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Updated: June 6, 2025
If we read about Romans swallowing emetics after gorging themselves, so that they might begin eating afresh, we may feel both disgust and pity, but we must not imagine such a practice to have been a national habit. The dinner regularly consisted of three divisions: a preliminary course of hors d'oeuvres, the dinner proper, and a sort of enlarged dessert.
When the first flashes of execution were a little subsided, I took an opportunity of surveying the celebrated "Descent from the Cross," which has ever been esteemed one of Rubens's chef d'oeuvres, and for which they say old Lewis Baboon offered no less a sum than forty thousand florins.
He sat in her box at the Opera; he translated the conspicuously unspeakable passages in all of the lively but naive comedies; he ordered her champagnes and invented hors d'oeuvres so neoterical in character that even the Frenchmen applauded his genius. And, through all, he was managing very nicely to keep his twelve thousand snugly to himself.
The food was of the richest, beginning with strange fishes and quantities of hors d'oeuvres that Paul knew not, accompanied by vodka in several forms. And some of the plats she would just taste, and some send instantly away. And all the while a little fountain of her own perfume played from a group of sportive cupids in silver, while the table in the centre was piled with red roses.
It opened with a light smörgasbord, hors d'oeuvres, literally rendered sandwich-table: caviar, anchovy, sardines, shavings of smoked salmon, slices of bologna, and so on. With it the father took a snaps of Swedish gin or brännvin, and after much pressing Granny consented to take one, too.
"Hans, hors d'oeuvres to the gentlemen." We seated ourselves, arranged our napkins as Teutons, and ordered beer. Then Guest assumed a mysterious manner. "Business good, eh?" he inquired. "Always good," the head-waiter declared. "We have our regular customers. Always they come!" Guest nodded two or three times. "Heard anything about your new proprietor?" he asked. "Not yet," the man answered.
We drove out to the Island for luncheon, and on the way we stopped and coasted in a curious Russian sledge from the top of a high place, something like our toboggan-slides, only this sledge was guided from behind by a peasant on skates. A Russian meal always begins with a side-table of hors d'oeuvres, called "zakouska."
Oysters usurped the place of the customary hors d'oeuvres at breakfast, and the meal ended with café noir and cognac handed round by the deferential Iorson as being "offered by the proprietor," who, entering during the progress of the déjeûner, paid his personal respects to his clientèle. The afternoon brought us a charming discovery.
It may amuse my readers and serve, perhaps, as a little object lesson to those at home who imagine that quantity and not quality is of importance. At first, hors d'oeuvres were served, all sorts of tempting little things, very thin slices of ham, spiced sausages, olives and caviar, and eaten not merely passed and refused. Then came the one hot dish of the meal. "One!"
"No hors d'oeuvres," you say to the waiter. "Some blue points, perhaps you know, o-y-s-t-e-r-s?" You might even act out a blue point or two, as in charades, so that the child will understand what you mean.
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