Sandy McLendon
Member
It has been a long time – several years, in fact – since I've posted here, but this weekend's centenary made me want to come back here and be with other Titanoraks again. One of my great interests regarding Titanic is her A La Carte restaurant, located on B Deck. One of the reasons I'm interested is that I am a recovering foodie (I taught at one point), and the A La Carte operation seems to have been unusual. To understand why I think that, a look at the First Class dining room, where most First Class passengers ate most of the time, is instructive, I think.
Titanic's First Class dining room offered a very decently high standard of dining at sea, but a close examination of what few menus are available shows that most items available on its menu were things that were reasonably easy to prepare in quantity, and which could be “held” with relative success. The entrees seen on the First Class dinner menu for the night of April 14th tell the story. The Filet Mignon Lili was the most ambitious entree; it required sauteeing to order, and none of the saute could be done ahead, since beef cannot be half-cooked and finished later and still served rare. Still, a saute is fairly fast. The Saute of Chicken Lyonnaise would likely have been half-sauteed and finished to order; chicken is exactly the opposite of beef in that it needs to be well-done. Of the other entrees, the Vegetable Marrow Farci (a stuffed squash similar to zucchini) was likely capable of pre-production and being held hot, the lamb with mint sauce was probably a roast (if you've gone to the expense of offering lamb chops, you say so on your menu), held hot and carved to order, and the duckling and sirloin of beef likely were, too.
This assortment of entrees, then, is largely feeding adroitly disguised as dining. There is an effort at cost containment; the Vegetable Marrow Farci brings the cost average per diner down, since it could likely be made with trimmings or leftover meat. And the filet mignon might not have been so costly as today's recipe writers make it out to be; there are versions of the dish with fois gras and truffles, and versions without. Given the relative lack of ambition in the other entrees, my money would be on “without.”
There was also the dining experience afforded by the First Class dining room. It was obviously designed with cleanliness – both actual and perceived – in mind; its paneling and strapwork ceiling were painted white. Potted palms softened the look of the room somewhat, as did its linoleum floor of blue, red and yellow. But illumination was fairly bright, and the expanses of snowy linen on the tables did little to mitigate what feels to me like a certain “cold” look to the room. Obviously, in actual use, the room would have looked very different than it does in the stiffly posed photos we have (which are likely Olympic); the dresses of female diners alone would have gone a great way in softening the total effect.
Which brings me to the A La Carte restaurant. Evidently no photographs of Titanic's A La Carte restaurant are extant, but photographs of Olympic's survive, as indeed does much of the restaurant itself, in the form of its paneling, now on the Celebrity Millennium. The difference between the blinding white of the First Class dining room and the A La Carte restaurant could hardly be greater; the A La Carte had light French walnut paneling, lots of gilt-bronze fixtures like wall sconces, and damask chairs. The A La Carte was also fully carpeted, which must have taxed the staff, since food spills (both from plates and, er, other sources) would have been difficult to clean up. What seems to have been important was that the A La Carte restaurant was elegant, intimate and romantic. It had its own china, specially commissioned from Royal Crown Derby, and, I believe, its own cutlery, probably the A. Price & Co. Panel Reed pattern found in a Titanic copper sink near the stern (Price's Dubarry was White Star Line's choice for the First Class dining room).
The A La Carte was rather oddly located, I must say – far aft on B Deck, on the other side of a bulkhead from the Second Class smoking room, and rather close to the Third Class promenade – and I have to wonder if slow speeds and calm, windless days didn't bring in some fumes from the stacks. But a look at the bow end of B Deck makes White Star Line's intent clear – the very best staterooms, including the two “millionaire's suites” with their private promenades, were forward on the same deck, mere steps away, far closer than a trudge down the Grand Staircase or a wait for the elevator to get down to D Deck where the First Class Dining Room was. No Astor or Goelet or Widener or Vanderbilt was going to have to look very far for the best dining on the ship!
Looking at the physical setup of the A La Carte, then, it's obvious that White Star Line went to quite a lot of effort and expense to offer an extra-cost experience that passengers would feel was worth the money – after all, meals taken in the First Class dining room were included in their fare, which was pretty substantial. Sadly, no A La Carte menus seem to have survived the sinking – damn iceberg! - and there seems to be only fragmentary information available about what was served there.
Lady Duff-Gordon recounted the experience of being served fresh strawberries in the A La Carte – in April, in the middle of the North Atlantic, in 1912 – and Mahala Douglas waxed even more lyrical: "The tables were gay with pink roses and white daisies, the women in their beautiful shimmering gowns of satin and silk, the men immaculate and well-groomed, the stringed orchestra playing music from Puccini and Tchaikovsky. The food was superb: caviar, lobster, quail from Egypt, plover's eggs, and hothouse grapes and fresh peaches.” None of Mrs. Douglas's selections are to be found on any known First Class dining room menu: This had to be the A La Carte.
There is one more clue to the cuisine in the A La Carte that I'm aware of - an Olympic menu from 1913. It's on gray stock, not white like a regular White Star Line dining room menu, and its menu selections are several orders of magnitude more ambitious than anything I've seen on the regular First Class menus: There is clear green turtle soup, that hallmark of Gilded Age gastronomy, as well as a complicated lobster dish and prime rib. Since Olympic and Titanic were so very similar, and since White Star Line worked very hard to keep the passenger experience consistent (a 1904 breakfast menu I've seen from HMS Oceanic is virtually identical to the First Class breakfast menu on Titanic, eight years later), I feel fairly certain that the A La Carte menu on Titanic must have been similar to the 1913 Olympic menu. And it's clear – this is haute cuisine, not mere good food.
There are some other indications of extra-special service available from the A La Carte. A look at the deck plans for B Deck show that the restaurant had at least half-a-dozen alcoves that could likely have been screened or curtained for private parties, creating an experience even more exclusive than the rest of the restaurant. It would also have been possible - though I cannot be certain it ever happened – for a particularly discriminating and wealthy passenger to order a menu of his or her own devising, having it served to his or her guests. There is a clue to this: We know that a smallish dinner service of around 160 pieces – too small to serve the entire restaurant – was on board Titanic. It was the costliest and most elegant service on the liner, lavishly decorated in cobalt blue. It seems possible to me that a very wealthy and socially inclined passenger might have been very tickled by the prospect of creating her own menu for a private dinner exactly as if she were at home – and willing to pay very well for the privilege of having a portion of the A La Carte serve as her own dining room for the evening, complete with china no one else on the ship could use.
Does anyone have any information about the A La Carte restaurant – particularly anything that contradicts what I've said here? I would be especially interested in seeing any A La Carte menus from either Titanic (yeah, right) or Olympic that can be definitively identified as being from the restaurant.
Titanic's First Class dining room offered a very decently high standard of dining at sea, but a close examination of what few menus are available shows that most items available on its menu were things that were reasonably easy to prepare in quantity, and which could be “held” with relative success. The entrees seen on the First Class dinner menu for the night of April 14th tell the story. The Filet Mignon Lili was the most ambitious entree; it required sauteeing to order, and none of the saute could be done ahead, since beef cannot be half-cooked and finished later and still served rare. Still, a saute is fairly fast. The Saute of Chicken Lyonnaise would likely have been half-sauteed and finished to order; chicken is exactly the opposite of beef in that it needs to be well-done. Of the other entrees, the Vegetable Marrow Farci (a stuffed squash similar to zucchini) was likely capable of pre-production and being held hot, the lamb with mint sauce was probably a roast (if you've gone to the expense of offering lamb chops, you say so on your menu), held hot and carved to order, and the duckling and sirloin of beef likely were, too.
This assortment of entrees, then, is largely feeding adroitly disguised as dining. There is an effort at cost containment; the Vegetable Marrow Farci brings the cost average per diner down, since it could likely be made with trimmings or leftover meat. And the filet mignon might not have been so costly as today's recipe writers make it out to be; there are versions of the dish with fois gras and truffles, and versions without. Given the relative lack of ambition in the other entrees, my money would be on “without.”
There was also the dining experience afforded by the First Class dining room. It was obviously designed with cleanliness – both actual and perceived – in mind; its paneling and strapwork ceiling were painted white. Potted palms softened the look of the room somewhat, as did its linoleum floor of blue, red and yellow. But illumination was fairly bright, and the expanses of snowy linen on the tables did little to mitigate what feels to me like a certain “cold” look to the room. Obviously, in actual use, the room would have looked very different than it does in the stiffly posed photos we have (which are likely Olympic); the dresses of female diners alone would have gone a great way in softening the total effect.
Which brings me to the A La Carte restaurant. Evidently no photographs of Titanic's A La Carte restaurant are extant, but photographs of Olympic's survive, as indeed does much of the restaurant itself, in the form of its paneling, now on the Celebrity Millennium. The difference between the blinding white of the First Class dining room and the A La Carte restaurant could hardly be greater; the A La Carte had light French walnut paneling, lots of gilt-bronze fixtures like wall sconces, and damask chairs. The A La Carte was also fully carpeted, which must have taxed the staff, since food spills (both from plates and, er, other sources) would have been difficult to clean up. What seems to have been important was that the A La Carte restaurant was elegant, intimate and romantic. It had its own china, specially commissioned from Royal Crown Derby, and, I believe, its own cutlery, probably the A. Price & Co. Panel Reed pattern found in a Titanic copper sink near the stern (Price's Dubarry was White Star Line's choice for the First Class dining room).
The A La Carte was rather oddly located, I must say – far aft on B Deck, on the other side of a bulkhead from the Second Class smoking room, and rather close to the Third Class promenade – and I have to wonder if slow speeds and calm, windless days didn't bring in some fumes from the stacks. But a look at the bow end of B Deck makes White Star Line's intent clear – the very best staterooms, including the two “millionaire's suites” with their private promenades, were forward on the same deck, mere steps away, far closer than a trudge down the Grand Staircase or a wait for the elevator to get down to D Deck where the First Class Dining Room was. No Astor or Goelet or Widener or Vanderbilt was going to have to look very far for the best dining on the ship!
Looking at the physical setup of the A La Carte, then, it's obvious that White Star Line went to quite a lot of effort and expense to offer an extra-cost experience that passengers would feel was worth the money – after all, meals taken in the First Class dining room were included in their fare, which was pretty substantial. Sadly, no A La Carte menus seem to have survived the sinking – damn iceberg! - and there seems to be only fragmentary information available about what was served there.
Lady Duff-Gordon recounted the experience of being served fresh strawberries in the A La Carte – in April, in the middle of the North Atlantic, in 1912 – and Mahala Douglas waxed even more lyrical: "The tables were gay with pink roses and white daisies, the women in their beautiful shimmering gowns of satin and silk, the men immaculate and well-groomed, the stringed orchestra playing music from Puccini and Tchaikovsky. The food was superb: caviar, lobster, quail from Egypt, plover's eggs, and hothouse grapes and fresh peaches.” None of Mrs. Douglas's selections are to be found on any known First Class dining room menu: This had to be the A La Carte.
There is one more clue to the cuisine in the A La Carte that I'm aware of - an Olympic menu from 1913. It's on gray stock, not white like a regular White Star Line dining room menu, and its menu selections are several orders of magnitude more ambitious than anything I've seen on the regular First Class menus: There is clear green turtle soup, that hallmark of Gilded Age gastronomy, as well as a complicated lobster dish and prime rib. Since Olympic and Titanic were so very similar, and since White Star Line worked very hard to keep the passenger experience consistent (a 1904 breakfast menu I've seen from HMS Oceanic is virtually identical to the First Class breakfast menu on Titanic, eight years later), I feel fairly certain that the A La Carte menu on Titanic must have been similar to the 1913 Olympic menu. And it's clear – this is haute cuisine, not mere good food.
There are some other indications of extra-special service available from the A La Carte. A look at the deck plans for B Deck show that the restaurant had at least half-a-dozen alcoves that could likely have been screened or curtained for private parties, creating an experience even more exclusive than the rest of the restaurant. It would also have been possible - though I cannot be certain it ever happened – for a particularly discriminating and wealthy passenger to order a menu of his or her own devising, having it served to his or her guests. There is a clue to this: We know that a smallish dinner service of around 160 pieces – too small to serve the entire restaurant – was on board Titanic. It was the costliest and most elegant service on the liner, lavishly decorated in cobalt blue. It seems possible to me that a very wealthy and socially inclined passenger might have been very tickled by the prospect of creating her own menu for a private dinner exactly as if she were at home – and willing to pay very well for the privilege of having a portion of the A La Carte serve as her own dining room for the evening, complete with china no one else on the ship could use.
Does anyone have any information about the A La Carte restaurant – particularly anything that contradicts what I've said here? I would be especially interested in seeing any A La Carte menus from either Titanic (yeah, right) or Olympic that can be definitively identified as being from the restaurant.
