Few of the articles I have written have called for as much feedback as that I posted here recently about dining in Hell. Considering either my devotion to my readers or my concern with my eventual afterlife, following is a follow-up to that article. I must admit that investigating Hell is a fascinating pastime.

Although the artistic passion for describing Hell reached a high point during the Middle Ages, artists and intellectuals have never completely given up their fascination with their future existence in the Underworld. English essayist Samuel Pepys, for example, worried that "Hell would be a place devoid of smoked oysters, where good lamb chops would be impossible to find and where all of the wine would have turned to vinegar".

Dante Alighieri, who devoted two entire volumes to describing Hell, would have us believe that "all of the meat in Hell is rotten, all of the cheese curdled, and all of the cream sour".

Nineteenth century painter John Martin portrayed hell as a place with an abundance of good food but where the residents were separated from their dinner by a river of burning oil; and surrealist Max Ernst went so far as to imply that those living in the lowest pits of Hell had nothing to eat except their own fingers and toes.

One wonders precisely why so many of these people have been so worried. True gastronomes are by nature optimists, always hoping that wherever they find themselves there will be a good meal waiting for them. In a letter to a friend, the famous gourmet Curnonsky wrote that he was quite sure that on his arrival in Hell he "would be greeted, if not by the Devil himself, at least by one of his more responsible assistants ... and I am sure that what will await me will be six ice cold Belon oysters, a roast leg of lamb that is crisp on the outside and as pink as a baby's backside inside and a plate of fat white asparagus in a delicate Hollandaise sauce."

Henry Miller was equally optimistic, and wrote in a letter to Lawrence Durrell that: "Hell is probably quite similar to most Paris bistros ... a bit overheated, somewhat too crowded, and a little too noisy for my tastes. The waiters will surely treat you rudely and the cashiers will always add a few extra francs to your bill but ... and this is the important part ... the food will be marvellous". Several years later, when the two friends were together on the Greek island of Corfu, they discussed the fact that Hell is said to smell of sulfur. Durrell asked Miller if he was not just a bit bothered by the idea of spending eternity in a bistro that smelled so badly. Miller replied: "But not to worry my friend. With a good bouillabaise, a young chicken cooked in tarragon and a good wine from Bordeaux not even the smells of hell will bother me".

No one has been more optimistic about his potential future in hell, than Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar Wilde's sometimes lover. On reflecting on his own death, Douglas confided to a friend that: "There is no question that I will go to Hell one of these days. For that reason, I have sent the Devil a list of my favorite dishes. As Oscar taught me, it is only simple courtesy to let my future host know in advance what dishes he will have to prepare for me". Following is a recipe for the dish that Lord Alfred considered his favorite. That he went to Hell is beyond question. Whether this is the dish that was waiting for him is not known.

Mutton with Green Beans and Pears

1 leg of mutton, about 3 kilos
12 cloves garlic, cut in quarters
12 whole cloves
6 pears, peeled, cored and halved
3/4 cup corn syrup
1 cup butter, melted
1 kilo green beans
225 gr. bacon, cut in small cubes
about 1/4 cup flour
1 cup each sweet cream and milk, mixed together

Remove the outer covering from the meat and rub well with garlic. With a sharp knife, pierce the meat and insert the garlic pieces and then stick the whole cloves into the meat. Transfer the meat, fat side up, to a rack in an oven pan and place in an oven that has been pre-heated to 235 degrees Celsius. Immediately reduce the temperature to 180 degrees Celsius and roast until the meat is done, allowing about 55 minutes per kilo.

An hour and a half before the meat is done, place the pears in a baking dish with 3 Tablespoons of water and pour over the corn syrup. Cover and place in the oven, basting during the cooking with the melted butter.

About half an hour before the meat is done, trim off the ends of the green beans and, if the beans are particularly long, cut them in half. Drop the beans into a large amount of rapidly boiling salted water together with the bacon. Immediately reduce to a low flame, cover lightly and cook just until the beans are tender (about 20 minutes). Drain well.

Remove the meat from its pan and set aside to keep warm. Prepare a sauce by pouring off all but about 6 Tablespoons of the liquids in the pan in which the meat was cooked. Into this blend the flour and stir with a wire whisk until the mixture is well blended and somewhat thickened. Continue cooking over a low flame, stirring constantly,. while adding enough of the cream and milk mixture to make a total of three cups.

Distribute the beans on a large serving platter together with the bacon and on these set the meat. Distribute the pear halves around the edges of the platter. Pour over about 1/2 cup of the sauce and serve the remaining sauce separately. (Serves 6).

© Daniel Rogov