface of expanded bowls She skims the floating cream, and to her churn Commits the rich consistence; nor disdains, Though soft her hand, though delicate her frame, To urge the rural toil, fond to obtain The country housewife s humble name and praise. Continued agitation separates soon The unctuous particles; with gentler strokes And artful, soon they coalesce; at length Cool Avater pouring from the limpid spring Into a smooth glazed vessel, deep and wide, She gathers the loose fragments to a heap, Which in the cleansing wave, well wrought and press'd, To one consistent golden mass, receives The sprinkled seasoning, and of pats or pounds The fair impression, the neat shape assumes. //DODSLEY.// (text-colour: "purple")[''Ok, here's something to entice your appetite.''] -[[Wonderful, yes please.->Salad Course]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) SYLLABUB. Mountown! the Muses most delicious theme, O, may thy codlins ever swim in cream! The rasp and strawberries in Bordeaux drown, To add a redder tincture to their own! Thy white wine, sugar, milk, together club, To make that gentle viand syllabub! //KING.// (text-colour: "purple")[''Care for a digestif?''] -[[Of course!->Punch]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) PUNCH. Four elements, joined in An emulous strife, Fashion tlie world, and Constitute life. From the sharp citron The starry juice pour; Acid to life is The innermost core. Now, let the sugar The hitter one meet; Still be life's bitter Tamed down with the sweet! Let the bright water Flow into the bowl; Water, the calm one, Embraces the whole. Drops from the spirit Pour quick ning within, Life but its life from The spirit can win. Haste, while it gloweth, Your vessels to bring; The wave has but virtue Drunk hot from the spring. //TRANSLATED FROM SCHILLER.// (text-colour: "purple")[''May I offer you anything else?''] -[[Thank you, but I'm really quite full.->Thank You For Joining Us]] -[[I'd like to take a look at the menu again.->On the Menu]] -[[Please tell us about our host.->Join us]] -[[I need to step outside for a moment.->The 1864 Poetical Table d'hôte Hosted of Maria J Moss]](enchant:?page,(text-colour:#343a40)+(background:(gradient: 0, 0,#ffffff,0.5149,#fff3bf,1,#ffffff))) ...When pleasures to the eye and palate meet, That cook has render'd their great work complete... ...The feast now done, discourses are renewed, And witty arguments with mirth pursued...