The Birth of the Restaurant

There had always been taverns and food shops but it wasn’t until the last half of the eighteenth century that the restaurant began to appear. It was, of course, a French invention. Quentin Crewe in that wonderful book, The Great Chef’s of France (1978), describes the birth:

Until the late eighteenth century, almost the only public eating places in Paris were inns and the shops of traiteurs (caterers). At the inns, guest ate a set meal around the host’s table -- hence table d’hôte for a set menu.

The traiteurs sold mainly cooked meats, ragouts and pâtisseries. In 1796 they sued a soup vendor, one Boulanger, to prevent his selling sheep’s feet in white sauce. He won. Boulanger called his soups restaurants or restoratives, and from his rudimentary establishment, the word came to mean a place to eat, to restore oneself.

The owners of these places were called restaurateurs, and their calling was first defined by the Dictionnaire de Trévoux in 1771:

Restaurateurs are those who know the art of making the consommés called restaurants or bouillons de prince, and they have the right to sell all sorts of creams, soups with rice and vermicelli, fresh eggs, macaroni, chickens au gros sel, jams, compotes and other healthy and delicate dishes.

There were two great difference between restaurants and taverns: in the latter there was a set menu served at a set hour for a set price, while in a restaurant you chose individual, and individually priced, dishes from a carte (menu), at anytime of the day. For the first time one could dine à la carte (from the menu).

The original restaurants gradually became more elaborate. Sometime around 1783 Beauvilliers, once chef to the Comte de Provence (who later became Louis XVIII), opened the first establishment that we would today recognise as a restaurant. It was situated in the Palais Royale. Ten years later, in 1793 the French Revolution forced him to close. He left rather quickly for an enforced sojourn in England.

The Revolution, from 1789 on, progressively broke up the households of the nobility flooding the market with chefs and other personnel. Large numbers fled to other European countries particularly England, then the richest country in Europe. In England the émigreés included Beauvilliers, as mentioned, and Carême, who cooked for the Prince of Wales. It established a pattern that saw chefs like Alexis Soyer, who was to head up the brigade at the Reform Club, make England his home when the Bourbon monarchy ended in the 1830s.

Many of the chefs who stayed in Paris, or returned after an enforced absence, started restaurants. They turned their talents from preparing food for the nobility to providing the illusion of nobility for a burgeoning bourgeoisie. It became a golden age for restaurants whose number increased more than five-fold in fifteen years, from one hundred in 1789 to between five and six hundred in 1804.

According to Quentin Crewe (The Great Chef’s of France), the restaurant of Méot, once chef to the Duc d’Orléans, was where the real revolutionaries ate:

. . . indeed, the 1793 Constitution was drawn up under his roof. One writer talks of these champions of equality eating at Méots ‘like kings, ambassadors and financiers,’ his menu comprised at least one hundred dishes.

The hour of dining before the Revolution was between 1 pm and 3 pm the next meal was supper. During the Revolution the deputies worked at the National Assembly until at least 5 pm and dined after that. This practise spread to the rest of the community. Suppers disappeared instead between 11 am and 12 noon déjeuner à la fourchette (breakfast with a fork), a substantial repast of mostly cold dishes that could be eaten with a fork. This was preceeded by petit-déjeuner (breakfast).

Restaurants with their individually available dishes, were ideally placed to cater for this change in lifestyle. They also began to draw on a wider clientele as the political changes that flowed from the Revolution, distributed wealth more evenly thoughout France

In A Rough Sketch of Modern Paris, London 1803, J.G. Lemaistre says:

As to the traiteurs or persons who supply you with dinners, they sometimes belong to the house where you lodge, and sometimes not. I tried several during my stay at Paris, and I found them all so bad, and so uncertain, that were I to return, I would either hire a cook, or dine constantly at the house of a restaurateur. The celebrated are Naudit and Robert in the Palais Royale, Beauvilliers in the rue de la Loi, and Verry in the garden of the Thuileries. Beside the public room, which is always elegantly ornamented, there is, at each of these places, several small rooms, or cabinets, for private parties. A long bill of fare called la carte, consisting of all the delicacies of the season, and every variety of wine, with the prices affixed to each article, is handed to you, and the dishes are no sooner named, than they are instantly served. The apartments are tastefully decorated. the linen and plate are particularly clean, the waiters civil, attentive, and well dressed. The cooking is incomparable. Ladies, as well as gentlemen, dine at these houses, and even in the public room several of the former are always present. On a rough calculation, the expense of dining at one of the first restaurateurs, including a fair quantity of the best wine, varies from twelve livres to a louis each person.

On his return to Paris, Beauvilliers opened the Grande Taverne de Londres in rue Richelieu. In 1801 F.W. Blagdon’s Paris as it was and as it is, published London 1803, offers this description of it:

On the first floor of a large hotel, formerly occupied, perhaps, by a farmer-general, you may enter a suite of apartments, decorated with arabesques, and mirrors of large dimensions, in a style no less elegant than splendid, where tables are completely arranged for large or small parties. In winter, these rooms are warmed by ornamental stoves, and lighted by quinquets, a species of Argand’s lamps. They are capable of accommodating from two hundred and fifty to three hundred persons, and, at this time of the year, the average number that dine here daily is about two hundred; in the summer, it is considerably decreased by the attractions of the country, and the parties of pleasure made, in consequence, to the environs of the capital.

On the left hand, as you pass into the first room, rises a sort of throne, not unlike the estrado in the grand audience-chamber of a Spanish viceroy. This throne is encircled by a barrier to keep intruders at a respectful distance. Here sits a lady, who, from her majestic gravity and dignified bulk, you might naturally presume to be an empress; revolving in her comprehensive mind affairs of her vast dominions. This respectable personage is Madame Beauvilliers, whose most interesting concern is to collect from the gentlemen in waiting the cash which they receive at the different tables. In this important branch, she has the assistance of a lady, somewhat younger than herself, who, seated by her side, in stately silence, has every appearance of a maid of honour. A person waiting near the throne, from his vacant look and obsequious carriage, might, at first sight be taken for a chamberlain; whereas his real office, by no means an unimportant one, is to distribute the deserts the fruit and other etceteras, piled up within his reach in tempting profusion.

We will take our seats in this corner, whence, without laying down our knife and fork, we can enjoy a full view of the company as they enter. We are rather early: by the clock, I perceive that it is no more than five: at six, however, there will scarcely be a vacant seat at any of the tables.

Good heaven! the bill of fare is a printed sheet of double folio, of the size of an English newspaper. It will require half an hour at least to con over this important catalogue. Soups, 13 sorts. Hors-d’oeuvres, 22 species. Beef, dressed in 11 different ways. Pastry, containing fish, flesh and fowls, in 11 shapes. Veal, amplified into 22 distinct articles. Mutton, confined to 17 only. Fish, 23 varieties. Roast meat, game, and poultry, of 15 kinds. Entrements, or side-dishes, to the number of 41 articles. Desert, 39. Wines, including those of the liqueur kind, of 52 denominations, beside ale and porter. Liqueurs, 12 species, together with coffee and ices . . .

Remark that portly man, so respectful in his demeanor. It is Beauvilliers, the master of the house: this is his most busy hour (6pm), and he will make a tour to inquire at the different tables, if his guests are all served according to their wishes. He will then, like an able general, take a central station, whence he can command a view of all his dispositions.

“. . . Observe the cleanly attention of the waiters, neatly habited in close-bodied vests, with white aprons before them: watch the quickness of their motions . . . An establishment, so extremely well conducted, excites admiration.

Blagdon also offers this more general description of restaurants:

One advantage of this bill of fare with the price annexed to each article is, that, when you have made up your mind as to what you wish to have for dinner, you have it in your power, before you give the order, to ascertain the expense. But, though you see the price of each dish, you see not the dish itself; and when it comes on the table, you may, perhaps, be astonished to find a pompous, big-sounding name sometimes produces only a scrap of scarcely three mouthfuls. It is the mountain of labour delivered of a mouse.

However, if you are not a man of extraordinary appetite, you may, for the sum of nine or ten francs, appease your hunger, drink your bottle of Champagne or Burgundy, and besides, assist digestion by a dish of coffee and a glass of liqueur. Should you like to partake of two different sorts of wine, you may order them, and drink at pleasure of both; if you do not reduce them below the moiety, you pay only for the half bottle . . .

Nevertheless, ten or fifteen minutes are sufficient for the most dainty or troublesome dish to undergo its final preparation, and in that time you will have it smoking on the table. Those which admit of being completely prepared before-hand, are in a constant state of readiness, and require only to be set over the fire to be warmed. Each cook has a distinctive branch to attend to in the kitchen, and the call of a particular waiter to answer, as each waiter has distinct number of tables, and the orders of particular guests to obey in the dining rooms . . .

If you wish to dine frugally, there are numbers of restaurateurs, where you may decently be served with potage, bouilli, and an entrée, an entrement, bread and desert, for the modest sum of from 26 to 30 sous. The addresses of these cheap eating houses, if they are not put into your hand in the street, will present themselves to your eye, at the corner of almost every wall in Paris. Indeed, all things considered, I am of the opinion that the difference in the expense of a dinner at a restaurateur’s at present, and what it was ten or eleven years ago, is not more than in the due proportion of the increased price of provisions, house-rent and taxes.

Lemaistre also states that the major restaurants also provided a take-out service so that you could purchase the restaurant’s dishes and have them served at home.

The Marquis de Vermont and Charles Darnley published London and Paris, or Comparative Sketches in London in 1823. They say of Beauvilliers:

When I have no engagement, I usually dine at Beauvilliers’ in the Rue Richelieu; and while I take my solitary repast, I derive no little amusement in observing those who are seated near me. Among these I have frequently remarked a gentleman whom, from his black cravat, large whiskers, and enormous cocked hat, I take for an officer, and, from the riband which he wears, for one of distinction. The individual in question usually takes his station at a table adjoining mine, so that I am necessarily a witness of all his proceedings. After carefully fixing his napkin in the button-hole of his coat, he commences the labours o f the day by swallowing an ample supply of raw oysters (the eating of which is, I find, considered here as a great provocation of appetite). With his oysters he consumes at least a pound of bread, and washes the whole down with a glass of Dantzic brandy. He then call for “la carte”; and after having examines its long contents with due deliberation, he gives his written order on a slip of paper to the waiter, to prevent the possibility of a mistake. While these orders are executing he seems to experience no trifling degree of impatience, at least I conclude so from the eager look with which his eyes are directed almost every minute to the elegant clock on the chimney-piece, besides several appeals to his watch. At length a basin of rich soup is placed before him, and by its side a bottle of champagne de la première qualité in a silver ice-pail. Having first taken his soup, and then three or four glasses of his favourite beverage, he commands the attendance of the garçon, who soon appears with the first entrée. The following dishes then succeed each other in proper order: a large slice of bouilli à la sauce piquant; 2 côtolettes à la minute; un fricandeau de veau aux épinards; a roasted fowl stuffed with truffles; various vegetables of different hues and kinds; a vol-au-vent; an omelette; an apricot tart, a soufflé, and a plate of pineapple jelly. This abstemious dinner is followed by a dessert of equal moderation, consisting of fromage de Gruyère, grapes, pears, apples, comfits, chestnuts, dried cherries, brioches, cakes and preserves. Nor are these various articles brought forward only to be tasted. After eating the principle contents of each dish, he secures the remainder by dipping a piece of bread in the sauce or juice, which bread, when properly saturated, is swallowed in its turn. The intervals, which occur between the appearance of the different entrées, are filled up with copious draughts of the sparkling champagne; when all the eatables are at last consumed, and the bottle exhausted to the last drop, he asks for a tasse de café, which is sweetened by at least six lumps of refined sugar, and followed by a glass of the richest liqueur.

English commentators up until as late as the 1830s were amazed at French restaurants, they had nothing like them in London. The things that impressed them most were the huge cartes (menus) which could list up to four hundred dishes and wines. They were delighted that each item was priced, could be ordered separately, and that the price was very moderate. À la carte dining was the great advance in public eating. The English were also impressed by the grandeur and elegance of restaurants appointments, the speedy efficiency and neatness of the staff and the care and attention of the proprietors. French restaurants were a far cry from the inns of London.

There was one more thing that intrigued them:

. . . Parisians have hit upon another most ingenious device of attracting company, by employing beautiful women to preside. In the evening they display themselves in full dress; seated at the head of the room, in a chair of state; they observe all who enter, and ringing a silver bell, immediately call the attention of the waiters; they make their memorandums from a golden ink-stand; inhale the fragrance of flowers in golden vases, and receive the money due with their own fair hands, if, for the sake of speaking compliment or courtship, you offer it to them instead of to the waiter.

The presence of women in restaurants added a French “naughtiness” to the proceedings -- it couldn’t happen in London.

These descriptions of restaurants from the front of house still have currency. The dishes may more numerous and their style different but the ‘restaurant experience’ has not changed. Now we turn from the glitter and glamour of the dining rooms to the boiler room of the kitchens.

The dishes served in these new establishments were dictated by the cooking equipment available -- an open fire. Carême describes the scene as it had been in the households of the ancien-regime:

Picture a large kitchen at the hour of a grand dinner. See twenty chefs coming and going, moving with haste in this furnace of heat; look at the great mass of charcoals, a cubic metre for cooking entrées, and another mass on the Oven-tops for cooking the soups, sauces, ragoûts, for frying and for the bain-maries. Add a heap of glowing wood before which turn four spits, one bearing a sirloin of one hundred kilos, another the poultry and game. In this inferno everyone moves quickly, not a sound is heard. Only the chef has a right to be heard, and at his words everyone jumps to obey. Then the last straw -- for about half-an-hour the windows are shut so that no air shall cool the dishes as they are served. This is how we spend the best years of our lives. We must obey even when our physical strength fails, but it is the burning charcoal that kills us.

The kitchens of the first restaurants were the same, and so were the dishes they produced --dishes that didn’t need fine control of temperature and would “hold” reasonably well -- roasts, ragoûts, soups and pastries.

Though primitive cooking ranges had been around for much of the eighteenth century. The first commercially available “modern” kitchen ranges began to appear about 1800, they were the invention of Count von Rumford, an American. Quentin Crewe (The Great Chef’s of France) says:

Count von Rumford (born Benjamin Thompson) produced a host of useful inventions, including the kitchen range, double boiler, baking oven, pressure-cooker and drip coffee maker . . .

From the point of view of cooking history, the most important of Rumford’s invention was the kitchen range, which he proposed as the remedy for the waste of fuel and singeing of chefs that resulted from cooking on blazing open hearths. A typical Rumford arrangement consisted of a brick range, enclosing and separating a series of fires, above each of which a pot or stew-pan fitted into a circular, iron-rimmed opening. The heat of each fire could be separately regulated by varying the draught through its ash-pit door and the smoke was carried away by flues leading through the brickwork to the main chimney. Any temporarily unwanted fire was capped with an earthen-ware cover and its draught almost cut off. In this way it could be kept alive, but burning hardly any fuel. The entire arrangement concentrated heat where it was needed, reduced fuel waste and made the chef’s work more bearable. simple as it seems, this invention, together with the baking oven, was mainly responsible for modern methods of cooking and baking.

Rumford’s invention revolutionised the restaurant kitchen and the dishes it produced. The number of dishes on the carte was reduced and their types altered so that consistent quality could be achieved. Thus large roasts virtually vanished from restaurant menus and a range of dishes that could be prepared à la minute took over: pan-frying became the norm. It is interesting to note that French cooking with its accent on the “piano” a large flat cooking top varying in temperature from hot in the centre to cool at the extremities is a natural extension of Rumford kitchen range, and is the basis of today’s French restaurant cooking techniques.

It was the happy coincidence of Rumford’s range with the conceptual break-through of la carte, that changed eating-out as radically as the French Revolution did, politics. Dining in public would never be the same again.