Peeps Behind the Scenes in Auckland’s Leading Hotels

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1004, 21 June 1930, Page 19

Peeps Behind the Scenes in Auckland’s Leading Hotels

% MAJOR OPERATION. —A Jew ‘stitches and these birds will be ready to leave the operating table to start on their Jinal voyage which will end in someone's gastronomic delight. ££jr,,‘ M A N seldom ] = --1; j thinks ■with more I n earnestness t of I s anything than he || he does his dinJ =?/=- -Vi;: b ner,” is a remark attributed to that I learned sage of the eighteenth century, Dr. Johnson. It is a primeval instinct in man. Despite his veneer of culture, he assigns his appetites the principal place in life. La Rochefoucauld admitted unhesitatingly that all great thoughts spring from the stomach, and although this may sound paradoxical, there is an element of truth In the statement. It Is the kitchen that is the potential foundation of all national life and it :is in the pantry that domestic economy centres. The very essence of home life is found .in the preparation of suitable food with which to satisfy human appetites. Whether the kitchen is furnished with apparatus sufficient to cook for the inmates of a large institution or the more unpretentious appliances that are found in our own kitchens the basis of the cooking operations is the same. Cookery aims at much more than merely supplying the necessities of nutrition. Its development is dependent upon increasing refinement of taste, which in turn is naturally dependent upon a certain degree of wealth and culture. In cooking there is always a continual give and take among the nations. The ancient Greeks, through continual contact with Asia, brought a touch of Oriental splendour to their banquets, and the Romans, who were the finest imitators in the world, borrowed from the Greeks. Then came the Dark Ages In cooking, as in all phases of culture, and then the dawn of modern cuisine. Cooking in its modern aspect is both an art and a science. It is an art because it requires the special manipulation of skill, and colour aiid design. Attractive form and service are essential in the higher grades that are found in our leading hotels. It. is a science because exact knowledge is necessary in determining the correct time and amount of heat required for the food to be cooked ami made palatable, and of food values so that a rightly proportioned diet may be given. The highest expression of modern cuisine 13 found sometimes irt the home, but more often in the fashicjiable hotels which cater for the needs of an ever-changing crowd. In older lands hostesses frequently find it easier to entertain their guests at big hotels, and that spirit, iu spite of what we might say, is slowly creeping into our own national life. Since the earliest days, of course, men have gathered at inns and taverns to exchange the gossip of the day, and if the history of all the famous

Red Lions, Blue Boars. Green Men and Pink Griffins of England were to be written there would be some diverting tales in the collection. Hotel nomenclature, in itself, is an interesting study and many a visitor to England

IHHllHllllllllllllH has found amusement in the quaint signs of the London inns which prompted a versifier, in 1707, to write: I’m amused at the signs --Is l pass through the town, To see the odd mixture — A Magpie and Crown, The Whale and the Crow, The Razor and Hen, The Leg and Seven Stars , The Scissors and Pen, The Axe and the Bottle, The Tun and the Lute The Eagle and Child The Shovel and Boot. j I There are stranger titles even than { these. Near Cambridge, for instance, 1 is the famous Man Loaded with Mis- - chief, on the sign of which a strap- ] ping fellow is carrying his wife upon « his back, she in her turn carrying a - magpie, a monkey, and a glass of ] gin! And a hotel near Barking has the quaint and puzzling title, “The i Who’d Have Thought It?" i Probably none of the taverns of : London was more interesting than < The Devil, situated within two doors < of Temple Bar. It was the favourite < haunt of wits and lawyers, and the i

barristers would post notices on the door to their chambers, announcing that they had “Gone to the Devil,” when they felt in need of refreshment. The sign represented St. Dunstan seizing the devil by the nose when he came to tempt the saint as he laboured at the goldsmith’s forge. In an ancient bill of fare of Pontack’s eating-house, one reads of such delicacies as “a ragout of fatted snails,” and “chickens not two hours out of their shells.” And at the Castle, near Covent Garden, a repast of a different type has journeyed down through history. It was here that

some of the bloods of the town, taking off one of the shoes of -a noted belle, filled it with wine and drank her health. That has beeD done on more occasions than one, of course, but this story has a. sequel. Having drunk to the lady’s blue eyes, the gallants handed the shoe to one Tom Pierce, a very prince of cooks, who made it into an exquisite ragout for supper! Those picturesque days have passed, and hotel life has changed—has moved forward with the rest of our institutions. Auckland possesses many hotels of good repute, and some interesting phases of kitchen lifo are to be seen in siyiie of them. The Grand is Auckland’s best known hotel. This position, in many ways a coveted one, is only maintained by first-class service, and one of the most potent factors contributing toward this is the kitchen. The kitchen of the Grand is. built above ground and is spacious, light and airy, ensuring admirable conditions for the workers. There are six men on the cooking staff and each has his particular sphere in which to operate, an arrangement that facilitates easy management. All are clad in white with caps to match and the

general effect is one of extreme coolness in a somewhat close atmosphere. Cooking, which at first sight appears so simple, is in truth a difficult business. The profession of cooking, according to the chef at this particu-

The hotel kitchen, along with most of our institutions, has progressed with the times. Moaern kitchens and pantries are planned scientifically to provide a maximum of comfort for hotel staffs and to ensure efficiency, cleanliness and speed (Written for THE SUN by M. 11, WYBERT.)

lar hotel, should be preceded by a lengthy apprenticeship. Certain physio-chemical laws have to be observed in the preparation of our food. Why do we relish potatoes fried? Why do we put lemon juice on fried dishes or in salad? There are scientific explanations for these and other questions of cuisine. They all tend to show that the simplicity of this art is merely superficial and an apprenticeship essential. The kitchen of the Grand is one of the most up-to-date in Auckland. It is fitted with the most modern cooking appurtenances—from a huge cen-

tral heater to specially constructed copper pots. One of the unique features of the establishment is that all foods required for its consumption are manufactured ou the premises. Ice-cream machines have been installed, and these are utilised during the summer. Stoves are ofierating from morning until night producing edibles of every conceivable variety. It is interesting to note tbe large quantities of food consumed. The amount of bread used daily amounts to about 1001 b, meat is ordered by the animal and not in joints, and the quantity of milk is estimated to be over 20 gallons. It is difficult to lay down a hard and fast ‘’table” as to tlxe amounts required each day, as the requirements differ from day to day. Many notable persons have enjoyed the table at the Grand and some of the most interesting of the many functions held there is the annual gathering of members of the Consular Corps. This annual reunion is instrumental not only iu enabling the consuls to fraternise, but, one would conclude, in strengthening the bonds of international relationship. And what more amicable means of association could be found than eating, which is the common bond between all men and the balance that sets the

king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, equal. The kitchen of the Central Hotel has the distinction of being one of the oldest in Auckland. A large low-

illllllllllllllHHlHlHl ceilinged room gives one the impression that one is underground. Here are spotlessly white benches crowded with all manner of goods, and a huge stove emerging from the side of one of the walls. A strangely subdued light completes the old-world effect. The working hours in this kitchen, as iu all hotel kitchens, are long. In the w-inter the staff often commences work in the dark .and finishes in the dark; a fact which the toilers in the offices and the .open air fail to appreciate. It is nothing for • the chef himself to work T 5 hours a week. The heaviest time at the Central Hotel is the summer, and more espeei- ; ally Christmas and the New Year. During these periods it caters for more than 250 people a day. It is not difficult to imagine the amount of labour entailed and housewives who continually bemoan their fate when cooking a modest meal for six, have cause to congratulate themselves that their lot does not fall within the precincts of a hotel kitchen. The heavy period lasts from June to January and includes the summer vacations." The good old days, when the ten and eleven-course dinner was de

ngueur nave, lortunately for the hotel staffs, passed. According to those in authority, our fathers were distinguished, among other things, for their extraordinary voracity. It was nothing to see them sit for two or three hours gorging themselves to satiety. A certain prominent person in Wellington, in the old days, would sit down every night to an eleven-course dinner —his meal occupied two and a-half hours. One would not be surprised to hear that he died of a strained heart. But that, of course, is nothing compared to some of the prodigious feats that are on record. One of the most remarkable gluttons of any period was Nicholas Wood, of Kent, of whom Taylor, the Water Poet, wrote an amusing account, in which the following feat is described: “Two loynes of mutton and one loyne of veal were but as three sprats to him. Once at Sir Warham St. Leger’s house, he shewed himself so violent of teeth and stomach that he ate as much as would have served and sufficed thirty men so that he was like to break, but that the serving man turned him to the fire and anointed his paunch with grease and butter to make it stretch and hold and afterwards, being laid in bed, he slept eight hours and fasted all the

| while; which, when the knight understood, he commended him to be laid in j the stocks and there to endure as long j as he had remained bedrid with eatI mg.”

The story is also told of a man Tvho entered the tent of King Gustavus Adolphus at the time that monarch was besieging Prague, and offered by way of amusement to eat a whole hog before the King's eyes. The old General Koenigsmark suggested that the man be burnt as a sorcerer, but he was ruled out of court when the mighty trencherman said to the King: “Sire, if you will but make the old gentleman take off his sword and spurs, I will eat him before I begin on the pig.” Let us return to our Auckland hotels. The chef at the Central, who has been thirty years in his profession and ten years in his present position, is convinced he would not change it for any other. Among his most happy recollections are those of serving the Prince of Wales and Lord Kitchener of Khartoum. In this latter connection one cannot help but recall that cooks were once persons of considerable consequence in social life. We read of William the Conqueror bestowing lands and titles upon his chefs, and Dr. Pegge, a noted gastronomical expert of the eighteenth century, observed in his “Forme of

Cury”—“We have some great families in England by the name of Cook. Depend upon it, they originally sprang from professional cooks and need not be ashamed of their extraction any more than Porters or Butlers.” Cooks, although still forming an eminently respectable section of the community, have evidently fallen upon hard times. The Albert Hotel in many respects , is but a smaller replica of the Central, for both bear the imprint of age. But in some respects savours of the new world. Cleanliness is not an unusual feature in kitchen life: in fact, it is most common, but such—one may almost say—pugnacious cleanliness is rarely encountered. The very stairs that lead down to the kitchen, and which are daily trodden by dozens of feet, are as spotless as a newlyscrubbed bench. Doors, benches, cupboards, all suggest the irresistible image of a small boy’s glistening face recently scrubbed by a scolding mother. This particular feature of the hotel has become so well known that it is not an infrequent occurrence for the health inspeetpr to bring .visit-

ors down to look over and possibly gather a few hints for their own homes. Every moment one expects to behold a sign “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” It is a kitchen which speaks of astonishing industry on the part of its inmates. The kitchen possesses many modern labour-saving devices, chief among which are the potato-peeler, the beanpeeler, and the bacon and bread machines. The bean-peeling machine is really ingenious, in its way, and is capable of peeling beans twice as well, and 15 times as fast, as the average housewife can do. The potato-peeling machine is, according to the manager, most economical and eliminates a tremendous amount of labour. In the old days before its advant one man was constantly employed every morning peeling potatoes and the process proved not only expensive to the management, but decidedly tedious to the worker. An air of homely intimacy has been captured by the Royal Hotel, which, in many respects, has become a traditional institution in Auckland life. The kitchen, although similar to that of the average hotel, has one or two additional features that are worthy of

note. In the first instance each particular type of food has the unusual privilege of beiug prepared in a separate compartment. Precaution Is evidently a characteristic of the Royal Hotel, for it has installed two gant stoves—thus obviating the danger of a meal-less day! The Hotel Auckland is the second largest in New Zealand. In appearance. Its kitchen is one of the most attractive in the City. Stoves, tureens, hot water califonts and copper banbury pots glint cheerfully through the mist of steam. The most remarkable: feature about this kitchen is that everything is operated by gas, and coal fires have been eliminated. Here, too, are special electric fans that are capable of forcing the steam to the roof and then through large elongated pipes into the open air. The oppressive atmosphere, familar in most kitchens, is therefore, despite the constant steam, to a great extent relieved. Cooking conditions have advanced tremendously in this country during the last decade and have attained a standard of efficiency rivalling that of the old world. Speed is the predominant spirit of the age, and the average person of the present day is more apt to take his meals at a rush than, say, the average man of 20 years ago. Yet on the other hand there are still others, who dwell upon their meals and choose them with that appreciation and care that brings elation to the heart of every chef. To eat is a necessity, to eat intelligently an art. In every age one finds the artist.