This poem is a tribute to the long gone culinary art that has vanished from our cultures. This is a cry that was written around 1910, I am not sure the exact date, but it is just beautiful. I would do more research in the future to find out the exact dates and location of the author when he wrote it. No doubt this is a n important piece in culinary history. Immigrants from Europe mostly felt frustrated about the food prepared in the US at the time.
A Lost Art (by John N. Hilliard)
Ah! the culinary art - faith! has it fled
With the dead?
Do the monarchs of the modern kitchen know
How to broil or roast or fry,
Make a soufflé or a pie,
Like the ancients did?
Well, I answer, "No!"
For the people of the present, young and old,
Live for gold,
And they have no leisure sooth in which to eat;
See them scorching home on wheels,
Thirty minutes grace for meals,
Or they walk their soles and heels
Off their feet.
Read the golden "ads" in cars and magazines
Of baked beans,
And of banquets concentrated in a can;
Read of food prepared in flakes,
And of patent flour cakes,
Good for all the ills and aches
In a man.
´Tis a wondrous age, I grant, an age of steam,
´Tis and age of wonders wrought in steel and stone;
´Tis an age Time can not pace,
When our thoughts with lightning race,
And our words are tossed through space
To each zone.
But we have no chefs, today, of any fame
Like Chatillon, a Vatel or a Ude;
We fry beef stakes in a pan,
Which is bad for the beast or man,
And we breakfast on a plan
Just as rude.
So the culinary art, I think, has fled
With the dead,
With the ancient recipe for Massic wine;
Ah! I would I had the pen
Of a Savarin, for then
I would teach all kinds of men
How to dine.