Introduction to the First Edition

“Hors d’oeuvre means ‘outside the meal’ and regardless of how many different sorts may be provided ‘outside’ or before any one meal, there is but one meal or oeuvre, so that, in French, oeuvre remains in the singular and hors d’oeuvre never is written hors d’oeuvres.”

—André Simon’s French Cook Book

“Outside the meal,” or, as Mr. Webster has put it, “outside the work” (his wife must have been a bad cook) has come into our language as the appetizer. The hors d’oeuvre is a rite rather than a course and its duty is to enchant the eye, please the palate, and excite the flow of the gastric juices, if we may be so very technical, so that the meal to follow will seem doubly tempting and flavorful.

Hors d’oeuvre, or its ancestor, probably came to us from China, across the Steppes into Russia and Scandinavia, thence to France and the other Middle European countries. Perhaps it came to Italy, Greece, and the Balkans from Russia, or again through Persia. Today we have a series of national customs that are closely related: the Swedish smörgåsbord table, the Russian zokuska, the antipasto of Italy and the hors d’oeuvre of France.

I am quite sure the first sign of it in this country probably appeared in some roughly-hewn, pioneer bar on the California coast. Perhaps some homesick Frenchman, longing for the customs of his faraway homeland, set up a simple hors d’oeuvre tray on the bar of his ramshackle saloon. News spread around town that there was a free lunch at Frenchie’s bar. Thus came the day of the five-cent beer and free lunch throughout America. The free lunch became a national institution and was probably responsible for the sale of a great deal of beer. Huge tables were laid with an amazing assortment of foods, and not party foods either but literally living up to the term “lunch.” Many’s the man who with a dime for a glass of beer made himself a good meal at the nearest bar. This quaint and amazing and strange custom ended with Prohibition and since Repeal there have been few attempts to revive it in the old way. We have made many changes in our drinking habits, we Americans. Women have become as numerous as men at the bars. The cocktail “lounge” has come into our lives and the free lunch has become the hors d’oeuvre.

In China and in most European countries the first course, or the prelude to the meal, is nearly always a selection of choice tidbits which, with their savory qualities or salty tang, have a tendency to stimulate the appetite to a point that makes the succeeding courses seem much more enjoyable. We see in the smörgåsbord and the zokuska, the hors d’oeuvre table of France, and the antipasto the same thing carried to various degrees of elaboration: there are always many varieties of pickled, dried, and salt fish served in spicy sauces; cold meats and galantines; egg dishes; marinated vegetables and fruits; many hot dishes with highly seasoned sauces, and a wealth of other things too numerous to list here lest the book be entirely a hymn of praise to the European cooks who have created such delicacies.

One restaurant in Paris which was famous for its almost endless variety of hors d’oeuvre would, at luncheon time, serve you an entire meal of them in a most novel fashion: you were brought a complete selection of fishes, followed by meats, vegetables, eggs, fruits, all in bountiful arrangement on little wagons. Such abundance is of course impossible to the average home, but it shows the infinite number of ideas and never-ending combinations which may be called upon to make the hors d’oeuvre tray or table complete.

In America since the repeal of the Prohibition Amendment there has developed a new and, at times, delightful form of hospitality—the cocktail party. With this has come the use of the age-old French term for “outside the meal” food. But instead of huge buffets groaning with succulent morsels, as in European homes (formerly!), the age-old appetizer has become streamlined along with our trains and automobiles and living.

We have developed a most amazing variety of finger food to go with the cocktail and the glass of sherry, literally hundreds of variations, some of course borrowed from our European and Asiatic backgrounds and many that are distinctly our own. In many ways this is one of the most truly American contributions to the art of good living. It is with this finger food that I am concerned in this book and with the cocktail party, whether it be the simple “drop in for a drink” type or the great “crush” that pays a year’s social debts in one fell swoop.

To the average American hostess, practically everything from a potato chip to a six-rib roast of beef comes under the term hors d’oeuvre. I am frequently asked in my shop, “What is the difference between a canapé and an hors d’oeuvre?” It is really a very frail difference, but one that should be cleared up here and now. So, I shall try to clarify the various terms that are in common use today and to list the recipes under their respective headings.

Hors d’oeuvre we have already defined as a general term, but Americans have developed what is known as the cocktail hors d’oeuvre or snack. This is a small, hasty bite served usually without bread or biscuit, sometimes on a toothpick and sometimes under its own power.

Hot hors d’oeuvre may be eaten with a fork, as they often have a heavy sauce or a marinade. These are served in endless varieties and in many combinations.

Canapé probably comes from the French word that has come to be “canopy” in English. It means literally, and I again quote Mr. Webster, “a bed with mosquito netting.” That is fairly accurate, for we have a bed of toast or biscuit or pastry shell, hidden by the “mosquito netting” of savory butters or pastes or the million and two things used these days for taste-bud stimulants.

Smörgåsbord is the Swedish cold table, beautifully appointed and laden with all sorts of fish, meat, game, salads, cheese, hot savory dishes, sweet-sour dishes, breads, fresh butter, and numberless dishes exciting to the appetite and encouraging to thirst. These are always washed down with quantities of akavit. Once around the usual smörgåsbord table ordinarily is enough, but I must confess to seeing people in Swedish restaurants in this country go around again and again and again. Lucullan moderns!

Zakuska is the Russian equivalent for this, probably with more caviar and perhaps more violent kinds of fish and much black bread and vodka.

Antipasto is the Italian variation of the theme. It is notable for its vegetables and beautiful sausages and some of the master sauces Italians create. Good olive oil and wine vinegar are aids to this splendid pre-dinner. With it vermouth finds great favor as an apéritif.

So, they all add together and reach the same answer. As is natural, the northern countries provide more body-heating foods and the southern ones the lighter, greener things. All of them are alluring to the stomach and the eye and all of them should be well washed down with the drink of your choosing.

The contrary sister of all these has a home in England and a firmly established one at that: she is the savory or savoury, which has never seemed to achieve a vogue in this country. A savory is really a canapé or snack served after the sweet, to kill the sweet taste and clear the way for the coffee and liqueurs. The savory may be hot or cold.

It is a far cry from the fly-specked and hearty free-lunch table of the American pioneer saloon to the perfectly appointed hors d’oeuvre table of today, but I think America has jumped the gap and is safely on the modern side. It is this modern picture I hope to present in this book.

—J. B.

(1940)