Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs,
When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs
And sweeten'd by all that is sweetest in life
Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife!
But if, out of humour, and hungry, alone
A man should sit down to dinner, each one
Of the dishes which the cook chooses to spoil
With a horrible mixture of garlic and oil,
The chances are ten against one, I must own,
He gets up as ill-tempered as when he sat down.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.
Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends us cooks.
He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the
grinding.
Have I not tarried?
read more
He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the
grinding.
Have I not tarried?
Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Have I not tarried?
Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Still have I tarried.
Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the
kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and
the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance
to burn your lips.
I never strove to rule the roast,
She ne'er refus'd to pledge my toast.
I never strove to rule the roast,
She ne'er refus'd to pledge my toast.
Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the
copper. A smell like a washing-day! That read more
Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the
copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A
smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each
other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the
pudding.
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
read more
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold because you come not home;
You come not home because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
Her that ruled the rost in the kitchen.
Her that ruled the rost in the kitchen.
"Very well," cried I, "that's a good girl; I find you are
perfectly qualified for making converts, and so read more
"Very well," cried I, "that's a good girl; I find you are
perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your
mother to make the gooseberry bye."
Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks are gentlemen.
Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks are gentlemen.
Would the cook were o' my mind!
Would the cook were o' my mind!
