to French cookery, yet that mode of disguising meat in this kingdom
(except perhaps in the hottest part of the hottest season of the year)
is an absurdity. It is _here_ the art of _spoiling good meat_. The
same art, indeed, in the South of France; where the climate is much
warmer, and the flesh of the animal lean and insipid, is highly
valuable; it is the art of making _bad meat eatable_." At the same
time, he acknowledges the superior thrift and intelligence of the
French cooks, and instances the frog and the horse. "The frog is
considered in this country as a disgusting animal, altogether unfit
for the purposes of the kitchen; whereas, by the efforts of French
cookery, the thighs of this little creature are converted into a
delicate and estimable dish." So sings, too (save the mark!), _our_
Charles Lamb, so far back as 1822, after his visit to Paris. It
seems that in Elizabeth's reign a _powdered_, or pickled horse was
considered a suitable dish by a French general entertaining at dinner
some English officers.

It is difficult to avoid an impression that Warner has some reason,
when he suggests that the immoderate use of condiments was brought
to us by the dwellers under a higher temperature, and was not really
demanded in such a climate as that of England, where meat can be
kept sweet in ordinary seasons, much longer even than in France or in
Italy. But let us bear in mind, too, how different from our own the
old English _cuisine_ was, and how many strange beasts calling for
lubricants it comprehended within its range.

An edifying insight into the old Scottish _cuisine_ among people of
the better sort is afforded by Fynes Morisoh, in his description of a
stay at a knight's house in North Britain in 1598.