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                            CAKES AND ALE




                         _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_


                           THE FLOWING BOWL

                  A TREATISE ON DRINKS OF ALL KINDS
                   AND OF ALL PERIODS, INTERSPERSED
                      WITH SUNDRY ANECDOTES AND
                            REMINISCENCES

                                  BY

                            EDWARD SPENCER

                        ('NATHANIEL GUBBINS')

                   Author of "Cakes and Ale," etc.

                  _Crown 8vo., cloth gilt, 2/6 net._

                           SECOND EDITION.

               With cover design by the late PHIL MAY.


              "The Flowing Bowl" overflows with good
              cheer. In the happy style that enlivens its
              companion volume, "Cakes and Ale," the
              author gives a history of drinks and their
              use, interspersed with innumerable recipes
              for drinks new and old, dug out of records
              of ancient days, or set down anew.

                      LONDON: STANLEY PAUL & CO.
                    31, Essex Street, Strand, W.C.




                             CAKES & ALE

                      A DISSERTATION ON BANQUETS

                  INTERSPERSED WITH VARIOUS RECIPES,
                      MORE OR LESS ORIGINAL, AND
                     ANECDOTES, MAINLY VERACIOUS

                                  BY

                            EDWARD SPENCER
                        ('NATHANIEL GUBBINS')

                  AUTHOR OF "THE FLOWING BOWL," ETC.

                           _FOURTH EDITION_

                          STANLEY PAUL & CO.

                    31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.




                      _First printed April 1897
                      Reprinted May 1897
                      Cheap Edition February 1900
                      Reprinted 1913_




                        TO THE MODERN LUCULLUS

                             JOHN CORLETT

               GRANDEST OF HOSTS, BEST OF TRENCHER-MEN
                              I DEDICATE
                   (WITHOUT ANY SORT OF PERMISSION)

                              THIS BOOK




                               PREFACE


A long time ago, an estimable lady fell at the feet of an habitual
publisher, and prayed unto him:--

"Give, oh! give me the subject of a book for which the world has a
need, and I will write it for you."

"Are you an author, madam?" asked the publisher, motioning his visitor
to a seat.

"No, sir," was the proud reply, "I am a poet."

"Ah!" said the great man. "I am afraid there is no immediate worldly
need of a poet. If you could only write a good cookery book, now!"

The story goes on to relate how the poetess, not rebuffed in the
least, started on the requisite culinary work, directly she got
home; pawned her jewels to purchase postage stamps, and wrote far
and wide for recipes, which in course of time she obtained, by the
hundredweight. Other recipes she "conveyed" from ancient works of
gastronomy, and in a year or two the _magnum opus_ was given to the
world; the lady's share in the profits giving her "adequate provision
for the remainder of her life." We are not told, but it is presumable,
that the publisher received a little adequate provision too.

History occasionally repeats itself; and the history of the present
work begins in very much the same way. Whether it will finish in an
equally satisfactory manner is problematical. I do not possess much of
the divine _afflatus_ myself; but there has ever lurked within me some
sort of ambition to write a book--something held together by "tree
calf," "half morocco," or "boards"; something that might find its way
into the hearts and homes of an enlightened public; something which
will give some of my young friends ample opportunity for criticism. In
the exercise of my profession I have written leagues of descriptive
"copy"--mostly lies and racing selections,--but up to now there has
been no urgent demand for a book of any sort from this pen. For years
my ambition has remained ungratified. Publishers--as a rule, the most
faint-hearted and least speculative of mankind--have held aloof. And
whatever suggestions I might make were rejected, with determination,
if not with contumely.

At length came the hour, and the man; the introduction to a publisher
with an eye for budding and hitherto misdirected talent.

"Do you care, sir," I inquired at the outset, "to undertake the
dissemination of a bulky work on Political Economy?"

"Frankly, sir, I do not," was the reply. Then I tried him with
various subjects--social reform, the drama, bimetallism, the ethics
of starting prices, the advantages of motor cars in African warfare,
natural history, the martyrdom of Ananias, practical horticulture,
military law, and dogs; until he took down an old duck-gun from a peg
over the mantelpiece, and assumed a threatening attitude.

Peace having been restored, the self-repetition of history recommenced.

"I can do with a good, bold, brilliant, lightly treated, exhaustive
work on Gastronomy," said the publisher, "you are well acquainted with
the subject, I believe?"

"I'm a bit of a parlour cook, if that's what you mean," was my humble
reply. "At a salad, a grill, an anchovy toast, or a cooling and
cunningly compounded cup, I can be underwritten at ordinary rates. But
I could no more cook a haunch of venison, or even boil a rabbit, or
make an economical Christmas pudding, than I could sail a boat in a
nor'-easter; and Madam Cook would certainly eject me from her kitchen,
with a clout attached to the hem of my dinner jacket, inside five
minutes."

Eventually it was decided that I should commence this book.

"What I want," said the publisher, "is a series of essays on food,
a few anecdotes of stirring adventure--you have a fine flow of
imagination, I understand--and a few useful, but uncommon recipes. But
plenty of plums in the book, my dear sir, plenty of plums."

"But, suppose my own supply of plums should not hold out, what am I to
do?"

"What do you do--what does the cook do, when the plums for her
pudding run short? Get some more; the Museum, my dear sir, the great
storehouse of national literature, is free to all whose character is
above the normal standard. When your memory and imagination fail, try
the British Museum. You know what is a mightier factor than both sword
and pen? Precisely so. And remember that in replenishing your store
from the works of those who have gone before, you are only following
in their footsteps. I only bar Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb. Let me
have the script by Christmas--d'you smoke?--mind the step--_good_
morning."

In this way, gentle reader, were the trenches dug, the saps laid
for the attack of the great work. The bulk of it is original, and
the adventures in which the writer has taken part are absolutely
true. About some of the others I would not be so positive. Some of
the recipes have previously figured in the pages of the _Sporting
Times_, the _Lady's Pictorial_, and the _Man of the World_, to the
proprietors of which journals I hereby express my kindly thanks for
permission to revive them. Many of the recipes are