Deipnosophistae
Choose a text
id="mobileReaderAuthor" class="mobile-reader-author" href="/authors/athenaeus-of-naucratis" aria-label="More works by Athenaeus of Naucratis">
—
⋯
Original / primary: Perseus Eng2
9.1
But now let each becalm his troubled breast,
9.1
Wash, and partake serene the friendly feast;
9.1
While to renew these topics we delay
9.1
Till Heaven's revolving lamp restores the day,
9.1
Sausages, cheese, and hams (κωλεοὶ), and artichokes,
9.1
But not a single thing that's eatable:
9.1
Pig's tripe is good, by Jove, and so is ham (κωλεός).
9.1
Of delicacies which the sea produces,
9.1
We have but one, but that is constant, salt;
9.1
And thenThe fragment here given appears to be hopelessly corrupt. . . . . . .
9.2
Lemnus producing good and delicate (τακεροὺς) beans:
9.2
To make the vetches delicate (τυκερούς):
9.2
A brazen cucumber and mustard too (σίνηπυ);
9.2
The biting pungent seed of mustard (σινήπυος);
9.2
Cardamum and the plant which stings the nose,
9.2
The black-leav'd mustard (σίνηπυ).
9.2
He looked mustard (σίναπυ) and drew down his brows,
9.2
κἄβλεψε νάπυ, not καὶ βλέπε σινάπυ:
9.2
This evil is no longer evil; so
9.2
My daughter is corrupted by the stranger.
9.2
A. How can I swallow Sthenelus's words?
9.2
B. By soaking them in vinegar or white salt.
9.3
Whence barley-cakes might be got, and παροψίδες.
9.3
A. The woman is asleep;
9.3
B. I am aware
9.3
That she is doing nothing.
9.3
A. The παροψίδες
9.3
Are all awake; and there is not a thing
9.3
More calculated to give pleasure always.
9.3
B. But where are these παροψίδες, I pray you?
9.3
Other men's things are like παροψίδες,
9.3
They please a short time, and are quickly spent.
9.3
And Aristophanes, in his Dædalus, says—
9.3
All women have one set of principles,
9.3
And have a lover, like a παροψὶς, ready.
9.4
Many men make a point of contradicting
9.4
On every subject equally; but care not
9.4
Whether they rightly contradict or not.
9.4
But for such men there's an old answer fitting,
9.4
That may be your opinion, this is mine.
9.4
But with good arguments one may persuade
9.4
The wise with ease: for always men of sense
9.4
Do prove, the easiest pupils.
9.5
After she has invited you to supper,
9.5
She sets before you a παροψὶς full of . . . .
9.5
But when he saw two men well loaded with
9.5
The table and conveying it in-doors,
9.5
Groaning beneath a number of παροψίδες,
9.5
Looking no more at me, he said . . . .
9.5
These things are now παροψίδες of ill to me.
9.5
And let these savoury boil'd and roasted meats
9.5
On the παροψίδες be carved in pieces.
9.5
I a παροψὶς seem to Crobylus.
9.5
Him he devours alone, but me he takes
9.5
But as a seasoning to something else.
9.5
By Jove, as παροψίδες are praised or blamed
9.5
Because of the way in which they flavour meat,
9.5
So Caletas esteems these people nothing.
9.5
Others may fight the παροψὶς for their seat.
9.5
All women have one set of principles,
9.5
And have a lover, like a παροψὶς, ready.
9.5
Whence barley-cakes may be got, and παροψίδες.
9.5
Bread's a good thing; but flattery and tricks,
9.5
When added as a seasoning (ἔμβαμμα) to bread,
9.5
Are odious as can be.
9.6
The legs and hams (κῳλῆες) out of the soup.
9.6
Nor hams (κωλῆνες) of kids.
9.6
Alas the ham (κωλῆς) which I have just devour'd!
9.6
And the fat hams (κωλαὶ) of tender little pigs
9.6
And dainty tit-bits swift to fly.
9.6
The heads of lambs, the hams (κωλὰς) of kids.
9.6
Fish, and hams (κωλὰς), and sausages.
9.6
The ham (κωλῆ) from off the victim, and the ribs,
9.6
And the left side o' th' head are usually given.
9.6
For having sent a ham (κωλῆ) of kid, you won
9.6
A mighty leg of carefully fatted bull,
9.6
An honourable present for a man,
9.6
Whose glory shall pervade all Greece, and never
9.6
Cease while the poets and the songs of Greece
9.6
Survive in memory and the mouths of men.
9.8
Sow turnips on a well-roll'd field, that they
9.8
May grow as large as the flat dish that holds them,
9.8
* * * *
9.8
. . . . . For there are two kinds
9.8
Which from the radish spring: one long, one firm,
9.8
Both seen in well-till'd beds in kitchen gardens.
9.8
And wholly like the turnips of Cephisus.
9.8
I bring this turnip to be roasted now.
9.8
I speak to Ptolemy, roasting slices of turnip.
9.9
The smooth-leaved cabbage sometimes wild is found,
9.9
And then the curly many-leaved plants
9.9
Are often sown in beds; . . . . . . .
9.9
There is another kind, of reddish colour,
9.9
Like frogs in drought; some of bad colour too
9.9
Do come from Cyme, like the dingy soles
9.9
Which cobblers often sew on worn-out boots;
9.9
And these the ancients do the Prophets call
9.9
He falling down worshipp'd the seven-leaved cabbage,
9.9
To which, before she drank the poison'd draught,
9.9
Pandora brought a cake at the Thargelia.
9.9
And, by the cabbage do I swear, I love thee
9.9
By far the most of mortal men . . .
9.10
What shall next be done?
9.10
There is no garland now before the doors,
9.10
No savoury smell strikes on my nostril's edge
9.10
From Amphidromian festival, in which
9.10
The custom is to roast large bits of cheese,
9.10
Such as the Chersonesus furnishes,
9.10
And then to boil a radish bright with oil,
9.10
And fry the breasts of well-fed household Iamb,
9.10
And to pluck pigeons, thrushes too, and finches,
9.10
And to eat squids and cuttle-fish together,
9.10
And many polypi with wondrous curls,
9.10
And to quaff many goblets of pure wine.
9.10
And what these things are, you, my wife, know well;
9.10
Garlic, and cheese, and cheese-cakes, dainty dishes
9.10
Fit for a gentleman; no fish cured and salted,
9.10
No joints of lamb well stuff'd with seasoning,
9.10
No forced meat of all kinds of ingredients;
9.10
No high made dishes, fit to kill a man;
9.10
But they will boil some cabbage sweet, ye gods!
9.10
And in the dish with it some pulse of pease.
9.10
All sorts of dainties now come round us here,
9.10
All of their own accord. There's cabbage fresh,
9.10
Well boil'd in oil; and many paunches, and
9.10
Dishes of tender meat. No . . . . by Jove,
9.10
Nor are they like my platters of bruised olives
9.10
And now she's roasted a large dish of cabbage.
9.10
The close-grown cabbage with its lofty leaves.
9.12
Of all the plants which grow in fields unsown,
9.12
Or which take root in fertile plough'd-up lands
9.12
In winter, or when flowering spring arrives,
9.12
Such as the thistle dry, or the wild carrot,
9.12
Or the firm rape, or lastly, the wild cabbage.
9.12
Then there is also the deep root of fennel,
9.12
And of rock-parsley, and the carrot too,
9.12
Which loves dry soils, the sow-thistle, the myrrh plant,
9.12
The dog-tongue and the chicory. And with them bruise
9.12
The tough hard-tasted leaves of arum, and
9.12
The plant which farmers do entitle bird's-milk.
9.13
I cannot now eat any other loaf,
9.13
For I've just had one at Gnathænius',
9.13
Whom I found boiling up γηθυλλίδες.
9.13
Two heads of garlic, two gethyllides.
9.13
Some roots of leeks (γηθύων), which taste almost like gallic.
9.14
A. There you shall at mid-winter see
9.14
Cucumbers, gourds, and grapes, and apples,
9.14
And wreaths of fragrant violets
9.14
Cover'd with dust, as if in summer.
9.14
And the same man will sell you thrushes,
9.14
And pears, and honey-comb, and olives,
9.14
Beestings, and tripe, and summer swallows,
9.14
And grasshoppers, and bullock's paunches.
9.14
There you may see full baskets packed
9.14
With figs and myrtle, crown'd with snow;
9.14
There you may see fine pumpkins join'd
9.14
To the round rape and mighty turnip;
9.14
So that a stranger well may fear
9.14
To name the season of the year.
9.14
B. That's a fine thing if all the year
9.14
A man can have whate'er he pleases.
9.14
A. Say rather, it's the worst of evils;
9.14
For if the case were different,
9.14
Men would not cherish foolish fancies
9.14
Nor rush into insane expenses.
9.14
But after some short breathing time
9.14
I might myself bear off these things;
9.14
As indeed in other cities,
9.14
Athens excepted, oft I do:
9.14
However, as I tell you now,
9.14
The Athenians have all these things.
9.14
Because, as we may well believe,
9.14
They pay due honour to the gods.
9.14
B. 'Tis well for them they honour you,
9.14
Which brings them this enjoyment, since
9.14
You seek to make their city Egypt,
9.14
Instead of the immortal Athens.
9.14
First cut the gourds in slices, and then run
9.14
Threads through their breadth, and dry them in the air;
9.14
Then smoke them hanging them above the fire;
9.14
So that the slaves may in the winter season
9.14
Take a large dish and fill it with the slices,
9.14
And feast on them on holidays: meanwhile
9.14
Let the cook add all sorts of vegetables,
9.14
And throw them seed and all into the dish;
9.14
Let them take strings of gherkins fairly wash'd,
9.14
And mushrooms, and all sorts of herbs in bunches,
9.14
And curly cabbages, and add them too.
9.15
And many birds (ὄρνιθες πολλοὶ) beneath the sun's bright rays.
9.15
A tuneful bird (ὄρνιθι λιγυρῇ).
9.15
As the bold bird her helpless young attends,
9.15
From danger guards them, and from want defends;
9.15
In search of prey she wings the spacious air,
9.15
And with untasted food supplies her care,
9.15
A cock had loudly crow'd—Will no one now,
9.15
He cried out, drive this poultry (τὰς ὄρνιθας) from our doors
9.15
She scarcely could the poultry (τὰς ὄρνεις) drive away.
9.15
And all the other birds (ὀρνίθια).
9.15
A scarlet winged bird (ὄρνιθα φοινικόπτερον).
9.15
You, then, must now become a large bird (ὄρνιθα μέγαν).
9.15
A bird (ὄρνιθα), and a crier, and a servant.
9.15
I make you not a bird (ὄρνιθα) of this my journey.
9.15
I came laden with birds (ὄρνεις).
9.15
He sends off birds (ὄρνιθας ἀποστέλλει).
9.15
The damsels all with unaccomplish'd ends
9.15
Departed; just as frighten'd birds (ὄρνεις) who see
9.15
A hostile kite which hovers o'er their heads.
9.15
Is it not hard that I should have such sons,
9.15
When every bird (ὄρνεις) has offspring like its sire?
9.16
This is your work, O Leda. Take you care
9.16
To imitate the manners of a hen (ἀλεκτρυόνος)
9.16
And sit upon this egg, that so you may
9.16
Show us from out this shell a noble bird.
9.16
And all the hens (αἱ δ’ ἀλεκτρυόνες ἅπασαι),
9.16
And all the pigs are also dead,
9.16
And all the little birds around.
9.16
They saw the boars their species propagate
9.16
With joy, and likewise all the hens (τὰς ἀλεμτρυόνας).
9.16
I am so vex'd at having lost the hen (ἀλεκτρυόνα)
9.16
Which laid the finest eggs in all the yard.
9.16
She laid a noble egg, like any hen (α·λεκτρυών).
9.16
Sometimes we find that hens (ἀλεκτρυόνες) when driven about,
9.16
And frighten'd, lay wind eggs.
9.16
A. Tell me then, now, what name I ought to give them.
9.16
B. Call this, the hen, ἀλεκτρύαιναν, thus,
9.16
And call her mate, the cock, ἀλέκτορα.
9.16
O tuneful voiced ἀλέκτωπ.
9.16
Like the Persian loud-voiced cock (ἀλέκτωρ),
9.16
Who every hour sings his song.
9.16
The purple bird (ὄρνις) of spring.
9.16
But yet by all the birds (ὀρνίχων).
9.17
I lost by an unhappy chance
9.17
A pig (δέλφακα) belonging to the neighbours,
9.17
Which I was keeping for Eleusis
9.17
And Ceres's mysterious feast.
9.17
Much was I grieved; and now he says
9.17
That I did give it to th' Achæans,
9.17
Some kind of pledge; and swears that I
9.17
'Betray'd the pig (τὸν δέλφακα) designedly.
9.17
Some of you that dread goddess will transform
9.17
To pigs (δέλφακας), who range the mountains and the woods.
9.17
Some she will panthers make; some savage wolves,
9.17
And terrible lions.
9.17
The paunch, too, of a sow in autumn born (δέλφακος ὀπωρίνης).
9.17
For she is young (νέα), but when she is a sow (δελφακουμένα),
9.17
You'll see she'll have a large, fat, ruddy tail;
9.17
And if you keep her she'll be a noble pig (χοῖρος καλά).
9.17
ʽὡς ʽεφεσίη δέλφαξ.
9.17
These men have δέλφακες, the others χοῖροι.
9.17
The servants all have little pigs (χοίρεα) to eat,
9.17
But on fat hogs (σύες) the dainty suitors feast.Hom. Odyss. xiv. 80.
9.17
He led away the pig (τόν δέλφακα) in silence.
9.17
But on fat hogs the dainty suitors feast.
9.17
With pure libations and the offer'd paunch
9.17
Of a wild sow (ἀγρίας χοίρου).
9.17
Should you then guard her, like a chain'd up sow (χοῖρον δεσμίαν)?
9.17
But I will place this carefully fed pig
9.17
Within the crackling oven; and, I pray,
9.17
What nicer dish can e'er be given to man?
9.17
A. Is he a white one?
9.17
B. Aye, indeed he is
9.17
A snow white pig (χοῖρος), and singed most carefully.
9.17
A. Now boil him, and take care he is not burnt.
9.17
But having kill'd this pig (χοῖρον τόνδε), of the same litter
9.17
Which has wrought so much mischief in the house,
9.17
Pushing and turning everything upside down.
9.18
And I have often heard of full-grown sows
9.18
Under this shape and form.
9.18
βόες δὲ λαρινεύονται·
9.20
My pupil Leucon, and the rest of you,
9.20
You fellow servants—for there is no place
9.20
Unfit to lecture upon science in;
9.20
Know that in the cookery no seasoning
9.20
Is equal to the sauce of impudence.
9.20
And, if I must confess the whole o' the truth,
9.20
You'll find this quality of great use everywhere.
9.20
See now, this tribune, who displays a breast-plate
9.20
All over scales, or dragon wrought in steel,
9.20
Appears some Briareus; but when th' occasion
9.20
Calls for his might, he proves a very hare.
9.20
So when a cook with helpers and attendants
9.20
Comes to some stranger, and his pupils brings,
9.20
Calling the servants of the house mere humbugs,
9.20
Mere cummin splitters, famine personified;
9.20
They all crouch down before him: but if you bear
9.20
Yourself with honesty and spirit towards him,
9.20
He'll fly half flay'd with fear. Do you remember,
9.20
And, as I bade you, give fair room for boasting,
9.20
And take you care to know the taste of the guests;
9.20
For as in any other market, so
9.20
This is the goal which all your art should seek,,
9.20
To run straight into all the feasters' mouths
9.20
As into harbour. At the present moment
9.20
We're busied about a marriage feast—
9.20
An ox is offer'd as the choicest victim;
9.20
The father-in-law is an illustrious man,
9.20
The son-in-law a person of like honour;
9.20
Their wives are priestesses to the good goddess.
9.20
Corybantes, flutes, a crowd of revellers
9.20
Are all assisting at the festival.
9.20
Here's an arena for our noble art.
9.20
Always remember this.
9.20
Seuthes, in the opinion of those men,
9.20
Is a great bungler. But I'd have you know,
9.20
My excellent friend, the case of a good cook
9.20
Is not unlike that of a general.
9.20
The enemy are present,—the commander,
9.20
A chief of lofty genius, stands against them,
9.20
And fears not to support the weight of war:—
9.20
Here the whole band of revellers is the enemy,
9.20
It marches on in close array, it comes
9.20
Keen with a fortnight's calculation
9.20
Of all the feast: excitement fires their breasts,
9.20
They're ready for the fray, and watch with zeal
9.20
To see what will be served up now before them.
9.20
Think now, that such a crowd collected sits
9.20
To judge of your performance.
9.21
When, Carion, you a supper do prepare,
9.21
For those who their own contributions bring,
9.21
You have no time to play, nor how to practise
9.21
For the first time the lessons you've received.
9.21
And you were yesterday in danger too;
9.21
For not one single one of all your tenches
9.21
Had any liver, but they all were empty.
9.21
The brain was decomposed too.—But you must,
9.21
O Carion, when at any future time
9.21
You chance a band like this to thus encounter,
9.21
As Dromon, Cerdon, and Soterides,
9.21
Giving you all the wages that you ask'd,
9.21
Deal with them fairly. Where we now are going
9.21
To a marriage feast, there try experiments.
9.21
And if you well remember all my rules,
9.21
You are my real pupil; and a cook
9.21
By no means common: 'tis an opportunity
9.21
A man should pray for. Make the best of it,
9.21
The old man is a miser, and his pay
9.21
Is little. If I do not find you eating up
9.21
The very coals, you're done for. Now go in;
9.21
For here the old man comes himself, behold
9.21
How like a skin-flint usurer he looks!
9.22
A. My art, if you now rightly do consider it,
9.22
Is not, O Demylus, at all an art
9.22
To be consider'd lightly;—but alas,
9.22
'Tis too much prostituted; and you'll find
9.22
That nearly all men fear not to profess
9.22
That they are cooks, though the first principles
9.22
Of the great art are wholly strange to them;
9.22
And so the whole art is discredited.
9.22
But when you meet an honest, genuine cook,
9.22
Who from his childhood long has learnt the art,
9.22
And knows its great effects, and has its rules
9.22
Deep buried in his mind; then, take my word,
9.22
You'll find the business quite a different thing.
9.22
There are but three of us now left in Greece;
9.22
Boidion, and Chariades, and I;
9.22
The rest are all the vilest of the vile.
9.22
B. Indeed?
9.22
A. I mean it. We alone preserve
9.22
The school of Sicon: he was the great teacher
9.22
Of all our art: he was the first who taught us
9.22
To scan the stars with judgment: the great Sicon!
9.22
Then, next to this he made us architects:
9.22
He open'd too the paths of physical knowledge;
9.22
And after this he taught us all the rules
9.22
Of military science; for all these
9.22
Were but preliminaries accessory
9.22
To the preeminent, god-like art of cooking.
9.22
B. I think you mean to choke me, my good friend.
9.22
A. Not I; but till the boy comes back from market
9.22
I'll stir you up a little with some rules
9.22
About your art, since we can never have
9.22
A more convenient time for talking of it.
9.22
B. Oh, by Apollo, you're a zealous man.
9.22
A. Listen, my friend. In the first place, a cook
9.22
Must the sublimer sciences have learnt:
9.22
He must know when the stars do set and rise,
9.22
And why. Moreover, when the sun returns,
9.22
Causing the long and short days on the earth;
9.22
And in what figures of the zodiac
9.22
He is from time to time. For, men do say
9.22
All fish, and every meat and herb we eat,
9.22
Have different qualities at different seasons
9.22
Of the revolving year; and he who knows
9.22
The principles and reasons of these things
9.22
Will use each meat when it is most in season;
9.22
And he who knows them not, but acts at random,
9.22
Is always laugh'd at most deservedly.
9.22
Perhaps, too, you don't know wherein the science
9.22
Of th' architect can bear on this our art.
9.22
B. Indeed I wondered what it had to do with it.
9.22
A. I'll tell you:—rightly to arrange the kitchen,
9.22
To let in just the light that's requisite,
9.22
To know the quarter whence the winds blow most,
9.22
Are all of great importance in this business—
9.22
For smoke, according to which way it goes,
9.22
Makes a great difference when you dress a dinner.
9.22
B. That may be; but what need is there, I pray,
9.22
For cooks to have the science of generals?
9.22
A. Order is a prevailing principle
9.22
In every art; and most of all in ours:
9.22
For to serve up and take away each dish
9.22
In regular order, and to know the time
9.22
When quick t' advance them, and when slowly bring,
9.22
And how each guest may feel towards the supper,
9.22
And when hot dishes should be set before him,
9.22
When warm ones, and when regular cold meat
9.22
Should be served up, depends on various branches
9.22
Of strategetic knowledge, like a general's.
9.22
B. Since then you've shown me what I wish'd to know,
9.22
May you, departing now, enjoy yourself.
9.23
A. Do you not know, that in most arts and trades
9.23
'Tis not th' artificer who alone has pow'r
9.23
O'er their enjoyment Those who use them too
9.23
Contribute all their part, if well they use them.
9.23
B. How so? Let me, O stranger, understand.
9.23
A. The duty of the cook is but to dress
9.23
And rightly season meat; and nothing more.
9.23
If, then, the man who is to eat his meat,
9.23
And judge of it, comes in proper time,
9.23
He aids the cook in that his business.
9.23
But if he come too late, so that the joint
9.23
Already roasted must be warm'd again,
9.23
Or if he come too soon, so that the cook
9.23
Is forced to roast the meat with undue haste,
9.23
He spoils the pleasure which he might have had
9.23
From the cook's skill by his unpunctuality.
9.23
I class a cook among philosophers;
9.23
You're standing round; my fire is alight;
9.23
See how the numerous dogs of Vulcan's pack
9.23
Leap to the roof; . . . . .
9.23
. . . . . . You know what happens next:
9.23
And so some unforeseen necessity
9.23
Has brought on us alone this end of life.
9.24
I have, ere this, had many pupils, Lycus,
9.24
Because I've always had both wit and knowledge;
9.24
But you, the youngest of them all, are now
9.24
Leaving my house an all-accomplish'd cook
9.24
In less than forty weeks. There was the Rhodian
9.24
Agis, the best of cooks to roast a fish;
9.24
Nereus, the Chian, could a conger boil
9.24
Fit for the gods: Charides, of Athens,
9.24
Could season forcemeat of the whitest hue:
9.24
Black broth was first devised by Lamprias;
9.24
Sausages rich we owe to Aphthonetus;
9.24
Euthunus taught us to make lentil soup;
9.24
Aristion made out whole bills of fare
9.24
For those who like a picnic entertainment.
9.24
So, like those grave philosophers of old,
9.24
These are our seven wisest of all cooks.
9.24
But I, for all the other ground I saw
9.24
Had been pre-occupied by former artists,
9.24
First found out how to steal, in such a way
9.24
That no one blamed me, but all sought at once
9.24
T' engage my aid. And you, perceiving too
9.24
This ground already occupied by me,
9.24
Invented something new yourself—'tis this:—
9.24
Five days ago the Tenians, grey old men,
9.24
After a tedious voyage o'er the sea,
9.24
Did hold a sacrifice: a small thin kid:
9.24
Lycus could crib no portion of that meat,
9.24
Nor could his master. Yon compelled the men
9.24
To furnish two more kids. For as they long
9.24
And oft survey'd the liver of the victims,
9.24
You, letting down one unperceived hand,
9.24
Were impudent enough to throw the kidneys
9.24
Into the ditch: you raised a mighty tumult:
9.24
The victim has no kidneys, they exclaim'd,
9.24
And all look'd downcast at-th', unsual want.
9.24
They slew another and again I saw
9.24
You eat the heart from out this second victim.
9.24
You surely are a mighty man; you know it-
9.24
For you alone have found a way to hinder
9.24
A wolf (λύκον) from opening his mouth in vain.
9.24
And 1 yesterday you threw some strings of sausages
9.24
(Which you had sought all day) into the fire,
9.24
And sang to the dichordon. And I witness'd
9.24
That play of yours; but this is merely sport.
9.25
Why did you not desire him to place
9.25
The goblets on the board (παραφέρειν)?
9.25
O Cocoas, bring (παράφερε) me now a goblet full.
9.25
Let him bring forward (παραφερέτω).
9.25
He laid the table, then he placed on it (παραφέρων)
9.25
Good things in wagon loads.
9.25
Take now of this, and taste (γεῦσαι) it.
9.25
There there were stations for the horses and asses,
9.25
And wine to drink (γεύματα οἴνων).
9.25
Now he drinks wine (οἰνογευστεῖ) and walks about in splendour,
9.25
Wreathed with flowery garlands.
9.26
But I have heard of this, I swear by Vesta,
9.26
That when the cook at home makes any blunder,
9.26
The flute-player is always beaten for it.
9.26
Whatever blunders now the cook may make,
9.26
The flute-player receives the stripes for them.)
9.27
Come now, O Dromon, if you aught do know,
9.27
Wise or accomplish'd in your business,
9.27
Or fit to charm the eyes, reveal it straight
9.27
To me your master. For I ask you now
9.27
For a brief exhibition of your skill.
9.27
I'm leading you into an enemy's country;
9.27
Come gaily to the charge. They'll weigh the meat
9.27
And count the joints they give you, and they'll watch you:
9.27
But you, by boiling them to pieces, will
9.27
Not only make them tender, but confuse
9.27
The number of the pieces, so as quite
9.27
To upset all their calculations.
9.27
They bring you a fine fish;—his trail is yours.
9.27
And if you filch a slice, that, too, is yours.
9.27
While we are in the house: when we've got out
9.27
It then belongs to me. Th' ἐξαιρέσεις,
9.27
And all the other parts, which can't be counted,
9.27
In which you cannot easily be found out,
9.27
Which may be class'd as parings and as scrapings,
9.27
Shall make a feast for you and me to-morrow.
9.27
And let the porter share in all your spoils,
9.27
That you may pass his gate with his good-will.
9.27
Why need I say much to a prudent man?
9.27
You are my pupil, I am your preceptor,
9.27
Remember this, and come along with me.
9.29
'Tis a male sphinx, and not a cook, that I
9.29
Seem to have introduced into my house.
9.29
For by the gods I swear there's not one thing
9.29
Of all he says that I can understand,
9.29
So full is he of fine new-fangled words.
9.29
For when he first came in, he, looking big,
9.29
Ask'd me this question—"How many μέροπες μέροπες means properly men speaking articulately, in contradis- tinction to brutes. It is a favourite word with Homer. now
9.29
Have you invited here to dinner? Tell me."—
9.29
How many μέροπες have I ask'd to dinner—
9.29
You're angry. —"Do you think that I'm a man
9.29
To have acquaintance with your μέροπεσ?
9.29
It is a fine idea, to make a banquet
9.29
And ask a lot of μέροπες to eat it."
9.29
Then do you mean there'll be no δαιτύμων (guest)?
9.29
No Dætymon that I know of. —Then I counted—
9.29
There'll be Philinus, and Niceratus,
9.29
And Moschion, and this man too, and that—
9.29
And so I counted them all name by name;
9.29
But there was not a Dætymon among them.
9.29
No Dætymon will come, said I. What! no one ?
9.29
Replied he in a rage, as though insulted
9.29
That not a Dætymon had been invited.
9.29
Do you not slay that tearer up of th' earth,
9.29
Said he, the broad-brow'd ox? "In truth, not I;
9.29
I've got no ox to kill, you stupid fellow."
9.29
Then you will immolate some sheep? "Not I,
9.29
By Jove; nor ox, nor sheep, but there's a lamb."
9.29
What! don't you know, said he, that lambs are sheep?
9.29
Indeed, said I, "I neither know nor care
9.29
For all this nonsense. I'm but country bred;
9.29
So speak more plainly, if you speak at all."
9.29
Why, don't you know that this is Homer's language
9.29
My good cook, Homer was a man who had
9.29
A right to call things any names he pleased;
9.29
But what, in Vesta's name, is that to us?"
9.29
At least you can't object when I quote him.
9.29
Why, do you mean to kill me with your Homer?
9.29
No, but it is my usual way of talking.
9.29
Then get another way, while here with me.
9.29
Shall I, says he, "for your four dirty drachmas,
9.29
Give up my eloquence and usual habits?
9.29
Well, bring me here the οὐλόχυται." Oh me!
9.29
What are οὐλόχυται?"Those barley-cakes.
9.29
You madman, why such roundabout expressions?
9.29
Is there no sediment of the sea at hand?
9.29
"Sediment Speak plain; do tell me what you want
9.29
In words I understand." Old man, says he,
9.29
"You are most wondrous dull; have you no salt?
9.29
That's sediment, and that you ought to know;
9.29
Bring me the basin."—So they brought it. He
9.29
Then slew the animals, adding heaps of words
9.29
Which not a soul of us could understand,
9.29
μίστυλλα, μοίρας,σίπτυχʼ, ὀβελούς These are words applied by Homer to sacrifices.—μοῖρα is a portion, and ὀβελὸς a spit; but μίστυλλα is only a word derived from Homer's verb μιστύλλω, (from which Aemilianus, a friend of Martial, called his cook Mistyllus,) and δίπτυχα is used by Homer as an adverb.
9.29
So that I took Philetas' Lexicon down,
9.29
To see what each of all these words did mean.
9.29
And then once more I pray'd of him to change,
9.29
And speak like other men; by earth I swear,
9.29
Persuasion's self could not have work'd on him.
9.30
A. He boil'd, it seem'd to me, some pork, from off
9.30
A pig who died by suffocation.
9.30
B. That's nice.
9.30
A. And then he scorch'd it at the fire.
9.30
B. Never mind that; that can be remedied.
9.30
A. How so?
9.30
B. Take some cold vinegar, and pour it
9.30
Into a plate. Dost heed me Then take up
9.30
The dish while hot and put it in the vinegar;
9.30
For while 'tis hot 'twill draw the moisture up
9.30
Through its material, which is porous all;
9.30
And so fermenting, like a pumice-stone,
9.30
'Twill open all its spongy passages,
9.30
Through which it will imbibe new moisture thoroughly.
9.30
And so the meat will cease to seem dried up,
9.30
But will be moist and succulent again.
9.30
A. O Phœbus, what a great physician's here!
9.30
O Glaucias!—I will do all you tell me.
9.30
B. And serve them, when you do serve them up,
9.30
(Dost mark me?) cold; for so no smell too strong
9.30
Will strike the nostrils; but rise high above them.
9.30
A. It seems to me you're fitter to write books
9.30
Than to cook dinners; since you quibble much
9.30
In all your speeches, jesting on your art.
9.31
No one who does a cook an injury
9.31
Ever escapes unpunish'd; for our art
9.31
Is a divine and noble one.
9.31
I place before you now a lamb entire,
9.31
Well skewer'd, and well cook'd and season'd;
9.31
Some porkers in their skins, and roasted whole;
9.31
And a fine goose stuff'd full, like Dureus.
9.32
But if a person were to take me like
9.32
A fatted goose (χῆνα σιτευτόν).
9.32
And at the same time dress the young of one
9.32
Fat goose (σιτευτοῦ χῆνος), and let him too be roasted thoroughly.
9.32
Geese-feeders, cow-herds . . . .
9.32
αἰετὸς ἀργὴν χῆνα φέρων–An eagle carrying off a lazy goose.
9.32
And as he seized a fine home-fatten'd goose (χῆνα ἀτιταλλομένην).
9.32
I've twenty geese, fond of the lucid stream,
9.32
Who in my house eat wheat, and fatten fast.
9.32
If you have not a goose's liver or heart.
9.33
There came in half a head of a young pig,
9.33
A tender dish; and I did stick to it
9.33
So close, by Jove, that I left none of it.
9.33
O Chians, wondrous is the insolence
9.33
Which now has seized the Erythreans' hearts.
9.33
Flee when you've done your pork-don't wait for beef.
9.33
Then, after all these things, a slave came in,
9.33
Bearing a large dish full of testicles;
9.33
And all the rest of the girls made prudish faces,
9.33
But fair Gnathæna, that undoer of men,
9.33
Laughed, and said, "Capital things are testicles,
9.33
I swear by Ceres." So she took a pair
9.33
And ate them up: so that the guests around
9.33
Fell back upon their chairs from laughing greatly.
9.34
And sharks and rays and all the other fish,
9.34
Which may be dressed in sauce of ὀξυλίπαρον.
9.34
Fat on the surface, but the rest of their body
9.34
Is all as dry as wood.
9.34
But, my friend, now let us dine,
9.34
After that ask what you choose;
9.34
For at present I'm so hungry,
9.34
I can't recollect a thing.
9.34
And in return for this I now will take
9.34
All you my brave companions; and will pound,
9.34
And boil, and broil, and roast you thoroughly,
9.34
In pickle, sour pickle (ὀξάλμη), garlic pickle,
9.34
Soaking you thoroughly in each by turns.
9.34
And that one which does seem most fairly roasted
9.34
I'll do the honour to devour myself.
9.34
Breathe on me, and then put me in hot pickle (ὀξάλμη).
9.35
A. Now eating . . . .
9.35
B. What on earth? . . .
9.35
A. Why, all there is;
9.35
Fish (ὀψάριον).
9.35
B. You were sick, and did they give you this?
9.35
A. But I, the other day, eating a crab . . . .
9.35
Some one has served us up this dish of fish (τʼ ὀψάριον).
9.35
It is not right to cheat us in this way,
9.35
Nor to have worthless fish (ὀψάρια).
9.35
I offered Boreas much frankincense,
9.35
And yet I did not catch one single fish (0ʼψάριον),
9.35
So I must now cook lentils for my supper.
9.35
Having some fish (ὀψάριον) for breakfast.
9.35
Some fishmonger
9.35
Sold me'some tench for four drachmas a-piece.
9.35
I now, O Dion, will buy you some fish (ὀψάριον).
9.35
Now dress, O boy, the fish (τοὐψάριον) for us.
9.35
Unless on all occasions you do soothe me
9.35
With dainty dishes of fish (ὀψαρίου).
9.35
A. Do you prefer your high made dishes hot,
9.35
Or cold, or something just between the two?
9.35
B. Cold.
9.35
A. Are you sure, my master? only think;
9.35
The man has not one notion how to live?
9.35
Am I to serve you everything up cold?
9.35
B. By no means.
9.35
A. Will you, then, have all things hot
9.35
B. O Phœbus!
9.35
A. Then, if neither hot nor cold,
9.35
They surely must be just between the two;
9.35
And none of all my fellows can do this.
9.35
B. I dare say not, nor many other things
9.35
Which you can do.
9.35
A. I'll tell you now, for I
9.35
Give all the guests an opportunity
9.35
To practise a wise mixture of their food.
9.35
Have you not, I adjure you by the gods,
9.35
Just slain a kid?
9.35
B. Don't cut me, cut the meat:—
9.35
Boys, bring the kid.
9.35
A. Is there a kitchen near?
9.35
B. There is.
9.35
A. And has it got a chimney too?
9.35
For this you do not say.
9.35
B. It has a chimney.
9.35
A. But if it smokes, it will be worse than none.
9.35
B. The man will kill me with his endless questions.
9.36
The man who first did say that no philosopher
9.36
Would eat of living things, was truly wise.
9.36
For I am just come home, and have not bought
9.36
A living thing of any kind. I've bought
9.36
Some fish, but they were dead, and splendid fish.
9.36
Then here are joints of well-fed household lamb,
9.36
But he was killed last week. What else have I?
9.36
Oh, here's some roasted liver. If there be
9.36
A man who can this liver prove to have
9.36
Or soul or voice or animation,
9.36
I will confess I've err'd and broken the law.
9.36
Rising at early morn to sail . . . .
9.37
Eurybates, you hunter of rich smells,
9.37
You surely are the most well-fed (ὀλβιογάστωρ) of men.
9.37
A. What now is this bird which we here behold?
9.37
Will you not say?
9.37
B. I think it is a pheasant.
9.37
The Phasian flocks, bred by Leogoras.
9.37
And as the proverb runs, it is more rare
9.37
Than milk of birds, or than a splendid pheasant
9.37
Artistically pluck'd.
9.39
The woodcock, most delicious meat to boil,
9.39
Fit dish for conqueror's triumphal feast.
9.39
Not eating woodcocks or the timid hare.
9.40
You're always bearing me aloft, my mind,
9.40
Like some bold porphyris, with out-stretch'd wings.
9.41
πτώσσουσαν ὥς τε πέρδῖκα,
9.41
A man arrived, who in the famous hills
9.41
Of Attica is a namesake of the partridge (πέρδι·κος).
9.41
He goes against his will, like any partridge (πέρδι·κος τρόπον).
9.41
And Cleombrotus the son of Perdix (πέρδι·κος),
9.41
The hepseti, and all those partridges (περδι·κας).
9.41
They brought in cuttle-fish, who swim the deep,
9.41
And partridges (πέρδικας) who fly in lofty air.
9.43
Alcman, too, began the strain;
9.43
And he introduced into the language
9.43
The compound name of κακκαβίδες:
9.48
A. Tell me now, have you ever bred any ὄρτυγεσ?
9.48
B. I've bred some small ὀρτύγια. What of that
9.48
For what now could a man like you perform,
9.48
Having the soul of a quail (ὀρτυγίου)?
9.48
The ὀρτυγομήτρα came from Ithaca.)
9.48
The tame domestic quails (ὄρτῦγες οἰκογενεῖς).
9.48
I cannot fancy the Egyptian life,
9.48
Plucking the chennia, which they salt and eat.
9.50
Feeding the wretched miserable phaps,
9.50
Entangled as to its poor broken sides
9.50
Within the winnowing spokes.
9.51
For I am the white pigeon (περιστερὸς) of Venus;
9.51
But as for Bacchus, he knows nothing more
9.51
Than how to get well drunk; and nothing cares
9.51
Whether 'tis new wine that he drinks or old.
9.51
Breeding within some pigeons from Sicily,
9.51
The fairest shaped of all their species.
9.51
Send off a pigeon (περιστερὸν) as a messenger.
9.51
But now, my pigeon, fly thou like Callisthenes,
9.51
And bear me to Cythera and to Cyprus.
9.51
And do you in your hall preserve a flock
9.51
Of fruitful doves from Sicily or Dracontium,
9.51
For it is said that neither kites nor hawks
9.51
Incline to hurt those choice and sacred birds.
9.52
Ducks too, and jackdaws, woodcocks too, and coots,
9.52
And wrens, and divers.
9.53
Take care, and often have some suffocated meat.
9.53
And platters heap'd with quantities of meat
9.53
Suffocated in the Sicilian fashion.
9.53
Some suffocated meat in a platter.
9.53
And therefore do you take some meat and pound it,
9.53
Having first neatly suffocated it.
9.53
And first of all
9.53
I bring you the much-wish'd-for barley-cake,
9.53
Which the all-genial mother Ceres gives
9.53
A joyfull gift to mortals; and besides,
9.53
Some tender limbs of suffocated goats
9.53
Set round with herbs, a young and tender meat.
9.53
B. How say you?
9.53
A. I am going through a tragedy
9.53
Of the divinest Sophocles.
9.54
I stole some sucking-pigs not fully grown.
9.54
Are you not going to kill a sucking-pig?
9.54
For here he is himself, and if I grunt
9.54
One atom more than any sucking-pig . . .
9.54
There's here a pretty little cromaciscus
9.54
Not yet wean'd, you see.
9.54
The ox was brazen, long since past all boiling,
9.54
But he perhaps had taken a sucking-pig,
9.54
And slaughter'd that.
9.54
Like a young sucking kid, which when it leaves
9.54
Its mother in the wood, trembles with fear.
9.54
For now we constantly have feasts of lovers,
9.54
As long as we have store of lambs and pigs
9.54
Not taken from their dams.
9.54
O my dear child, what mis'ry tears my soul!
9.54
But you lie sleeping,
9.54
You slumber with your unwean'd heart.
9.54
Alas the wreath! They wept the unwean'd child,
9.54
Breathing out his sweet soul in bitter pangs.
9.54
Hector is mortal, and has suck'd the breast;)
9.54
After she'd lull'd to sleep the new-born kids,
9.54
As yet unweaned from their mother's breast.
9.56
And then some man brought in one single pair
9.56
Of peacocks to the city; 'twas a sight
9.56
Wondrous to see; now they're as thick as quails.
9.56
The peacock is admired for his rarity.
9.56
Lest I should keep in Pluto's realm,
9.56
A peacock such as this, who wakes the sleepers.
9.57
Are you then Tereus? are you a bird or a peacock (ταὧς)?
9.57
A bird then; what kind? is it not a peacock (ταὧς)?
9.58
With the porphyrion and the pelican,
9.58
And pelecinnus, and the phlexis too,
9.58
The grouse and peacock.
9.58
For when you've taken quails and sparrows too,
9.58
And larks who love to robe themselves in dust,
9.58
And grouse, and rooks, and beauteous fig-peckers.
9.58
There were the herons with their long bending necks,
9.58
A numerous flock; and grouse, and rooks besides.
9.59
And with his rapid feet Hermioneus
9.59
Caught Nisus, and his loins with spear transfix'd.
9.59
There is a lobe and parts, too, called ψύαι;
9.59
Learn to cut these before you view the sacrifice.
9.60
Since I'm a female, I must have an udder.
9.60
The ὑπογάστριον and the extremities
9.60
Of the large tunny.
9.60
A. And th' ὑπογάστρια of fish.
9.60
B. O, Ceres!
9.60
Th' ὑπήτρια of white Sicilian tunnies.
9.61
Many are the ways and many the recipes
9.61
For dressing hares; but this is best of all,
9.61
To place before a hungry set of guests,
9.61
A slice of roasted meat fresh from the spit,
9.61
Hot, season'd only with plain simple salt,
9.61
Not too much done. And do not you be vex'd
9.61
At seeing blood fresh trickling from the meat,
9.61
But eat it eagerly. All other ways
9.61
Are quite superfluous, such as when cooks pour
9.61
A lot of sticky clammy sauce upon it,
9.61
Parings of cheese, and lees, and dregs of oil,
9.61
As if they were preparing cat's meat.
9.61
For who in rocky Attica e'er saw
9.61
A lion or any other similar beast,
9.61
Where 'tis not easy e'en to find a hare
9.61
You should have coriander seed so fine
9.61
That, when we've got some hares, we may be able
9.61
To sprinkle them with that small seed and salt.
9.62
And when he starts perhaps he may be able
9.62
To help us catch a hare (λαγών).
9.62
I am undone, I shall be surely seen
9.62
Plucking the fur from off the hare (λαγών).
9.62
Cranes, crows, and owls, and kites, and hares (λαγοι).
9.62
Where there are rays, and hares (λαγὼ), and light-footed women.
9.62
Rouse the sea-hare (λαγὸς) before you drink the water;
9.62
Cranes, crows, and owls, and hares (λαγοι).
9.62
ἢ πτῶκα λαγωόν.
9.63
What is this? whence this hare who bears the name
9.63
Of Chelidonian? Is it grey hare soup,
9.63
Mimarcys call'd, so thick with blood?
9.64
And you, Syagre, child of Pelion.
9.64
Stranger, Philetas is my name, I lie
9.64
Slain by fallacious arguments, and cares
9.64
Protracted from the evening through the night.
9.65
This very night a wild boar (σύαγρον) will I seize,
9.65
And drag into this house, and a lion and a wolf
9.65
Under the arched cavern of the nymphs
9.65
I consecrate . . . .
9.65
A wild boar (σύαγρον) as the first-fruits to the gods.
9.65
He rush'd into the cave like a wild boar (ἀσχέδωρος ὥς).
9.65
Where shepherds never choose to feed their flocks,
9.65
Nor does the wild boar range and chase his mate.
9.66
A. But what meat do you eat with most delight?
9.66
B. What meat?—why if you mean as to its cheapness,
9.66
There's mutton ere it bears you wool or milk,
9.66
That is to say, there's lamb, my friend; and so
9.66
There's also meat of goats which give no milk,
9.66
That is to say, of kids. For so much profit
9.66
Is got from these when they are fully grown,
9.66
That I put up with eating cheaper kinds.
9.66
These are the animals which the earth produces,
9.66
Which you will have from me: the ox of th' herd,
9.66
The goat which roves the woods, the chamois which
9.66
Loves the high mountain tops, the fearless ram,
9.66
The hog, the boar, the sucking-pig besides,
9.66
And hares, and kids . . . .
9.66
Green cheese, dry cheese, and cut and pounded cheese,
9.66
Scraped cheese, and chopp'd cheese, and congeal'd cheese
9.67
Come forth, O Manes, from the chamber
9.67
Deck'd with the lofty cypress roof;
9.67
Go to the market, to the statues
9.67
Of Maia's son, where all the chiefs
9.67
Of the tribes meet, and seek the troop
9.67
Of their most graceful pupils, whom
9.67
Phidon is teaching how to mount
9.67
Their horses, and dismount from them.
9.67
I need not tell you now their names.
9.67
Go; tell them that the fish is cold,
9.67
The wine is hot, the pastry dry,
9.67
The bread dry, too, and hard. The chops
9.67
Are burnt to pieces, and the meat
9.67
Taken from out the brine and dish'd.
9.67
The sausages are served up too;
9.67
So is the tripe, and rich black puddings.
9.67
Those who 're in-doors are all at table,
9.67
The wine cups all are quickly drain'd,
9.67
The pledge goes round; and nought remains
9.67
But the lascivious drunken cordax.The cordax was a lascivious dance of the old comedy; to dance it off the stage was considered a sign of drunkenness and indecency.
9.67
The young men all are waxing wanton,
9.67
And ev'rything's turn'd upside down.
9.67
Remember what I say, and bear
9.67
My words in mind.
9.67
Why stand you gaping like a fool?
9.67
Look here, and just repeat the message
9.67
Which I've just told you; do,—I will
9.67
Repeat it o'er again all through.
9.67
Bid them come now, and not delay,
9.67
Nor vex the cook who's ready for them.
9.67
For all the fish is long since boil'd,
9.67
And all the roast meat's long since cold.
9.67
Onions and olives, garlic too,
9.67
Cucumbers, cabbages, and broth,
9.67
Fig-leaves, and herbs, and tunny cutlets,
9.67
Glanis and rhinè, shark and conger,
9.67
A phyxicinus whole, a tunny,
9.67
A coracinus whole, a thunnis,
9.67
A small anchovy, and a tench,
9.67
A spindle-fish, a tail of dog-fish,
9.67
A carcharias and a torpedo;
9.67
A sea-frog, lizard, and a perch,
9.67
A trichias and a phycis too,
9.67
A brinchus, mullet, and sea-cuckoo.
9.67
A turtle, and besides a lamprey,
9.67
A phagrus, lebias, and grey mullet,
9.67
A sparus, and æolias,
9.67
A swallow, and the bird of Thrace,
9.67
A sprat, a squid, a turbot, and
9.67
Dracænides, and polypi,
9.67
A cuttle-fish, an orphus too;
9.67
A crab, likewise an escharus,
9.67
A needle-fish, a fine anchovy,
9.67
Some cestres, scorpions, eels, and loaves.
9.67
And loads of other meat, beyond
9.67
My calculation or my mention.
9.67
Dishes of goose, and pork, and beef,
9.67
And lamb, and mutton, goat and kid;
9.67
Of poultry, ducks and partridges,
9.67
Andjays, and foxes. And what follows
9.67
Will be a downright sight to see,
9.67
So many good things there will be.
9.67
And all the slaves through all the house
9.67
Are busy baking, roasting, dressing,
9.67
And plucking, cutting, beating, boiling,
9.67
And laughing, playing, leaping, feasting,
9.67
And drinking, joking, scolding, pricking.
9.67
And lovely sounds from tuneful flutes,
9.67
And song and din go through the house,
9.67
Of instruments both wind and string'd.
9.67
Meantime a lovely scent of cassia,
9.67
From Syria's fertile land, does strike
9.67
Upon my sense, and frankincense,
9.67
And myrrh, and nard * * *
9.67
* * * * *
9.67
Such a confusion fills the house
9.67
With every sort of luxury.
9.68
A. Sophon, an Ararnanian citizen,
9.68
And good Democritus of Rhodes, were long
9.68
Fellow-disciples in this noble art,
9.68
And Labdacus of Sicily was their tutor.
9.68
These men effaced all vulgar old recipes
9.68
Out of their cookery books, and took away
9.68
The mortar from the middle of the kitchen.
9.68
They brought into disuse all vinegar,
9.68
Cummin, and cheese, and assafœtida,
9.68
And coriander seed, and all the sauces
9.68
Which Saturn used to keep within his cruets.
9.68
And the cook who employ'd such means they thought
9.68
A humbug, a mere mountebank in his art.
9.68
They used oil only, and clean plates, O father,
9.68
And a quick fire, wanting little bellows:
9.68
With this they made each dinner elegant.
9.68
They were the first who banish'd tears and sneezing,
9.68
And spitting from the board; and purified
9.68
The manners of the guests. At last the Rhodian,
9.68
Drinking some pickle by mistake, did die;
9.68
For such a draught was foreign to his nature.
9.68
B. 'Twas likely so to be.
9.68
A. But Sophon still
9.68
Has all Ionia for his dominions,
9.68
And he, O father, was my only tutor.
9.68
And I now study philosophic rules,
9.68
Wishing to leave behind me followers,
9.68
And new discover'd rules to guide the art.
9.68
B. Ah! but, I fear, you'll want to cut me up,
9.68
And not the animal we think to sacrifice.
9.68
A. To-morrow you shall see me with my books,
9.68
Seeking fresh precepts for my noble art;
9.68
Nor do I differ from th' Aspendian.
9.68
And if you will, you too shall taste a specimen
9.68
Of this my skill. I do not always give
9.68
The self-same dishes to all kinds of guests;
9.68
But I regard their lives and habits all.
9.68
One dish I set before my friends in love,
9.68
Another's suited to philosophers,
9.68
Another to tax-gatherers. A youth
9.68
Who has a mistress, quickly will devour
9.68
His patrimonial inheritance;
9.68
So before him I place fat cuttle-fish
9.68
Of every sort; and dishes too of fish
9.68
Such as do haunt the rocks, all season'd highly
9.68
With every kind of clear transparent sauce.
9.68
For such a man cares nought about his dinner,
9.68
But all his thoughts are on his mistress fix'd.
9.68
Then to philosophers I serve up ham,
9.68
Or pettitoes; for all that crafty tribe
9.68
Are wonderful performers at the table.
9.68
Owls, eels, and spars I give the publicans,
9.68
When they're in season, but at other times
9.68
Some lentil salad. And all funeral feasts
9.68
I make more splendid than the living ones.
9.68
For old men's palates are not critical;
9.68
At least not half so much as those of youths.
9.68
And so I give them mustard, and I make them
9.68
Sauces of pungent nature, which may rouse
9.68
Their dormant sense, and make it snug the air;
9.68
And when I once behold a face, I know
9.68
The dishes that its owner likes to eat.
9.69
You have said these things with great severity,
9.69
(And that's your usual kindness, by the Gods);
9.69
You've said a cook should always beforehand
9.69
Know who the guests may be for whom he now
9.69
Is dressing dinner. For he should regard
9.69
This single point—whom he has got to please
9.69
While seasoning his sauces properly;
9.69
And by this means he'll know the proper way
9.69
And time to lay his table and to dress
9.69
His meats and soups. But he who this neglects
9.69
Is not a cook, though he may be a seasoner.
9.69
But these are different arts, a wondrous space
9.69
Separates the two. It is not every one
9.69
That's called a general who commands an army,
9.69
But he who can with prompt and versatile skill
9.69
Avail himself of opportunities,
9.69
And look about him, changing quick his plans,
9.69
He is the general. He who can't do this
9.69
Is only in command. And so with us.
9.69
To roast some beef, to carve a joint with neatness,
9.69
To boil up sauces, and to blow the fire,
9.69
Is anybody's task; he who does this
9.69
Is but a seasoner and broth-maker:
9.69
A cook is quite another thing. His mind
9.69
Must comprehend all facts and circumstances:
9.69
Where is the place, and when the time of supper;
9.69
Who are the guests, and who the entertainer;
9.69
What fish he ought to buy, and when to buy it.
9.69
. . . . . For all these things
9.69
You'll have on almost every occasion;
9.69
But they're not always of the same importance,
9.69
Nor do they always the same pleasure give.
9.69
Archestratus has written on this art,
9.69
And is by many people highly thought of,
9.69
As having given us a useful treatise;
9.69
But still there's much of which he's ignorant,
9.69
And all his rules are really good for nothing,
9.69
So do not mind or yield to all the rules
9.69
Which he has laid down most authoritatively,
9.69
For a more empty lot of maxims you
9.69
Will hardly find. For when you write a book
9.69
On cookery, it will not do to say,
9.69
As I was just now saying; for this art
9.69
Has no fix'd guide but opportunity,
9.69
And must itself its only mistress be.
9.69
But if your skill be ne'er so great, and yet
9.69
You let the opportunity escape,
9.69
Your art is lost, and might as well be none.
9.69
BO man, you're wise. But as for this man who
9.69
You just now said was coming here to try
9.69
His hand at delicate banquets, say, does he
9.69
Forget to come?
9.69
A. If I but make you now
9.69
One forced meat ball, I can in that small thing
9.69
Give you a specimen of all my skill.
9.69
And I will serve you up a meal which shall
9.69
Be redolent of the Athenian breezes.
9.69
* * * * *
9.69
Dost fear that I shall fail to lull your soul
9.69
With dishes of sufficient luxury?
9.70
My friend, you've made a speech quite long enough
9.70
In praising your fav'rite art of cookery;—
9.70
Give us now something new to see beyond
9.70
Your predecessor's art, or plague us not;
9.70
But show me what you've got, and tell its name.
9.70
You look down on me, since I am a cook.
9.70
What I have made by practising my art—
9.70
What I have made by practising my art
9.70
Is more than any actor e'er has gain'd,—
9.70
This smoky art of mine is quite a kingdom.
9.70
I was a caper-pickler with Seleucus,
9.70
And at the court of the Sicilian king,
9.70
Agathocles, I was the very first
9.70
To introduce the royal dish of lentils.
9.70
My chief exploit I have not mention'd yet:
9.70
There was a famine, and a man named Lachares
9.70
Was giving an entertainment to his friends;
9.70
Whom I recovered with some caper-sauce.
9.70
The winds perfumed the balmy gale convey
9.70
Through heav'n, through earth, and all the aërial way;
9.72
While I revolved these counsels in my mind,
9.72
Pallas Minerva, with her golden sceptre,
9.72
Stood by my head, and touched me, and thus spake—
9.72
O thou ill-treated Lentil, wretched man,
9.72
Go to the contest: and I then took courage.
9.72
These now are stones, and let who chooses throw them;
9.72
But Lentil's good alike at every season.
9.73
And after this Telemachus did meet him,
9.73
And with great cordiality embraced him,
9.73
And said, "Nowlend me, I do beg, the saucepans
9.73
In which you boil'd your beans." And scarcely had
9.73
He finish'd saying this, when he beheld
9.73
At some small distance the renowned Philip,
9.73
Son of Chærephilus, that mighty man,
9.73
Whom he accosted with a friendly greeting,
9.73
And then he bade him send some wicker baskets.
9.73
A. Telemachus th' Acharnian still is speaking,
9.73
And he is like the new-bought Syrian slaves.
9.73
B. How so, what does he do? I wish to know.
9.73
A. He bears about with him a deadly dish.
9.73
So that we'd nothing with us; I myself,
9.73
Passing a miserable night, did first
9.73
Sleep on the hardest bed; and then that Lion,
9.73
Thudippus, did congeal us all with fear;
9.73
Then hunger pinch'd us . . . . . .
9.73
And so we went unto the fiery Dion.
9.73
But even he had nought with which to help us;
9.73
So running to the excellent Telemachus,
9.73
The great Acharnian, I found a heap
9.73
Of beans, and seized on some and ate them up.
9.73
And when that ass Cephisodorus saw us,
9.73
He by a most unseemly noise betray'd us.
9.74
A. I often, by the Gods I swear, consider
9.74
In my own mind how far a fig surpasses
9.74
A cardamum. But you assert that you
9.74
Have held some conversation with this Pauson,
9.74
And you request of me a difficult matter.
9.74
B. But having many cares of divers aspects,
9.74
Just tell me this, and it may prove amusing;
9.74
Why does bean soup so greatly fill the stomach,
9.74
And why do those who know this Pauson's habits
9.74
Dislike the fire? For this great philosopher
9.74
Is always occupied in eating beans.
9.75
He spoke, and bade the attendant handmaid bring
9.75
The purest water of the living spring,
9.75
(Her ready hands the ewer (χέρνιβον) and basin held,)
9.75
Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd.
9.75
And he who runs up first receives a basin (χειρόνιπτρον),
9.75
But when a man is both a virtuous man
9.75
And useful citizen, though he surpass
9.75
In virtue all the rest, he gets no basin (χειρόνιπτρον).
9.75
A harp, and tripods, chariots too, and tables
9.75
Of brass Corinthian, and wash-hand basins (χειρόνιβα),
9.75
Cups for libations, brazen caldrons too.
9.75
And since the women all have dined well,
9.75
'Tis time to take away the tables now,
9.75
And wipe them, and then give each damsel water
9.75
To wash her hands (κατὰ χειρῶν), and perfumes to anoint them.
9.75
And they having had water for their hands (κατὰ χειρῶν λαβόντες),
9.75
Wait in a friendly manner.
9.76
Marshall'd in order due, to each a sewer
9.76
Presents, to bathe his hands (νίψασθαι), a radiant ewer;
9.76
Luxuriant then they feast.
9.76
The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings,
9.76
Replenish'd from the cool translucent springs,
9.76
With copious water the bright vase supplies,
9.76
A silver laver of capacious size;
9.76
They wash (ὕδωρ ἐπὶ χεῖρας ἔχευαν). The tables in fair order spread,
9.76
They heap the glittering canisters with bread.
9.76
O hard-work'd Cæcoa, give us water for our hands (κατὰ χειρὸς),
9.76
And then prepare the table for our food.
9.76
Which great Alcmena's son might in the basin (χερνίβα) dip.
9.76
Here make an end of your lustration (χερνίβα).
9.77
A. But while I'm listening to your discourse,
9.77
Bid some one bring me water for my hands.
9.77
B. Let some one here bring water and some σμῆμα.
9.77
And then you'll walk about, and, in the fashion,
9.77
Will take some scented earth, and wash your hands
9.77
And then the slaves brought water for the hands (νίπτρα κατὰ χειρῶν,)
9.77
And soap (σμῆμα) well mix'd with oily juice of lilies,
9.77
And poured o'er the hands as much warm water
9.77
As the guests wish'd. And then they gave them towels
9.77
Of finest linen, beautifully wrought,
9.77
And fragrant ointments of ambrosial smell,
9.77
And garlands of the flow'ring violet.
9.77
And then, as soon as we had breakfasted,
9.77
One handmaid took away the empty tables,
9.77
Another brought us water for our hands;
9.77
We wash'd, and took our lily wreaths again,
9.77
And crown'd our heads with garlands.
9.78
Like those who empty slops (ἀπόνιπτρον) at eventide.
9.79
Bring quickly, slave, some water for the hands (κατὰ χειρος),
9.79
And bring at the same time a towel (χειρόμακτρον) too.
9.79
Shaved in the Scythian manner, while his hair
9.79
Served for a towel, and to wipe his hands in.
9.79
But each made haste, as being about to dine
9.79
With one who 'd always a good appetite,
9.79
And who had also but Bœotian manners.
9.79
And so they all neglected washing their hands (κατὰ χειρὸς),
9.79
Because they could do that when they had dined.
9.79
With her hair cover'd with a linen towel,
9.79
Token of slovenly neglect.
9.79
And purple towels o'er your knees I'll throw,
9.79
And do not you despise my precious gifts
9.79
* * * * * * *