By Jerome K. Jerome
Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927) is a well-known English writer, whose novels "Three Men in a Boat", "The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow", "Novel Notes" and "Three Men on the Bummel" have enjoyed great popularity. Jerome K. Jerome is famous for his art of story-telling, his vivid style and his humour which is generally expressed in laughter-provoking situations often based on misunderstanding. With sparkling humour he criticized the weak sides of human nature.
We got out at Sonning 1 , and went for a walk round the village. It is the most fairy-like little nook 2 on the whole river. It is more like a stage village than one built of bricks and mortar 3. Every house is smothered in roses, and now, in early June, they were bursting forth in clouds of dainty splendour. If you stop at Sonning, put up at the "Bull", behind the church. It is a veritable picture of an old country inn, with a green, square courtyard in front, where, on seats beneath the trees, the old men group, of an evening to drink their ale and gossip over village politics; with low, quaint rooms and latticed windows 4 and awkward stairs and winding passages.
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We roamed about sweet Sonning for an hour or so, and then, it being too late to push on past Reading 5, we decided to go back to one of the Shiplake islands, and put up there for the night. It was still early when we got settled and George said that, as we had plenty of time, it would be a splendid opportunity to try a good, slap-up supper. He said he would show us what could be done tip the river in the way of cooking, and suggested that, with the vegetables and the remains of the cold beef and general odds and fends, we should make an Irish stew 6.
It seemed a fascinating idea. George gathered wood and made a fire, and Harris and I started to peel the potatoes. I should never have thought that peeling potatoes was such an undertaking. The job turned out to be the biggest thing of its kind that I had ever been in 7. We began cheerfully, one might almost say skittishly, but our lighthearted-ness was gone by the time the first potato was finished. The more we peeled, the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had got all the peel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left-at least none worth speaking of. George came and had a look at it-it was about the size of a pea-nut. He said:
"Oh, that won't do! You're wasting them. You must scrape them."
So we scraped them and that was harder work than peeling. They are such an extraordinary shape, potatoes-all bumps and warts and hollows. We worked steadily for five-and-twenty minutes, and did four potatoes. Then we struck. We said we should require the rest of the evening for scraping ourselves.
I never saw such a thing as potato-scraping for making a fellow in a mess. It seemed difficult to believe that the potato-scrapings in which Harris and I stood, half-smothered, - could have come off four potatoes. It shows you what can be done with economy-and care.
George said it was absurd, to have only four potatoes in an Irish stew, so we washed half a dozen or so more and put them in without peeling. We also put in a cabbage and about half a peck 8 of peas. George stirred it all up, and then he said that there seemed to be a lot of room to spare, so we overhauled both the hampers, and picked out all the odds and ends and the remnants, and added them to the stew. There were half a pork pie and a bit of cold boiled bacon left, and we put them in. Then George found half a tin of potted salmon, and he emptied that into the pot.
He said that was the advantage of Irish stew: you got rid of such a lot of things. I fished out a couple of eggs that had got cracked, and we put those in. George said they would thicken the gravy.
I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I remember that towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great interest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and thoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his contribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a general desire to assist, I cannot say.
We had a discussion as to whether the rat should go in or not. Harris said tha rat thought it would be all right, mixed up with the other things, and that every little helped; but George stood up for precedent! He said
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he had never heard of water-rats in Irish stew, and he would rather be on the safe side, and not try experiments.
Harris said:
"If you never try a new thing how can you tell what it's like? It's men such as you that hamper the world's progress. Think of the man who first tried German sausage 9!"
It was a great success, that Irish stew. I don't think I ever enjoyed a meal more. There was something-so fresh and piquant about it. One's palate gets so tired of the old hackneyed things: here was a dish with a new flavour, with a taste like nothing else on earth.
And it was nourishing, too. As George said, there was good stuff in it. The peas and potatoes might have been a bit softer, but we all had good teeth, so that did not matter much; and as for the gravy, it was a poem- a little too rich, perhaps, for a weak stomach, but nutritious.
1. Sonning [sാnıŋ]: a picturesque village on the bank of the Thames
2. the most fairy-like little nook: The compound adjective 'fairy-like' is an epithet. Epithets are words or phrases which in their attributive use disclose the emotionally coloured individual attitude of the writer to the object described.
3. It is more like a stage village than one built of bricks and mortar: This sentence is not an ordinary comparison but a simile, because the objects compared belong to different classes and as a result a vivid artistic image is created.
4. latticed window: a window with small panes set in
5. Reading [′redıŋ]: a town on the river Thames, Berkshire, South England. It is an important town for engineering, transport and scientific research. It is also important for its cattle and corn markets. It is proud of its university which specializes in agriculture.
6. Irish stew: a thick stew of mutton, onion and potatoes
7. The job turned out to be the biggest thing of its kind that I had ever been in: The second part of the text abounds in exaggerated statements of this kind because the author treats the trifling incident of cooking an Irish stew as a big event. This mock-serious manner and occasional high-flown words greatly contribute to the humour of the situation.
8. peck: a measure for dry goods equal to two gallons. Half a peck is equal approximately to four litres.
9. German sausage: a large kind of sausage with spiced, partly cooked meat
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