Trouble in Paradise

A fellow researcher at the Freemason's Lodge sent me this reference last week, dating from the 1720s.  (Thanks, Andrew.)

"We had a good dinner, and, to their eternal honour, the brotherhood laid about them very valiantly. They saw then their high dignity; they saw what they were, acted accordingly, and shewed themselves (what they were) men. The Westphalia hams and chickens, with good plum pudding, not forgetting the delicious salmon, were plentifully sacrificed, with copious libations 90 of wine for the consolation of the brotherhood. But whether, after a very disedifying manner their demolishing huge walls of venison pasty, be building up a spiritual house, I leave to brother Eugenius Philalethes to determine.  However, to do them justice, I must own, there was no mention made of politics or religion, so well do they seem to follow the advice of that author. And when the music began to play, “Let the king enjoy his own again,” they were immediately reprimanded by a person of great gravity and science."

Handbooks dealing with the secrets of the Brethren like to point out the society's emphasis on temperance, moderation and fraternity.  But judging from this excerpt, this doesn't exactly seem to be the case.  Demolishing walls of venison pasty??  Damn.  I want in.  

But lest this makes you believe that Masonic feasts were all about indulgence, I found this very angry letter that seems to paint a somewhat different picture.  Addressed the Grand-Master of the society, it was written in May of 1791, shortly after the annual feast. 

Dear Sir,

I have receiv’d your very polite letter and in return, am to inform you that when I followed my senior to the table every chair was taken, except ONE and that of Right belonged to brother Lewis.  Not any person would make room for me, and I was reduced to the disagreeable situation at the end of the Table, where the Dishes were to be handed over my back, for 200 people, and a door continually opening at any head by which I got a violent cold and have been very ill. 

            Such treatment, I may say such rudeness to a Man near 70 years of age who hath been 25 years a loyal Officer and a laborious Servant to the Society, and who never was accustomed to scrambles for a Chair, was too mortifying and too degrading.  It did not become me to trouble the Grand Master with a complaint at that time or to enter into altercation with any person. If you saw me in that uncomfortable place, you had authority by your office to have placed one in any proper Seat. 

            I was necessitated to leave the hall before the second course was brought on, being unable any longer to bear the crowd of servants at my back. this has determin’d me to withdraw from a society, where I was treated with such disrespect....

Guess there's always a crotchety kill-joy in the pack.  But it made me wonder what exactly was going on at these dinners, and how the experience of dining might change over time.  By 1813, the "festive board" –– ie. the party –– and the Masonic ritual had been separated entirely.  Are these dinners gradually becoming more civilized?  And if so, why?   

Freemasonry and Celebrity Chefs

I've been spending time at the Freemasons Hall as of late, and ran across this newspaper clipping today.   It comes from Lloyds Evening Post, and was published on the 26th of February 1790.

“MICHAEL RUHOLD, who lately kept the Tavern at Madrass, and JOHN MOLLARD, late a Partner and cook at the London Tavern, respectfully inform the Public, that they have taken the Free Masons Tavern, in Great Queen-Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, which has been rebuilt upon an enlarged Plan, and fitted up in the genteelest Style, that they have laid in a large Assortment of the choicest Wines, and propose to open their House on Thursday the 4^th of March, when they solicit the Favour of their Friends and the Public, assuring them that no Pains will be spared to merit their Encouragement. 

N.B.  The largest Companies may be commodiously entertained."

A 19th century illustration of Freemason's Tavern

Making a point of Mollard's previous employer was no accident.  The London Tavern was a pretty big deal in the latter half of the 18th century, and just like today, working at a prestigious eating establishment could give a cook some much needed celebrity caché.

The same was true when it came to cookbooks.  Ten years later, Mollard came out with The Art of Cookery made Easy and Refined, which, considering the fact that it ran into five editions by 1836, didn't do so badly with the public.

I was checking it out today, and was rather impressed with its scope.  There are recipes for all the English staples: pea soups, 'meat cakes with savory jelly,' and turtle, both real and "mock."  But there are also quite a few dishes that proclaim their international flare; French names are littered throughout the book, as well as things done "the German way" or "the Spanish way."  There are even three different recipes for curry.  But I didn't really know what to make of all of this.  Was there anything particularly "Masonic" about this cookery book?

Other than being associated with the Freemason's Tavern, the cookbook never mentions the so-called "Royal Art."  Perhaps that isn't wholly surprising.  Even though the tavern was attached to the grand lodge, you didn't have to be part of the Brethren in order to enjoy a meal there.  In fact, it was often rented out for private events that had nothing to do with Freemasonry at all.

One recipe, however, caught me eye: "Solomongundy."  Salmagundi, I knew, was a sort of meat-vegetable-condiment salad ... a handy way for 18th century cooks to use up all of their leftovers.  But "Solomongundy?"  It couldn't have anything to do with Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem, which was so important to Masonic legend?  Could it?

Alas, dear readers.  I poked around a little more and I found this alternate spelling wasn't so unusual after all.  Dead end.  The subject of Masonic dining in the 18th century is full of tantalizing clues –– references to "demolishing huge walls of venison pasty" and "leg of mutton masons" –– but getting an idea of how food functioned in rituals and social life was harder than I thought.

It being around tea-time, I went across the street to satiate my frustration in a more contemporary English treat, meat salads being harder to come by these days.

Yet another fabulous scone with cream and raspberry jam ... 

But if you feel inspired to whip one up ...  

John Mollard's "Solomongundy:"
“Chop small and separately lean of boiled ham, breast of dressed fowl, picked anchovies, parsley, omlets of eggs white and yellow (the same kind as for garnishing), shallots, a small quantity of pickle cucumbers, capers, and beet root. Then rub a saucer over with fresh butter, put it in the center of the dish, and make it secure from moving.  Place round it in partitions the different articles separately till the saucer is covered, and put on the rim of the dish some slices of lemon.”