236—The Preparation of Soups

The nutritious liquids known under the name of Soups are of comparatively recent origin. Indeed, as they are now served, they do not date any further back than the early years of the nineteenth century.

The soups of old cookery were, really, complete dishes, wherein the meats and vegetables used in their preparation were assembled. They, moreover, suffered from the effects of the general confusion which reigned in the menus of those days. These menus seem to have depended in no wise, for their items, upon the progressive satisfaction of the consumers’ appetites, and a long procession of dishes was far more characteristic of the meal than their judicious order and diversity.

In this respect, as in so many others, Carême was the reformer, and, if he were not, strictly speaking, the actual initiator of the changes which ushered in our present methods, he certainly had a large share in the establishment of the new theories.

Nevertheless, it took his followers almost a century to bring soups to the perfection of to-day, for modern cookery has replaced those stodgy dishes of yore by comparatively simple and savoury preparations which are veritable wonders of delicacy and taste. Now, my attention has been called to the desirability of drawing up some sort of classification of soups, if only with the view of obviating the absurdity of placing such preparations as are indiscriminately called Bisque, Purée, Cullis, or Cream under the same head. Logically, each preparation should have its own special formula, and it is impossible to admit that one and the same can apply to all.

It is generally admitted that the terms Veloutés and Creams, whose introduction into the vocabulary of cookery is comparatively recent, are peculiarly well suited to supplant those of Bisque and Cullis, which are steadily becoming obsolete, as well as that too vulgar term Purée. Considerations of this kind naturally led me to a new classification of soups, and this I shall disclose later.

I shall not make any lengthy attempt here to refute the arguments of certain autocrats of the dinner-table who, not so many years ago, urged the total abolition of soups. I shall only submit to their notice the following quotation from Grimod de la Reynière, one of our most illustrious gastronomists: “Soup is to a dinner what the porch or gateway is to a building,” that is to say, it must not only form the first portion thereof, but it must be so devised as to convey some idea of the whole to which it belongs; or, after the manner of an overture in a light opera, it should divulge what is to be the dominant phrase of the melody throughout.

I am at one with Grimod in this, and believe that soups have come to stay. Of all the items on a menu, soup is that which exacts the most delicate perfection and the strictest attention, for upon the first impression it gives to the diner the success of the latter part of the meal largely depends.

Soups should be served as hot as possible in very warm plates, especially in the case of consommés when these have been preceded by cold hors-d’œuvres.

Hors-d’œuvres are pointless in a dinner, and even when oysters stand as such they should only be allowed at meals which include no soup.

Those hors-d’œuvres which consist of various fish, smoked or in oil, and strongly seasoned salads, leave a disagreeable taste on the consumer’s palate and make the soup which follows seem flat and insipid if the latter be not served boiling hot.