flavours, what a mastery he shows of strong effects and striking
contrasts, what fecundity of invention, what a play of fancy in
decoration, what manual dexterity, what rapidity and certainty in all
his operations! And the marvel increases when we consider the
simplicity of his implements and materials. His studio is fitted
with half a dozen small fireplaces, and furnished with an assortment
of copper pots, a chopper, two tin spoons--but he can do without
these,--a ladle made of half a cocoanut shell at the end of a stick,
and a slab of stone with a stone roller on it; also a rickety table;
a very gloomy and ominous looking table, whose undulating surface is
chopped and hacked and scarred, begrimed, besmeared, smoked, oiled,
stained with juices of many substances. On this table he minces
meat, chops onions, rolls pastry and sleeps; a very useful table. In
the midst of these he hustles about, putting his face at intervals
into one of his fires and blowing through a short bamboo tube, which
is his bellows, such a potent blast that for a moment his whole head
is enveloped in a cloud of ashes and cinders, which also descend
copiously on the half-made tart and the souffle and the custard.
Then he takes up an egg, gives it three smart raps with the nail of
his forefinger, and in half a second the yoke is in one vessel and
the white in another. The fingers of his left hand are his strainer.
Every second or third egg he tosses aside, having detected, as it
passed through the said strainer that age had rendered it unsuitable
for his purposes; sometimes he does not detect this. From eggs he
proceeds to onions, then he is taking the stones out of raisins, or
shelling peas. There is a standard English cookery book which
commences most of its instructions with the formula, "wash your hands
carefully, using a nail brush." Domingo does not observe this
ceremony, but he often wipes his fingers upon his pantaloons. It
occurs to me, however, that I do not wisely pursue this theme; for