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Title: I Go A-Marketing
Author: Henrietta Sowle
Release Date: September 17, 2017 [EBook #55566]
Language: English
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_I Go A-Marketing_
_By_
HENRIETTA SOWLE
("HENRIETTE")
[Illustration]
_BOSTON_ · LITTLE, BROWN
AND COMPANY · _MDCCCC_
_Copyright, 1900, by LITTLE,
BROWN, AND COMPANY._
UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON
AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
_TO_
MR. EDWARD H. CLEMENT
CONTENTS
PAGE
January 1
February 20
March 43
April 64
May 78
June 94
July 110
August 128
September 142
October 166
November 188
December 209
Index 233
_Author's Note_
BEFORE dipping into this book very far, reader (pray note that I cozen
you with neither "gentle" nor "dear"), allow me to suggest that you
familiarize yourself with the spirit of Emerson, who has allowed that
the truly consistent person changes his mind whenever occasion offers.
Then you will be in a frame of mind to acknowledge that I have but
exercised my privilege if you chance upon passages that seem to put me
in a self-contradictory position. I hold to one opinion till new or
increased light shows me I would do well to change, no longer.
Is it necessary, I wonder, to say that this compilation of
_persiflage_ and cookery is not intended to be the whole culinary
library of any housekeeper? In case it may be believed that I have any
such inflated idea of its value, let me say at once that any
housekeeper who secures this book, by buying or by borrowing, will
want just as many of the old-line "cook-books" at hand as if she had
never heard of it. Its mission is a supplementary one. It is for those
dark and dreary days when the housekeeper "wants something good," but
cannot say what. It suggests. Therein is all of beauty and use, for
"beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all ye know and all ye need to
know."
Furthermore, it is for the housekeeper who knows by experience, or
intuition, how to lay a fire, and how to broil a steak. With
kindergarten methods it does not deal--it rather takes it for granted
that it will fall into the hands of those who have been graduated from
kindergarten cookery. Neither does it attempt to set forth the duties
of butlers or of housemaids. It goes on the principle rather that the
housekeeper who supports these factotums knows what their duties
should be. And is there any necessity for those who cannot attain to
such appointments burdening their minds with knowledge never to be
used? Think on all these things omitted when you are getting
inspiration from this slender source, and be thankful that I have
shown so much consideration for you.
"Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed."
_I Go A-Marketing_
JANUARY
"_Still Beauty must be stealing hearts,
And knavery stealing purses;
Still cooks must live by making tarts
And wits by making verses._"
SOME fine day, perchance, I shall to market go and find there what all
housekeepers are "a-sighin' and a-cryin' for"--namely a new edible;
and be it fish, flesh, or fowl, I shall, with all haste, make you
acquainted with its nature, and with the name of the marketman who
introduces the boon; and methinks that nothing short of canonization
should reward the man, or woman, who finds "something new under the
sun."
But till that blessed day of discovery really arrives I must be
content with telling you of ways that may be new and tricks that are
worth trying for the serving of viands which have constituted human
nature's daily food since the world began. Unless, however, I can
bring to your minds by my suggestions a state of contentment which
will enable you to await that hour of revealment with patience almost
amounting to indifference, my duty is but half done.
Sausages
So here goes for a beginning. Don't you ever feel quite dissatisfied
with the ordinary, yes and the extraordinary, sausages of commerce? Of
course you do. No need to ask. They are flat, there's no gainsaying
it. But it's the easiest thing in the world to have home-made sausages
seasoned to a point that will make them things of gastronomical joy.
There must be equal quantities of lean and fat fresh pork finely
minced; then to a pound of this meat add one-quarter of an ounce of
salt, more or less, one-eighth of an ounce of good business-like
pepper, more or less, and powdered sage _ad lib._ The use of
seasoning, you see, is not bound by any hard and fast rules; in cases
of this kind a due regard must be shown the whims and fancies of the
palates to be pleased. Once you have added the proper amount of
seasoning, add enough well beaten egg to allow of the mixture being
moulded to any desired shape, and fried to a nice brown. And there you
have a dish fit to put before a king. If the simplicity and homeliness
of it somewhat upsets your equilibrium, why call it saucisses
grillées; they'll taste just as well. They can be served either upon
rounds of toasted bread or upon a foundation of cold boiled potatoes
which have been diced and heated in cream.
If you are having them for luncheon then serve them on toast, but with
the addition of a tomato purée. No need to tell how to make that; it's
an old story.
Broiled Pork Chops; Piquant Sauce
Another old story, altogether too old, is the way most housekeepers
have of frying pork chops. They should never be fried. The only
respectable way is to broil them decently and in order over a hot bed
of coals. In that way what little juice they contain will be retained.
But even then they will be so dry that you must supplement them with
something,--say a sauce made of half a pint of good clear stock,
highly seasoned, and having in it a tablespoonful of chopped pickled
peppers and some sliced gherkins, with the juice of a lemon added.
Apple Croquettes
Or, you can serve with them apple croquettes, made by stewing the
apples in a little butter, with a tiny bit of sugar; when quite cold,
with the aid of a few bread-crumbs, shape the apple into croquettes,
roll them in crumbs and beaten egg and fry. Arrange the croquettes,
which must be not more than an inch in diameter, with the chops upon a
platter in any fanciful way that suggests itself to you, and the
condition of the platter at the end of the meal will tell you whether
or not the experiment was worth the trying.
Roasted Pork with Onion Sauce
These croquettes will win favor for themselves if you will try serving
them some time with a loin of fresh pork, roasted. You will want to
serve with them only the simplest kind of clear gravy. But you may
prefer to serve the roasted loin of pork on steamed rice garnished
with button onions, which have been boiled till fairly tender and then
fried in butter to a light brown. If this is your preference, make a
sauce by frying in two gills of oil, half a pound of minced onion, a
pinch of parsley leaves, a crushed clove of garlic and a bay leaf,
with salt and pepper; dilute with a pint of good stock, preferably
white; strain and finish by adding the juice of a lemon and an ounce
of fresh butter. By the way, when fresh pork is to be roasted, it is
an excellent plan to rub salt well into it about twenty-four hours
before cooking. If you slice and serve it cold you will readily see
the wisdom of giving the salt a chance to work its way through and
season the whole loin.
Roasted Ham
When a ham is to be roasted, and small hams do make excellent roasts,
a ham of about five pounds' weight should be skinned and boiled in
enough water to cover it; in this water you will want to put, just for
variety's sake, a carrot, an onion, three bay-leaves, three cloves,
one clove of garlic, and six peppercorns. Boil very gently for about
one hour; then remove from the fire, drain it well, and coat it with a
paste of oil and flour. Be sure that it is well covered with the paste
to prevent the escape of the juice, put into the oven and roast for
about two hours.
Cider Sauce
Serve it with a sauce made of a sufficient quantity of the stock, to
which you have added half its amount of cider, and there you behold
what is commonly known as champagne sauce. But, bless you, it's very
doubtful if champagne is often used, as after it is heated it would be
a sensitive palate indeed that could tell whether champagne or cider
were employed.
Just a hint right here of what may be done with bits of cold ham, for
we may never be on this subject again. Have some thin slices of
toasted white bread, spread well with butter and a trifle of mustard,
then equal parts of grated cheese and minced ham, and some cayenne
pepper. Send to the oven for a few minutes, or until the cheese is
dissolved, and serve immediately. Say what you will, it is a
delectable dish, this ham toast, and whether you allow for it in a
prearranged luncheon or whether it is concocted on the impulse of the
moment, when the necessity suddenly arises for a dish of the kind,
trust me, whoever partakes of it will vow that it "relishes of wit and
invention."
Broiled Pigs' Feet
Perhaps this batch of suggestions would be incomplete with no
reference in it to the cooking of pigs' feet, and yet there's very
little variety in the methods of preparing them. The simplest is the
best, it seems to me, and that is dipping them in melted butter, then
in bread-crumbs, and broiling over a moderate fire. A piquant sauce is
by long odds the sauce par excellence to be served with them. Some
chefs de cuisine prepare them elaborately with truffles, to my mind,
however, there's an incongruity in a combination of pork and truffles.
But of course it's only a matter of taste, and it is more than
possible that there will be some who read this and deplore my poor
taste in devoting so much space to ways and means of cooking pork.
Well, to such I offer the suggestion that they call it a chapter on
porcine potentials, and pass on.
* * * * *
By all means let us be economical--truly economical. But let us never
make the grievous but common mistake of thinking that the buying of
cheap, downright cheap food is economy. To commit such an error in
judgment is to lay the cornerstone of more than one kind of
unhappiness. But you know that, too. And with so many inexpensive
viands as there are to be had, susceptible as they are of so many ways
of serving, one can, with the exercise of a little judgment in such
matters, have the appearance of "living high" when in reality one is
laying up money out of the weekly table allowance, if one has such an
institution in one's family. For myself, I have a great respect for a
housekeeper who keeps within her allowance week in and week out, year
after year. But for the one who cuts loose occasionally from all
allowance limits when there is a "good thing up" I have the sincerest
admiration and sympathy. It is with such a one that I always feel
tempted to outstay my welcome if I get the shadow of a chance to be so
ill bred. Such an ignoring of trammels of the financial sort is an
indication of truancy in other matters now and then that rather
appeals to me, to be very honest about it. But I don't recommend it to
you or to any one. Perhaps it hasn't a place here, but since it is
written it shall stand, labelled _En parenthèse_.
And we will talk of codfish--fresh codfish. This is a species of the
gadus family that is eligible for duty in a family of any class--high,
low, or middle. It may follow the soup at an unlimited course dinner
and not be out of its element or it may form the _pièce de
résistance_, or in fact the only piece of any kind at a dinner of
another sort and still be quite at home.
Fresh Codfish, Delmonico Style; Broiled Fresh Codfish
Now let us get to business. Suppose that some day you have a piping
hot oven that is as idle as you would like to be and that you have
also a fresh codfish in the house split with the backbone removed for
broiling. Let me suggest that you dry it well, put it in a buttered
baking pan, skin side down, coat it with melted butter, sprinkle it
with salt, pepper, lemon juice, chopped parsley and chopped onion.
Then bestrew it with bread crumbs moistened in melted butter and set
into the oven to brown. Get it out as gracefully as possible when it
is done, flip a little melted butter and lemon juice over it and
serve. Or, if you can't break away from tradition and have sworn to
have a broiled fish broiled then I am sure that you do keep within
your allowance for the table and will treat the fish this way: You
will dry it well with a cloth, then brush it with melted butter,
sprinkle salt and a little pepper, put it on the buttered bars of the
broiler, and let the fire do the rest. Then after it is dished,
sprinkle it with perhaps a few capers, surround it with broiled thin
slices of bacon, and be on the alert to catch the first expression
that flits over the face of the one who furnishes you with the
aforesaid table allowance to see if all is well with the fish and
consequently with you. Am I right?
Baked Fresh Codfish
But I would be willing to wager the price of a whole "catch" of
codfish that I can tell you of a bran new way to bake one. Read and
see for yourself. Have the size that seems to find most favor in your
family and fill it with a forcemeat made by mincing to paste a pound
of raw codfish. Add to it half a pint of cream that has been just
boiled, that's all, and thickened with two eggs. Season with salt, a
chopped onion--chopped so finely that it is of a paste consistency and
fill the fish with the mixture. For pepper let me suggest that you use
paprika in preference to any other brand. Cook till the fish is done
and serve with any rich sauce that appeals to you.
Any or all of the foregoing recipes may be applied to haddock, as you
probably suspect--if you know anything at all about fish.
* * * * *
You don't know, you housekeepers of America what a jolly good
reputation you've got to live up to unless you happen to have read
G. W. Steevens's clever book, "The Land of the Dollar," in which he
says of our national breakfasts: "First you have fruit--wonderful
pears that look like green stones and taste like the Tree of Life.
Then mush, so they call oatmeal porridge, or wheatmeal porridge or
hominy porridge, a noble food with the nectarous American cream. Then
fishes and meats, sausages, and bacon and eggs. Then strange
farinaceous foods which you marvel to find yourself swallowing with
avid gust--graham bread, soda biscuits, buckwheat or griddle cakes
with butter and maple treacle. It is magnificent; but it is
indigestion. All the same, I look forward to the day when America
shall produce an invention that will let me go across the Atlantic
every morning for breakfast. I shall take a season ticket."
Now let my humble pen chip in two or three things that shall help you
to live up to this estimate of you.
Sweet Corn Croquettes
Suppose you are having a dish of fried eggs after a manner described
later on in this book. Go still further, and see fit to have some
croquettes also. Do you know just what they should be? If in doubt let
them be of canned sweet corn. Mix with half a can of the corn
two-thirds of its quantity of mashed potatoes, salt and a good
generous bit of melted butter. Then form into croquettes, dip in
beaten egg and crumbs and fry to a fine color in hot fat.
Sublimated Hash
Or, as second choice, you might like hash instead of the eggs fried.
Now, look here; you know me well enough by this time, I hope, to
believe that when I suggest hash it is none of the commonplace minces
that you shun at the table of your very best friend. Of what I have to
say in the line of hash you won't be overdoing the thing if you refer
to it for evermore as a "sublimated hash." See for yourself: Chop an
onion and fry it in a good bit of butter till it is tender and
likewise brown. Then put into the butter two cupfuls of diced cold
mutton, diced not chopped, and one cupful of diced cold boiled
potatoes. Pepper and salt to your fancy. Then put in four
tablespoonfuls of tomato sauce and have ready some chopped parsley for
sprinkling over the dish when it is served.
Rice Muffins
You might for a flyer try rice muffins with this hash. Have a cup of
flour and sifted through it two heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder.
Add to it a tablespoonful of sugar, a saltspoonful of salt, and pass
this through a sieve. Have three eggs well beaten in a cup of milk
with half a cup of melted butter and stir into the flour. When it is
perfectly smooth add to it two cupfuls of cold boiled or steamed rice.
Turn into small pans and bake in a hot oven. By grating in a little
nutmeg to these muffins you will have a delicious dish for luncheon.
Rhode Island Johnnycake
Now, our friend Steevens spoke of griddle cakes and buckwheat cakes.
Of these you know all that is necessary for any housekeeper to know.
But I'll wager a good sum that Rhode Island meal is an unknown
quantity to you. Make its acquaintance then as soon as possible and
set about having Rhode Island johnnycakes often. You will want nothing
but the meal, some milk and salt. Have them considerably thinner than
ordinary flour griddle cakes and fry in a little fat on a hot griddle
so that the edges are crisp and toothsome. If you want to bake them
have a cup of meal to a cup and one-half of milk with a pinch of salt,
and bake in gem pans till brown. Instead of having butter with either
the fried or baked specimens of this johnnycake try some of our
"nectarous cream." Is it a go?
* * * * *
Now and then, throughout this book, the directions for making a salad
are brought in incidentally to the main topic of discourse. Nowhere
are they treated as the _pièce de résistance_, so to speak, of a
chapter. And here are not many--only a few that go especially well in
cold weather, when to have any variety at all in salads incurs a
considerable outlay of rumination. Just a little inventive faculty and
a firm purpose to have your table superior, even in details, to that
of your dearest enemy, and you can with materials on hand in January
have salads that give the eternal chicken and lobster with mayonnaise
the go-by,--though, I fear me, the snubbing in the near future will
come from the lobster itself. But that's not to be discussed at just
this minute.
Red Cabbage Salad
Before this you have probably made red cabbage salad with a French
dressing and with a spread of mayonnaise over it, so that you think
you know it all, but have you tried adding to it some celery? This is
the way it is done. All the coarse outside leaves of the cabbage are
removed and the inside is finely shredded. Then the best stalks of a
head of celery are cut into inch pieces and put into the salad bowl, a
layer of celery, then one of the cabbage, and so on, heaping a bit in
the centre. Garnish with the fresh green leaves of the celery; pour a
dressing, made of a beaten egg, three tablespoonfuls of oil, two of
vinegar, a saltspoon of salt, a dash of cayenne, and a suspicion of
mustard, over all, and let stand for half an hour in a cool place
before serving. For luncheon, when you are having croquettes of
left-over ham bits, or of cold tongue scraps, this goes very near to
being what would tempt any sane person to ask for a second helping.
Spanish Onion Salad
Then there is a way to make an onion salad, that sets you to wondering
why you never heard of it before. Have the Spanish onions, and soak
them four or five hours, after peeling, in cold water, changing the
water every hour, or even oftener, if your time isn't too precious.
Then slice and chop them, but not to the mussy stage. Freeze them, not
too hard, but so they will be crisp and cold. Meanwhile, prepare a
dressing of two-thirds oil to one-third vinegar, with salt and pepper
to taste, and pour over them. Serve immediately. But don't forget the
garnish, which naturally suggests itself--parsley, to be sure, and
plenty of it. With this salad? Well, we will suppose it is making its
début in your household at an after-theatre snack. So have with it
toasted water crackers, a bit of Swiss cheese, a smoked herring or
two. And beer, of course.
Sardine Salad
Now, don't skip what is going down here about a sardine salad--you
will miss it if you do. I know you will say you wouldn't fancy the oil
in which they are preserved in a salad, and I can see that rather
superior curl your lip takes on as you say it. But soak them for an
hour in vinegar, then remove the skin from them and arrange in a
circle on your salad dish. In the centre heap pitted and quartered
olives. Make a dressing of the strained juice of a lemon mixed with a
tablespoonful of olive oil, a bit of salt and of paprika, and over all
a sprinkling of capers. Then, take a taste of it when your turn comes,
and be sorry you were inclined to pass by it.
Brussels Sprouts Salad
Now and then, you know, we do have a few Brussels sprouts left over
from the day before's dinner, and at the price usually asked we
couldn't throw them away, and yet there weren't enough to pay for
reheating. So, in order to be forehanded, and also to have the
"makings" of a delicious salad in the house, get double the quantity
you usually have the next time you are getting them, and be glad for
every one that is left over, for the next day you will sprinkle a few
drops of lemon juice over them, coat them with a mayonnaise, sprinkle
with capers and sliced olives, and serve very cold. At a simple little
dinner, where you are having "left-overs" daintily fixed up, this
salad works in beautifully, or if you are giving a dinner that is as
elaborate as anything you ever turn out, count on this salad to be one
of the features of your dinner.
Oyster Salad
A delicious offering to put before your household some night is a
salad of oysters. Have a quart of them, say, drain and wipe them well
from their own liquor. Boil a cup of vinegar, and season it while
boiling with salt and white pepper. Pour it over the oysters, and let
them stand for two hours or so. Then drain them pretty dry, and lay on
a bed of chopped celery in the salad bowl. If the oysters are very
large cut in halves or quarters. Have a layer of chopped celery on top
of the oysters, and coat thickly with mayonnaise. Be sure, however,
that the oysters are perfectly cold before adding to the celery.
Garnish with a few oyster crabs, pickled at the same time the oysters
were pickled, and some sliced olives. To be very, very extravagant in
making this salad, if you so want to be for the purpose of impressing
some one, add to it a few sliced truffles that have been soaked in
white wine for an hour or two.
Nut Salad
For some occasions, at this season of the year, a nut salad just fills
the bill as nothing else can. Choose almost any kind of nuts, but
preferably let them be mainly English walnuts. Have them in halves, or
in quarters, and squeeze lemon juice over them fifteen minutes before
dressing. Then add to them half their quantity of quartered olives,
some very tender little celery leaves, and a thin mask of mayonnaise.
Really, when you have turned out this salad, for a party supper, say,
you need give yourselves very little uneasiness as to how the other
viands will set with your guests. Such a salad is calculated to redeem
a good many faults in other directions.
Fruit Salad
Just a word about a sweet salad, and this screed is ended. Oranges. It
shall be of oranges--big, luscious, juicy, seedless oranges, that are
at their height for the next two months or more. These you slice,
after peeling, as you would an apple. Put a layer of them in a bowl,
sprinkle with powdered sugar and a few drops of orange curaçoa. Then
another layer of oranges, another of sugar, another fall of curaçoa,
and so on till the dish is full. Then, if there are half a dozen
oranges used, pour over them about half a gill of brandy, either the
plain brandy or apricot brandy. The latter, I find, is possessed of a
mysterious flavor that, when added to an orange salad, just sets
people to wondering why it is they have to go away from home to find
such delights.
FEBRUARY
"_To sing the same tune, as the saying is, is in everything
cloying and offensive; but men are generally pleased with
variety._"
ONCE upon a time, one of the resourceless sort of housekeepers said to
me that she was never quite so stumped as when she felt the economical
burden laid upon her to utilize lamb or mutton "left-overs." Now, this
has been quite the opposite of my experience. In fact, I wouldn't
acknowledge that I found cold lamb a facer, anyway.
Roast Lamb with Caper Sauce
Suppose we talk of a leg of lamb roasted in this way: The bone neatly
removed, the cavity filled with a mushroom stuffing, then roasted in a
hot oven and served with caper sauce and currant jelly. To be sure I
know you would as soon have pledged yourself to break one of the
commandments, as to serve caper sauce with roasted lamb, if I had not
tempted you. But you will do it, now that the suggestion has entered
your consciousness of gastronomical beauties.
Roast Lamb with Onion Purée
Or, if, in the first blush, it doesn't appeal to you, there's this
way of roasting lamb that I dare say is new to you. First, make an
onion purée, by mincing one quart of onions and boiling them till
tender. Drain very dry, put them in a saucepan with two ounces of
butter; season with salt and pepper; let them simmer for ten or
fifteen minutes, but don't let them brown. Then add to them half a
pint of cream, and press all through a sieve, when serving as sauce.
Roast Lamb with Macaroni
Can you stand another novelty? It's this. Put the lamb in the
roasting-pan, and just a half hour before you think it is to be done,
take it out and cover the bottom of the pan with boiled macaroni. Lay
the lamb on this, and prick it all over that the juice may run over
the macaroni. Moisten the macaroni with a little stock, too, if it
threatens to get too dry or too brown. When the lamb is roasted take
it out, heap the macaroni on a dish, pour a little tomato sauce over
it, sprinkle with Parmesan and send to table. Have a little tomato, or
any other sauce that pleases you, with the lamb, if you feel that you
must have a sauce.
Broiled Lamb Slices
Now, for the second day--no, the third day, rather. Skip a day before
dishing a reheating of the lamb. Then get some good slices from the
joint, even as to size and thickness, and lay them for an hour in a
dressing of two tablespoonfuls of oil, one of Tarragon vinegar, with
salt and pepper. Take them out of the dressing, dip in bread crumbs,
broil over a hot fire, and serve with a tartar sauce, or, if you like,
with some of the onion purée, if any was left.
Fried Lamb with Chutney
If you like chutney, and of course you do, have some neat slices of
cold lamb spread with this palate-tickler, roll each slice up, coat
with crumbs, and fry in boiling fat till brown. Skewer the rolled
slices to keep them in shape. When serving, sprinkle with a few drops
of lemon juice. It will be a question with you, probably, which of
these two ways of reheating is better. But that's the sort of recipes
with which to load your intelligence, so don't complain.
Lamb Slices with Onions and Mushrooms
Can you digest another warmed-over dish of lamb? This time have the
slices thick rather than thin, and put them in a stewpan with enough
sherry wine to cover them. Cover closely, and let heat slowly while
you are tossing together, in a little butter, some minced boiled onion
and button mushrooms. Color slightly, and moisten with a little rich
stock. Take up the slices of lamb, arrange in a circle on a dish, fill
the centre with the onions and mushrooms, pour the wine over all, and
take the trick. It's yours. In case you don't like as much wine as is
required to cover the lamb, use half wine and half water, and the
juice of a lemon.
Lamb Slices in Chafing Dish
If you want to try the reheating of the lamb in the chafing dish, have
it sliced as neatly as possible, and make ready in the chafing dish a
sauce of one wineglass of port wine, half a pint of good stock,
thickened, a teaspoonful of walnut ketchup, the same of French
mustard, and a pinch of salt. When this is hot put in the lamb, and
serve as soon as heated through.
If with any of the foregoing recipes you think you would fancy a
border of rice, have it, by all means. But have plenty of butter in
the water in which the rice is boiled; or if it is steamed, have it
moistened well with butter just the same.
Lamb Croquettes
You might fancy this rice border with lamb croquettes. These, you
know, are made by having the lamb chopped finely, and added to it half
its quantity of chopped mushrooms. Moisten with a little tomato
sauce, shape and fry.
Lamb Salad
Surely you will not take offence if I assume, at this stage of the
game, that you are educated up to a point where you can appreciate the
delights that centre in a lamb salad. You dice the lamb, having it
free of all fat and sinew. Then put a layer of it in the bottom of the
salad bowl. Have a dressing of oil, vinegar, pepper, and salt, with a
bit of French mustard in it, at hand, and with this sprinkle the lamb.
Bestrew it, too, with a chopped anchovy or two, or more, if you are
fond of anchovies. Then put in a layer of cold boiled potatoes,
diced--more dressing; another stratum of lamb, and so on till the dish
is full, having it mound-shaped. Garnish with sliced gherkins and
capers, and let it go at that.
* * * * *
I would that fewer nursery rhymers had taken trips to market for their
text when their pens took to turning out jingles; for goodness knows
that what with "To market, to market to buy a fat pig," and "To
market, to market, all on a market day," keeping up a continuous
jig-like theme in my mind, to say nothing of the insistent
interruptions by the "little pig that went to market" I am well-nigh
distracted when I try to get dry-as-dust facts from the marketman
anent commonplace eatables. To be sure, if I go in search of frogs'
legs, say, and the story of the frog who went a-wooing recurs to my
mind three or four times in a minute, it seems quite appropriate and
doesn't interfere in the least with my driving a pretty sharp bargain
with the fish-dealer. But, so far as I know, no poet or writer of
assonance has taken it into his head to sing a song of livers,
kidneys, and such like edibles of which I am telling you herein, and
no wonder, you may say, if I don't succeed in making my story fairly
interesting, as well as appetizing--though from the nature of it if it
is one it must be the other.
Kidneys en Brochette
Everybody knows, I fancy, that when one has cut off the skin of some
lambs' kidneys, and then cut the kidneys into quarter-inch-thick
slices, seasoned them with salt and pepper, dipped them in oil, and
then threaded them on skewers with alternating slices of bacon a
brochette of kidneys is well under way. To complete the operation they
are dipped into oil, then into bread-crumbs and broiled over a slow
fire. In serving there's no reason in the world why one should not
indulge one's fancy for any simple sauce that will help the kidneys to
tickle one's palate. Good as this dish is, I must confess I like it
better when chickens' livers are substituted for the kidneys. By the
way, do you know that every up-to-date marketman has them all
skewered, and all that you have to do is to add the seasoning and see
to the broiling?
Fried Kidneys with Mushrooms
Another really delightful way of serving lambs' kidneys is to prepare
in a frying-pan a tablespoonful of chopped onions, a small chopped
shallot, a clove of garlic and as many fresh mushrooms as you feel
like buying, with salt and pepper to taste, and an ounce or so of
butter; don't let the vegetables color at all, and perhaps the best
way to avoid this is to add a gill or so of any kind of wine and the
same of cream. Let this sauce mull a while on the back of the range,
while you broil the number of kidneys desired, after having skinned
and split each one in two lengthwise. Dish and pour over them the
sauce, removing from it the garlic. If you've never heard of this way
for preparing kidneys, it seems to me that you should be very
grateful to me for calling your attention to it.
Minced Kidneys; Macaroni Croquettes
And may your gratitude be re-enforced after you have tried cooking
veal kidneys in this fashion: Mince three very small ones, after
removing all the fat and fibrous parts, and fry them in butter over a
hot fire. Don't let them get wizzled up, but just done to a turn, then
take from the frying-pan and add to the butter in which they were
fried some tomato sauce highly seasoned, half a can of mushrooms, some
lemon juice, and chopped parsley; pour over the kidneys and even if
you serve them in just this manner they will prove a great success;
but should you wish to make it a dish to linger in one's memory, then
garnish it with macaroni croquettes. Ever make them? Well, boil a
pound of macaroni in salted water for fifteen minutes. Then drain and
cut it into quarter-inch lengths; put back into the saucepan with a
little grated cheese, a little salt, cayenne pepper and a gill of
cream. Let it get perfectly cold, then mould into croquettes, either
cylinder-shaped or any other form, only have them very small; dip in
egg and bread-crumbs and fry a pretty brown.
These macaroni croquettes, by the way, make a suitable garnish for
any number of dishes; try them with veal cutlets some time, or with
thin, dainty slices of ham broiled for luncheon, and you'll get more
than your labor for your pains.
Fried Calf's Liver
If you are thinking to have liver, then my advice to you is to get if
possible only that of a calf. To buy that of an older "beef critter"
is so often a waste of time and money that it's just as well to forego
buying it altogether--it is so apt to have too much flavor, so to
speak, or be tough or stringy, and wholly unsatisfactory. But get a
calf's liver, and something of a treat is in store for you, whether
you fry it with bacon or prepare it in this way: Cut up finely three
or four good-sized white onions and fry them in butter till of a
golden brown. Drain the butter off and cover the onions with white
stock; let cook for half an hour, then moisten with more stock and
season with pepper, salt, chopped parsley, and just a suspicion of
lemon juice. Fry the slices of liver, which should not be over half an
inch in thickness, in enough butter to keep them from hardening; drain
off the butter and add the above sauce; let it boil up once, then
serve, and garnish with slices of lemon. Perhaps this is a bit heavy
for a breakfast dish--to my mind it is decidedly so--while for
luncheon, where one is having a salad of watercress, or for an entrée
at dinner it seems to be quite in its rightful place.
If the liver is to be served for breakfast, then it is a good idea to
roll the slices in a little flour, sprinkle melted butter over them
and broil over the coals, squeezing just enough lemon juice and
sprinkling just enough chopped parsley over them to make them grateful
to the taste and eye when served.
Sauce for Calf's Liver
But why don't you try to invent a sauce for calf's liver? Fry it in
plenty of butter, then add to the butter, when the liver is removed,
anything that your palate suggests or which your common sense
approves. For instance, put in a few tiny slices of gherkin, a handful
of mushrooms, a soupçon of tomato sauce, a few capers, a little lemon
juice, chopped chives or chervil, chopped shallot or any herb or
condiment that you may have in the house. Of course you don't want to
use all of these articles, but try a combination of any two or three
or more of them, with the addition of a little stock and--who
knows?--you may invent a sauce that will make you as famous as was
Béchamel, Condé or Carême. Success be with you!
* * * * *
"Do be kind enough some of these times when you are scribbling about
the good things at market to bear in mind that not every one is hale
and hearty and blessed with digestive organs that could stand a diet
of shingle nails. Give a thought to the poor unfortunates that are
obliged to think twice before gratifying their appetites once." Thus
wailed one of the said "poor unfortunates" once upon a time, and as a
result of the complaint I have since been "holding them in thought" to
a considerable extent, with a view to making the material aspect of a
period of invalidism and convalescence a bit the brighter.
Chicken Broth with Oatmeal
Of course we all know that the list of eatables allowed an invalid or
a convalescent is of necessity a rather short one; but there is an
infinite number of ways for varying the list, if one will use a little
judgment and good taste in preparing the dishes. We have all had
experience in seeing a sick person make a wry face at the mention of
gruel or porridge, and precious little we blamed him for it, to tell
the truth. But the whole condition of affairs may be changed by
preparing it in this way: Have a pint of good clear chicken broth,
free from fat and not too strong; boil it, and into it shake slowly a
cup of oatmeal or wheaten grits; let it cook for half an hour or so,
pass it through a wire sieve, and add to it a little more broth if
that is necessary to make it fit to be sipped easily from a cup
without using a spoon. Take it to the sick-room with the remark, "I
have brought you a little purée of oatmeal," and my word for it you
will not see a drop left in the cup.
Purée of Barley
And a purée of barley will be quite as acceptable. Soak the barley
over night, and the next morning cover it with chicken broth; boil
until the barley bursts, adding broth from time to time as it cooks
away; when the broth begins to thicken, which will be at the end of
about three hours' time, strain it through a very fine sieve. Serve it
in a cup; and if you dare do such a thing, add a tiny bit of butter to
it. It makes it a deal more palatable, and I don't believe it will
harm the patient; but it's quite possible the physician in charge may
think otherwise.
Beef Tea
There are ways and ways for making beef tea; but the best of all ways,
it seems to me, is to have round steak about one inch in thickness,
broil it for two minutes on each side over a brisk fire, cut it up
into inch squares, cover it with cold water, and let it steep, not
boil, for two hours. Serve it in a cup, and salt when serving. You and
the ailing one will find, I think, that the broiling of the steak
gives the tea a flavor that makes it "hit the spot"--a consummation
devoutly to be wished when one is catering for an invalid.
Cream Soup
Cream soups make a pleasing change after plain broths or teas. Take
any white stock that is rich, free from fat and well seasoned. Put
into a saucepan half a pint of the stock and the same quantity of
cream. When it comes to a boil add one tablespoonful of flour
thoroughly moistened with cold milk, and let it boil at once. Serve
with it finger-pieces of thin buttered toast.
Sabayon of Chicken
A highly nutritious dish is made by putting four egg-yolks into a
double boiler, diluting them with half a pint of clear chicken broth,
and beating the mixture with a whip or beater until it becomes thick
and frothy. When it is done add two teaspoonfuls of sherry to it, and
serve in a cup; have it just as hot as possible. And if the person for
whom you concoct this appetizing affair insists upon knowing its name,
you may say that it is a sabayon of chicken.
Chicken Custard
And, by the way, what an endless amount of dainty edibles may be made
from chicken! Take a chicken custard, for instance; could anything be
daintier? Have a cupful of good clear chicken stock, and add to it an
equal quantity of cream; cook it for a few minutes, then put it into a
double boiler, and add the beaten yolks of three eggs and a little
salt. Cook until the mixture thickens a little, and then pour it into
custard cups to be served cold. It's an ungrateful, whimsical, and
grumpy sort of an invalid who doesn't reckon as a red-letter day the
time when he first tasted of a chicken custard. But whether or not
this is the case, you will have to keep right on shaking up your ideas
and producing other dishes.
Tapioca Jelly
In all probability you will try your hand at jelly-making; and when
you have exhausted your own stock of recipes try making a tapioca
jelly. To prepare it, soak one cup of tapioca in three cups of water
over night. In the morning put it into a double boiler with a cup of
hot water, and let it simmer until perfectly clear, stirring often.
Sweeten to taste and flavor with the juice of half a lemon and two
tablespoonfuls of wine. Pour into cups, and set away to get perfectly
cold. When serving, sprinkle with powdered sugar and heap a little
whipped cream on it.
Or it may be that a blanc-mange made with tapioca will seem to you
worth the trying. If so, soak a cupful of tapioca in two cups of water
over night. In the morning put it into the double boiler, and stir
into it two cups of boiling milk, three tablespoonfuls of sugar, and a
pinch of salt. Cook it slowly for fifteen minutes, stirring several
times. Take it from the fire, and flavor with wine or vanilla. Let it
harden in small moulds, and serve with powdered sugar and whipped
cream.
Violet Jelly
And some day when the patient is unusually capricious try surprising
him or her with a violet jelly. A woman I know told me not long ago
that she had found it more efficacious than a dozen "soft answers."
Have a pint of clear boiling syrup, and into it throw a heaping
handful of fresh violets, after removing the stalks; let this simmer,
tightly covered, for half an hour. Then strain the liquor, and add to
it half an ounce of gelatine dissolved in a very little water, the
juice of an orange, and two teaspoonfuls of violet vegetable coloring,
which is as harmless as so much cold water. Turn it into a mould, and
set on ice to harden.
Steamed Rice
When boiled or steamed rice is ordered, try preparing it in this way.
Wash a cupful of it thoroughly and put into the double boiler with
just enough water to cover it. When the rice is nearly done, pour off
the water, if any remains, and add one cup of milk and a little salt.
Let the rice cook thoroughly till done. Beat an egg well, and the last
thing before taking the rice from the fire stir the egg in as lightly
as possible, and serve hot with sugar and cream. The egg makes the
dish a bit more attractive and considerably more nutritious.
Invalid's Chop
I wonder if you have ever tried cooking a lamb chop or cutlet in this
way. Have three cutlets cut, two of them rather thinner than the
third, then tie them together, the thick one in the middle. Broil
over a hot fire till the outside cutlets are burnt to a crisp, and at
that stage you will find the inside one in just the right condition
for serving; salt it, and serve piping hot. With it serve a baked
potato that has been pressed through a sieve. Sprinkle the potato with
salt and moisten it with a little cream. To be sure you may think that
a somewhat expensive way of cooking a lamb chop, and so it is from
some points of view; but it will set any self-respecting convalescent
at least two days ahead on his journey to complete recovery, and when
you think of it in that way you see it's positively cheap. All these
things, yea, and a thousand more, must be taken into consideration
when one is in attendance upon a sick person.
* * * * *
To say that every one should have a chafing-dish in these days were to
be trite--everyone should have seven chafing-dishes, or as near that
number as possible; not one for every day in the week exactly, but
rather that, if you are having a little after-the-opera or
after-the-theatre jollification and have a dozen or so hungry ones to
feed, there may be enough to go round, and also that you may have a
variety of dainties.
Creamed Oysters
Not all will want creamed oysters, of course, but you can set a pretty
girl to preparing this dish for those who do want it. Give her about
half a pint of rich, thick cream, an ounce or so of butter and a
teaspoonful of flour which she will braid together in the most
approved cooking-school fashion for thickening the cream when it is
hot. Then she should put in two dozen or so oysters that have been
well drained and freed from any bits of shell. If you can trust her to
do so, let her season the dish with a dash of red pepper, and salt,
and a shake or two of celery salt. When the edges of the oysters begin
to frizzle, have ready for her either little strips of toast or some
crackers on hot plates, on which to serve the oysters. If you find
that more than three persons will be apt to bid for the creamed
oysters, you will want rather more than two dozen, I fancy; still, you
will know best about that.
Flaked Cold Cod in Tomato
If you have any cold fish in the house, halibut or cod or haddock that
has been boiled or baked, not fried, have it flaked up in good-sized
pieces and marinated for three or four hours in a tablespoonful each
of oil and vinegar, a dash of cayenne, the juice of an onion and salt
to taste. When you are to use it have hot in the chafing-dish three
teaspoonfuls each of rich tomato sauce, sherry wine and butter,
putting the butter in and melting it first. When these are well
blended together, lay in the fish and stir it about in the sauce till
quite hot. This, let me tell you, will not go a-begging for admirers.
It is a particularly savory tidbit, and on a cold night is its own
best recommendation.
Lobster Newberg
I wonder if you will say a recipe for lobster _à la_ Newberg is
altogether too stale if I undertake to tell it to you. I know its age
just as well as you do, and I also know that I could weep bitterly, if
it would do any good, at some of the concoctions called by that name
that I have had put before me, and which, worse than all, I have been
expected to eat. So right here I shall put on record my way of
preparing that delicious dish, and if you don't care to read it, why
skip it, of course. Into the chafing dish put two ounces of butter and
let it melt; then put in the meat of a two-pound lobster cut into
dice-shaped pieces and let them cook till they are really fried a
bit. Then turn low the flame of the lamp while you pour in a little
less than a pint of cream in which has been beaten three eggs,
seasoned with salt and red pepper. Just as this is hot add a scant
wineglass of sherry and let it heat once more, regulating the flame
all the time so that it cannot boil. For if it does the jig is up, the
eggs will be sure to curdle, and you will wish to goodness you hadn't
undertaken it. Have little triangles of toasted bread on which to
serve the lobster, and if it turns out the success it should, your
reputation among your guests will be for all time established as a
hostess who knows her business from A to Z.
Chicken Livers with Olive Sauce
If you will get some chicken livers you can prepare a very appetizing
dish with very little trouble. Melt an ounce of butter in the chafing
dish and in it put, say, eight or ten livers that have been salted
well and rolled in a little flour. Let them cook pretty fast for ten
minutes, or till you think they are done, then put with them half a
pint of hot water and a teaspoonful of any extract of beef, with what
salt and pepper your superior judgment deems suitable. When this is
hot turn in a gill of sherry, and a dozen olives pitted and
quartered. Just a dash of lemon juice and the deed is done, provided
you have ready some toast for the serving of the livers.
If you haven't at the time of night when you will be serving these
dishes a fire over which you can toast the bread, you can have one of
the guests preparing the bread in a chafing dish. Cut the slices of
the size you like and fry them delicately in a very little butter and
they will go finely in this way.
Welsh Rabbit
Because you may think I don't know how to make one if I say nothing, I
suppose I shall have to offer a word or so about Welsh rabbits. Melt
an ounce of butter in the chafing-dish and then stir in and let melt
slowly a pound of cheese cut up into very small pieces. Season this as
you go along with paprika, a little salt, and mustard as you think you
like it. When the cheese is quite melted pour in, very slowly, a
little beer or ale, about two gills in all. Then when it is well
blended with the cheese stir in a couple of eggs well beaten and serve
on crackers. Did you ever try making your rabbits with ginger ale?
Really they are good in that way, and it is very palatable to drink
when you are eating them. And cider is delicious served with rabbits,
also--the champagne cider. Try it some time.
Golden Buck
For a golden buck, prepare the cheese as for a rabbit, but on each
plate when you are serving it place a poached egg. These must be
prepared in another dish while the rabbit is under process of
construction. So, you see, I wasn't so far off in my calculations,
rapid as they seemed to you at the time, when I said my little say
about seven chafing dishes.
Eggs Poached in Tomato
Suppose you have on hand a pint of rich tomato sauce. Heat this in the
chafing-dish and poach in it two eggs. Lift them out and lay on a hot
dish while you poach two more. Continue in this way till you have
half-a-dozen eggs poached. Serve one or two as you like, on a slice of
toast or fried bread, pour some of the tomato sauce round, sprinkle
grated Parmesan cheese over each and send them around the table on
their mission.
Curried Eggs
If you are fond of curry try some curried eggs. Melt in the
chafing-dish two ounces of butter, and fry in it two small onions,
sliced; take these out and stir in a dessertspoonful of curry powder
and a teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce. When these are well mixed
add half a dozen well-beaten eggs. Cook quickly and serve.
Creamed Chicken
Perhaps you have a pet recipe for creamed chicken, and I don't doubt
it is all such a recipe should be; but let me suggest that, instead of
putting chicken and cream and all the other things into the
chafing-dish at the same time, you melt the butter first and then stir
in the chicken and let it cook for two or three minutes before you put
in the cream, or béchamel, or whatever it is you use. The flavor of
the dish will be very much richer and more palatable to most persons.
For, between ourselves, I think that creamed chicken is apt to be
rather a flat and tasteless affair, and will stand quite a little
bracing up.
I hope you won't want to spoil the taste of any of these dishes by
having sweets after them, in the way of fancy cakes, etc. If you do,
you may choose them for yourselves. I'll have none of them.
MARCH
"_So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er,--
The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more._"
THERE couldn't be a better time than the present in which to have a
smoke-talk, mesdames. There, there, now, pray don't be alarmed; I've
no notion of passing round any of the popular brands of cigars.
Neither would I so much as offer you cigarettes, albeit the latest
scientific utterance has pronounced them harmless.
No, our talk shall be of some of the smoked and salted viands that,
while they may not perhaps come under the head of delicacies or
indelicacies of the season, are decidedly appetizing, and quite worthy
of having considerable attention given to the best ways and means of
serving them.
Salt Fish with Cream
And haven't you been saddened hundreds of times when reflecting upon
the disregard of details that makes of a dish of salt-fish and cream
nothing but a pasty and altogether horrid mess? But a dish of salted
cod becomes delicacy itself if the fish is shredded while raw, all
skin and bone removed, washed several times in cold water and cooked
in plenty of fresh water; then it should be drained and covered with
cream, which has been heated and thickened with an egg or two beaten
up well in a tablespoonful or so of cream; add a dash of cayenne, to
give it a zest, and you have prepared for breakfast or luncheon a
dainty that will quite justify you in fancying yourself for the rest
of the day. And that's a wonderfully comfortable state of mind in
which to find oneself.
Salt Fish with Brown Butter
Perhaps, however, for a luncheon dish you would rather have the
codfish served with brown butter. In which case you flake and freshen
it as before, and cook in plenty of water. Take it up on a hot dish
and pour over it a sauce made of butter, in which you have fried
minced onion and a handful of chopped parsley till they are brown. And
you can vary this sauce infinitely: add a bay leaf or two, or a few
capers, or some chopped sweet red peppers, and get a new flavor with
each addition.
The subject of codfish balls I won't take up here. I fear I might make
it too exhaustive. And, besides, every housekeeper seems to have a
chosen way for preparing them.
Fried Cods' Tongues
I wish as much could be said about that too-little-appreciated genuine
delicacy--fresh cods' tongues. They are delicious when boiled till
tender, and then served with brown butter, as suggested above for
codfish. And they are just as good, and some think even better, if
they are dipped in milk, then rolled one by one in flour, and fried in
plenty of butter for about ten minutes. You can simply pour the butter
on them when serving, with a little chopped parsley scattered over
all, or you can put into the frying-pan, after taking the tongues out,
a gill or two of tomato sauce, and serve this separately in a
sauceboat, serving each tongue on a slice of toast. Usually it will be
found necessary to soak the salted tongues for twenty-four hours or
more in water, changing it once or twice, as seems necessary.
To be sure there's considerable trouble and no small amount of care
involved in having these edibles, or any others, for that matter,
quite as one would like, but some old wiseacre has said that life's
cares are its comforts, and if one only has a firm belief, rooted and
grounded in past experience, in this bit of philosophy it's just as
easy to apply it to cooking as to painting.
Broiled Smoked Salmon
And a little of this care used in the broiling of smoked salmon
redeems it from the charred and uninviting dish it too often makes. It
is best to cut the salmon into small strips, wrap each strip in a
piece of buttered paper, and then broil over a clear fire. When done
remove the paper, and serve the fish on a piping hot dish, at once.
And if you want a sauce for it make one by cooking a minced onion in a
gill of vinegar and twice as much water, adding, as the onion shows
signs of tenderness, two ounces of fresh butter, four finely chopped
hard-boiled egg yolks, and a little chopped parsley.
Boiled Salt Mackerel, with Horse-radish Sauce
Of course you know how to cook salt mackerel--you could sue me for
libel if I said aught to the contrary. But do you, I wonder, ever try
preparing it in my favorite way? This is the manner of it: Soak the
mackerel for twelve hours, changing the water several times. Then boil
it in an abundance of water, in which there is a bay leaf, two or
three onions, some parsley and the juice of a lemon. The fish should
cook very slowly, and not be allowed to come to pieces. When they are
done, serve them on a folded napkin, with a sauce made by reducing a
pint of cream to one-half, adding to it an ounce of butter, and
thickening it with two egg yolks. Then add to it half its quantity of
grated horse-radish, heating it again, without boiling. In most cases
it is necessary to add salt to this sauce, but I prescribe no
quantity. I only advise being skittish about the amount when it is to
be used for a salt fish. If you are to have smoked mackerel, broil
instead of boiling it and serve with it the cream horse-radish sauce.
Smoked Herring Fried
And then there are smoked and salted herring, that if cooked
judiciously make life at least a bit more comfortable. It is best to
soak them for five or six hours in water and then for two hours in
sweet, fresh milk, after which you can work out some wonderful dishes
with them. If they have been salted only, fry in butter and serve them
on potatoes mashed with cream. But if the herring are smoked as well
as salted, split them down the back and cook in enough milk to cover.
Cook till thoroughly done, and then serve on a very hot dish with
branches of parsley around, and a little sweet rich cream poured over
them.
Finnan Haddies with Cream
But, to my thinking, the best of all the smoked and salted fish are
the finnan haddies. And one of the best ways of cooking them is as
per that last described for cooking herring. But the haddies are much
less salt, and require little, if any, soaking. Or, if you prefer, you
can put them in a buttered baking-pan, pour cream and bread crumbs
over them and brown in a hot oven. Give them a little more cream when
serving. And again after you and your household have partaken of this
dish and pronounced it good, hard to beat, etc., you will have
occasion to be pleased with yourself, which, being interpreted, means
of course being perfectly satisfied with all the world.
* * * * *
It is possible, nay, probable, that you, mesdames, with all the calls
that the Lenten season makes upon your spiritual selves, find little
time for ordering or arranging dinners; furthermore--and it's in no
way to your discredit--it may be that with so much of each day given
over to reflection and concentrated thought you experience a sort of
disinclination to give heed to things material. Therefore it behooves
me to be alive to my duty, which in the premises certainly seems to
prescribe that I shall think and plan a bit for you; and I herewith
submit, as the result of a goodly amount of cogitation on my part, a
menu which I hope will strike you as being a very good sort of
"working model," should you not care to follow it to the letter:--
Consommé maigre with asparagus points.
Lake trout with court bouillon.
Macaroni timbales with tomato sauce.
Casserole of fillets of sole.
Oyster soufflés.
Coffee cream glacée. Almond pudding.
You see that such a menu provides a dinner perfectly within the rule
implied by "_diner maigre_," though it can in no sense be called a
fast-day dinner. In fact, the very phrase is a contradiction. If you
are fasting, you do not dine; you simply eat to live--a very different
thing.
And now for particulars. No need to tell you how to make the soup; you
have stacks of cookery books that will give you the information
necessary for the making of a good clear consommé. As for the
asparagus points, it will be quite as well from all points of view to
buy the canned asparagus tips, and cook a little in salted water,
adding them to the soup about five minutes before it is served.
Boiled Lake Trout
Perhaps your housekeepers' guides may not be sufficiently explicit in
regard to cooking the lake trout in the manner suggested, so I will
tell you in detail. In the first place, you take equal quantities of
white French wine--as inexpensive as you please--and water, one small
onion, a bouquet of parsley, thyme, etc., some peppercorns, and a
proper amount of salt. Let this boil for fifteen minutes, and you have
as good a court bouillon as one could wish. Into it put the trout,
tied into any shape you desire, and boil until tender; remove it, and
serve on a fish paper or napkin; garnish with fresh green parsley
sprays. For the sauce, you will melt some butter in a part of the
court bouillon, and serve separately. You should find good lake trout
in the market now, and at a price that doesn't confine them to the
list of luxuries. Aren't you glad?
Macaroni Timbales
Have you any idea how many ways are known to expert cooks for
preparing macaroni? I haven't. But I should not be surprised to see
offered for sale any day a publication setting forth "One Thousand
Ways to Cook Macaroni," and I hope that macaroni timbales, in case
such an event comes to pass, will be given the place of honor. Try
making them in this way, and you will agree with me. Boil the macaroni
in plenty of salted water till it is tender, but not "mushy." Drain
off the water, and add, with all thoughts of economy thrown to the
winds, melted butter; stir it in well, and add a goodly sprinkling of
grated Parmesan cheese and cayenne pepper. Line a mould with the very
best puff-paste you know how to make, rolled as thinly as possible,
and put in the macaroni; cover with a round of the paste, lay a sheet
of buttered paper over the top, and bake in a hot oven for about
thirty minutes. Unmould on a hot dish, and pour round it some tomato
sauce made from the best recipe given in any of your gastronomical
literature.
Casserole of Fillets of Sole
Then consult the aforesaid literature still further, and select
therefrom the most appetizing recipe for making a stuffing of
bread-crumbs, when you have it properly prepared spread with it some
fillets of sole, and tie them into shape with a little thread. Now put
into a casserole, or stewpan, three or four ounces of butter, two
minced onions, and the fish; let it fry for five or six minutes, then
add to it two or three gills of béchamel sauce (see cookery books
once more), a cupful of chopped mushrooms, and a claret-glass of
claret. Cover the pan closely, and cook in the oven for half an hour.
When finished, remove the strings from the fillets, and serve in a
deep dish with the liquor in which they were cooked poured over them.
And there you have a dish fit to tickle the palate of any king, or
knave, that ever lived. Later in the season, when lobsters are selling
at a more reasonable price, try substituting them for the soles, and
your delight will be increased several-fold.
Oyster Soufflés
Very likely you know as much or more than I do about making oyster
soufflés, but, be that as it may, I have the floor, and am going to
tell you what I do know about them, for I may never get another
chance. My way is to blanch two dozen good oysters in their own
liquor, then cut them into dice, and while they are cooling prepare a
sauce of two ounces each of butter and flour, a dust of cayenne, a
little salt, the yolks of three eggs, and half a pint of rich milk;
when it is thick enough and smooth enough I put in the oysters and
their liquor, pour the mixture into little soufflé cases, sprinkle
each with browned bread-crumbs and bits of butter, and bake in a
moderate oven for eighteen minutes; then serve at once. How do you
think you would like to try that way of making them?
Coffee Cream Glacée
Now, you will admit that I very seldom presume to tell you how to
prepare sweets, but to-day my story would be incomplete if I were to
omit the directions for making a coffee cream glacée. It is easy as
can be; that is, if you can freeze things. Beat the yolks of four eggs
in a basin with four ounces of powdered sugar, standing the basin in
another of hot water, so that they may get quite warm, but not hot;
add to them a gill of strong coffee, beat it all together till it is
light and creamy and quite cold. Then add to it a pint of stiffly
whipped cream, pour the mixture into a mould, and bury in ice and salt
for two hours. Unmould on the prettiest piece of lace paper you have
when serving.
Almond Pudding
Perhaps I run the risk of overdoing the matter by telling you how to
make an almond pudding, but it does harmonize so delightfully with
coffee glacée that 'twould be actually sinful to leave you in
ignorance of how it is made. It's simple, too, simple as a b c. You
just beat up the yolks of five and the whites of three eggs with a
large tablespoonful of rose-water, and add gradually to it four ounces
of powdered sugar and four ounces of freshly ground almonds, mixed
with a few small whole ones. Beat this thoroughly for ten or fifteen
minutes, pour into a well-buttered pie-dish and bake. When
half-cooked, garnish with strips of candied orange peel and blanched
almonds. And if you have any of the pudding left, which is doubtful,
you will find that it makes an excellent five-o'clock tea cake, for it
is quite as good cold as hot.
Now, have I not given you a good ground plan, so to speak, for Lenten
dinners? It is the easiest thing in the world to leave out a part of
it, or add to it, for that matter, for it is composed wholly of
neutral tints, you might say, and almost any viand under the sun will
dovetail with it, if you wish to elaborate it.
* * * * *
I really don't know the first thing about the dietetic properties of
eggs, for which ignorance I am truly grateful, because I have always
noticed that once a man or a woman gets where the healthfulness or
the hurtfulness of any edible becomes the first consideration all real
pleasure to be found in dining has for that man or woman lost half its
charm.
Neither could I guess, though I had a dozen chances, whether the fact
that eggs form the backbone of so many meals during Lent has its
foundation in history, or some religious rite. And I am also content
to remain uninformed on this point.
But I do know that at market these days the sign "strictly fresh eggs"
is the most noticeable feature on every hand; and I know, too, that
there are a good many housekeepers who fairly long to know of some way
in which to improve upon the neutral flavor of an egg so that it may
become dainty, savory or delicately sweet as the case may seem to
require.
Eggs Curdled in Cream
To begin with the savory list: Some fine morning when you are to have
for breakfast just an appetizing bit of broiled salted herring, try
cooking some eggs in this way--Put half a pint of cream into a
saucepan and let it boil. Stir into it five well-beaten eggs, seasoned
with salt and pepper. Let this mixture curdle, then turn it out on to
a hot dish and brown it quickly with a salamander; and you'll be at a
loss to know whether it's the herring that makes the egg taste so
well, or if it's the egg that makes the herring so remarkably
palatable.
Eggs, Epicurean Style
Another delicious way of serving eggs for breakfast is to have, as a
beginning, say one dozen eggs and boil them till hard; take off their
shells, cut them in halves and rub the yolks through a fine sieve; put
an ounce of butter and one cupful of cream into a saucepan, season it
with salt and white pepper and thicken with a very little flour. When
it is quite hot but not boiling stir into it half of the whites of the
eggs, chopped, and the yolks. Arrange the remainder of the whites on a
dish, pour the mixture over them, and serve piping hot. You see the
eggs can be boiled and prepared the day before, and there's very
little to be done to get them ready for breakfast. Now, should you
want to make this into a more savory dish, you could easily add a
little minced ham, the juice of an onion, or some minced olives and a
few mushrooms, and have by so doing a delectable luncheon dish that
would go admirably with, say, some cold sliced tongue or with pickled
lambs' tongues.
Baked Eggs
A particularly savory dish of eggs is made by frying two small minced
onions in butter till they are brown; then mix with them a
dessertspoonful of vinegar, a very little salt, and some pepper.
Butter a dish, spread the onions over it, break over them half a dozen
eggs, and put into a hot oven. When the eggs are cooked sufficiently,
cover them with a layer of bread-crumbs that have been fried in
butter, and serve. The bread-crumbs must be hot, of course. Try this
some day at luncheon when you are having broiled pigs' feet and potato
croquettes.
Egg Toast with Cheese
And if it doesn't turn out the success you hoped, the next day you
might take some very thin slices of bread, trim off the crusts, lay on
a well-buttered dish, and cover with very thin slices of cheese. Beat
up well enough eggs to cover the bread, season with salt and a little
cayenne pepper, and pour them over the slices. Put the dish in a
moderate oven and bake until the eggs are set. Serve while very hot in
the same dish. If you prefer, you may use in place of the sliced
cheese some grated Parmesan cheese sprinkled over the bread, and
sprinkle a little over the eggs too.
Eggs in Tomato Purée
Eggs scrambled in tomato purée make a delectable dish for luncheon, or
for dinner as an entrée. Have half a pint of rich tomato purée, and
cook in it half-a-dozen well beaten eggs; pour the whole into a deep
dish, and serve with it some bread croutons. Some finely cut up chives
will at times be thought an improvement to this dish.
Scrambled Eggs with Truffles
And there are scrambled eggs with truffles that are good enough for
any time or place. Cook four sliced truffles in a wineglass of Madeira
for about two minutes; then put in a tablespoonful of butter, and
season with salt and white pepper. Break eight eggs and without
beating stir them well with a wooden spoon in the wine for three
minutes, cooking quickly all the while. Serve in a hot dish.
Caviare Omelets
If one is fond of caviare (and who isn't nowadays?), an omelet with
caviare is most tempting. Make an omelet of the desired number of
eggs, and just before folding over spread it with a layer of caviare
diluted with a little béchamel sauce. After the omelet is dished,
garnish with parsley.
Spanish Omelet
You will find in your hunts for Spanish omelet recipes that they will
turn up as thick as bees in a hive, after which you will let the
different directions for this savory dish foment in your mind till you
get what seems to be the best from each and turn out one that is your
very own, and entitled to be known to your friends as "Spanish omelet
_à la_ Madame Featherstonaugh"--or whatever name has the honor to
belong to you. My recipe you shall have till you get one of your own,
however. To begin with, have a rich tomato purée; to this you add
chopped pimentos or sweet Spanish peppers _con amore_, then a bit of
fried chopped onion, a few mushrooms, also cooked, and diced cold
cooked tongue or ham, preferably tongue. Take any liberties with it
that you like, pray. Don't think you must follow it to the letter. I
rarely do, to be candid with you. I have used cold chicken, cold duck,
and also cold goose, when the larder has been bereft of ham or tongue;
and not one of my household dared to say anything shady about it.
Omelet with Chicken Liver
Of course, every housekeeper has a chicken liver omelet recipe among
her belongings, and made in the most ordinary way they are pretty sure
to be worth the eating; but if the livers are cooked in a little
butter, and then a little Madeira is added to the butter, the omelet
is far and away ahead of those made by ordinary recipes, as you will
see by trying it.
Jelly Omelet
When it comes to an omelet for dessert, nothing can be better than an
omelet stuffed with preserves or fresh fruit. If preserves are used,
there's a wide range from which to select, and any taste can be
satisfied. Fill it with currant jelly, or apricot or grapefruit
marmalade, or any other fruit that you like. In almost any case a
little grated lemon peel and a handful of chopped almonds will be an
improvement. After the omelet is dished it should always be sprinkled
with finely powdered sugar.
Strawberry Omelet
You might in the way of fresh fruits use some of the strawberries that
are of respectable flavor and price now. Get a box some day of the
best-looking ones you can find, and sort them over. Save out about
half of them, the fairest ones in the lot, cut in halves, and put them
in a bowl with two heaping tablespoonfuls of sugar, a piece of orange
peel, and two teaspoonfuls of rum, and set them in a cool place. Press
the remainder of the strawberries through a fine sieve, and sweeten
well. Make an omelet of six eggs, and before folding over fill it with
the cut-up strawberries, without any of the liquid. Dish the omelet,
sprinkle with powdered sugar, and pour around it the juice of the
strawberries, to which has been added the liquid from the halved
strawberries. It's a delicate dish, indeed, and you will find that it
will be a favorite at any table.
Célestine Omelet
If you have a recipe for Célestine omelets, small ones, of which you
are very much enamored, this paragraph will not interest you. But if
you are at odds with the one you have, glance through this. Make as
many small omelets as you think will be required, one egg to each,
with yolk and white beaten separately. Put them on a hot dish, cover
with a thin layer of peach marmalade, and on this sprinkle chopped
candied fruits with a few chopped almonds, and over all spread whipped
cream. Work at chain-lightning speed in preparing this after the
omelets are dished, and get to the table in even quicker time, if you
would know this dish in perfection. Though if anything happens to
cause you to slacken your pace a bit, it will be worth the having,
for it will bear shading down a trifle from the top-notch. Or, make
the eggs into one large omelet, and before folding it over fill with
the jam and fruits, and sprinkle the almonds and whipped cream over it
after it is dished.
Snow Eggs
Then there's a dish called "Snow Eggs" that's just as inoffensive as
it sounds. You beat the whites of four eggs to a stiff froth, and then
drop them a spoonful at a time into boiling milk till they poach a
bit. Take them out, thicken the milk with the yolks, adding sugar and
any desired flavoring. Pour this over the poached whites, dish, and
sprinkle with chopped macaroons before serving.
Omelette Soufflée
It wouldn't be fair to omit any mention of an omelette soufflée in a
chapter on eggs; so here it shall go, though for myself I don't care
for it. It has always seemed to me like a dessert to be served when a
dessert wasn't really needed or wanted, but because a dessert of some
kind must go down to make the luncheon or dinner complete. Separate,
then, the yolks and whites of five eggs. Beat the yolks and half a cup
of sugar together for ten minutes. Flavor with a little rose-water.
Then turn to the whites, and beat them to the stiffest kind of a
froth. Butter a soufflé dish, and pour the mixture into it. Bake for
twelve minutes, and send to table. The guests should always be waiting
for an omelette soufflée, mind. Never force the omelet to do the
waiting--it isn't giving it a fair chance.
APRIL
"_The best doctors in the world are Doctor Diet, Doctor Quiet,
and Doctor Merryman._"
THE very first thing to be done on Easter morning is to get up in time
to see the sun dance; for, as you probably know, not a bit of good
luck will be yours for the year to come if laziness, or anything, in
fact, save cloudy skies, prevents your beholding this phenomenon. But
it is possible that you don't know that this means nothing less than
to be facing the east with eagle eye and steady nerve at a pretty
early hour. Rather rough, isn't it? How would it do, then, to sit up
all night in order to be on hand to witness the fancy steps of the god
of day? You could do that and then have a good long nap, after which
you might be refreshed by a breakfast of shad roes (they're about as
inexpensive now as they will be), broiled to a turn, with a little
melted butter and lemon juice, judiciously mixed, poured over them;
dainty, crisp lettuce hearts, salted a bit; graham bread, thinly
sliced, and toasted to that shade known the world over as "epicurean
brown;" and lastly, instead of coffee, a steaming, fragrant,
appetizing cup of English breakfast tea. My word for it, you will be
tempted to linger over this breakfast, but stern duty permits no such
loitering. No, indeed; you must be up and away, or how on earth are
you going to make certain comparisons that shall confirm you in your
belief that your new bonnet is nothing less than a dream? Dear knows,
I hope you won't see any headgear that will take the shine off your
own, for then you will be sure to go home out of sorts, and the
charming little dinner menu that I have compiled for your use and
behoof might as well be of corned beef and cabbage for all the
appreciation it will get from you.
Clam Cocktails
But in case that everything does go smoothly, and nothing happens to
nick your peace of mind, could anything be more delectable than a
dinner which would unfold itself to your delighted palate in this
order? To begin with: Clam cocktails, made, of course, with the
little-neck variety; they should be put in half-dozen lots into small
glasses, and seasoned with lemon juice, tabasco, salt, and the tiniest
suspicion of onion juice--just enough, you understand, to cause one
to wonder if that delightful flavor is really onion.
And then to follow up the good impression left by the clam cocktails,
have a soup of consommé of perfect flavor and delicacy--the sort, you
know, that doesn't jar with what has gone before or is to come.
The "to come" in this case might be, say, of trout, broiled to a
nicety and served with tartar sauce. But if for financial reasons you
object to the trout, why, then you may get good salmon from the West,
or pompano, and bluefish of fairly good flavor. But whatever fish you
decide upon, have it broiled, so that you may serve it with some
delicious hothouse cucumbers. Quite a little fall in the price of
cucumbers you will see within the next two or three weeks.
Lamb Steak; Béarnaise Sauce
And the price of spring lamb has dropped perceptibly too by this time.
Now, please, whichever part of the lamb you select, don't have it
roasted. Have it sliced for steaks, and broiled to the stage most in
favor in your family circle, then salted well, but buttered sparingly,
as you must--there is no use in trying to dodge the issue--serve a
Béarnaise sauce with lamb steak. Have lobster salad without the
lobster, omit the crabs from devilled crabs, if it pleases you, but
never under any circumstances serve a lamb steak without a Béarnaise
sauce. It would be barbarism--nothing short of it! And to make the
sauce? Well, put into a saucepan a gill of vinegar and water, equal
parts, half a teaspoonful of minced onion, and a few tarragon leaves.
Let this cook, tightly covered, till reduced one-half; then take it
off the fire, and when cold mix with it the well-beaten yolks of four
eggs; season with salt and mignonette, and return to the fire; add
slowly to it three ounces of melted butter, stirring continually till
it thickens to the consistency of mayonnaise. Then strain it through a
fine sieve, and add to it chopped tarragon, a teaspoonful, and the
same quantity of chopped parsley.
Potatoes Soufflées
And there's just one way to cook potatoes so that they seem quite good
enough to accompany a lamb steak, and that way is called potatoes
soufflées. The potatoes should be trimmed to ovals two and a quarter
inches long by one and a quarter wide, and then sliced lengthwise,
having the slices half an inch in thickness. When they are sliced, put
them into ice-water to remain twenty-five minutes. Then have ready
two pans of frying fat, one just hot and the other piping hot. Into
the former put the potatoes, in a frying-basket, and let them cook
without browning till tender; take them out, place on a sieve to cool
and dry somewhat, and then plunge them into the pan containing the
piping hot fat; stir them about, and they will begin to souffler; then
they must be taken out, salted and served.
Now, if anything happens to prevent this course from turning out the
howling success that I predict for it, I want you to go to my favorite
dining place the next time you are in New York and order "the same."
You will know then what these two dishes are in perfection.
It may be that a salad of new beets would be quite the thing on this
occasion; if so, you will have no trouble in finding them in good
condition, and as sweet as a new beet should be.
Here endeth my part of the lesson.
Set your own pace for a dessert.
* * * * *
Although I am prepared to sit up nights to sympathize with any one who
is really deserving of having me share that emotion with her, I don't
have a particle of desire to weep with the woman who weeps because
visitors have dropped in on her suddenly and caught her with her
cupboard bare. In these days of canned things the woman whose larder
doesn't boast as a continuous performance at least half a dozen
varieties was never meant for a housekeeper.
For my part, I should think I was remiss in the duties of a
housekeeper if I did not have half a dozen varieties of canned soup
alone from which to select in time of need.
Sardine Toast
Start, then, we will say, an impromptu lunch with a soup canned by any
one of the sixteen firms, more or less, that so prepare them. Of
course, there will be sardines--the stand-by of all housekeepers; but
you will have sardine toast--a rarity with almost every one. Wipe the
skin off the sardines with a dry cloth. The toasted bread is free from
all crust, mind, and it is spread with butter mixed with lemon juice
and chopped parsley. The sardines are laid on it, and the whole
arrangement set in the oven to heat.
Anchovy Toast
Just as tempting a bouchée is an anchovy toast. Chop the anchovies,
and add to them bits of parsley, a suspicion of onion juice, a few
drops of lemon juice, and some paprika. Spread this on toast which has
been buttered, and heat quickly in the oven.
Tunny-Fish
Then, there's tunny-fish always to be depended upon to furnish an
impromptu dish that seems like one planned long before. Drain it from
the oil in which it is preserved. Lay it on a dish, sprinkle with
lemon juice, chopped parsley, and capers; and keep your eyes open for
the admiring glances your guests will be trying to hide from you when
they first taste of it.
Then smoked, boneless herring, you know, are good almost any way; but
broiled till they curl up a bit over a hot fire, and sent to table
flanked by olives, water crackers, and a bottle or two of lager beer,
they are leaders.
Of course, with two or three kinds of devilled meats in the house the
making of sandwiches, even at short notice, is just a pastime; and with
all the crackers now to be had it would be foolish to waste tears over
the absence of bread. In fact, the world, the market, and the grocery
store are filled to the brim with substitutes nowadays--substitutes that
make it easy to forget originals.
Although 'tis by signs of promises soon to be richly fulfilled that a
market interests me chiefly at this season, there is no lack even
to-day of a good supply of edibles, both substantial and delicate, and
do I go a-marketing determined to buy everything on an economical
basis I find Dame Nature and the marketman in league to help me
furnish forth my table daintily and inexpensively. Or, if in a
reckless mood of extravagance I betake myself to the vendor of viands,
I find him and the dear old dame quite as helpful in carrying out my
plans.
Naturally, in trips to market, my methodical mind leads me to inquire
first what is suitable for breakfast; what is best calculated to
minister to an appetite capricious in the fickle springtime. Numerous
answers are forthcoming to my inquiry, the first of which says shad
roes made into delicious croquettes with a garnishing of lettuce
hearts. Very good, I say, very appropriate, but what else is
there?--every one doesn't care for that dish. And then, taking the
matter into my own hands, as the marketman is perfectly willing that I
should, I peer around to see what is to be had, and make notes
mentally for future use. There are mackerel of finest flavor, which,
if broiled to a turn and having as an accompaniment crisp, fresh
radishes, are fit to put before a king. Another breakfast dish, which
is also quite good enough for any royal person, is of kidneys broiled
on skewers with alternate slices of bacon. A bit of parsley serves not
only to decorate this last dish, but forms a piquant relish for it,
and relishes for breakfast dishes are more of a necessity now than at
any other season. The orange juice which has proved so potent an
appetizer when the mercury ranges near to zero, fails to supply the
needed zest for a springtime morning meal, and we must have recourse
to a fresh green vegetable, in addition.
From breakfast fare to luncheon dishes I turn my attention logically,
and learn that sweetbreads are particularly fine just now in whatever
way they are served, but in my opinion they are never quite so good as
when simmered gently in butter and served with cream sauce, to which
has been added a few fresh mushrooms.
Spring chickens, tender and toothsome if broiled as they should be,
are worthy of an honored place at any luncheon, and the marketman
tells me those lately received are of excellent quality.
That dainty of dainties, in the estimation of many people, frogs'
legs, if broiled or served with a cream sauce, appeals to the most
fastidious palate. And just now they are not only plentiful and in
fine condition, but are quite inexpensive.
A dish which we cannot always obtain, and which is especially suitable
for a midday meal, is of the Taunton River alewives smoked; they
should be broiled, and there should be served with them, without fail,
a potato salad made from the Bermuda potatoes, which are exceptionally
desirable at this season.
In the ordering of a dinner I have always maintained that though it
consists of only two courses, there is an opportunity for the exercise
of great discretion. A knowledge of the eternal fitness of things is
essential above all else in order to arrange a dinner at which the
courses shall not be at war with each other. A certain famous lawyer
remarked in my hearing not long ago that "he knew women who could play
whist and play it as it should be, and he knew women who could order a
dinner fit for the gods, but never had he known and never did he
expect to know, a woman who could do both." Perhaps he was right, but
I believe there are women in plenty who are quite capable of doing
both to perfection.
At this season, with oysters almost out of the running, little-neck
clams may be depended upon to whet the appetite, while the soup which
follows must be at once delicate and yet so rich that the first
spoonful enchants. If the next course is to be of bluefish, or of
salmon, or of striped bass, all of which are in first-class condition
in this month, potatoes should be served in any desired shape if the
fish is to be boiled or braised; should it be broiled or fried, then
by all means let its accompaniment be cucumbers, which are plentiful,
and are sold at a comparatively low figure, by now.
If you follow my advice you will avoid the heavy, clumsy, and
unimaginative joint. Decide rather upon ducklings to be roasted or
broiled, or upon squabs; or, if these are a thought too expensive,
choose fowl, which should be good and plentiful. Have it parboiled and
then fried Maryland style, or fricasseed, or boil it till quite
tender and serve with a caper sauce.
As for vegetables, just now, and for several weeks to come, nothing
can be better than asparagus, which improves, and is less expensive
every day. Frequently I tire of it served on toast, in which case,
after boiling it, I moisten it with melted butter, sprinkle grated
Parmesan over the top and brown it in the oven. Or, if I wish to serve
it as a salad, I have it ice-cold and pour over it a dressing made of
oil, vinegar, pepper, and salt, with a suspicion of French mustard
added.
For salads, tomatoes, perhaps, have first choice, for they are really
very fine, coming in from the hothouses fresh every day. Watercress is
at its best estate, and whether it be served as a salad or taken
simply with a grain of salt, it is a delicacy worthy of honor.
It is hardly possible to serve fruit out of place at dinner; before
the soup it is appetizing, as a compote for an entrée it is highly
delectable, while at dessert its presence is time-honored, and I would
that there were more varieties in market just now. However, the
strawberries and pineapples due are quite sufficient to console us
for the absence of other fruits.
With that most delicious vegetable asparagus as good and as plenty as
it is bound to be for two months or so longer, it is but a waste of
time to search for any other vegetable to take its place. The truth
is, it hasn't a rival, and it never had one--even in Pliny's day, when
it grew wild. But gardeners in those days cultivated it just as they
do now, and it was no uncommon thing for them to produce stalks of
which it took but three to weigh a pound. If any gardeners do raise
such mammoth specimens in these days they keep very quiet about it.
But perhaps they don't taste any better than smaller ones. Why should
they?
It will do to have asparagus boiled, just plainly boiled, two out of
every three times that you have it. But the third times are those of
which I would talk.
Asparagus Tips in Cream
Suppose you cut off the tips into inch lengths, and boil very slowly
in salted water till tender. Then drain and let get perfectly cold,
after which you brown them a bit in butter in a frying pan. At the
first threat to become brown cover the asparagus with cream, heat well
and serve on toasted bread.
Asparagus with Savory Sauce
If this doesn't satisfy you for a third try another way. Cut the
asparagus up just the same and boil with it a few new green peas and
some shredded lettuce. Season with pepper and salt, and flavor with a
few drops of onion juice. Add an ounce or two of melted butter to them
after draining off the water in which they were boiled, pour over them
half a pint of white sauce thickened, and then go ahead with the
serving on toast.
Baked Asparagus
Then you can boil the asparagus tips and heap them mound shape in a
baking dish, pour through them a Hollandaise or a Béarnaise sauce,
cover the top with grated Parmesan cheese and brown in a hot oven.
Asparagus Salad
But for asparagus salad be sure that after the tips are taken from the
boiling water they are plunged into ice water. Then cover, when
serving, with a French dressing in which has been stirred a little
French mustard.
Asparagus Salad 2
Or take some asparagus tips boiled and cooled and serve them on shaved
ice with a dressing of salt, lemon juice, and horse-radish, or
tabasco, and with a little bit of your most charming _persiflage_ you
will be able to persuade some of your followers that you have produced
an excellent substitute for little-neck clams.
MAY
"_Some said 'John, print it,' others said, 'Not so,'
Some said 'It might do good,' others said 'No.'_"
IT'S the month when, by a logical amount of reasoning, the housekeeper
is persuaded that she can easily treat her family to roasted veal, at
least once a week, without any member of it entering a complaint. She
tries it. The second time serving it threatens to go a-begging, and
the third time there is so much left over that it can't be worked up
in seven days--when, by her reckoning, another knuckle is due. People
do tire of veal in short order, even those who have a liking for it,
for some reason or other. I am inclined to think that a good many
times the "tired feeling" sets in because of the way it is served--not
enough is done to prepare the palate for it.
Olives with Caviare
Veal, then, more than any other roast, needs to have the way prepared
for it, very gingerly and very delicately. Let us discuss a way for
doing this. First, have pitted olives that you have filled with
caviare. Rest these olives on little rounds of toast that have been
spread with caviare, and sprinkled with lemon juice.
Purée of Peas and Spinach
Now, for a soup. Soak over night a pint of green dried peas. Drain,
and cook in plenty of fresh water till perfectly tender. Then press
through a sieve. Have cooked, at the same time, a peck of spinach, and
press through a sieve also. Then put the two purées together, season
with salt and pepper; heat well, adding half a pint of milk. Just
before taking up, pour in a pint of cream, and serve with tiny squares
of fried bread in the tureen. Ever heard of this before? It's a soup
that is rich and delicate, but not so hearty that it does more than
whet the appetite for what is to follow.
Mayonnaise with Horse-Radish
Shall we say salmon comes next? It's a thought high as yet, perhaps,
but you only need a little of it--a pound for four, where a roast is
to follow. But, to tell the truth, my insisting on your having it
comes almost wholly from a desire I have to tell you of a new sauce
for boiled or broiled salmon. It is nothing more than mayonnaise, a
half pint, with a heaping tablespoonful of horse-radish stirred
through it. Oh, you will like it fast enough! And you will like it
with cold salmon, just as well.
Duchesse Sauce
By the time the fish is a thing of the past, you will all be ready for
the roasted veal. On this, of course, you have had tied thin slices of
salt pork before it is roasted. With it, will you have a duchesse
sauce? I think you will. For this you have a pint of good stock,
thickened a bit with butter braided with flour. After it is heated,
there is added to it a wineglass of any white wine.
Onion Sauce
Or, if I have made a mistake, and you will have none of it, do let me
suggest an onion sauce. Peel and chop three onions, and let simmer in
plenty of butter, closely covered, for an hour. Let them brown, a
trifle, at the last, and add a tablespoonful of flour with pepper and
salt. Then add to them half a pint each of white stock and cream. Pour
this into the pan in which the veal was roasted, after it is taken
out, set the pan on top of the range and let boil gently for five
minutes. It's an improved sauce Soubise, you may say, if any of your
guests are led to ask the name of it. But, if they ask for directions
for making it, don't give them up. Advise, instead, buying this book
to learn, as you did, how to concoct such a bit of deliciousness.
Really, I wouldn't have more than one vegetable with the veal, and
that asparagus, as it's the season for it. Or, have something else, if
you prefer, and have an asparagus salad.
Rhubarb Sherbet
For the dessert, why not a rhubarb sherbet? Cut up two pounds of it,
and boil with a few drops of water and plenty of sugar, the rind of a
lemon, and a little liquid carmine to color it prettily. Let this get
cool; strain through a sieve, and add to it a pint of claret and two
tablespoonfuls of rum. Freeze, and have ready to decorate it, when
serving, some strips of candied ginger. You will find it all that you
have reason to think it should be, coming from this source.
Apricot Charlotte
But, if you prefer an apricot charlotte, it shall be my pleasure to
tell you how to make one. Line the same charlotte mould you always use
with sponge drops, or fingers, carefully trimmed to fit. In fact, you
want to give them a regular tailor-made fit. Then fill with a pint of
preserved apricots, which have been stewed till tender enough to rub
through a sieve. Stir into it an ounce of gelatine, dissolved in a
little water. Let it get perfectly cool, and then whip into it a pint
of already whipped cream. Turn into the mould and set away to harden.
And you have the most ungrateful family in the neighborhood if they
don't count this dinner as a red-letter event in their lives.
* * * * *
Think you that upon one of these mornings, when the mercury shows a
sullen determination to do nothing but climb, climb, climb, you can
prepare a more tempting dish for breakfast than one of shrimps, which
have been boiled in fresh water, then salted and cooled, and finally
sent to table upon chopped ice? You will find them at the market for
the rest of this month, at least, in excellent condition, and at a
reasonable price. And should you elect to serve them according to the
foregoing suggestion, place near them on the table a dish of crisp,
fresh watercress, lightly piled, ministering thereby to the eye's
pleasure as well as to the appetite's desire.
Broiled Veal Cutlets
But if, some fine morning, a breath of winter comes o'er the land,
_via_ an east wind, then you will, perhaps, crave food served hot, in
which case have veal cutlets (veal is in fine shape now); dip them in
melted butter and then broil over the coals; you will find this an
infinitely better way of cooking them than by frying, which so many
housekeepers consider the standard method. Or, if you do not care for
veal, try thin slices of bacon, broiled, and served on toasted graham
bread. As a fruit, for leading up to either of these dishes, I think
you will prefer pineapples, for they are of delicious quality now, and
sold at a price which also recommends them to your notice. Quite as
appetizing, however, you might find cherries, but, though they are of
fairly good flavor, they are a bit expensive, as they have a right to
be, coming from such a distance.
Herring Salad
It is with intent and purpose that I do not suggest that everlasting
Americanism, beefsteak for breakfast; to my mind, it seems far more
suitable for the luncheon table, and just now, with mushrooms so
plenty, and as inexpensive as they ever are, a well-broiled, tender,
juicy sirloin steak, with a mushroom sauce, makes a dish fit for the
gods, and yet not a whit too good for human nature's daily food. Just
as good, in its way, for luncheon, is a herring salad, made of smoked
herring. Omit the use of caviare, which many cook-books recommend, for
you want nothing that will encroach upon the flavor of the herring,
but rather something which will act as its complement. For this
purpose use one-third cold sliced potatoes to two-thirds herring, a
plentiful sprinkling of capers, and the ordinary oil and vinegar
dressing, with the salt put in by a miserly hand. Another salad,
suitable for luncheon, especially if cold tongue is served, is made of
the little Bermuda onions, which are abundant now; they should be
minced finely and served ice-cold to win your highest admiration.
Baked Chicken Hash
And now, just one more dish before leaving the luncheon table. Have
you ever prepared a baked-chicken hash? If not, allow me to suggest
that you chop quite finely the cold meat of chicken or fowl, season it
with salt and white pepper, moisten it with cream or with milk and
butter, scatter bread-crumbs over the top and brown in the oven, and
behold, you have one of the homeliest dishes in the annals of
housekeepers glorified to suit the palate of a veritable epicure.
Whenever, at this season of the year, I go to market in search of
fish for the dinner-table, it is only by the exercise of great will
power that I am able to refrain from buying soft-shell crabs. They are
so delicious, whether broiled or fried, that it seems positively
wicked they should be so expensive. Still, the fish dealer assures me
that almost any day the price may "break" and, other fish being
plentiful, we can afford to wait patiently for the "drop." Delicious
trout, of either the lake or brook variety, are abundant, and in
whatever way they are served are one of the pleasures of the present
day.
Although the month of roses is generally known as the month of salmon,
it is in first-class condition now, and obtainable at a fairly low
figure. No other fish is so capable of reserving; little scraps left
may be warmed in cream and served on toast for breakfast, made into a
salad for luncheon, or shaped into croquettes for dinner the following
day.
In the vernacular of the marketman, "spring lamb is getting down on to
the earth." Which, being interpreted for ears polite, means that the
price is getting lower each week, but that the flavor remains
unsurpassed; in fact "none but itself can be its parallel." Bits of
lamb left from dinner may be prepared in the way suggested for
baked-chicken hash, and will, I am sure, merit your favor.
When lamb is suggested, there follows, as a natural sequence, the
thought of green peas; and if the peas in market to-day were only as
good as they look, the thought would be a happy one. As matters stand,
however, for those who know not the delight of eating peas in less
than three hours from the time they are gathered from the vines, the
representatives of this vegetable to be had now will pass muster. For
myself, I prefer either cauliflower or egg plant, both of them plenty
and in good condition now. The former if boiled and served with a
white sauce, or baked with cheese is especially gratifying when served
with a roast of lamb, while the egg-plant will be quite as much of a
success if broiled, or stuffed and baked.
Of course asparagus has attained perfection, and is so in evidence on
every hand that it is not necessary to mention it here. However, there
are many persons of the belief that it is impossible to have too much
of a good thing, and most decidedly asparagus is entitled to come
under that head.
Savory Tomato Soup
Shall I tell you of three little dinners and how to make them grow?
Give ear, then, and you may hear. The first shall have a foundation of
tomato soup. Now please don't make a wry face and begin to say unkind
things about tomato soup having a past until you have heard me
through; for I want to tell you of an economical and really delicious
way of making this soup that is not known to every one. Just at this
season almost all housekeepers will be sure to have on hand two or
three kinds of cooked vegetables, little scraps of each I mean. Now,
suppose the list to comprise three new potatoes, boiled, half a cupful
of string beans and about the same quantity of green peas; to these,
or to any others which you may prefer to use, should be added two raw
onions finely minced and a handful of chopped parsley. Put them into a
saucepan with two ounces of butter, a sprinkling of pepper and salt,
and, after they have simmered for ten minutes, add a can of tomatoes.
Season then with a teaspoonful of whole allspice, a tablespoonful of
sugar, and more pepper and salt if need be, and cook slowly for half
an hour. At the end of that time strain through a fine hair sieve,
put back on the stove and thicken with a scant teaspoonful of
cornstarch mixed with a teaspoonful of melted butter. Have little
sippets of fried bread in the soup tureen, pour the soup over them and
serve. And there you have a soup possessed of all the flavors that
make a tomato soup worth the eating, while it has none of the
heaviness of soup made with a rich stock.
And the next dish for dinner No. 1 shall be of dainty little lamb
chops broiled to a turn. Have in the centre of the platter a mound of
mashed potato, lean the chops against it, and serve in this way.
With the chops serve string beans. Boil them till tender in salted
water, drain them and put into a saucepan with two ounces of butter
and two tablespoonfuls of cream to a quart of beans. Cook them for
three minutes and send to the table very hot.
Asparagus Salad
It would be a sin and a shame to arrange a dinner at this time of year
without providing for the serving of asparagus. Even though the dinner
is to consist of one course only, that course should be of asparagus.
But in the dinner which we are now planning it is to make its
appearance at the third course as a salad. It must be boiled till
quite tender, then chilled for three or four hours on the ice, cut
into inch lengths, and served with a dressing of the yolks of three
hard-boiled eggs beaten up with three tablespoonfuls of oil, two
tablespoonfuls of vinegar, a saltspoonful of salt and the same
quantity of French mustard.
The last course shall include strawberries served in some way. Have
them plain, with sugar and cream, and serve with them narrow strips of
delicate puff paste; or make little tartlets, and when they are done
lift the covers and put a teaspoonful of whipped cream into each.
And the cost of dinner No. 1? Well, at the price of "comestible wares"
at this season, this dinner should not cost over one dollar for four
persons. And really it will not require very close figuring to bring
it within that sum.
Bisque of Clams
But if that seems too small an amount to expend for a dinner intended
to give pleasure to four persons, there will be no trouble in planning
one to cost rather more. And for the first course let us have a bisque
of clams. Get a quart of clams and a small piece of veal, about a
pound of it. Cook the veal in a little more than a pint of water and
the liquor drained from the clams. Season with one onion, a sprig of
parsley, a bay leaf, salt, and white pepper. Cook very slowly for one
hour, then strain and again place it in the kettle; rub a couple of
tablespoonfuls of butter with an equal amount of flour and add to the
soup when boiling. Chop up the clams very fine, and put them into the
soup; let it boil for five minutes and then add half a pint of cream.
Heat thoroughly, but don't let it boil after adding the cream, and
serve. And after you have partaken of this I'll warrant you will be
ready to declare that Grimod de la Reynière had this especial kind of
_potage_ in mind when he said: "Soup is not only the commencement of a
feast, but gives an idea of what is to follow."
Asparagus Tops with Cheese
And its close follower in this instance should be some delicious
little ducklings roasted. With the ducklings have new potatoes, from
Bermuda or from the South, plainly boiled. And have, too, some
asparagus--asparagus tops with cheese. Cut the tender part of the
asparagus into inch lengths and cook in salted water till fairly
tender; then drain and toss it about over the fire in a frying-pan
with a little butter. Dress it on a vegetable dish, spread the
surface smoothly with butter into which has been kneaded an equal
quantity of grated Parmesan cheese and just a suspicion of cayenne
pepper. Brown as quickly as you can in a piping hot oven, and serve.
Lettuce Salad with Chives
And now for the salad. Does one of lettuce strike you favorably? If
so, prepare it with a French dressing, as you always do, but after it
is dressed sprinkle over it all some finely chopped chives. My word
for it, you'll find this a great improvement over the ordinary lettuce
salad.
Frozen Strawberries
A tempting dessert with which to wind up this dinner would be frozen
strawberries with whipped cream. Let me tell you how to prepare the
dish, and see what you think about it. Make a syrup of a third of a
pint of sugar and a pint of water. Into the syrup put a quart of fine
ripe strawberries and let boil for five minutes. Then freeze the
mixture. Whip half a pint of cream, work it into the strawberries, and
serve in as dainty a fashion as possible.
And the amount of money required to furnish forth a table with dinner
No. 2? Not a cent over two dollars for four persons.
Asparagus Soup
But, for fear that to many that may seem too small an amount for just
the kind of dinner they want to give, I will try again. Since we have
decided that asparagus must appear in some form at every dinner while
its season lasts, we will start dinner No. 3 with asparagus soup. This
is made by cooking the tender parts of the asparagus in salted water
for a few minutes. Before they get quite tender drain till dry and
cold. If there are two bunches of asparagus put them into a saucepan
with four ounces of butter, two finely chopped onions, a lump of
sugar, and a little white pepper. Moisten with a pint of white broth
and let cook for ten minutes. Then rub through a sieve, heat again and
serve.
Green Peas with Mint
After the soup, crabs--soft-shell crabs dipped in beaten egg and
crumbs and fried. Serve nothing but tartar sauce with them. Then have
a couple of cunning little spring chickens broiled. Have new potatoes
chopped and baked in cream served with the chickens, and have also new
green peas. Try boiling with them a small bunch of mint and a small
onion, both of which are to be removed before the peas are served. You
will find that the peas have acquired a delightful flavor from their
contact with the other vegetables. Of course salt and pepper and
butter are to be added as when they are cooked in the ordinary way.
For a salad have some hothouse tomatoes peeled and sliced; lay them on
a flat dish, and on each slice heap a little chopped lettuce mixed
with mayonnaise.
Let us borrow the dessert from dinner No. 2 to put the finishing touch
to this last dinner. I don't know a better one, but if you do there's
nothing to prevent your using it.
And, do your best, if you are to serve dinner No. 3 for four persons
you cannot make it cost over three dollars.
Are you satisfied, now, that I know how to make dinners grow?
JUNE
"_For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a stratagem._"
Clams West Island Style
"CLAMS are good and plentiful now," said the fish dealer one day, and
as I was in the frame of mind to take him at his word I hastily ran
over in my mind the various ways in which this delectable fish may be
prepared, the while I ordered from him the quantity I thought I could
use. It doesn't take very long to sum up the gastronomical
possibilities of the clam that are cherished in the minds of most
housekeepers, you will admit. But, with time and opportunity favoring,
there is room for expansion of ideas with regard to clams. For
instance, this is one way to expand: Poach, say, a pint of them in
their own liquor, then drain off the liquor, adding to the clams milk
thickened with egg yolks and seasoned with pepper and salt; forget
economy and put in the butter you know it requires to make the flavor
perfect, and on top of all have some tiny rice croquettes. You can't
know till you try it just what this dish may reveal served at
breakfast. But I will not spoil the story by telling you in advance.
If, however, it's for luncheon that you would be thinking of having
them cooked in this way, add the juice of an onion to them.
Clam and Lobster in Shells
If you trust to me so far as to adopt the foregoing way of cooking
clams you certainly will try this next way of preparing them at the
slightest provocation. Have as many as you like and chop them. Add to
them an equal quantity of chopped boiled lobster. Sprinkle in some
parsley, also chopped, and butter to the amount above recommended.
Season with white pepper and salt, and with the mixture fill some of
the deepest clam shells, sprinkle bread crumbs over the top and brown
in a hot oven. This may be counted on at any time for a luncheon dish
when you are planning to go some persons who have entertained you at
least one better.
Stuffed Baked Cucumbers
Before I forget it I am going to tell you of a dish that to my sorrow is
rather uncommon, even among those who think they dine well. It's nothing
less than a stuffed, baked cucumber--that is, those are the essentials
of the dish. The potentials are to be classified by you after you have
partaken of it. Cut the cucumbers in two lengthwise without peeling
them, scoop out all the seeds, and fill to heaping each half with a
highly seasoned mixture of bread crumbs; moisten with melted butter and
brown in a hot oven. Vary this stuffing at your own sweet will--add a
few chopped olives or some chopped pimientos--Spanish sweet peppers you
know--but have bread crumbs enough to insure the dish getting browned in
shape.
Fried Cucumbers
If the idea of cooking cucumbers assimilates itself harmoniously with
your ideas of gastronomy you may not hesitate to try a dish of fried
cucumbers. And don't let any one infect your mind with the idea that
they are especially indigestible. They're not. Peel them first, then
slice them into quarter-inch slices, say, then dip in beaten egg, then
in crumbs, and then fry to a delicate brown in a little butter. Try
either way of cooking the cucumbers with a tender spring chicken
broiled. For if you are not deprived of your rights nowadays you
should be finding "broilers" in good condition and not too high in
price. You see of game there is little to be said in the Eastern
markets during this month; so if you are trying to do the handsome
thing in the bird line you've not much of a list from which to make a
selection. To be sure you have a right to inquire at market for brant
just now, come to think of it. You will be apt to find them, and in
good condition, too. Roasted shall we say? With them new potatoes of
course. Don't tell me you can't afford them, I know better. And you
can also afford to secure some new summer squash to go with the
roasted brant. Don't ask me where it comes from. I only know that in
every up-to-date market it is on sale. So are young, sweet little
carrots that appeal to you for a white cream sauce like that you serve
with cauliflower.
By now you may reasonably be ordering blackberries if you are longing
for a change. But my advice is to stick to the strawberry while it
will stick to you. By the way, if you are to "do up" strawberries, get
the first "natives" that come to town. Get them, you know, before they
are soft from overripeness, and next winter when set on your table
just as they are, or with the syrup of them jellied with a bit of
gelatine, you will see the wisdom of being forehanded with them.
"Give us breakfasts; tell us housekeepers what we can put before our
families for the first meal of the day in summer that shall drive away
the morning sulks."
Thus did a matron young neither in years nor in experience beseech me
as I set out for market one day. And while I was parleying with the
marketman as to the ways and means and the whys and wherefores of
things edible that plaintive "Give us breakfasts" rang so insistently
in my ears that I could pay no attention to viands essentially
suitable for later meals, but fell to thinking and planning breakfasts
which should be antidotes--antidotes for that ill which more than any
other human ailment is strengthened by recognition, the "morning
sulks."
And my first definite plan took shape in this wise: Cherries, for this
is the month _par excellence_ for that delicious fruit, cherries with
some green leaves piled upon cracked ice in such a manner that the
sight of them refreshes, while to taste of them leads one to think
"All's well with the world." And then, to follow, there must be
croquettes of fish; all kinds are so abundant now that it is only a
case of paying one's money and taking one's choice. But whatever fish
is chosen, the croquettes should be smaller than those for use at
luncheon or dinner, for the eye is repelled at breakfast-time by sight
of large portions. With croquettes the daintiest and lightest parsley
omelette imaginable should be served, it seems to me, and there you
have a simple breakfast, easy of accomplishment, but one sure to be
appreciated by King Sulks himself.
Iced Watermelon; Fried Chicken with Cream
My second plan, when it assumes tangible shape, shall be like this:
Watermelons, not cut up into ungainly chunks with juice and seeds
playing at hide-and-seek in one's plate, but with the pretty pink
portion cut into two-inch cubes, say, with all the seeds removed, and
sent to table after being well cooled, fancifully piled on shaven ice.
If you don't mind a little fuss and bother, you may after it is cut up
sprinkle the melon well with powdered sugar, put it into the freezer
and frappé but not freeze it, and then send it to table. To the
palates of many of this day and generation watermelon well chilled
comes as a boon, for the best of men now and then are afflicted with a
thirst these warm mornings which nothing save ice-water seems to
quench, but the physicians and moralists have held forth at such
length on the subject that one feels like a guilty thing upon taking a
drink of cold water before breaking fast. Now you are going to ask
what will be quite good enough to follow watermelon, and for answer I
shall recommend chicken, or fowl, boiled the previous day, and cut
into neat pieces, then browned well in butter, with hot cream poured
over it just before it is sent to the table. If you want a delightful
adjunct for the chicken, let it be cold asparagus, with lemon juice
and salt sprinkled over it. If you have never partaken of cold
asparagus at breakfast, there is a new pleasure in store for you, for
good as this vegetable is hot at dinner or luncheon, it seems
especially apt when served cold in the morning.
Quite as attractive, and simpler in preparation, perhaps, you will
find my third recipe for an antidote, it goes something like this: To
begin with, blackberries, growing better and more abundant every day;
to follow the blackberries smoked beef tossed in hot cream which has
been seasoned with cayenne pepper, and thickened a trifle with corn
starch, and--as a complement for the smoked beef you will desire
something sour--try watercress dressed with lemon juice and salt,
unless you are so enamored of tomatoes that you prefer them to any
other vegetable in the morning, now.
My next (really I don't mean this to read like an enigma) idea if you
choose to put it into action will cause your breakfast table to answer
to this description: Raspberries, sweetened a bit, tossed in whipped
cream and put into paper cases which come on purpose for the carrying
out of dainty table schemes, and then chilled on the ice for at least
an hour before serving. Trouble? Oh, yes, there's some trouble
involved, but your reward will be swift and sure, my word for it.
Something exceptionally dainty and palate-appealing must follow the
raspberries so prepared, and how does the thought of veal, minced
finely and seasoned perfectly, with poached eggs on top, coincide with
your idea of the fitness of things?
Ham Toast
Very soon we shall have currants in abundance, and it has always
seemed to me that when one is to have ham for breakfast they go
particularly well for a first course. And the ham is entitled to
different treatment in summer from that which it receives in the cold
weather. For instance, just now if you have slices of toast and
sprinkle lightly over them grated ham mixed with grated cheese, and
then put them in a hot oven till the cheese is dissolved, your family
will be your debtor to the extent of one new and distinct
gastronomical emotion.
Gooseberry Cream
You will soon be able to get desirable gooseberries in the market, and
while the average housekeeper will be engaged in reckoning their
possibilities if "baked in a pie," you will, if you but follow my
advice, cook them in sugar till tender, strain through a sieve, cool
the purée, then boil it down and cool once more, that it may be in
readiness for the next morning's breakfast, served with whipped cream
flavored with lemon. You will find that this will pave the way
excellently for a fine bluefish, properly broiled, and flanked by a
tomato omelet.
It is not in my province at present to prescribe the different cakes,
muffins, and rolls that should accompany the foregoing dishes, for
every cook-book sets forth an array of such recipes from which to
select one for every day in the year. Neither do I presume to suggest
to any woman in what she shall be clothed. No, when I go into the
subject of dress for the breakfast table it will be to exploit my
ideas upon the way that men should array themselves.
* * * * *
Whatever other faults the out-of-season strawberry may have it cannot
be said of it that it induces satiety. And I wonder if the season of
"natives" could be long enough to have that effect on the palate.
Probably. But this isn't the place to go into a discussion of that
side of the question.
Strawberry Fritters
Serving strawberries is or should be an every-day occurrence while the
season lasts. I have told you in other places of two or three ways of
serving them that I hope you found worthy a place among your
collection of recipes for dainty dishes. But I believe I've said
nothing about strawberry fritters. And in case you have never tried
them let me suggest that you have them soon prepared in this way: Get
the very largest strawberries you can find. Take off the hulls and
cover them entirely with any sort of marmalade, preferably apricot,
then roll them in macaroon crumbs, dip them one at a time into the
lightest frying batter you know how to make and fry them in very hot
fat. Drain and roll them in powdered sugar before serving. A really
delicious dish you will find these fritters, quite good enough to be
served at dessert for the very best dinner you know how to arrange.
Strawberry Pudding
It comes to pass sometimes, you know, that one will have on hand a
pint or so of strawberries that can hardly be called _passée_, still
they have lost their pristine freshness and show symptoms of becoming
soft. Well, the best way to serve them is to heat them through in a
little syrup, not letting them lose their shape or their color. Then
put them into a pudding dish and cover them with a half-inch layer of
bread-crumbs. Make a custard of four eggs and a quart of milk,
seasoning it with a little grated nutmeg, pour into the dish with the
berries and bread-crumbs and bake for half an hour. It may be served
either hot or cold. And you will have reason to be pleased with
yourself for having turned out an appetizing sweet, and one that will
help you to foster that pet belief of every housekeeper, namely, that
you are past mistress in the art of domestic economy.
Strawberry Jelly
Another dainty sweet can be made by mashing a quart of strawberries
with half a pint or so of sugar, and then letting them stand for half
an hour while you are making a syrup of half a pint of sugar and the
same quantity of water. When this syrup has boiled twenty minutes mix
with it an ounce of gelatine dissolved in half a pint of water. Take
the syrup from the fire and strain the strawberries through a fine
sieve into it. Stand the bowl containing the mixture on the ice and
whip briskly for five minutes, then add the whipped whites of four
eggs and keep right on beating till it has the grace to thicken. Then
turn it into a number of small moulds or one large one. When it is to
be served unmould on the prettiest dish you own, sprinkle powdered
sugar over the top and pour a little whipped cream round in a fanciful
shape for a border.
Strawberry Salad
If you are going to make a strawberry salad, and I think you will
after I tell you how, you should have the strawberries as fresh as
possible. Cut them in halves, and if they are the bouncer variety cut
them in quarters. Put them into a basin with as much sugar as you
think they will need; to one quart of berries add a wineglass of
brandy, a tablespoonful of strained lemon juice, and then pack in ice
till they are all but frozen. Dish up in a pile when serving and put a
border of whipped cream round the salad.
Pear Salad
A salad of almost any kind of fruit makes an appetizing dish for
luncheon or for dinner. One of pears is really delicious if the pears
are peeled, cored, and cut in thin slices, laid in a dish, sprinkled
ever so lightly with powdered sugar, and have a few drops of brandy or
rum poured over them. Of course this salad, like all others made of
fruit, needs to be thoroughly chilled before it is served, to have its
appetizing qualities at their best.
Pineapple Salad
If a pineapple salad seems to you a fitting dessert for the particular
luncheon you have in mind, it is easily prepared. Be sure that the
pineapples, two of them we'll say, are perfectly ripe; shred them
thoroughly and throw away the core. Put the shredded fruit into a deep
glass dish, and pour over it a good half-pint of powdered sugar mixed
with a tablespoon each of brandy and curaçoa. This salad should stand
for about three hours before serving, so that the sugar may become
quite dissolved.
Salad of Several Fruits
And a salad of several kinds of fruits makes an altogether charming
dish. Try it some time. Have half a pound of perfectly ripe cherries,
remove the stalks and stones; have the same quantity of currants, but
have a part of them red and the other part white, just to make the
dish a bit prettier, and have a quarter of a pound each of raspberries
and strawberries. Sprinkle over the fruit plenty of powdered white
sugar and three tablespoons of brandy. Shake about lightly that the
sugar may dissolve before it is served.
Crystallized Raspberries
Some day when you have been so fortunate as to get some particularly
large and good raspberries, fix them up in this way: Hull them, of
course, and then dip them one at a time in the beaten white of an egg
mixed with a tablespoonful of water. As you take the raspberries from
the egg roll them, one at a time, in powdered sugar and put at short
distances from each other on a sheet of white paper to become
perfectly dry, which will take two or three hours. When dry keep on
ice till served for dessert. And a dainty dessert you will find it, my
word for it. Strawberries and blackberries, also, may be treated in
the same way, but I doubt if they will find the favor that will be
shown the raspberries.
Raspberry Cream
And a raspberry cream is pretty sure to be a favorite dish in almost
any company. It is very simple, too. Just press the raspberries
through a fine sieve to remove the seeds; mix in well half a pint of
cream and sufficient sugar to sweeten. Beat it well, and as fast as
froth rises skim it off and put it on a hair sieve. Put the cream that
is left in a glass dish, pile the whipped cream on the top, mounting
it as high as possible, and serve.
Banana Cream
Another delicious fruit cream is made by pressing half a dozen bananas
through a fine hair sieve into a basin, mixing with the fruit one and
one-half pints of cream, flavored with vanilla, and then passing the
whole through a fine sieve. Freeze the cream a little--till it just
thickens--and then add to it a pint of cream, two tablespoonfuls of
sugar and a wineglassful of Madeira. Keep in the freezer for two or
three hours before serving.
Peach Cream
This you will find is also a tempting way in which to make a peach
cream, but if the peaches are not perfectly ripe it will be a good
idea to stew them for two or three minutes in a little syrup. The
peaches, of course, will need more sugar than the bananas do, but no
hard and fast rule can be given for the amount--just sweeten them
according to your judgment.
Have you noticed that with all I've had to say about strawberries
herein, not once have I quoted Dr. Boteler's remark concerning them?
And yet I've heard it said that a woman finds it as impossible to
refrain from mentioning the famous saying when writing about
strawberries, if only half a dozen lines, as does a man to omit all
mention of Izaak Walton when he has anything to say about going
a-fishing.
JULY
"_Unlike my subject now shall be my song;
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long._"
IT was with the thought of Hortensia's garden party weighing somewhat
heavily on my mind that I made my customary tour "all on a market
day," for she had beseeched me with tears in her voice to plan for her
a list of appetizing dishes to put before her guests which should not
be so elaborate as though meant for a grand dinner, nor yet so simple
as if intended for the refreshment of a Sunday-school picnic.
Hortensia would, I felt sure, see to it that the piazzas, grounds, and
tent-like buffet were so decorated and adorned that one would at once
conclude that Flora herself had taken a personal interest in the
appointments, and I firmly resolved that, come what would, my part of
the programme should be carried out in such a manner that reasonable
grounds should be furnished for the supposition that no less a person
than Epicurus had had a finger in the pie. Therefore it was with a
full appreciation of the responsibility I had assumed that I opened
negotiations with the marketman.
Roasted Doe Birds
As all the world knows, a garden party wouldn't be much of an affair
without game, and fortunately for the hosts and hostesses at such
merrymakings, there are in market at this season now fine doe birds,
which may be seasoned with a little salt, a suspicion of Madeira,
roasted in a quick oven, and depended on to furnish delight, when
thoroughly cooled, to the most captious of guests.
Game Tarts
Another delightful manner of serving game is in the form of
tarts--squab or pigeon tarts; line the tart moulds with paste, and
then fill with the breasts only of the birds, adding a few slices of
mushrooms and moistening with a liquor made by boiling the bones of
the birds in a little water well seasoned with salt, a bit of pepper,
and a spoonful or two of sherry. Cover the tarts with the paste, have
perfectly cold, and unmould before serving.
Turkey in Aspic
Just now one may find tender and toothsome young turkeys in the market
stalls, waiting to do duty at any event to which they may be called,
and for the particular occasion in which we are interested at this
instant there can be no better way of serving them than by boiling
till tender and then cutting into small pieces, moulding them with the
help of aspic jelly into shapes so attractive that one longs to learn
if they can be quite as gratifying to the palate as to the eye. And,
by the way, what a godsend aspic jelly is in the preparation of dishes
to be served cold!
Beef Tongue
Another cold dish which is looked upon as being a sort of commonplace
stand-by is of boiled tongue, but I have found that it is easily
raised to a level bordering on the ideal if prepared in this way: Boil
the beef tongue till tender in water which has been highly seasoned
with vegetables, herbs, and spice; remove the skin, brush the tongue
with beaten egg, strew it thickly with bread-crumbs, and bake for half
an hour in a hot oven, basting frequently with port wine. Let it get
perfectly cold before slicing and have the slices as thin as possible.
Near to the tongue, as a relish for it, and indeed for all of the
foregoing dishes, one's sense of the fitness of things approves the
idea of having crisp, thin slices of toast, sprinkled with the finest
little bits of green peppers imaginable, and masked with a thin layer
of mayonnaise.
In fact, one, if not the best, way to serve salads at an outdoor
festivity, is upon thin slices of toast of white or graham bread, as
one chooses. For instance, a lettuce and anchovy salad made by
shredding the lettuce and cutting the anchovies in two and dressing
with lemon juice and a dash of cayenne, with the yolks of hard-boiled
eggs finely minced, seems to call for just such a tiny bit of toast as
one gets in this way of serving, to carry out one's idea of perfection
in little things.
French Sandwiches
And after I had decided that the salads at Hortensia's garden party
should be so served, it was quite natural that the idea of sandwiches
should suggest itself to my mind; but before the idea had time to
really assume a definite shape I hastily but conclusively rebelled
against the prospect of seeing those time-honored edibles set forth
for the delectation of Hortensia's guests in the guise of the common
or restaurant variety. And this is the way I overcame what bade fair
to be a troublesome difficulty: Rolls, deliciously fresh French rolls,
with a circular piece of the top crust removed and kept whole, while
all the soft part of the roll was scooped out to make room for a
filling of chicken, lobster, or sardines, after which the little cover
was put back into place, and the comfort and joy of the partaker was
an assured thing.
Musk Melon Jelly
After the sandwich scheme was fully arranged, it seemed as though the
"substantials" were well looked out for, and that I must be giving a
thought to the fruits which were to make glad the senses of those
bidden to the feast. Not any great amount of deep thinking was
required to make a selection, however, for there was an abundance at
hand from which to choose; there were plums, juicy and sweet, of
richest hues--purple, red, and green, and others of the most tempting
golden color imaginable, and certainly no well-furnished table could
afford to be without either specimen. Grapes, too, there were in an
infinite variety, but for Hortensia's party I chose only black
Hamburgs and Muscats. Of course, I knew she must have peaches, and I
spent a weary hour in trying to find some that tasted as well as they
looked, but my labor was in vain. As a compensation for this
disappointment, however, I found cantaloupes possessing a flavor which
can only be expressed by the words "divinely perfect." And I found,
too, delicious little musk melons to be prepared in this way: Slice
the melon, removing both rind and seeds, put in a preserving pan with
a little sugar, and stew to a marmalade; rub it through a sieve,
dissolve in it a sufficient amount of gelatine, and when quite cool
mix with it stiffly whipped cream, flavored with a little essence or
liqueur, as one likes.
Cakes and ices, of course, are as important to the great and
unqualified success of a garden party as are the guests, and of the
former I decided that the varieties known as "Madeleines" and "petits
fours" would be most acceptable to all concerned, while of the latter
there could be no question as to the desirability of moussé with
peaches, chocolat parfait, and milk sherbet.
Of quite as much importance as either of the articles mentioned in the
foregoing paragraph are the bonbons, and the advice which I have
bestowed upon Hortensia in regard to them I repeat here for the
benefit of any who may care to follow it, namely: "Costly thy bonbons
as thy purse can buy."
Moss Rose
For out-of-door feasting plenty of drinks should be provided; "cups,"
whether of claret, hock, or champagne, should be made on the spot and
not prepared beforehand, as the taste of stale soda water is
absolutely objectionable. Cider, if iced, is really delicious, while
a drink which the English find highly refreshing is called "moss
rose," and is made of equal quantities of tea, coffee, and "cup,"
either of the champagne or claret brand.
* * * * *
I have a story to tell you. It has nothing of mystery in it, neither
need it, necessarily, prove harrowing; it is far from being romantic,
and there isn't a glimmer of sentiment in it. It hasn't a moral; if it
had I shouldn't relate it. No, it is just true; that's the best of it
and it's the worst of it, too, as you will admit, because it isn't
without a parallel.
It--my story--is of a very charming old farmhouse situated "near to
Nature's heart."
At this farmhouse was gathered together a small company of people
known to the natives of that section of the country as "summer
boarders." To themselves this same company was known as a band of
"nature-worshippers." One day they were all seated in the shade on a
little knoll, each one trying to outdo the others in the matter of
rhapsodizing the "eternal hills," the "books to be found in brooks,"
etc., when up spake one of their number who had hitherto been silent:
"Oh, I would give all the delights that this place possesses for one
hour in the company of an ice-chest stocked as it could be with the
good things in market now."
Of course this was philistinism of the rankest sort, and it savored of
treason, too. But the offender held her head high and parried well, if
the truth must be told, the rebukes of her hearers. The mischief was
done, however; the seeds of discontent fell upon fertile ground, made
receptive by a long diet of corned beef, curd cheese and "plenty of
milk."
The next morning every conveyance the farmer-landlord could muster was
pressed into service to take his guests to the station. Every one of
them had received a sudden call to Boston. But none confided to his or
her neighbor the exact nature of this post haste summons to the Hub,
and when the train pulled into the station they scattered in different
directions, hurriedly saying to each other: "See you on the 4.30 train
this afternoon; good-by."
And sure enough they were all aboard the train as agreed, each of them
with an armful of bundles. Nobody volunteered any information as to
what his or her bundles contained, and nobody asked any questions.
They simply ignored the existence of them and talked of how good it
would seem to get back to Peaceful Valley once more, with its
quietness and vast opportunities for reflection.
That night each of them had a private audience with the landlady and
the next day at dinner was seen the result of the trip to Boston and
of the said private audience.
First of all was brought in some delicious Spanish mackerel, broiled
to a turn. These were furnished by Professor A., author of the
celebrated work "Does Angling Produce Insanity?" He said that of all
the fish in market these seemed to him just now the most desirable.
Oyster Plant with Cream
With the fish were served some of the finest oyster plants that ever
found their way into the Boston market. They were cut in pieces,
boiled in salted water till tender, then drained and served with a
tablespoonful or so of melted butter and cream enough to cover them,
having just a dash of pepper in it. A simple way of preparing them and
yet quite good enough for anybody, as you will see upon trying it. My
word for it, the Peaceful Valley boarders thought it a dish fit for
the gods.
After the mackerel had been discussed and despatched and Professor A.
had accepted with a great deal of grace the vote of thanks presented
to him, the game was brought in. This course was offered for the
delectation of his fellow-boarders by Professor B., author of "Birds I
Have Met."
There were delicious chicken grouse that had cost the professor quite
a pretty penny, viz.: two dollars and a half the pair; and plover of
various kinds that were to be had for four dollars the dozen.
Grouse Pie
And this is the way the grouse were cooked: After the feet, necks, and
pinions had been removed their bodies were divided into three pieces
and put in a stewpan with the pinions and a little chopped bacon;
after frying a bit some salt and pepper were introduced. Then were
added two tablespoonfuls of white wine for each bird; then the birds
were taken off and cooled; after which they were arranged with the
wine in a pie dish with hard-boiled eggs cut in quarters amongst them,
covered with the best pastry crust that the landlady knew how to make,
and it was pretty good, really. In fact the dish turned out a great
success, as the result of a good many conferences between the donator
of the birds and the cook. The Professor had bought, the day before,
the latest and best thing in the way of a cookery book, and after
carefully reading it had come to the conclusion that this recipe for
cooking grouse would be more easily mastered by the landlady than any
other. The beauty of a grouse pie, too, as everybody knows, lies in
its being just as good cold as it is hot.
Roasted Plover
The plovers were dressed, and with a pinch of salt and a bit of pepper
put inside of them and the thinnest possible slice of fat salt pork
tied over their breasts, were roasted for about twelve minutes in a
hot oven.
And with the game was served some of the choicest stalks of celery
that it has ever been the lot of mortal to enjoy at this time of year.
As for the fruit that was donated for this special occasion you would
consider it a treat to hear the landlady tell of it, and of the
sensations she experienced at seeing such a variety when the "apples
on the Early Harvest tree on the south side of the orchard wall were
only just beginning to get mellow."
There were plums of almost every color under the sun; there were
nectarines, the mere sight of which would make one's mouth to water;
there were delicious Delaware grapes and some little white grapes
called the Lady de Coverley, that come from California. They are just
as good, too, as one would expect from the name that has been given
them. There was a curiosity in the shape of a banana cantaloupe, and
there were all sorts of other melons, but the melon _par excellence_
was what is known as the Montreal cantaloupe. They are raised on the
banks of the St. Lawrence River, and simply refuse to grow in any
other locality. Gardeners in other places have done everything to
induce it to become naturalized, but all to no purpose. The particular
specimen that found its way to the Peaceful Valley weighed just
twenty-one pounds, and cost the purchaser $2.50. But it wasn't
extravagance to buy twenty-one pounds of such deliciousness, even if
it had cost twice that sum.
And what do you suppose these nature-worshippers did after partaking
of all the good things herein described and set forth? Well, they
went out and sat under the trees and began to talk of what Thoreau
said about huckleberries!
I came away then.
* * * * *
As a refreshing _entr'acte_ let us dwell on the subject of ices. Let
us have something more than just the ordinary way of making every-day
routine ice creams. We will say "ices"--they mean unutterable,
indescribable things that tickle the palate and cool one's very
existence simultaneously. Though after all it may be well to talk a
minute of ice creams--beginning with generalities. The first of these
I have found is that the easiest and best ice cream is made by using
one-third rich cream to two-thirds milk with sugar as desired. No eggs
and no cooking. If it is frozen smoothly it is perfect. This, however,
is but the working plan--the flavoring and the moulding are to be
arranged to suit yourself.
However, if cream is not available, then eggs and milk in the
proportion of eight eggs to one quart of milk may be used. This
requires cooking like an ordinary custard. Sugar to your taste, but
flour or cornstarch are to be left out, by all means.
If you are using fresh fruits, such as pineapple, peaches,
strawberries and the like they should not be cooked but be added to
the cream after it is frozen and just before it is packed. Candied
fruit, fruit used for frozen puddings and the like, is usually soaked
in brandy or rum before adding to the cream. At least, that's the sort
of treatment it gets from me.
Coffee Ice Cream
Just a word about coffee ice cream. For I don't think you will find
this recipe anywhere else. And it's a pity you shouldn't know of it.
Have then one pint of very strong coffee, a gill of brandy, one quart
of cream and three pints of rich milk. Then freeze and be thankful
whenever a hot day makes it possible for you to serve your coffee at
dinner in this way.
Milk Sherbet
A great many people have a preference for sherbets and of these I have
some charming things to say, for I appreciate a sherbet myself.
There's a milk sherbet that suits me down to the ground. It is made of
two quarts of milk, four cups of sugar, and the juice of six lemons.
Also the whites whipped well of two or three or more eggs as you feel
inclined to use them. Surely the lemons will curdle the milk. But
don't let that disturb you. Put it in the freezer and go ahead. It
will come out as right as right can be.
Strawberry Sherbet
For a strawberry sherbet made in this way I have a fondness that I am
not ashamed to acknowledge anywhere: Sprinkle over one quart of
strawberries half a pound of sugar; let it stand three hours, then
strain through a coarse cloth, squeezing hard. To this juice add three
pints of water, as much sugar as it seems to you to need, the juice of
a lemon and freeze.
Pineapple Sherbet
A pineapple sherbet is made in the same way, though not as much sugar
will be required probably.
Peach Sherbet
And for a peach sherbet follow the same directions, adding a
wineglassful of brandy before freezing.
Currant Sherbet
A currant sherbet is a deliciously refreshing thing to have either in
anticipation or in reality on a hot day. Boil a quart of water and a
pound of sugar to a syrup. Skim and stir with it a pint of fresh
currant juice which has been heated with a little sugar. Let this cool
thoroughly, then add the beaten whites of four eggs and freeze. For
myself, I am quite through shying when anyone says artificial coloring
in food--I have found the vegetable colorings as innocuous as so much
water, and worth their weight in gold in cases like the present,
namely the coloring of this currant sherbet. The only drawback about
which is that of itself it will not be pretty to the eye--therefore
hesitate not, but in with a few drops of carmine coloring.
Champagne Sherbet
A champagne ice isn't such a high-roller refreshment as it sounds. To
begin with it's a rank solecism to freeze any but the most inexpensive
of champagnes, and then you don't require many other good things for
your ice--the champagne is enough in itself. You just make a very
strong and sweet lemonade--a quart of it and half freeze it; then pour
in the champagne and wholly freeze the mixture. Get the champagne into
the freezer as soon as you can after it is opened before its volatile
gas escapes. If you prefer a more hilarious refreshment just keep on
with your use of intoxicants by adding after the champagne a
wineglassful of brandy. Also, if you like, you may add the beaten
whites of eggs, _ad libitum_.
Champagne with Strawberries
While we are on the subject of frozen champagne and the entering wedge
has done its work let me speak a good word for champagne with
strawberries. Freeze together a quart of champagne and a pint of sugar
syrup. Just at the last add one pint of strawberries which have been
halved and quartered and marinaded in a little brandy and sugar for
about fifteen minutes. Cherries used in this way will make you ready
to declare that till you tried it you didn't know how to live.
Claret Sherbet
A claret sherbet is even better than it sounds if you make it in this
way: Rub the peel of two oranges off with plenty of loaf sugar and
then make a syrup of this sugar and a pint of water. When cool, stir
in the juice of three oranges, a quart of claret, a tablespoonful of
brandy and the whites of four eggs whipped to a stiff froth and freeze
slowly. Sometimes there is used in this recipe the zest of lemon peel
instead of oranges and then there is used some orange marmalade,
heated and strained of course. Or any jelly which you may fancy goes
in very harmoniously with this concoction.
Kirsch Sherbet
A kirsch sherbet is a delicacy that doesn't put itself in the way of
ordinary mortals every day in the week. That's why its welcome is a
soulful one when it does appear. You have a pint of chablis and a pint
of any preferred fruit syrup, which you freeze. Then at the last there
is added to it half a pint of kirschenwasser.
By the way, before I forget it, you may treat watermelon with the
frozen champagne exactly as prescribed hereinbefore for strawberries
and champagne.
All these are but a few of the ices familiar to expert cooks nowadays.
But each one herein given is capable of so many variations that I am
leaving that part of it to you. Do you know that I am saddened more
and more every day as I contemplate the power that lies in suggestion
and the stupidity of people who will not avail themselves of it? But
this is not perhaps the sort of talk you look for in a book that has
to do with the material things of life. Very well, we will cut it off.
AUGUST
"_Ah, you flavor everything; you are the vanilla of society._"
ABOUT the only time when I am really anxious to have the right to vote
is when some legislation tending toward the preservation of the
lobster is on the docket. Then, if I had the opportunity, I should not
only vote with both hands for a "close season" on that delectable
shellfish, but I should lecture as long as I could get any one to
listen to me, either on Boston Common or in Faneuil Hall, in an
endeavor to induce others, men and women, to vote with me. I believe I
should even resort to bribery where I thought it would do--and I am a
fair judge of individuals who don't require their "inducements" to be
too heavily coated with sugar--in order to put it through.
As matters are now there are almost as many ways for preparing lobster
as there are lobsters in the sea, and in order to try them all you
would better be about it before the supply is utterly exhausted, or
some one in authority calls "time."
Devilled Lobster
For devilling lobsters I have a budget of recipes, but this seems to
be about the best one in the lot: Split the lobster, after it is
boiled, in two lengthwise, and put it into a baking-pan; season with
salt and cayenne, and pour over it plenty of melted butter, and bake
in a hot oven for five minutes. Just before serving spread over it a
sauce of melted butter thickened with flour and seasoned with a few
drops of lemon juice, a sprinkling of mustard, and a little Madeira or
sherry wine.
Lobster Toast
Lest you should get so attached to this devilled lobster of mine, I
hasten to put here an alluring sounding recipe, hoping you may be
induced to try it before forming the devilled lobster habit. First fry
a sliced onion in enough butter so that there will be no browning of
it. Take out the onion in two or three minutes, as it is only intended
to flavor the butter, and then fry in this butter the diced meat of
two boiled lobsters for two or three minutes. Sprinkle in some chopped
parsley and salt and pepper as you like it. Pour over the lobster a
pint of white wine, and as soon as this gets to the boiling point take
out the lobster and put it on slices of toast. Into the boiling wine
put all the butter from the lobsters, just a few chopped mushrooms,
if they are at hand, and pour over the slices of lobster toast. Have
this just as hot as possible when sending to table, and you will find
the alluringness of this dish is not in the telling of it only.
Lobster Tartlet
A lobster tartlet is a gastronomical dream, let me tell you, while we
are on the subject, and after you try it you will be telling the same
story. You should have tartlet moulds made of the very best puff
paste, which you fill with diced cold boiled lobster, chopped cooked
mushrooms, a caper or two, and a bit of mayonnaise.
Lobster à la Newberg
Lobster _à la_ Newberg is such a staple dish that it seems almost like
plagiarizing something or somebody to put it on record here. However,
as no list of lobster dishes is correct without it, here it shall go.
Cut the boiled lobster into two-inch pieces and fry over a
tremendously hot fire, either in a chafing dish or on a range, for
just two or three seconds; lessen the heat then, or pull the
frying-pan into cooler quarters, while you cover the lobster with
thick, rich cream. Let this come to a threat to boil, then stir in say
three egg yolks to a pint of cream, the yolks stirred in a little
cream, till it thickens a bit. Just a dash of sherry, say two
tablespoonfuls, and there you are.
Stuffed Lobster Tails
For stuffing lobster tails cut the meat of the lobsters up rather
finely, and add to it half its quantity of mushrooms. Fry in butter a
bit, dilute with a little cream, season highly with cayenne and salt
and fill the half tails with the mixture. Coat with bread crumbs that
have been stirred about in melted butter, and brown in a hot oven.
Lobster Croquettes
The making of lobster croquettes is a pleasant sort of business, for
there is so much anticipation of good to come stirred in with it. Cut
the meat--don't chop it--rather finely: moisten with a bit of cream
and the butter from the lobster. Mould and roll in crumbs and fry a
golden brown. Don't go to seasoning these croquettes very highly or
the delicacy will depart from them. But you know that. And do you know
that you may add to almost any sauce used for boiled or baked fish
some diced cooked lobster to the benefit of everything and everybody
concerned? Well, you may--my word for it.
If I were to tack a sub-title to this screed it might very properly
be: "Women's Luncheons," inasmuch as it was in aid of one of these
mild social dissipations that I last perambulated through the markets.
Very properly also I might characterize the trip as a "peripatetic
wandering through the market-place," for all the while I was in quest
of edibles suitable to put before a purely feminine company I was
talking to myself about the probable origin of this form of
hospitality. When, where, and by whom it was invented? My own
conjecture as to its inception finally took this course: Algernon was
in the habit of attending a great many goings-on to which women were
never bidden. And Araminta frequently discussed with him the calls
thus made upon his time. Whereupon it came to pass that after one
particularly interesting debate on the subject, which debate was
brought to an end by the sharp, quick closing of the street door,
Araminta had an idea. An idea which she called an inspiration, nothing
less, and it had for its starting-point a luncheon, a dainty, gay
little affair, at which no black coat should be allowed to intrude.
And the _pièce de résistance_ of the meal should be a sweet called
"revenge." Oh, yes indeed, not only would her guests applaud her
originality, but the hearts of the absent males would be torn to
tatters at her assumption of independence. And doubtless Part One of
the programme was carried out to the letter, but, between you and me,
I don't believe Algernon ever lost a wink of sleep over it. In fact,
when he settled the bill I have good reasons for mistrusting that he
said something about the "game being jolly well worth the candle."
But to-day the women's luncheon is an institution, and a very chic and
dainty diversion into the bargain. And there are those who make it
their business to tell how a woman should be arrayed at such a
festivity, but that is out of my province. If, however, you would know
how the menu should read at this time of year, allow me:--
Cantaloupe.
Bouillon in cups.
Lobster patties.
Lamb cutlets with mushrooms.
String beans fried in butter.
Broiled quails.
Tomatoes stuffed with celery and mayonnaise.
Wine ice cream. Grapes. Coffee.
I almost said oysters at the beginning of the menu, but oysters we
shall have with us for several months to come, while cantaloupes are
beginning to say it's about time they were going. As yet, however,
they are just as delicious and no more expensive than they have been
at any time through the season.
Now as for bouillon. I get it canned, and think myself very fortunate
in being able to do so. But you may prefer to make your own, and if so
you probably have an always reliable recipe. _Mes congratulations._
Lobster Patties
But if you have a score of recipes for making lobster patties, I
honestly believe you will follow the one I am pleased to give you
herein. I take myself very seriously, you see. Well, prepare some of
the very best puff paste that you know how to make. Roll it out on a
floured table; with a fluted cutter cut out some rounds, put them on a
baking dish, set them on ice for fifteen minutes, then brush them over
with beaten egg. With a plain tin cutter of about half the size of the
fluted cover cut through a third of each of the rounds, dipping the
cutter in warm water every time; this will form the cover when baked.
Bake in a quick oven. When cooked lift off the cover and scoop out a
little of the soft paste inside. For the lobster filling take the
meat from a boiled lobster, cut it into very small pieces and fry a
little in butter, in a very little butter, till they just threaten to
brown. Then pour over the lobster bits enough thick cream to barely
cover them; heat this, but don't let it boil. Thicken it with two or
more beaten eggs, according to the quantity of lobster. Season
delicately with salt and a suspicion of cayenne. Have the patties hot
and the lobster hot, and arrange them on a hot dish for serving. For
dear knows that a cold or a lukewarm patty is an abomination.
Lamb Cutlets with Mushrooms
After the patties the lamb cutlets. And, mind you, they are to be
fried, not broiled. Season them well with salt and pepper, and fry in
a little butter over a brisk fire till browned on both sides. Then
drain off the butter and baste them with just a little Madeira wine.
Dress the cutlets in a circle and pour into the centre a Madeira sauce
with mushrooms. This you make by heating half a pint of any good
stock, adding to it a gill of Madeira, thickening it with a little
flour braided with butter, and adding at the last a dozen mushrooms
that have been minced and fried moderately in a little butter. You
may use sherry instead of the Madeira for basting the cutlets and for
the sauce if you like. And also you may use the tinned instead of
fresh mushrooms if you prefer to do so. For fresh mushrooms may not be
any too plenty just now, and consequently are a thought expensive.
Still, they're quite worth the price.
And now that the "law's off" probably hereabouts on quail, you will
find them in pretty good condition. Indeed, they are so good that I
hope you will just have them broiled after salting a bit, and pin your
faith to their own delicious flavor to give delight to your guests.
Have them served on toast, if you must, that has been slightly
buttered, but forget to serve any jelly with them.
I've told you elsewhere all about tomatoes stuffed with celery and
mayonnaise, so I won't go into particulars this time. But tomatoes
will not be with us at the prices for which we can now get them a
great while longer, and celery is remarkably good in quality and low
in price. So there's a good broad hint for you.
Wine Ice Cream
That wine ice cream which I have recommended is truly a delightful
confection. You have a pint of moderately rich cream, and you add to
it the yolks of five eggs and three tablespoonfuls of sugar, and then
you heat it just a trifle. Next you stir in a gill of white wine, and
then you freeze it. When quite frozen stir into it some chopped
preserved cherries. Then turn the cream into a mould packed in ice to
set till time for serving, when it is to be turned out on a cold dish.
Doesn't that sound as if it would be worth a trial?
You see I've simply said grapes in the menu because, as far as that
fruit is concerned just now, it is a case of paying your money and
taking your choice.
And what will the ladies have to drink? Suppose we say a sip of sherry
with the bouillon and a bottle of pretty good Rhine wine to be brought
in with the cutlets. And it doesn't seem to me that it would be
overdoing the matter to have a cordial finale--say crème yvette, or
crème de cacao à la vanille.
Of course, I will tell you the approximate cost of such a luncheon.
With good management it can be served, inclusive of the wines, for
twelve dollars for a dozen persons. And that is not bad, now, is it?
Didn't you just enjoy that cooling little _entr'acte_ we had in July?
I did. Let's have another. We will not have anything sweet in this,
however, we will have it cold and savory. Doesn't that hit you
favorably? There are plenty of cold and dainty savories that may come
to table as your chief dish at luncheon or at dinner or as an entrée
only, at the latter meal, according to the degree with which you
manage to put on style.
Cold Chicken Cream
There's chicken cream, for instance, made from a cold boiled or
roasted--well, bird. I don't know whether it's chicken or fowl.
Perhaps you paid for chicken and got fowl. Perhaps you paid for fowl
and wheedled the provisioner into giving you chicken. But we will say
chicken, anyway. Pick, then, all the flesh from the chicken, mince and
then pound it. Now add to it half a pint of cream stiffly whipped and
half a pint of just liquid aspic jelly. Season with salt and white
pepper and any other condiment if you like. Then have one large or
several small moulds and line them with aspic jelly and fill with the
chicken cream. Let set till cold and stiff and then unmould on slices
of very thin fried bread. Chop parsley and sprinkle over the creams
when unmoulded.
Chicken Cream with Tomato
Another way would be to line the moulds with liquid aspic and a
little tomato sauce. When this sets fill with the chicken cream as
before. If you like the cream may be omitted from the chicken and when
it is unmoulded it may be covered with a French dressing or with
mayonnaise.
Any remains of cold meat can be chopped finely, mixed with shredded
lettuce or watercress or parsley, capers, stoned olives, a truffle or
two and mayonnaise, with enough liquid aspic to stiffen it and moulded
in any way.
These do make delicious presentations of old subjects--just a little
labor and a little inventive painstaking and you have accomplished
wonders. There are so many garnishes that may be used with these cold
things to make them more of a delight that it is impossible to go
through the list. Sliced tomatoes or cucumbers or some cold cooked
vegetable with a French dressing--any quantity of them you see once
you begin to cast about for them.
No one knows better than I do that to make the conventional aspic
jelly is a labor that involves terrible risks as regards the breaking
of the commandment concerning profanity. I don't mind telling you that
I found it was having such a degenerating effect on my whole moral
nature that I hit upon using just the best gelatine I can buy--this is
not the place to name it, however--and dissolving it in a clear
stock--white or brown as the case demands. Try it in making these
aspic things.
Cold Cutlets in Jelly
You know, of course, that cold cutlets are the most impossible
left-over thing with which the housekeeper has to deal. But prepare
some savory jelly with stock and tomato sauce and coat these left-over
cutlets with it some day and have them for luncheon. You will confess
that you have learned something worth knowing.
Then there are numberless kinds of fish, almost any kind in fact that
doesn't run to bone, that will flake well; dip the pieces in a jelly
of this kind diluted with any kind of sauce--Hollandaise, vinaigrette,
tomato, and so on to the end of the list. Now, mind, when I say coat
these viands with this jelly I don't mean for you to give them a
regular ulster for a coat--but a little thin diaphanous jacket,
suitable for hot weather, you understand.
When you can use cream in the jellies, either whipped or straight,
the daintiness of them is increased by just so much.
There are some kinds of game--dark game especially--that you may slice
and coat with this jelly using currant jelly with it also and get some
combinations that will drive your friends to despair.
Bear in mind that these jellied things must be kept on ice till served
and the plates on which they are served must also be ice-cold. It does
seem too bad for me to have to burden my soul with such instructions
for you--they should be needless. But when good fortune takes me to
luncheon in a crack hotel and I get my salad on a hot plate, or a hot
plate set before me for the serving of it, I am forced to the
conclusion that the mental lightweights are still in evidence and
there's no knowing but what some of them in a moment of lucidity may
become the owner of this book. Therefore I go into tiresome details,
occasionally.
SEPTEMBER
"_But the fruit that falls without shaking
Indeed is too mellow for me._"
THERE are persons, as some of us can testify, who appear to be
horrified if a Manhattan cocktail is mentioned in the most casual
manner, and who are warranted to shy if they but get a whiff of a
Martini, but give them a chance to partake of an oyster cocktail and
you have added a substantial item to their sum of worldly pleasure.
Almost everybody likes an oyster cocktail when it is judiciously
mixed, but folk of the ilk above referred to do seem to have a
peculiar fondness for it. Now, is it because a course of total
abstinence has rendered their palates extremely sensitive to highly
seasoned impressions, or is it that the name has a witchery that
beguiles them into thinking that they are tasting a forbidden thing
without sacrificing a principle? I don't know. You tell.
Oyster Cocktail
And tell me, too, if this is the way you set about preparing one of
these palate-ticklers. Half a dozen little oysters dropped into a
glass, with their juice, a little lemon juice, four miserly drops of
Tabasco sauce, half a teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce, a
dessertspoonful of tomato ketchup, and several grains of salt. Or do
you substitute horse-radish for the Tabasco? They tell me it's
frequently done, but for myself I prefer the Tabasco. It is a vexed
question, anyway, this matter of what shall be put on a raw oyster to
make it more palatable; the real dyed-in-the-wool epicurean vows that
it is nothing short of barbarism to use more than the tiniest pinch of
salt, while many a discriminating gourmet declares that the more you
do for an oyster the more it does for you. So there you are.
Baked Oysters
But epicureans and laymen alike are agreed on one point, and that is
the way to bake oysters so that they are worthy of a place on any
table. Put into a small lined stewpan a quarter of a pound of butter
and one teacupful of cream, stirring it well over a quick fire till
hot. Add a wineglass of sherry, a tablespoonful of anchovy sauce, and
a skimpy sprinkling of cayenne and grated lemon peel. Stir over the
fire till it bubbles once. Then pour half of the mixture into a baking
dish. Lay the oysters on it, besprinkle them with a scanty covering
of bread-crumbs and grated Parmesan cheese, with salt and pepper. Pour
the remainder of the cream over all and brown to a good color.
Once one gets in the way of baking oysters as herein prescribed, one's
recipe for scalloped oysters, no matter how true and tried, will be
lost sight of.
Oyster Stew with Cream
And the same fate will likely befall one's rule for making an oyster
stew, provided one adopts this suggestion for preparing oysters with
cream. In the first place there should be put into a saucepan a pint
of cream with a tiny piece of onion and a little mace tied up in a
muslin bag. When the cream boils thicken it with a tablespoonful of
flour mixed with two tablespoonfuls of cream. Heat a quart of oysters,
with their liquor and sufficient salt. Then drain and put them into a
dish which is to be sent to table; pour the cream over them, removing
the onion and mace. With the dish serve toasted bread or biscuit.
Devilled Fried Oysters
Undoubtedly all your friends are ready to take oath that you do have
at your table the very best fried oysters they ever tasted. But the
next time that you regale them with the dish, let the oysters be
devilled and then fried. Wipe the oysters perfectly dry and lay them
on a flat dish. Have a goodly supply of butter at just the melting
point, mix with it a little salt, a suspicion of cayenne, and a
certainty of lemon juice; pour this over the oysters and leave them in
it for at least ten minutes. Then roll them in a paper of cracker
crumbs or sifted bread-crumbs; dip them into beaten egg, then into the
crumbs again, and fry in boiling lard.
Stuffed Fried Oysters
Or you can make a dish of fried oysters even more elaborate if you
will chop six ounces of the white meat of any fowl with one ounce of
fat salt pork, pound it in a mortar till your stock of patience
threatens to strike, then chop a few truffles to the size of peas, and
add them with a little white pepper to the chopped meat. Have four
dozen oysters wiped dry, and with a sharp knife make an opening in the
side of each one; fill the holes with the mixture. Dip the oysters in
crumbs, then in egg, again in the crumbs, and fry.
Oysters, Celery Roast
Now see to it that your guests don't exhaust their pet adjectives on
either of these dishes. They will need at least a good round dozen of
superlatives after an experience with a celery roast of oysters. And
this is the way the story goes: Have ready some dainty slices of
bread, toasted, with the crusts removed. Wipe dry and broil some of
the smallest oysters you can get; broil till they begin to shrivel all
round, then put them on the toast. Sprinkle a little salt over them;
cover them with some finely chopped celery. Salt the celery a bit
also. Have ready cream heated, but not boiled, and pour it over the
whole. Serve it as hot as possible, and rejoice in the fact that you
have demonstrated how divine a thing an oyster may be made.
Oyster Pie
It's a thousand pities that everybody doesn't know how to make good
puff paste, for without that knowledge it is impossible to make a good
oyster pie; but in case you are an adept at puff paste making, just
try concocting one some fine day. Line a pie dish with the paste and
fill it with uncooked rice; butter the paste that covers the edge of
the dish and lay a cover of puff paste over the pie; press the edges
together a bit and trim them neatly. Meanwhile prepare a quart of
oysters by draining them from their liquor and chopping them fine. Mix
a teaspoonful of cornstarch in a very little cold milk, and pour over
slowly half a pint of boiling milk or cream; when it is thick and
smooth add to it an ounce of butter. Season the oysters with salt and
pepper, and stir them into the mixture; simmer for five minutes. When
the pie-crust is done remove it from the oven, take off the top crust,
turn out all the rice and fill the dish with the oysters; put on the
cover again, and set in the oven to get thoroughly hot.
They do say the recollection of an oyster pie so made is one of the
sweetest echoes to start when memory plays a tune on the heart, even
though one lives to be as old as Methuselah.
Pickled Oysters
And now let me tell you of a way to prepare oysters so that they may
come under the head of stand-bys, so dear to every housekeeper. Take
two quarts of oysters and put them into a porcelain-lined saucepan
with their own liquor strained, half a grated nutmeg, a teaspoonful of
salt, a little cayenne, and half a pint of strong vinegar. Then into a
muslin bag put half a teaspoonful of cloves, two blades of mace, a
teaspoonful of allspice, and two bay leaves; put this in with the
oysters. Let them cook very slowly, stirring all the while with a
wooden spoon. As soon as they come to a boil pour them into an
earthenware jar. When thoroughly cold they are ready to serve; if they
are well covered in a cool place they can easily be kept for a week or
even longer.
* * * * *
Of late years, when the subject of home-made preserves and pickles has
been referred to in my hearing, I have been wont to assume a very
superior and quite top-lofty air, and to remark in a know-it-all tone
of voice: "Oh, life's too short for me to bother with anything like
that; give me the fruits and vegetables and all other edibles that one
can buy preserved in tin or glass the year round; they're better than
home-made nine times out of ten, they cost no more in the end, and
there's slight necessity for guesswork when you are to open a can as
to the condition of its contents." Sometimes, if I had a very
tractable audience, this would end all discussion for the time being.
At others it would fairly set the advocates of domestic preserving by
their ears, and then you may be sure they defended their cause in
good earnest. But they never induced me to go in for anything of the
sort. Still, I now have on hand a very fair array of jars and bottles
and tumblers filled with jellies and jams and pickles, and they are
home-made, and they are old-fashioned and I am proud of them. And I'll
tell you how it happened. Out in the country, three weeks or so ago, I
was passing a farmhouse where the door opening into the kitchen stood
wide open, and through that open door came a fragrant breath that
called to mind numberless sweet woodsy smells. There was in it a
suggestion of sweet fern, a reminder of bayberry, a hint of sassafras
and a distinct likeness of grapevine blossoms. And this divine odor
was conjured up, I learned, by the stewing of grapes--wild grapes, of
course; the cultivated varieties being quite out of it when it comes
to preserving. That settled it. Within twenty-four hours from that
time there was issuing from my kitchen an odor of wild grapes
a-stewing.
Grape Jam
To go into particulars, I was making grape jam. I weighed the grapes,
and to every pound I allowed three-quarters of a pound of sugar. Then
I squeezed the pulp out of the skins, putting the pulp in one bowl
and the skins in another. The sugar with a quarter of its quantity of
water was boiled in a preserving kettle till it was quite clear. Then
was added to it the pulp of the grapes which were boiled ever so
slowly for twenty minutes--when they were rubbed through a hair sieve
and put back on the stove, with the skins added to them. Then they
were boiled until the skins filled and looked good and plump. And when
they were quite cooled I put them into jars covered tightly to keep
out the air. Next winter I shall depend upon this jam to help me out
at many a luncheon with hot buttered toast or with waffles. And I've a
strong notion that it won't play me false.
Quince Marmalade
You know how one word leads to another. Well, I find that one preserve
leads to another just as surely. After making the grape jam I was
determined to try my hand at quinces--at quince marmalade. And it
turned out such a success that I offer the recipe for your use if you
like to try it. Peel and cut into thin slices four pounds of quinces,
put them into a preserving kettle, with half their quantity of peeled
and sliced sweet apples, two quarts of water and the juice of a
lemon. Cover the kettle and let the contents boil quickly till
softened; then put in three pounds of crushed sugar loaf, and stir
over the fire while it boils slowly for twenty minutes. Take the
kettle from the fire, pour the marmalade into jars, and when it is
cool tie brandied papers over the tops. I shall find many uses for
this sweet, I fancy, and some day when I am quite put to it to know
what to have for dessert, I shall just have the simplest sort of a
bread pudding, and for a sauce some of this quince marmalade.
Quince Jelly
And having made the marmalade, I find that no reasonable excuse exists
for not making quince jelly, because the parings can be used along
with more of the fruit. Core the whole fruit and put this with the
parings into a stewpan with just as much water as will cover them;
stew them gently till they are tender, but not red. Strain the juice
from the quinces without pressing them, measure it, and for each
cupful allow an equal quantity of crushed loaf sugar. Pour the juice
into a preserving pan and boil it for twenty minutes, then add the
sugar and boil until reduced to the consistency of jelly, stirring it
well all the time. Strain through a jelly bag and pour into small
jelly tumblers. And this you know is going to be not only a toothsome
bit, but if I put it into a pretty and suitable dish and set it in
just the right place on my luncheon or dinner table, it will be a
thing of beauty.
Plum Jam
I'm feeling rather proud, too, of my success with plum jam. It really
strikes me as being delicious, and from the favored few who have been
allowed to "taste" it, I have heard very flattering things. So you
shall receive this recipe also. Have ready say twelve pounds of large
ripe plums peeled and divided into halves; crack their stones, blanch
the kernels and pound them in a mortar. Put the parings and cracked
stones into a pan with three quarts of water. Boil this until it is
reduced one-half, and then strain it through a fine wire sieve. Put
the fruit into a preserving pan with the strained liquor and pounded
kernels and twelve pounds of crushed loaf sugar. Cook over a slow fire
until it is reduced to a stiff jam, then turn it into jars and let it
stand till quite cold, sift into each jar a layer of powdered sugar,
cover with rounds of paper dipped in brandy, tie securely and put
away. Some foggy morning spread a little of this jam on some toasted
muffins for breakfast, have some English breakfast tea, and play you
are in "Lunnun."
Brandied Plums
Really, you know, I shouldn't feel that I had done the right thing by
you if, after recommending that jams be covered by brandied papers I
should omit to say something of plums preserved in brandy. They make a
dainty tidbit, serve them when you will--morning, noon, or night. You
don't want to use plums that are any more than ripe; in fact, if
they're not much more than half-ripe it will be quite as well. Say you
have eight pounds of them; prick them all over and put over the fire
in cold water. As soon as the water boils and the fruit rises to the
surface take out with a skimmer and lay them in a pan of ice water.
Then make a clear syrup of two pounds of loaf sugar and a pint of
water. Put in the plums and let them boil up just once; and let them
stand in the syrup over night. The next day take them out of the
syrup, boil this once, put in the plums and let them boil just once
and let them stand over night once more in the syrup. Repeat this
operation the next day and the following day, then drain the plums
and put them into bottles. Boil the syrup till it will almost candy,
and when quite cold add to it three-fourths of its own quantity of the
best brandy you feel that you can afford, mix thoroughly with the
syrup, strain it and pour over the plums. Cork the bottles securely.
Brandied Peaches
But if it's peaches that you want to see in brandy, you go about it in
this way: Split the peaches in halves and boil them in a syrup such as
is used for the plums. Boil them two minutes only, then take them out
and remove their skins, put them back in the syrup to simmer for five
minutes; take the pan off and leave the peaches in it till the next
day. Then drain and arrange them carefully in jars. Boil the syrup
down and mix with it an equal quantity of white brandy and when quite
cold pour it over the peaches. Cover the jars tightly. And it's not
for me to tell you when to use them,--because the using of brandied
peaches soon becomes a fixed habit, and it's pretty hard to be able to
tell when not to use them.
* * * * *
Apples in Vanilla Syrup
Why is it that housekeepers, the land over, with excellent reputations
as "good managers," see in an apple only three possibilities, to wit:
apple pie, apple sauce and baked apples, when by the aid of a
vegetable spoon, such as is used for preparing Parisienne potatoes,
the apples may be scooped out into balls, cooked in a syrup flavored
with vanilla, served hot with a sprinkling of finely chopped
pistachios over all, and so served be worthy a place on the table of
the veriest gourmet? Hardly a whit more trouble involved, you see, or
expense, for that matter, than in the preparation of "apple sauce,"
and yet how much more appetizing and wholly satisfactory! Again, if
you want to idealize baked apples, have them peeled and cored, then
boil in a flavored syrup till tender, but firm, and with sugar and
burnt almond scattered over them set in oven to acquire a delicate
brown. Garnish when serving with bits of marmalade or jelly.
Fried Apples
The frying of apples successfully is a ticklish matter, it must be
admitted, but if the fruit is perfectly sound when peeled, cored, and
quartered, the fat piping hot, with only a few pieces dropped in at a
time, if, as I say, all these conditions prevail and your fried apples
be not a success, then rest assured there is some witchcraft at work
and you are in no wise to blame. The pity will be none the less,
however, for nothing so complements delicious little pork chops for a
luncheon dish as apples so prepared. And pork chops, by the way, are
quite to be desired these cool autumn days.
Apple Salad
Nothing can exceed the joy-giving properties of an apple salad if it
be rightly concocted. For myself I prefer that there shall be a
judicious mixture of celery with the apple, that the pepper, salt, and
oil be added with a sparing hand, and that without fail lemon juice
shall be used in place of vinegar. It hardly seems necessary to say,
and yet one never knows just what is the proper stopping place in
giving advice, that a steel knife must not be allowed to touch the
apples, else what might have been and should be a thing of beauty is a
damaging blight to an otherwise perfectly appointed table. This kind
of salad is in its rightful place when accompanying any variety of
black duck, and just now wild ducks are of prime flavor. The marketmen
know this, but I find that not many of them know why these birds are
to be in their best estate for the next two months, when the reason
as explained to me by sportsmen is both sound and plausible, namely,
that now the birds are getting their feed where it is the sweetest and
best, along the shores of fresh ponds, but later when Jack Frost shall
have done his perfect work they must hie them to the salt marshes for
sustenance, and very soon thereafter the fact of their changed diet is
made manifest to those who dine from them.
Pears in Vanilla Syrup
One can hardly talk of ways and means for treating apples and leave
unsaid one or two directions for serving pears so that they shall be
quite good enough to do duty upon any occasion. Have you ever tried
peeling them, splitting them in two lengthwise, scooping out the core,
cooking till tender in a syrup strongly flavored with vanilla, and
then draining them, filling the hollows left by removing the cores
with powdered macaroons? If you have, then you know how to complete
the pretty task; if not, then I will tell you that after the macaroons
have been added the two parts of a pear must be put together, the
pears laid on their side alternately with tiny rice croquettes which
have been coated with apricot marmalade or any preferred jam. You may
take the syrup in which the pears were boiled and adding to it a
little whipped cream pour it over the whole. My word for it, if the
early part of your feast has consisted of such delicacies as
nightingales' tongues and plovers' eggs, pears so prepared will seem a
fitting dessert, but if, as is more probable, you have dined from a
perfectly broiled chicken (and they were never better and less
expensive than now), you will find this dish of pears quite the
crowning beauty of your dinner that it deserves to be.
Stuffed Stewed Pears
And while we are on the subject of cooking pears I will tell you of
another way in which I have always seen them find favor. After they
are cooked and the core scooped out I fill them with a mixture of
several kinds of fruit, finely chopped, laying them on a shallow dish
of rice and cream, pouring syrup over them.
Pears Stewed in Claret
Now for another way of cooking pears as they should be, to be "not
like other folks'" pears: let me suggest that you get inexpensive, oh
very inexpensive claret in which to stew pears the next time you see
fit to have them. Stew them till tender, then take them out and add to
the claret what sugar you think is needed to have it sweet enough
when it is boiled down to about one-half the original quantity. Pour
over the pears and let cool before serving. Sublimate this idea, if
you see fit, by sprinkling in chopped almonds or chopped pistachios or
any other little pleasantry that occurs to your inventive
genius,--that is, if you've an inventive genius that is to be trusted.
* * * * *
Fried Chicken, Italian Style
Suppose you find, on one of your trips to market this month, as you
probably will, that poultry is very low in price, won't you give this
suggestion a trial? Cut a chicken up as for a ragout, and boil it in
as little water as will cover it, seasoning the water with a small
onion, salt, white pepper, and a gill of sherry wine. When the chicken
is almost tender enough, drain it from the liquor and let it get
perfectly cold. Meanwhile have in a stewpan half a gill of olive oil,
with a pinch of minced onion and a little salt and pepper. When this
is quite hot and the chicken quite cold, cook the chicken in it to a
delicate brown. Dish the chicken when it is browned evenly, and pour
over it a sauce made by adding a gill of the stock in which it was
boiled to the oil in the stewpan, thickening it all with the yolks of
two eggs. This makes a most delicious dish and is well worth the
trial. The frying in oil gives it its distinctive flavor, and makes it
very different from fowl fried in butter, which is in France always
called poulet sautée, to mark the difference.
With Tomatoes
And this same dish can be varied a little by using tomatoes with the
chicken. After the chicken has been fried in the oil, lay it on fried
tomatoes, and then pour the sauce over all. Have the tomatoes as large
as possible and not too ripe; slice them, dust them with salt and
pepper, and fry very, very slowly in a little oil till they are
cooked; but don't let the slices get out of shape.
Roast Duck with Orange Sauce; Broiled Devilled Tomatoes
If you think you would prefer a roast of poultry, do try ducks to be
had now. Roast them in any way that experience has taught you is the
best, but when it comes to making the sauce for them, let me have a
word to say. Mince two or three slices of bacon and a small onion and
fry together for five minutes; add to them the juice of an orange and
a wineglassful of port wine, the drippings from the pan in which the
ducks were roasted, and a seasoning of salt and pepper. It's an ideal
September dish, that's what it is. And you might accompany it or
follow it with another that is particularly seasonable, namely,
broiled devilled tomatoes. First you mash the yolks of three
hard-boiled eggs, then you mix with them a saltspoonful of salt, one
teaspoonful each of powdered sugar and mustard, and as much cayenne as
your taste calls for; then stir in three ounces of melted butter, and
when all the ingredients are well blended add three tablespoonfuls of
vinegar. At this stage put the mixture over the fire to reach the
boiling point, and stir in two well-beaten eggs. When it has thickened
a bit stand in hot water on the stove to keep warm while you give a
little attention to the tomatoes. These must be ripe and firm. Cut
them in half-inch slices, broil over a clear fire, place on a hot
dish, pour the sauce over them, and there you are. This makes a really
appetizing breakfast dish as well as a savory dinner course. Try it
some morning, having with it crisp broiled bacon and some dainty rice
muffins, and you will find yourself considerably above par with your
household for the rest of that day at least.
Broiled Tomatoes on Toast
And in a day or so follow up the good impression by having at
luncheon tomatoes prepared in this way: Cut some round slices of bread
and fry them delicately in butter till they are brown. Slice firm,
ripe tomatoes to match the sizes of the bread slices; broil the
tomatoes just a wee bit, and then lay a slice on each piece of the
French bread. Season them with pepper and salt, scatter grated
Parmesan cheese over them, spread them with a layer of fine
bread-crumbs moistened with melted butter. Brown in a hot oven and
serve piping hot. And if the man o' the house is the right sort you
will get a vote of thanks in the shape of a big bunch of the earliest
and brightest chrysanthemums to be found in town.
Celery and Apple Salad
Have you ever made a salad of apples and celery? Use sour apples cut
into dice-shaped pieces, and cut the celery into half-inch bits.
Arrange in the salad dish in this way: A layer of the apple, then a
sprinkling of capers; next a layer of the celery, and over this three
or four olives cut in thin slices, and so on till the dish is full.
Make a dressing of a saltspoonful of salt, a good dash of cayenne
pepper, the juice of a lemon, and six tablespoonfuls of olive oil.
Pour this over the apples and celery about ten minutes before serving.
Be sure that you let the youngsters have all of this salad that they
want, for it will be hard to concoct a more wholesome and healthful
one.
Apple Sauce with Orange Juice; With Whipped Cream
And I am going to suggest a variation or two of the apple sauce theme
for your approval. Go ahead and get your apples ready as you always
have, and when you put them on the stove to cook add to them the peel
of an orange. When the apples are quite cooked press them through a
sieve, add brown sugar to them to taste, and the juice of one orange
to a pint of apple. Put this on the stove to cook for about two
minutes, and then put aside to cool before serving. Or, stew your
apples till they are tender, press them through a sieve, add to them
the amount of sugar they require, and when they are quite cold beat up
with them lightly some well-whipped cream--a pint of cream after it is
whipped to a quart of apple sauce.
Pear Salad
Now, if it comes to pass that neither or both of these ways of making
apple sauce finds favor with you, you will certainly give an attentive
ear to a hint on the subject of pears. For one of the daintiest and
most seasonable of desserts is a pear salad. Know how it is made?
Have the pears quite ripe, cut them in thin slices, lay them in a
glass dish, sprinkle powdered sugar on them, pour over them a glass of
brandy which has in it a dozen drops or so of lemon juice, and let
stand on ice for about fifteen minutes before serving. It is a good
idea also to have the pears on ice for two or three hours before they
are sliced.
Stuffed Pears
Another delectable dessert made from pears is called "stuffed pears."
Cut them in two and scoop out the core with a vegetable spoon. Cook
the pears very gently in a little syrup till they are quite tender.
Drain them, and have ready any kind of marmalade into which you have
stirred chopped almonds. Stuff the pears with this and put them
together in their original shape. Have in a dish a thin layer of
boiled rice, over which you have spread a little whipped cream.
Arrange the pears in a circle on the rice, and fill the centre with
the same kind of marmalade as that used for stuffing the pears.
Stuffed Peaches
And peaches may be prepared in just the same way; but you may add just
a few of the kernels of the peaches to the syrup while you are
stewing them, which will give them a delightful flavor. Indeed, I
think it is always an improvement to use some of the kernels when
cooking peaches for any way of serving. In tarts the kernels should be
chopped as finely as possible.
Peach Cream
Peach cream makes a dainty and delicious dessert. Have a dozen ripe
peaches, peel, remove the stones, and then stew them with half a dozen
of the kernels in a syrup made of half a pound of sugar and half a
pint of water. When the peaches are quite soft press them through a
sieve. Mix with the pulp one pint of cream, whipped, and one ounce of
dissolved gelatine. Wet a fancy mould with cold water, pour in the
preparation, and leave till firm. Unmould when serving.
To be sure, there's no way in the world that a peach is so delightful
as when eaten from the hand, but it must be the very best sort of a
peach to be eaten in this way, and the best sorts just now may be a
thought expensive. That is the reason I have suggested ways for
cooking them, because one can use an inferior quality and yet get
perfectly satisfactory results. And that isn't possible with most of
life's commodities.
OCTOBER
"_Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high--
Fill all the glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I;
Why, man of morals, tell me why?_"
WHEN all the world adopts the Pythagorean menu as its standard of good
living then I will bestir myself and concoct the daintiest dishes
possible from those "foods that are freshly chemicalized by the sun's
rays," and will gladly give you the benefit of my experiences. But I'm
no reformer, and until that day of universal self-denial arrives I
will continue the tenor of my way along the old line, and try to
idealize commonplace, every-day viands into dishes that pique the
appetite, and make of eating a delicate delight. A very material
vocation, it is true, but as matters stand a highly useful one. Eh?
Now there are smelts, as plump and inviting a fish as can be found in
the market, and at their best, too. But how many housekeepers are
there who ever think of serving them in any way but just simply fried?
Frequently, of course, they do serve them with a tartar sauce, but
nine times out of ten it would be better for all concerned if the
sauce were neglected or forgotten, or upset, or anything that would
keep it away from the table.
Baked Smelts
The next time you are to have smelts try cooking them in this way:
After they are cleaned have them wiped till perfectly dry, and lay
them in a baking dish; over them pour a wineglass of white wine, add a
sprinkling of salt and pepper, according to your judgment, half a
dozen whole fresh mushrooms, and pour over them one-half a pint of
Spanish sauce. Sprinkle ever so lightly with bread-crumbs and a little
warmed butter, and bake in a hot oven for twenty minutes. This is the
way you would prepare a dozen or fifteen of the fish; of course for a
larger number the amount of seasoning, etc., would be increased
proportionately. Garnish the smelts before serving with thinly sliced
lemon, each slice sprinkled with chopped parsley.
Broiled Smelts with Béarnaise
Or try broiling them, if you like. Split the fish, using only the
largest size, down the backs; remove the backbones, wipe well and then
rub them with a little oil and season with salt and a bit of white
pepper. Broil in a double broiler for three minutes on each side, over
a hot fire. Have spread on the bottom of the dish in which they are to
be served a layer of Béarnaise sauce; arrange the smelts carefully and
daintily on this and sprinkle over them a scanty bit of chopped
parsley. You'll find this far and away ahead of the eternal "fried
smelts and sauce tartare."
Fried Smelts with Parsley
But if you really feel that you must fry them, then go about it in
this way: First of all, fry some thinly sliced bacon and in its fat
fry to a delicate brown the smelts which you have previously dipped in
sweet, rich cream, and then dredged with flour to make a thick paste
around them. Serve garnished with the bacon and with fried parsley.
The frying of parsley is as you know, a somewhat ticklish job; it must
be perfectly dry, put into a frying basket and then plunged into hot
fat for just a few minutes--don't have the fat too hot--this is where
you must think and act simultaneously--or the parsley will lose its
color, and then you will have to begin all over again. After it is put
on the dish squeeze a few drops of lemon juice over it. My word for
it you will find this an acceptable dish, whether it is prepared for
breakfast, luncheon or dinner.
Bluefish--Newport Style
I didn't mean you to understand that I considered smelts to be the
only fish in the market at present; I simply wanted to call your
attention to them as being as good as any other, and a good deal
better than they, themselves, are at any other time of year.
Bluefish are good now, too; they are excellent, really, and a bluefish
at its best is hard to beat. Have you ever tried cooking them in the
oven? Have them split, you know, as for broiling, then put them into a
well-greased baking pan. Have ready half a cupful of melted butter
with the juice of an onion in it and likewise the juice of a lemon,
with a reasonable amount of salt and of cayenne pepper. Before the
fish goes into the oven moisten it well with the prepared butter, and
baste with the butter every ten minutes while it is in the oven. When
it is of a good even brown it is done. Now, don't serve with the
bluefish cooked in this way potatoes of any sort or kind. Have
cucumbers, hothouse, of course, and have them fried. Cut them into
thick slices and remove the seeds; then soak them in equal parts of
ice-water and vinegar, well salted, for one hour. Take them out, drain
and wipe dry and fry in boiling lard until a light brown. They are not
only good when served with bluefish cooked in this way, but they are
appetizing bits to accompany pork or lamb chops when you are serving
them with a brown sauce.
So much for to-day's fish story. As for meat, anybody can get good
meats at any time of the year if they will go to a man who knows how
to cut them, and won't insist on dickering with him about the price.
Domestic ducks are now in good condition. You might get one of them
and try preparing it in some new way to be used, if it's a success, on
Thanksgiving Day. Say stuffing it with mushrooms; use one can of
mushrooms to three heaping cupfuls of stale bread-crumbs; one-half a
cupful of melted butter, with salt and pepper. If the stuffing appears
to be too dry moisten it with a bit of milk. Split the mushrooms and
use all their liquor; if the duck is too small to require the full
amount you may add some of the mushrooms to the giblet gravy to be
served with it.
And there is plenty of material in market for green salads; there are
celery and lettuce, the stand-bys; watercress, escarolle, romaine, and
chicory. Try this latter some time soon, using a plain dressing of
oil, vinegar, salt and pepper for it, with bits of Roquefort cheese
sprinkled over it. If any among you object to eating this cheese
because of its odor, rest easy, for you may have at hand a
counteracting force in the Bar-le-Duc currants. They do, as you
probably are aware, put the finishing touch to almost any sort of
dinner, but when particularly strong cheese has been served they are
nothing short of a godsend.
* * * * *
To the ordinary reader the name of Bontoux conveys nothing; to the
Parisian of a generation or two ago it was synonymous with all that
was delightful in the way of food and drink. The shop over which
Madame Bontoux presided remains in the Rue de l'Échelle, but Madame,
herself, has been gathered to her forefathers. Originally she had been
a cordon bleu, and in the early forties opened a small establishment
in the Rue Montesquieu, which establishment, if I mistake not, is
mentioned in Sue's "Seven Cardinal Sins." Thence she moved to the Rue
de l'Échelle, where she died. Acting on the whim of the moment, she
would sell her wares only to those whom she liked, and those whom she
did not like might offer her a hundred times their value in vain. The
Rue de l'Échelle being near the Comédie Française, Rachel, who was a
gourmet of the first water, frequently went to the shop after
rehearsals. One afternoon she went in while one of the shopmen was
busy packing a hamper for Nicholas I. Among the delicacies there were
a dozen magnificent quails on a skewer. "I want those," said Rachel in
the imperious way she adopted now and then. "You will have to want, my
little woman," replied Madame, shaking her head in her enormous
bonnet, which seemed a fixture; no one had ever seen her without it.
Then Rachel toned down. "I will give you ten francs apiece for them,"
she said. "Not for ten crowns apiece," came the retort, and in a voice
which left the great actress no doubt as to its meaning.
Rachel was disappointed, and rose from her chair to go. Just when she
had reached the door an idea flashed on her. She turned round and
began to recite the famous lines from Corneille's "Horace." The effect
was electrical on the shopman, who dropped the quails. Madame Bontoux
was not so easily impressed. She kept shaking her head just as if to
say "You may save yourself the trouble, my girl;" but all of a sudden,
when Rachel brought out the last line--
"_Moi seule en être cause et mourir de plaisir_,"
she jumped up. "Give her the dozen quails and a pheasant besides."
Wonderful to relate, the enormous bonnet had got pushed on one side.
Now, there's a very pretty question to be discussed at your dinner
table o' Sunday night: Were those birds _à bon marché_ for Rachel, or
did Madame Bontoux, in the language of to-day, "get the best of the
bargain?"
When you go to market in search of game in these days, and the
marketman, leading you in the direction of the ice-box wherein he
keeps his choicest wares, says, "Look at 'em; ain't they beauties?"
you will be quite safe in acquiescing by a plain yea or a nod, but do
not go to the extent of ordering a dozen quail, or woodcock, or
snipe, or any other game bird, in fact, until you have ascertained if
the legs are smooth and the quill feathers soft, which facts prove
them to be young birds. Furthermore, be sure that the breasts are
hard, firm, and well-covered with flesh, for this will show them to be
in good condition.
Once the birds are under your roof-tree see to it that the cook does
not draw the trail from the woodcock or snipe, for by all gourmets
this is reckoned a great delicacy, and, by the way, though, of course,
it is a matter of common knowledge, the heads of these birds are the
most delicious morsels of all. Another point to be borne in mind is
that when preparing game for cooking it should never be washed inside,
but merely well wiped with a clean cloth.
Toast for Game
Partridges, grouse and quail are of so fine a flavor that it is little
short of a criminal act to serve them in any way but roasted or
broiled. If they are to be broiled and served on toast, then a
delicious way of preparing the toast is to have the giblets boiled
till they are so tender that they can be pounded to a paste with a
little of the water in which they were boiled, and then, when mixed
with an equal amount of butter, spread over the toast. This giblet
butter may be varied to suit a variety of tastes. A little chopped
parsley may be added, or a squeeze of lemon juice, or both, in which
case a complementary dash of cayenne must be added. The meat of the
partridge is so dry that it is well to serve with it a sauce made of
melted butter, slightly seasoned with onion and a dash of white wine,
or a tartar sauce is really excellent with broiled partridge.
Sauce for Partridge
If these birds--partridges, grouse, and quail--are to be roasted, the
garnishing in either case must consist of seasoned watercress. With
the partridge is served a bread sauce, but it's a custom as old as the
hills, and for that very reason I have tried many experiments to find
a sauce more to my liking. I have found it, and this is the way I
prepare it: half a pint of clear stock, preferably white, seasoned
with onion juice, a bunch of parsley, a bay-leaf, and four cloves,
strained through a napkin before using. The birds will be much better
if an ounce of butter is placed inside of them before cooking, and if
they are occasionally basted with melted butter during the process of
roasting.
Roasted Grouse
Grouse need no sauce, especially if before they are put into the oven
they are stuffed with one slice of bread each which has been toasted
and dipped in Madeira wine. They may be larded, or barded, or basted
with melted butter while roasting, if it is thought likely to improve
their flavor.
Roasted Quail
Beware of cooks who assure you that they know how to roast quail until
you have seen their skill put to the test. It is a failing common to
too many cooks to over-roast these dainty little birds. Fourteen to
sixteen minutes in a hot oven is quite long enough to cook them to the
point favored by epicurean palates. They should be served on bread
sliced and fried, and with them, if desired, a very little of the
clear sauce above recommended for partridges.
Any of the pieces left from these birds roasted may be daintily served
with a mayonnaise dressing, and you may be willing to assert that the
last state of that bird was better than the first.
Velvet Soup.
Sherry, Amontillado.
Baked halibut with Parmesan cheese.
Roasted duck with olives.
Burgundy, Romanee.
Cauliflower with bread crumbs.
Lettuce and cucumber salad.
Macaroon charlotte.
Toasted crackers.
Cream cheese. Coffee.
It was with the intention of preparing a dinner according to the above
menu that I went about my duties "all on a market day," for it seemed
to me upon looking it over to be a dainty repast for four people, and
one wherein neither parsimony nor extravagance held the trick hand.
And a safe middle course in one's daily regimen tends quite as much to
health and prosperity in individual and nation as does the same policy
in seemingly weightier matters.
Velvet Soup
The velvet soup is easy of accomplishment, as one need only to have a
quart of some simple white stock on hand, made from veal or poultry
remnants, into which is stirred the minced red part of four carrots
seasoned with pepper and salt and stewed till tender in butter, two
tablespoonfuls of tapioca which has been soaked for four hours in
cold water, and then let the whole boil for nearly an hour before
straining and serving. It is not only easily prepared, but it is
easily digested, as a soup should always be which precedes a rather
rich fish course similar to that given above.
Baked Halibut with Parmesan
About a pound and a half of halibut, at eighteen cents the pound, will
be required, and it should be boiled till tender enough to flake
lightly; then, if you have a rather deep dish, with a border of mashed
potato about the inside, all will go smoothly. Into the bottom of the
dish put a layer of white sauce made of half a pint of boiling milk,
three ounces of butter and a little salt, thickened with flour;
sprinkle in flakes of the fish, then a layer of the sauce, adding a
little milk if it promises to be too dry, and so on till the dish is
full, having a layer of sauce on top. Then scatter grated Parmesan
over all, and brown to a tempting shade.
Roasted Duck with Olives
With ducklings tender and toothsome, as they should be in this month,
it is plainly seen that the next course is capable of being a _pièce
de résistance_ at a far more stately affair even than the one which we
are considering. But if they are roasted in the ordinary way known to
every housekeeper in the land, stuffed with bread crumbs, highly
seasoned, and have a giblet sauce, quite an extraordinary flavor will
be given them if, just before serving, half a pint of pitted and
quartered olives are added to the sauce. It's only a trifling addition
to the old way, you see, but the improvement is so great you will
wonder that every one doesn't know of the gastronomical harmony
existing between duck and olives. Now, the flavor of the ducks is so
rich and altogether satisfying that it takes only the simplest and
mildest-flavored vegetable to complement this course. And nothing will
answer the purpose better than cauliflower. If they are cut into
pieces of uniform size, they cook in a much more satisfactory manner,
and they should boil as gently as possible; do not add the salt to the
water till they are nearly tender. When taking them up, drain well,
and over all pour melted butter thickened with browned bread-crumbs,
and send to table. I fancy you will find them more to your liking
served in this way than in the old rutty way of so many cooks, namely,
with a white sauce, which varies in different households from a fair
quality of flour paste to a very rich and fairly cloying concoction of
cream and melted butter.
There is nothing like a simple salad to prepare one's palate for the
sweets which come at the last, and with hothouse cucumbers now in
evidence and lettuce always with us, the making of a salad is a
delight in more ways than one. It is not so many years ago that we had
to pay from thirty-five to fifty cents each for cucumbers at this
season of the year, but the large number of cucumber hothouses near
every city is fast bringing this desirable vegetable to a state where
it will be known as an all-the-year-round commodity.
Macaroon Charlotte
There are a good many people, and the number is increasing, who
declare that to them a dinner is finished by a bit of cheese after the
salad, and finished quite to their satisfaction, too. But for those
whose dinner is incomplete without a bit of sweetness, I would
recommend a macaroon charlotte made by lining a dish with broken
macaroons and then filling the dish with whipped cream which has been
sweetened and flavored to taste; adding to it at last half a pound of
crystallized cherries.
As to the wines, of course, it's a matter of purse and principle
whether or not they shall be served. I have suggested the kinds
appropriate to the courses, for the reason that I have heard many a
hostess "on hospitable thoughts intent" wonder "what wine goes with
what."
* * * * *
To be sure, I went a-marketing t'other day, and I was able to collect
a stock of valuable information which I came home prepared to dish up
for the delectation of any who chose to read and profit by it. But by
some chance, or mischance, it occurred to me that All-Hallows Eve is
near at hand, and that when it comes you girls will be up to all sorts
of pranks. Now, years and years ago I was a girl myself, and I can
dimly recall that the playing of pranks on the fairies' anniversary
night induced a desire for liquid refreshment, either for the purpose
of chirking up one's spirits when the omens proved unfavorable or for
helping out the general merry-making when the signs foretold bliss.
Claret Tipple
And a drink that seemed to me at that time apropos of either event we
used to make by slicing half a dozen juicy apples and three lemons as
a starting point. Then we would lay them alternately in a large bowl,
sprinkling each layer plentifully with sugar, and over all would pour
a quart of claret. Then we would let it stand for fully six hours,
pour it through a muslin bag, and it was ready for use.
Hot Spiced Claret
If you desire a hot drink, and it is likely that you will, if the
tricks you have on hand call you out of doors at midnight, you might
prepare one in this way: Have half-a-dozen lumps of sugar, the juice
of half a lemon, four whole allspice, two whole cloves and half a
teaspoonful of ground cinnamon in a dish; over it pour half a pint of
claret and let it boil for just two minutes, stirring it all the time.
Strain it into hot glasses and grate just a little nutmeg on top as
you serve it. At the first sip the good qualities of this libation
will present themselves to you.
Hot Claret Egg-nog
And for an encore you might vary it a little bit in this way: Stir
together two tablespoonfuls of sugar, the juice of half a lemon, half
a teaspoonful of mixed spices and half a pint of claret. Boil this for
two minutes and then pour it over the yolks of two eggs that have
been beaten well with a teaspoonful of sugar. Stir all the while that
you are pouring the wine slowly over the eggs. Grate a little nutmeg
over the top after you have poured the mixture into hot glasses. Now
mind, don't get confused and pour the eggs into the wine, for that
would spoil everything; pour the wine over the eggs. And be thankful
that you have lived long enough to concoct such a satisfying drink as
this always proves itself to be.
Hot Sherry Egg-nog
But if you feel that you must find a use for the whites of the eggs
dissolve a tablespoonful of powdered sugar in half a pint of hot
water, add to it half a pint of sherry wine and let this come to a
boil. Meanwhile have the whites of the eggs beaten to a froth and pour
the hot mixture over them, stirring rapidly. Pour into hot glasses,
grating a bit of nutmeg over the top of each. See to it that the
vessel in which you boil the wine is thoroughly clean. You don't want
even the faintest trace of a taste of anything besides the ingredients
herein prescribed.
Orange Punch
An orange punch isn't just the innocent tipple that its name would
seem to indicate. But that doesn't hinder its being a treat for the
palate. Infuse the peel of three and the juice of six oranges with
three-quarters of a pound of loaf sugar in two quarts of boiling water
for half an hour. Strain and add to the juice a half pint of brandy
and a liqueur glass of maraschino. And it is quite likely that you
will think it needs a little more sugar; if so, add it. Now it may be
that you will like this hot, or it may be that you will like it cold;
in the latter case cool it on the ice for several hours before serving
or ice it when serving. This is also an excellent recipe for lemon
punch--substituting lemons for the oranges.
Cider Punch
If you really long for drinks which seem suitable for days the
"saddest of the year," why then see to it that your cider jug is
filled with sweet cider as a prerequisite, and go ahead. Call your
first effort a cider punch. Peel a lemon and pour half a pint of
sherry on the peeling; to the juice of the lemon add a cupful of
sugar, a little grated nutmeg and a quart of cider. Mix this together
thoroughly and then add to it the rind of the lemon and the sherry.
Let it get perfectly cold on the ice, or if you are short of time ice
it when serving. Now if you wish to make this punch a bit more
insidious you can easily do so by adding to it a wineglass of brandy.
It will be quite as palatable also, I think you will find.
Cider Egg-nog
And then cider egg-nog is well worth the making and the drinking. Use
a large glass; beat up in it an egg and a scant teaspoonful of sugar;
put in half a dozen small lumps of ice, fill the glass with cider and
grate a little nutmeg on top. This is not only a very pleasant drink,
but it is an extremely wholesome one. It will act as a pick-me-up many
times when one is tired or not feeling quite up to the mark.
Quince Liqueur
Another delicious potation that will be found of use at all sorts of
occasions is quince liqueur. Grate a sufficient number of quinces to
make a quart of juice after it is squeezed through a jelly bag. With
this juice mix a pound of sugar, six ounces of bitter almonds,
bruised, a dozen whole cloves and a gill of brandy. Mix these all well
together and set away in a demijohn for ten days at least. Then strain
it through the jelly bag till it is perfectly clear, and bottle for
use. Besides drinking this as a liqueur, you will find that you can
vary and improve a number of your recipes for punch by adding just a
suspicion of it to them.
Various Cups
At all times cups are alluring decoctions, don't you think? And there
are many varieties of them. But they all begin in the same way. A
cordial glass each of maraschino, benedictine and brandy put into a
quart jug, and then if you fill the jug with champagne you have
champagne cup, with Rhine wine you have Rhine wine cup, and with cider
you have cider cup. If you use claret you add a few drops of lemon
juice and double the quantity of maraschino.
Rhine Wine Seltzer
But it may be that you prefer to take your Rhine wine with seltzer; if
so, just half fill the glass with the wine and pour enough seltzer to
fill it. Both the wine and the seltzer should be kept on the ice for
some little time before using.
Ginger Lemonade
If after all this array of non-temperance drinks you feel that you
should turn your attention to something milder, and yet can't quite
make up your mind to clear cold water, why not try a ginger lemonade?
Have a teaspoonful of powdered sugar in a tumbler, add to it the juice
of half a lemon and fill the tumbler with ginger ale that has been
well iced. You will find this a pleasant change from the ordinary
lemonade, and for many persons it serves to make ginger ale a deal
more palatable.
Soda Cocktail
Now, if you should feel that you would like to serve a drink that is
as innocent and harmless as so much milk, but that when judged by its
name alone seems to be intended, oh, my! for very dissipated persons,
indeed! let me suggest to you a soda cocktail. Fill a glass with lemon
soda, put into it a dash of raspberry syrup and on top of it a thin
slice of orange. And, your very good health.
NOVEMBER
"_From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut our home._"
ONCE upon a time, a somebody who was famous for his or her wit or
wisdom, or for both qualities, remarked that oftentimes the easiest
and best way to get over a difficulty was to go round it. To my great
regret, I can't give you the name of the author of the very pithy
saying, neither can I tell you just what conditions called it forth,
but it's safe to say that its context was a suggestion or opinion
offered for the settling of some great big question of state. But,
what is more to the point, I can be of help in showing you, I hope,
how to make a practical application of the epigram to every-day
affairs. Because, just as sure as we are living, there is always a way
to go round if one can't get over the very toughest hands that one
gets in life's shuffle.
Now, there's the servant-girl question in its Sunday-night aspect. It
exists; it can't be wiped out; and it is impossible to ignore it. She,
or they, as the case may be, will have "the evening out," come what
may, and guests are pretty sure to come o' Sunday nights. Of course
you can't send them home supperless, and neither can you send your
family to bed in a semi-famished condition. No; you must go round the
situation. And it's not so hard. Indeed, my last trip to market, which
included a call at the grocer's, was for the express purpose of
picking up points that would make the circuit easy for you.
I'm not going to say a word, here, about the chafing-dish. And I will
tell you why. It is the custom in a large number of families for the
man of the house to preside at the chafing-dish Sunday nights, and
while my stock of book-learning is very diminutive, I have learned
that under no circumstances is it wise to offer suggestions to a man
who thinks he can cook.
Frequently it is easy to have some little dish left ready by the cook
which needs only to be heated before it is served, but in nine
households out of ten cold viands are the staple commodity. And the
singular sameness is surprising and saddening. If one is in the habit
of dropping in to "pot luck" at the houses of one's _intimes_, one
soon learns to reckon with a fair degree of certainty upon what will
be likely to be set before one.
Now, there are sandwiches. Once let a housekeeper acquire a reputation
for a particular brand of that edible, and it's like getting her to
change her religion to induce her to try making any other sort. But it
requires only a very little time, with a fair amount of common sense,
to have a sandwich repertoire that will enable one to get through a
fairly long season without repetitions.
Caviare Sandwiches
The next time you are to have caviare sandwiches, try using
brown-bread, sliced as thinly as possible, spread with unsalted
butter, and then with a layer of caviare and a sprinkling of lemon
juice. And you will find them as good as they are uncommon.
Oyster Sandwiches; Fish and Game Sandwiches
Then there are oyster sandwiches. Cook the oysters a bit, or till they
are firm, then when they are cool stir them into good stiff
mayonnaise, with a seasoning of red pepper and just a few capers.
Spread day-old bread with this mixture and finish off, sandwich
fashion. You can use cold fish of any sort in this way; having the
bits very small, and adding chopped gherkins to the mayonnaise. And,
better yet, use in this way any bits of cold game, or poultry, using
with them chopped olives and chopped truffles. In either case, you may
if you like lay a lettuce leaf on the bread and put the mixture on
that. But for myself I have always disliked the addition of lettuce to
sandwiches.
Savory Butters
It is very easy to have savory butters, "beurres composés," so
familiar to the French cuisine, and so give an infinite variety of
taste to any kind of sandwiches. Take, for instance, unsalted butter
and season it well with anchovy essence, some very finely chopped
parsley, a bit of paprika, and spread thin slices of bread with it and
then use a layer of any kind of cold meat. Or you can use shrimp
essence, or in fact any essence or sauce that you think would prove to
be a favorite.
Crust Sandwiches
One of the most palatable ways, it seems to me, in which to make
sandwiches is to take paste, not puff paste that is too rich, and roll
it out as thinly as possible; cut it into rounds of uniform size
spread around with a certain mixture, then cover it with another round
of the paste, pinch the edges together and bake them till they are
brown. As to the mixtures, they may be made of an endless number of
savory viands. Say bloater paste softened so that it will spread
easily with a little melted butter. And then there are all sorts of
potted meats and devilled things that seem almost as if they were made
expressly to be used in this way. Believe me, you will find these
sandwiches ever so dainty if you get them small enough and thin
enough, and, by the way, they make a capital appointment for the
five-o'clock tea-table.
Sweet Sandwiches
Now for the sweet sandwiches. They may be made with either white
bread, cake, or wafers--preferably the last. Have some icing made by
your favorite rule and sprinkle into it chopped nuts of any kind and
spread the wafers with it. Or, use chopped crystallized fruits and
cherries preserved in maraschino; and then try, the next time you make
this sort of sweets, some brandied fruits with the icing. You might
make a chocolate icing and add to that some chopped pistachios or
almonds or preserved ginger. But surely you've enough now in the way
of a ground plan for the making of any number of dainty and appetizing
bouchées.
Savory Jelly
Just a word about jellied things. You can have a pint of stock, white
if possible, season it with an onion, a bay-leaf, a bit of thyme, a
clove, and pepper and salt. Then put in a good half-ounce of dissolved
gelatine; and turn about one quarter of it, after straining, into a
mould and set on ice to cool. Have the rest of the jelly in a liquid
state, but perfectly cold. When that in the mould is set, have any
sort of cold meat, chicken, turkey, ham or tongue cut into strips free
of skin and bone, and pack it into the mould with alternate layers of
the jelly, finishing with the latter. Now see how successful you can
be in making such a dish a joy to the eye. Use sliced olives,
gherkins, capers, truffles, fanciful shapes of beet or anything that
your artistic eye will permit, and sprinkle these through the dish as
you go along. Run a thin knife blade in between the jelly and mould
and then plunge the mould into boiling water and the jelly will
unmould easily.
Cheese Salad
Then there are salads. To make one of cheese rub the yolk of a
hard-boiled egg in a basin with a tablespoonful of salad oil; add one
teaspoonful of salt, a bit of cayenne and a little made mustard; when
all is well mixed stir in about half a pound of grated Parmesan
cheese, the juice of an onion, and a tablespoon of vinegar. Serve on
lettuce leaves. You will find that this will go particularly well with
sandwiches of bloater paste.
But for a salad to be served with a jellied meat, make one of nuts,
one kind or several, broken into bits, mixed with an equal quantity of
sliced olives and spread with only a very little mayonnaise.
I did want to tell you of ways to make some very appetizing beverages,
for the sort of occasions we are discussing, but they will have to
wait. And perhaps it's just as well; already my conscience is
troubling me for fear that you are going to be so taken up with the
goodies I have told you of that you will have no inclination to think
on "better things" when it comes Sunday. But it can't be helped now.
* * * * *
Last spring a certain Boston man with his family moved into the
country. Not so far out, however, but that he could come to town daily
to attend to business, and yet far enough from the gilded dome to be
able to buy sufficient land for a small farm without paying all
creation for it. The next move was the stocking of the farm. So a
Jersey cow was bought to keep the family supplied with cream, a flock
of prize hens was set at work in a bran new henhouse that there might
be fresh eggs on hand, and last but not least, a pair of tiny young
pigs were secured to provide the household with sweet, home-made pork
when winter should set in. And having secured the stock, the owner
proceeded at once to make pets, collectively and individually, of the
whole equipment. Actually the cow would manage to look half-way
intelligent when he stroked her neck and told her she was the sort
that deserved to live in clover the year round; the hens really did
add a note to their regular cackle when the master was about, to show
him that they knew who gave them heaping measures of grain, and the
pigs, which he called Tim and Jim, got in no time to know their names
when they were spoken by his voice. Well, cold weather came on and
with it those crisp, frosty mornings when a toothsomely seasoned
sausage with a potato purée makes an ideal breakfast. So Tim and Jim
went the way of all pork, and in due course of time their owner had
the satisfaction of seeing on his own breakfast table pork "of his own
raising." And what do you think happened then?
"Susan," said he to his wife, "I can't do it; if you will believe me,
I can't eat that pork. Give it away--give it all away. Never have any
more put on this table. Why, dash it all, Susan, I may be a ninny, but
I was actually fond of Tim and Jim, and don't see what I was thinking
of when I had them killed."
"Samuel," said the wife, a woman who knew how and when to point a
moral, "you needn't call yourself a ninny; be thankful for the feeling
you have, because it can give you a glimpse, though from afar off, of
the mighty power that will make of us a nation of vegetarians, if we
ever do become such."
And I, when I heard of this little episode, fell to wondering if it
would be such terribly hard lines after all to be put on a strictly
vegetarian diet. At any rate, I managed to turn out one dinner, sans
fish, sans flesh, sans fowl, that didn't appear in the least like a
substitute for something better. You shall have the menu:
Consommé with asparagus points.
Mushroom cannelons. Poached eggs with tomato.
Macaroni with cheese.
String beans with butter.
Walnut salad.
Lemon soufflé. Coffee.
Consommé with Asparagus
As I was determined to be thoroughly conscientious in the preparation
of this dinner, using stock for the soup was quite out of the
question, so I prepared it in this way: A couple of onions, a carrot
and a bunch of herbs fried in plenty of butter till of a good brown.
Add to them a bunch of celery chopped, with salt and pepper for
seasoning, and a tiny bit of sugar. Cover with water and boil till the
vegetables are quite tender. Strain and add to the liquid a dash of
sherry, a few drops of lemon juice and some asparagus points that have
been cooked by themselves till tender. Of course, the asparagus you
will buy in tins or glass just now, but for use in this way it is
quite as good as though freshly cut. You will be surprised, I fancy,
when you see how savory a soup you have turned out.
Cannelons of Mushrooms
It isn't often that we feel justified in buying fresh mushrooms at
this time of year, but at a dinner of this sort where one is not
obliged to pay for a steak or for game, one can afford to be a little
bit reckless in the matter of vegetables, especially when they are to
be put to such a delicious use as the making of cannelons. Coarsely
mince a pound or so of well-wiped mushrooms and toss them with a
little minced parsley in butter till nicely browned; then season with
white pepper and salt, adding a little more butter to moisten the
mushrooms till they are quite cooked. Then stir in--off the fire--the
yolks of three eggs, a squeeze of lemon juice, and set the whole aside
to cool. Roll out some puff or very short paste thin, cut it out in
oblongs, put a good spoonful of the mushroom mixture on each oblong,
roll these up like sausages, moistening the edges to make them adhere,
brush them over with egg and fry in plenty of oil or in butter. For
myself, I prefer the oil, and the using of oil for frying purposes
isn't the extravagant act that it seems at the first flush to be,
because it wastes very little and can be used repeatedly for different
purposes.
The cannelons are to be served with the poached eggs and tomato. And
the directions for preparing the latter dish are to be found elsewhere
in this book.
Macaroni with Cheese
The macaroni with cheese you know all about, I dare say. Is this your
way of doing it? Break the macaroni into two-inch lengths and drop
into boiling salted water. When it is quite tender pour cold water
over it, drain and stir about in plenty of melted butter till each
piece is well covered, then put into a baking-dish, strew grated
Parmesan cheese over it and let brown in a hot oven. Just a little bit
of cayenne added to the cheese improves the flavor wonderfully, to my
thinking.
String Beans with Butter
You can find green string beans at the provisioner's yet, or you can
get them tinned, as you choose. I shall not presume to advise you as
to that, but for the cooking of them I will say a word or two. Boil
them till perfectly tender, then drain well and place them in a pan
with a tablespoonful or more of fine herbs (minced chives or minced
shallot and parsley), with pepper, salt and lemon juice and two ounces
of butter; toss them over the fire till the butter is melted and
serve.
Perhaps this isn't the place to go into a discussion of the
circumstances that have landed us as a nation at a point where we
think we must have turkey on Thanksgiving Day, or be accused of
showing a disrespect for the Declaration of Independence. But some
time the matter will be attacked by somebody who will spend a decade
or so in the Astor Library or the Boston Athenæum to discover who said
"turkey" first and where they said it. Evidently it was said in one of
those voices that are heard around the world and its echoes have not
begun to diminish, so far as my ear can detect, even yet. So turkey it
is, I suppose.
Grape Fruit with Rum
But this little talk shall be of the addenda of the dinner. Know what
addenda means, don't you? Well, call them "fixin's," then. Nowadays
grape fruit is a hard and fast "fixin'" of a Thanksgiving Day dinner.
Before the soup it comes on cut in halves with the seeds removed and
also all of the white pith in the centre of each half with a pair of
sharp scissors. Then by the taste of them it is evident that about an
hour before they were put on the table they had a lump of sugar and a
teaspoonful of rum put into each half, after which little refection
they reposed on the ice till wanted. Don't go on the principle that if
a little rum is good more must be better and try to float the fruit
in--that would have been hailed as a rank outrage even by Captain
Shaddock himself--but just be content to see how potent a little bit
of rum can be in good company.
Grape Fruit Sorbet; Fruit Salad
If you want a grape fruit sorbet, thinking it best to begin your
dinner with oysters, you may pick out the pulp with a fork in sizable
bits, free from seeds and pith, cover these bits with sherry and with
a sprinkling of sugar and freeze. You know the rest--how to serve it
and the like. But you may be firm in the conviction that when grape
fruit comes to your table it doesn't make its appearance till dessert.
If so, you will allow me to put in just a word, won't you? The word is
to advise you to get the pulp out as recommended for the sorbet, mix
with it an equal quantity of Malaga grapes cut in halves with seeds
removed, covered with sugar and sherry and iced for three or four
hours before serving.
I don't know whether it is true or not but it seems to me more than
likely that the mushroom hunters for science' sake are doing "us
folks" who like good things to eat a kind turn by getting out so many
books on the subject of good, bad, and indifferent sorts. At any rate,
they are getting to be more plentiful every year and consequently
should be lower in price. Thanksgiving Day seems to be a pretty
appropriate time for having them. You must spread yourself on that
day, even if you live on bread and cheese for the rest of the month.
Have them then and by themselves after the table is cleared of the
"bird and its fixin's," and have them in croquettes.
* * * * *
Of course, you knew just what to have for dinner on Thanksgiving Day,
and if perchance you didn't there were plenty at hand to tell you how
the menu should be composed. So just let me advise you how to prepare
two or three dishes, to be called Thanksgiving _en réchauffée_, if it
will make things seem any more prosperous to you.
Broiled Turkey Legs
Yes, I shall begin with turkey, because in nine families out of ten,
or perhaps ninety-and-nine out of a hundred would be a closer
estimate, that bird formed the _pièce de résistance_. You know that
if there's plenty to "go round" at the first serving of a turkey the
legs are generally left untouched; the carver doesn't feel like giving
them to any one, and when it comes to waiting on himself he thinks he
is entitled to a choicer bit. And so he is. But you can use those legs
all in good time. Just gash them three or four times with a very sharp
knife, sprinkle them over with salt, pepper and a few drops of lemon
juice and broil them over a hot fire till browned well; put them on a
hot dish, pour a little melted butter over them and send to table.
They will go uncommonly well, say for a Sunday morning breakfast to
help out with a bacon omelet.
Broiled Devilled Turkey Legs; Potato Omelet
But if they are to do duty at luncheon, devil them before broiling.
Season them with salt and pepper and then rub lightly with mustard
which has been mixed with oil. Turn the legs often while they are
broiling, basting them once in a while with a little melted butter.
When they are dished pour a little rich brown gravy over them. And
with them cooked in this way serve a potato omelet. Pardon the
digression, and I will tell you how this is made. It may not prove a
digression, however, as it is quite possible that you had a
sufficient quantity of mashed potato left from the Thanksgiving Day
dinner to make it. But if you didn't, boil four large potatoes and
when soft mash them; beat four eggs with a cup of milk, mix it with
the potatoes and season with salt and white pepper. Cut four or five
ounces of bacon into tiny squares, fry till crisp and brown, then mix
in the potatoes and stir over the fire till they are heated through.
Let brown well, fold the omelet over and serve.
Minced Turkey with Mushrooms
If there is a considerable quantity of the white meat of the turkey
left over cut it up into dice-shaped bits and add to it half its
quantity of canned mushrooms cut in two; moisten well with béchamel
sauce, season with pepper and salt and let heat for ten minutes, but
don't stir it. Dish it on triangular pieces of toasted white bread.
Or, if you like, you may use in place of the béchamel sauce, cream and
butter; but, whatever amount of cream is used, let it heat till it
reduces to one-half.
Minced Turkey
A more savory hash may be made in this way: Use any or all bits of the
turkey and chop them rather finely; add a little chopped parsley, a
few drops of lemon juice, the juice of an onion or two, and white
stock enough to moisten it sufficiently. Let it simmer for half an
hour very slowly and then add a little white wine just before taking
up. If you are in the habit of using wine in cooking you will know all
about how much it will require to give just the right flavor; but if
you are pledged to abstain from such practices you won't want to know
and you won't need to know how much should be used, so I'll not go
into particulars.
Goose Pie
But perhaps for good and sufficient reasons you didn't have turkey at
all but had roasted goose, and if that is so please do use up the
tidbits by making a goose pie. Cut all the meat from the bones and put
the bones with the skin into a saucepan with a little water to boil
slowly for two hours. Let it cool, and skim off all the fat; into the
bottom of a deep dish put a scanty layer of boiled and mashed onions;
sprinkle well with salt and pepper, put in a layer of the goose meat,
then a layer of the onions, and so on till the dish is filled. Pour in
the water in which the bones were boiled, cover with a good crust and
bake in a moderate oven till the crust is done.
Stewed Goose
Let me tell you also that stewed goose is by no means a slow sort of
dish. In fact, it is reckoned by a good many as being among the joys
of earth. Take two onions, peel and chop, and put them in a saucepan
with a tablespoonful of butter and fry until soft; dredge them with
flour and stir in half a pint or so of the water in which the bones of
the goose have been boiled. Cut up into dice-shaped pieces any or all
of the cold cooked goose and put it into the saucepan with a wineglass
of white wine and a tablespoonful of vinegar, and season to taste with
salt and pepper. Cover closely and stew for half an hour slowly. Turn
out and serve very hot.
Baked Squash
It is more than probable that, whatever else you had for dinner, you
saw fit to have in addition squash boiled and mashed. And it is safe
to say that some of it was left. So take this remnant and heat it well
with plenty of butter over the fire and then put it into a baking
dish. Scatter Parmesan cheese over the top and brown it very quickly
in a hot oven. Serve this with your stewed goose, and the trick is
yours.
Broiled Duck Fillets with Orange Sauce
And suppose you had ducks for your dinner, could you find a better way
than this to serve up what was left of them? Cut as good-sized pieces
as you can and dip them in a little melted butter; season with pepper
and salt, and broil for a minute or so over a hot fire. Arrange the
pieces on a hot dish and pour over them a sauce made in this way: Fry
two or three slices of fat bacon and an onion together for five
minutes; add the juice of an orange and a wineglass of port or sherry
wine with what salt and pepper is needed. Strain it before using. You
will find this so delectable, I dare say, that you will be ready to
declare that the last days of those ducks were better than the first.
Duck Salad
Did you ever make a duck salad in this way? Rub the bottom of the
salad bowl with a peeled onion, and squeeze in a few drops of lemon
juice. Put the cold bits of duck in the bowl with what you consider a
suitable amount of chopped whites of boiled eggs; over this sprinkle a
few quartered olives and a handful or so of capers, and then put in a
layer of chopped watercresses. Cover this with a layer of mayonnaise
and serve. Now if you want to use a little turkey meat, or a little
goose meat, or a little of each, to eke out what you have of cold
duck, go right ahead and do so. The salad will be just as good as when
duck alone is used and perhaps some will think it even better.
Fish Salad
Didn't you have a boiled or even a broiled fish of some kind for your
dinner, either halibut, striped bass, or fresh cod? If you did, just
take what was left of it and flake it up daintily; put a layer of it
in a salad bowl that has been rubbed with an onion, sprinkle the fish
with salt and lemon juice, put in a layer of shredded lettuce,
dressing this also with lemon juice and salt, another layer of the
fish and lastly one of lettuce. Cover it all with a layer of tartar
sauce, and there you have a salad worth the eating. 'Twouldn't tempt a
dying anchorite, perhaps, but it's quite good enough for human
nature's daily food.
DECEMBER
"_And we meet, with champagne and chicken, at last._"
ANY one can go to market if she has the wherewithal and secure any
kind of game that happens to be on the list and be happy in the
purchase and eating of it, I dare say. But the happiest dames in these
times are those who have a husband or sweetheart in the field shooting
straight to the mark with all thoughts for the recipient of his day's
work. So it comes to pass that by express to many a door there come on
these fine crisp mornings boxes or hampers of game birds. The next
thing, of course, is to get one's neighbors in to partake of them in
order that they may be set by the ears with envy. I am with you. I
will help you to make this envy business complete while you are about
it.
There shall be a dinner given--a dinner which by a wise and palatable
arrangement of courses shall lead up to the game.
Now, you know all about scallops, of course--and by "all" you mean
fried and served with tartar sauce. Bah! to you and your stereotyped
dishes. Novelty I beg of you, and then put in your way the means to do
as I beg. Do you appreciate it, I wonder? I doubt it.
Scallops in Shells
Well, then, scallops after the bouillon. Cook them in a little white
wine till you know they are done. Then drain, cut them in halves or in
quarters and add to them half their quantity of minced onion fried
till tender, but not brown. Moisten with a little white sauce, season
with cayenne and salt, heap in scallop shells, cover with bread-crumbs
moistened with melted butter and brown in the hottest oven you can
arrange.
Salmi of Cold Partridge
Whereas it is agreed that the pleasure of a repast must be
continuous--not jerky--let us plan for the next dish at your luncheon
salmis of partridge, cold. The birds must be roasted and then cooled.
Cut them into neat pieces, removing all the skin. Boil the skin and
all the odd bits in a little red wine and water. Season with salt and
a bay-leaf and thicken after it has boiled five minutes with a little
flour braided with butter. Take it off, lift out all the pieces of
meat and add enough aspic jelly to stiffen it. Set on ice and beat
till stiff, then dip into it the neatly trimmed pieces of partridge.
Dress them on a dish, using chop frills for the legs and set on ice
till the time comes for serving.
At this sort of a luncheon you know you must have two dishes of game
and to let the first one be cold is doing the matter up as not one
neighbor in ten of yours would think of doing.
Chicken Liver Patties
Now for the next link in this gastronomical harmony. Let it be chicken
liver patties. You know how to make the puff paste and how to line the
pans with it. Then you cook the desired number of chicken livers till
tender, drain off the water, cover them with a rich Spanish sauce in
which are as many sliced truffles as your means will allow. Of course
this must be hot when the patty pans are filled with it and then the
patties must be hot when they go to table.
Roasted Teal
Now make way for the _pièce de résistance_. What shall it be? He sent
you blue-winged teal duck, you say? Couldn't be better. His intentions
towards you are of the best, you may depend. His blue-winged teal go
where his heart is every time, let me tell you. Into each bird you
will put a slice or two of toasted bread which has been soaked in any
red wine. Rub the inside of the bird well with salt. Roast in a piping
hot oven for twenty minutes, basting five times with melted butter.
Garnish with sliced lemon when serving.
Tomatoes Stuffed with Mayonnaise and Celery
You will want tomato with celery and mayonnaise for this course, you
know. Have large, firm, fine tomatoes peeled carefully. Then cut a
round out of the top of each and scoop out all the seeds. Keep the
round whole, by the way. Fill each tomato with celery chopped and
mixed with mayonnaise. Clap on the top in which you have cut a tiny
hole in the centre and in this hole stick a little sprig of tender
green celery.
Macaroon Custards
Only macaroon custards are good enough to be served at this point and
these you make by covering half a pound of macaroons with hot cream
first. When cool, beat well. Then add the yolks and whites beaten
separately of six eggs and a tablespoonful of brandy. Butter some
moulds, fill with the mixture and bake for ten minutes. Unmould on
lace paper before serving. Yes, of course, have them cold. Who wants
hot custard?
For a drink? Cider cup. Not here, but elsewhere, a page or two away,
will you find directions for making this decoction.
* * * * *
A few pages back I related an account of some of the happenings of my
trip to market in search of game birds of the smaller kinds. Appended
to this recital were given in a more or less appetizing fashion a few
directions for preparing the birds which it seemed to me must find
favor with epicures and laymen alike; and, assuming that approval was
accorded these recipes, of which some were begged, others borrowed and
more stolen, I am giving herewith hints for use in the preparation of
the larger birds to be had now, with honors easy as to quantity and
quality. As to price, you may pay what you will, almost, from
seventy-five cents up to three and four and even five dollars per
pair.
To begin with, there are the toothsome canvas-backs that lead in price
and palate-tickling properties. Now, I know quite as well as you that
not every one who pleases may dine from canvas-back when fancy
dictates; in fact, with nine out of ten householders something very
like a dispute takes place between the purse and the palate in every
instance where canvas-back forms the _pièce de résistance_ at dinner.
But the next time the palate wins in the debate go straightway to
market and secure its indulgence from a marketman who will give you
his oath that the canvas-backs he has on sale have fed on the banks
where the wild celery grows, _i. e._, along the Gunpowder River, a
tributary of the Chesapeake Bay, and you may feel sure that you have
the best the market affords.
Broiled Canvas-back
As to the cooking. Wasn't it that wholly delightful old Colonel Carter
who laid it down as a law that to smother a canvas-back in jelly of
any sort or description was little short of criminal? And that he was
right there are scores of persons devoted to the art of good living
ready to attest. No; if you are to have the bird broiled, use a
double-broiler, leave over the fire ten minutes, eight will be better,
and serve with only a little melted butter having in it a soupçon of
lemon juice. There is nothing there, you see, to encroach upon the
delicate flavor of the duck. About two minutes before removing from
the fire sprinkle a little salt over the bird.
Roasted Canvas-back, Port Wine Sauce
But if a roast of game seems to you better calculated to round out
your dinner scheme, then roast them, but don't have them too well done
('tis said the blood should follow the knife); and for a sauce have
some port wine heated in a bain-marie with a few drops of orange juice
added thereto. H'm, talk about being able to tempt a dying anchorite!
Sydney Smith may have thought it a great height attained to concoct a
salad calculated to make that abstemious old recluse dip his fingers
in the salad bowl, but for me, I'd a thousand times rather prepare a
dish fit to tickle the palate of a gourmet who is somewhat aweary of
good things; and I fancy that canvas-back so roasted and served is
quite capable of lending a fillip to the existence of those most
experienced in the joys to be found in eating.
It's very sad, but it's also very true, that there are instances where
a redhead duck is foisted upon an unknowing and consequently
unsuspecting purchaser in place of a canvas-back. This is easily done,
because of the strong resemblance between them as to plumage and
habits, for the two kinds fly and feed in the same flock. But while
the flavor of the redhead is of a desirable quality, it in no way
approaches that of the canvas-back.
In the cooking of the redhead duck, the rules given for preparing
canvas-backs may be followed, with the exceptions that in the melted
butter used for the broiled bird a little minced parsley will be an
improvement, and in the port wine sauce for the roasted duck currant
jelly may be melted and impart a flavor that will be generally liked.
Roasted Mallard Duck with Fried Celery
A favorite duck with many good diners is the mallard, and when they
are in good condition they are quite worthy the favor shown them. It
is only a matter of choice whether they shall be roasted or broiled;
if the latter way is decided upon, then a garnishing of fried celery
makes a tempting dish more tempting still. Only the tender, smallest
stocks of celery should be used, and then, after being dipped in
frying batter, they should be fried quickly in butter. These birds,
and, in fact, all others, when being broiled or roasted, should not be
salted till about two minutes before removing from the fire. If the
salt is put on earlier the meat is apt to be tough and the quality of
the flavor somewhat injured. I don't know that cookery books give this
direction explicitly, but I have found from experience that it is the
case.
If you are to have your mallards roasted, then by all means make a
sour-apple marmalade, strain it through a sieve and add to it half its
quantity of unsweetened whipped cream. If you have never tried this
sauce with roasted duck, then, my word for it, there is a
gastronomical delight waiting for you, and I wouldn't advise you to
keep it waiting long, for you will be the loser.
Don't you recognize in this sauce an old friend in a new dress? Why,
of course, roast duck and apple sauce is a dish our great-grandmothers
were fond of; but this latter-day manner of preparing the sauce, you
see, idealizes it a bit and renders it so much the daintier.
Another duck of delectable flavor is the ruddy duck, or broadbill, as
it is known in some localities. They live in the fresh ponds
hereabouts, and as long as the ponds remain unfrozen the ducks will be
quite satisfied with this climate.
Teal ducks, too, especially the blue-winged, are of excellent flavor,
and, in addition to this, the meat is said to be highly nutritious and
easily digested, making them desirable for convalescents. There is
also a green-winged teal, but it is far inferior to the
first-mentioned variety.
One cannot very well decide upon the particular kind of game and the
manner in which it shall be served without giving some thought to the
salad that in reality acts as its supplement. And the same rule which
forbids the serving of a rich, heavy sauce with game applies to
salads. The simpler the salad the more keenly will you relish the
game. Chopped celery, lettuce, chicory, watercress or cucumbers, with
a simple French dressing, are the salads _par excellence_ to be served
with game.
By the way, not long ago some one wrote to a certain weekly published
in New York asking if it was "good form" to serve the game and the
salad on the same plate. It doesn't seem to me to be a matter in any
way to be governed by what is called "good form." Good taste and a
very superficial knowledge of epicureanism would enable their
possessor to understand that hot game should be hot, not lukewarm, and
that the salads should be cold, and the only way to accomplish this is
to have a plate for each.
* * * * *
Sardine Canapé
Cut some slices of bread from a not too fresh loaf, trim them to an
oblong shape, remove all crust and toast a delicate brown. Into a pat
of butter mix some finely chopped parsley, pepper and lemon juice, in
suitable proportions, and with the mixture coat the slices of toast.
Remove the skin and bones from the desired number of sardines and lay
them on the toast; garnish between the sardines with hard-boiled eggs,
chopped very finely, the whites and yolks separately. Sprinkle over
all some minced parsley and there you have a canapé--a sardine
canapé--one of the most delightful appetizers known to good diners of
this day and generation. Moreover it is a fitting beginning for a
Christmas dinner of the kind which I am about to submit for your
approval.
Chicken Consommé
The wisdom of following the canapé with the simplest soup possible
will be quite apparent, if I mistake not, some time before the dinner
is a thing of the past. Why not, therefore, prepare it in this way?
Take a chicken, cut it in pieces and put it into a saucepan with two
quarts of water to simmer gently until the scum begins to rise, skim
until every particle is removed, then add salt, a carrot, an onion,
two slices of turnip and three celery stalks. Boil gently for two
hours, strain and serve, and your family and guests will have reason
to bless the hour when you set before them a chicken consommé.
Oysters Baked with Cheese
After the soup? Well, suppose you lay in a deep dish fit to be placed
in the oven a bed of medium-sized oysters; season them with salt,
pepper, and a few small pieces of butter; sift over them some fresh
bread-crumbs and pour in a little sherry with some of the oyster
liquor; repeat the same operation until the dish is full, then
besprinkle the whole with bread-crumbs; scatter small pats of butter
here and there, and set the dish in a hot oven for fifteen minutes to
color a light brown, then serve, and serving be modestly proud of the
fact that you have prepared a dish which sometimes appears upon the
menu at Delmonico's as "Huîtres au Gratin à la Crane." Order it the
next time you are lunching or dining at that hostelry and compare
your effort with that of the famous chef at Delmonico's. For your
sake, as well as for my own, I trust that you will find that the
success turned out by your own cuisine gains by the comparison.
Goose Stuffed with Potato
Are you still wavering in your opinion as to whether your choice shall
fall on turkey, ducks or goose for the Christmas dinner? Let it be
goose then, for if properly cooked and served they go far toward
clinching the success of the feast. But "properly cooked and served,"
there's the rub. And isn't it enough to amaze a contemplative person
to note how wide apart are the conditions which different housekeepers
define by that phrase? Nevertheless I am going to tell you how it
seems to me a goose should be prepared to answer the description. If
the bird is of medium size then you will want to boil and mash eight
or ten large potatoes; to them add half a dozen small onions which
have been peeled and chopped as finely as possible; then season with
white pepper and salt to taste. Add at least half a pint of cream or
rich milk, about three ounces of melted butter, and three eggs beaten
to a froth. Whip the potato till it is light and smooth and fill the
inside of the goose with it. When it is sent to the table have it
garnished with very small onions which have been boiled till tender
without losing their shape, and then fried a light brown in butter.
Nothing can be better for a sauce than the giblets boiled till tender,
then chopped finely and returned to the water in which they were
boiled, with a little Madeira, and a gill of button mushrooms cut in
halves; thicken with a tablespoonful of browned flour braided with an
equal quantity of butter.
Turnips with Butter Sauce
Although there may be in market a goodly showing of vegetables from
almost every part of the country, not everything is calculated to
supplement the flavor of roasted goose so well as is a sweet and
well-flavored turnip. Particularly is this the case if the turnips are
cut into fanciful shapes, such as dice, crescents, etc., with the
vegetable cutters, which come expressly for this purpose, boiled till
tender and then served with melted butter and chopped parsley poured
over them.
Victoria Sorbet
Perhaps there are some housekeepers who will think I should suggest an
entrée to follow the goose, but at this season of the year I am
trying to live up to the golden rule, and as at this point I should
vastly prefer a punch or a sorbet to anything else, I am going to
recommend that you be guided by my preference. You may take one quart
of lemon water ice to which has been added the whites of three eggs
beaten to a froth, a gill of kirsch and half a pint of champagne, and
send to table in some of the pretty punch cups which formed one of
your Yule-tide gifts. You may also serve cigarettes at the same time,
and, my word for it, your guests at table assembled will have a keener
appetite for the next course than if you had sandwiched in some rich
entrée.
With about nine out of every ten suburbanites raising pigeons in these
days it is very easy to understand why the squabs in the market are of
such good quality and are sold at such a reasonable price. And under
these circumstances don't you think they will be excellent for the
next course if broiled to a turn and accompanied by a salad of chicory
or watercress?
After the squabs the sweets. Few housekeepers will think a Christmas
dinner complete without mince pies and plum-pudding, but I cannot
suggest a way in which to make them, for truth to tell, I never
prepared either, and I'm above offering you any recipes which I've not
tried, no matter how true they may be. Consult your cookery books if
you've not a favorite method of your own for preparing these aids to
indigestion, and select those that seem least harmful.
Of course, there will be upon the table till dessert is served celery,
olives stuffed or plain, salted almonds or pecans, etc. I know that
you know this, but had I neglected to mention it more than likely you
would have accused me of being ignorant of the necessity of having
these side dishes at a dinner.
After the sweets the biscuit, cheese and coffee, and if the cheese is
to be of a particularly rich flavor, such as Camembert, Roquefort, or
Brie, then by all means serve with it some of the little Bar-le-Duc
currants, both red and white.
Are you to have wine? Then make it sherry with the soup, champagne
with the goose, and the very best burgundy to be had to accompany the
squabs.
I fancy there is nothing more that I can suggest that will add to your
happiness or that of your guests, who will probably feel very
grateful to you for spreading for them a feast "delectable to eat and
to behold." For yourself, you will probably feel very grateful that
Christmas comes but once a year.
* * * * *
You shall not be put off with any side issue in these very last pages,
but shall have dished up for your critical examination a list that I
promise you shall be a hodge-podge, a mélange, or, if it please your
sense of the fitness of things better, a macédoine of the best edibles
the market affords.
Doubtless when you have been in Western cities you have dined many a
time and oft at those sky-high restaurants overlooking one of the
Great Lakes, and have had the waiter, with an air of honesty made
perfect by practice, point out to you the very spot where the
whitefish you were at the minute admiring had been pulled in scarcely
three hours before. If so, you know the delicious and unapproachable
flavor of the fish in their purest and best estate. And yet they reach
eastern markets in a remarkable state of freshness and are inexpensive
enough to warrant any one in trying them for a change from the kinds
that are more common here.
Baked Whitefish
Broiled over a hot fire and served with a simple sauce made of melted
butter, lemon juice and a sprinkling of cayenne they are good enough
to serve at any meal for anybody. But you can make a more elaborate
dish from them by going to work in this way: Scale a rather good-sized
fish, split it, remove the backbone, and then season the fish well
with salt and pepper, dip it in beaten egg, then in bread-crumbs,
again in beaten egg, and lay in a well buttered baking pan. Bake in a
hot oven till it is colored a good brown. Take it up on a hot dish,
set the baking pan having in it the hot butter on the top of the range
and cook in it for a minute or two half a pint of drained oysters;
arrange the oysters round the fish and pour a little melted butter
over all, with a garnishing of fried parsley. If you are having this
dish for luncheon, have with it some potato croquettes, but if it is
intended for dinner and a roast or rich entrée is to follow, then have
a dainty salad of crisp radishes with a handful of capers shaken over
them.
Boiled Cods' Tongues
And now is the time if ever that fresh cods' tongues should find
favor. They are inexpensive and in perfect condition, and by more than
one gourmet are considered an unrivalled delicacy. If this statement
persuades you to give them a trial, just a word as to preparing them:
Have three pints of water boiling in a saucepan, add to it two carrots
and half a dozen onions very finely chopped, a few sprigs of parsley
and two gills of vinegar. When the vegetables are nearly tender enough
put into the saucepan with them two pounds of cods' tongues. Let them
boil just once, then move back where they will simmer but not boil for
twenty minutes or so. Take up the tongues, drain, dress them on a hot
dish and keep hot while you prepare the sauce. For this drain the
vegetables and toss them about in a frying-pan in plenty of butter
till they show signs of browning a bit, then add to them some chopped
cucumber pickles and a few capers and pour round the tongues. Season
the sauce, of course, with salt and pepper, and if you are gifted with
rare discretion in the matter of spices use ever so little nutmeg in
it; just one or two turns of the grater will give you all you should
have. I intend to be very particular in my choice of readers and
hearers when I suggest the use of nutmeg in savory sauces, because
there are so many housekeepers as well as cooks who positively are not
to be trusted with a nutmeg in one hand and a grater in the other;
they will persist in going on the principle that if a little is good
more must be better, and then grate away for dear life.
Of course you know that smelts are in their prime, but is your sense
of smell keen enough to detect in that fish the likeness of its
fragrance to that of the violet or of the cucumber? Well, the
similarity is there if the fish be as fresh as it should, and if you
don't discover it you may add another to your list of misfortunes, for
they do say, those who know whereof they speak, that inability to
perceive this subtle scent indicates a correspondingly unappreciative
palate. And so much for my fish story.
Fried Partridge Breasts
Along with the many things for which we have cause for rejoicing about
this time of year there should certainly be reckoned the fact that
game of almost all kinds is more plentiful and less expensive than at
other seasons. And you know that under such favorable circumstances
as these I am wont to urge you to make experiments in preparing the
viand in question. Suppose, for instance, that the next time you are
to have partridges you pretend to forget that these birds are ever
roasted or broiled, and so set to work to serve them in this way: Have
four partridges, cut off the breasts, divide them in two and lay them
aside; boil the legs and livers of the birds in salted water till they
are quite tender--so tender, in fact, that they can be pressed through
a rather coarse sieve. Put this pulp into a saucepan with a gill of
the water used for boiling it, half a gill of sherry wine, a bit of
cayenne, an ounce of butter, and salt if it is needed. Let this get
hot, very hot, without boiling, and keep it hot while you cook the
breasts. These fry in butter and range in a circle on a dish with
alternate slices of bread also fried in butter, and in the centre pour
the sauce made from the legs and livers. To be sure, you can make the
sauce somewhat richer by adding to it chopped mushrooms or chopped
truffles or both.
Roasted Quails
Forget, also, for a time, your favorite ways of cooking quails in
order that you may pronounce judgment on this manner of preparing
them: Have half a dozen of them drawn and singed for roasting. Chop up
the livers, double the quantity of chicken liver and as much minced
fat salt pork as liver; add chopped parsley, salt, cayenne, three or
four drops of onion juice, a tablespoonful of very fine bread-crumbs,
and one beaten egg. Mix these ingredients all well together and fill
the quails with it; roast them in a rather moderate oven for twenty
minutes, basting occasionally with melted butter. Dress the quails on
a hot dish, squeeze a few drops of lemon juice into the pan in which
they were roasted, adding a little melted butter, and pour this sauce
over the birds.
Roasted Duck Stuffed with Celery
Or it may be that for yourself you prefer a roasted black duck, but
cannot gratify your preference because some members of the family will
insist upon calling such a bird "strong," when you know and speak of
the flavor only as being "gamey." Now, there's a way out of the
difficulty for all of you. Just stuff the birds as full as you can
with celery tops, tie thin slices of fat salt pork over their breasts
and roast them till they are quite tender and brown. You will find
the strong flavor entirely gone, while the gamey taste will be so
aided and abetted by the celery that your palate will receive a new
and altogether delightful sensation. Surround the ducks when serving
with a border prepared as follows: Brown some slices of bread in the
oven, and when of a good color and very dry, roll and pass through a
fine sieve, mix these crumbs with a little butter, season them with
salt and pepper and heat well in the oven before using. Serve with the
ducks also a hot apple sauce; make it as you always do and add to one
pint of sauce an ounce of butter.
With either of the ways suggested for cooking game you will want to
serve a salad, probably, and you can't do better than decide to have
one of escarole or of romaine with a simple French dressing. But there
is chicory, of course, and there is lettuce, and both of them in fine
condition, if you don't feel inclined to take my advice. And there are
cucumbers, from hothouses, and there are hothouse tomatoes, that are
expensive or the reverse, according to one's position on the
financial question. In fact, you can get almost any kind of vegetable
or fruit in the large markets to-day, and at all times; and if the
particular thing that you desire happens to be absent, just wait a few
minutes and your order will be filled by lightning express from some
part of the world.
_Index_
SOUPS
PAGE
Asparagus 92
Bisque of clams 89
Chicken consommé 220
Consommé with asparagus 197
Purée of peas and spinach 79
Savory tomato 87
Soup, velvet 177
FISH
Bluefish, Newport style 169
Cods' tongues, boiled 227
Fresh cod, baked 9
Fresh cod, broiled 9
Fresh cod, Delmonico style 8
Fresh cod, flaked, in tomato sauce 37
Halibut, baked, with Parmesan 178
Smelts, baked 167
Smelts, broiled, Béarnaise sauce 167
Smelts, fried, with parsley 168
Trout, lake, boiled 50
Whitefish, baked 226
SMOKED OR SALT FISH
Codfish with brown butter 44
Codfish with cream 43
Cods' tongues, fried 45
Fillets of sole, casserole of 51
Finnan haddies with cream 48
Herring, fried 47
Mackerel, boiled, horse-radish sauce 46
Salmon, broiled 46
SHELL FISH
Clam cocktails 65
Clams, West Island style 94
Clams and lobsters in shells 95
Lobster _à la_ Newberg 38, 130
Lobster croquettes 131
Lobster, devilled 129
Lobster patties 134
Lobster tartlets 130
Lobster toast 129
Lobster tails stuffed 131
Oysters, baked 143
Oysters, baked with cheese 220
Oyster cocktails 142
Oysters, creamed 37
Oysters, celery roast 146
Oysters, devilled and fried 145
Oysters, pickled 147
Oyster pie 146
Oyster salad 17
Oyster sandwiches 190
Oyster soufflée 52
Oysters, stewed, with cream 144
Oysters, stuffed and fried 145
Scallops in shells 210
BEEF, MUTTON, LAMB, PORK, ETC.
Beef tongue 112
Cutlets, jellied 140
Ham, roasted 5
Ham toast 102
Kidneys, en brochette 25
Kidneys, fried, with mushrooms 26
Kidneys, minced 27
Lamb croquettes 23
Lamb cutlets with mushrooms 135
Lamb, roasted, with caper sauce 20
Lamb, roasted, with macaroni 21
Lamb, roasted, with onion purée 21
Lamb steak 66
Lamb steak, with Béarnaise sauce 67
Lamb slices, broiled 22
Lamb slices, fried with chutney 22
Lamb slices, stewed with onions and mushrooms 22
Lamb slices in chafing dish 23
Liver, calf's, fried 28
Pigs' feet, broiled 6
Pork chops, broiled, sauce piquante 3
Pork, roasted, onion sauce 4
Sausages 2
Veal cutlets, broiled 83
POULTRY, GAME, ETC.
Chicken cream (cold) 42, 138
Chicken cream with tomato (cold) 139
Chicken, fried, Italian style 159
Chicken, fried with tomatoes 160
Chicken, fried, cream sauce 100
Chicken hash, baked 84
Chicken livers, olive sauce 39
Chicken liver patties 211
Doe birds, roasted 111
Duck, broiled canvas-back 214
Duck, canvas-back, roasted, port wine sauce 215
Duck, fillets, with orange sauce 207
Ducks, roasted, with orange sauce 160
Ducks, roasted, with olives 179
Duck, stuffed with celery tops, roasted 230
Duck, mallard, roasted, with fried celery 216
Game tarts 111
Goose pie 205
Goose, roasted, potato stuffing 221
Goose, stewed 206
Grouse pie 119
Grouse, roasted 176
Partridge breasts, fried 229
Partridge salmi (cold) 210
Plover, roasted 120
Quail, roasted 176, 230
Teal (ducks), roasted 211
Turkey in aspic 111
Turkey legs, broiled 203
Turkey legs, devilled and broiled 203
Turkey, minced 205
Turkey, minced with mushrooms 204
VEGETABLES
Asparagus, baked 77
Asparagus tops with cheese 90
Asparagus tops with cream 76
Asparagus with savory sauce 77
Cucumbers, fried 96
Cucumbers, stuffed and baked 95
Mushroom cannelons 198
Oyster plant with cream 118
Peas with mint 92
Potato soufflée 67
Potato omelet 204
Squash, baked 206
String beans with butter 199
Tomatoes, broiled, devilled 161
Tomatoes, broiled, on toast 162
Tomatoes with celery and mayonnaise 212
Turnips with butter sauce 222
SALADS
Apple and celery 162
Asparagus 77, 88
Brussels sprouts 16
Cheese 193
Duck 207
Fish 208
Herring 84
Lamb 24
Lettuce with chives 91
Nut 18
Oyster 17
Red cabbage 14
Sardine 16
Spanish onion 15
SWEET SALADS
Fruit--general 107
Fruit--summer 201
Fruit--winter 18
Pear 106
Pear salad, No. 2 164
Pineapple 106
Strawberry 105
EGG DISHES
Baked 57
Curdled in cream 55
Eggs, curried 41
Eggs, snow 62
Epicurean style 56
In tomato purée 58
Omelet Célestine 61
Omelet jelly 60
Omelet, Spanish 59
Omelet strawberries 60
Omelet with caviare 58
Omelet with chicken liver 59
Omelette soufflée 62
Scrambled with truffles 58
Toast with Parmesan 57
DESSERTS
Almond pudding 53
Charlotte, apricot 81
Charlotte, macaroon 180
Cream, banana 108
Cream, coffee glacée 53
Cream, gooseberry 102
Cream, peach 108
Cream, raspberry 108
Macaroon custard 212
Milk sherbet 123
Musk melon jelly 114
Omelet Célestine 61
Omelet with jelly 60
Omelet with strawberries 60
Omelette soufflée 62
Raspberries, crystallized 107
Strawberries, frozen 91
Strawberry fritters 103
Strawberry jelly 105
Strawberry pudding 104
Strawberry sherbet 124
Watermelon, iced 99
ICE CREAMS AND ICES
Champagne sherbet 125
Champagne sherbet with strawberries 126
Claret sherbet 126
Coffee ice cream 123
Currant sherbet 124
Grape fruit sherbet 201
Kirsch sherbet 127
Peach sherbet 124
Pineapple sherbet 124
Rhubarb sherbet 81
Victoria sorbet 223
Wine ice cream 137
FRUITS, COOKED
Apple croquettes 3
Apple salad 156
Apple sauce with orange 163
Apple sauce with whipped cream 163
Apples, fried 155
Apples in vanilla syrup 155
Grape jam 149
Peach cream 165
Pears in vanilla syrup 157
Pears stewed in claret 158
Pears, stuffed 164
Pears, stuffed stewed 158
Peaches, brandied 154
Peaches, stuffed 165
Plums, brandied 153
Plum jam 152
Quince jelly 151
Quince marmalade 150
DRINKS
Claret, hot, egg-nog 182
Claret, hot, spiced 182
Claret tipple 182
Cider cup 186
Cider egg-nog 185
Cider punch 184
Ginger lemonade 186
Moss rose 115
Orange punch 184
Quince liqueur 185
Rhine wine cup 186
Rhine wine seltzer 186
Soda cocktail 187
Sherry egg-nog, hot 183
Various cups 186
MISCELLANEOUS
Butters, savory 191
Cider sauce 5
Croquettes, macaroni 27
Croquettes, sweet corn (canned) 11
Golden buck 41
Grape fruit with rum 201
Hash, sublimated 12
Jelly, savory 193
Johnny cake, Rhode Island style 13
Macaroni, timbales 51
Macaroni with cheese 199
Mayonnaise, with horse-radish 79
Olives with caviare 78
Partridge, sauce for 175
Rice muffins 12
Sandwiches, caviare 190
Sandwiches, crust 191
Sandwiches, fish 191
Sandwiches, French 113
Sandwiches, game 191
Sandwiches, sweet 192
Sardine canapé 219
Sauce duchesse 80
Sauce for calf's liver 29
Sauce, onion 80
Toast, anchovy 69
Toast for game 174
Toast, sardine 69
Tunny fish 70
Welsh rabbit 40
INVALID COOKERY
Barley, purée of 31
Beef tea 32
Chicken broth with oatmeal 31
Chicken custard 33
Chicken, sabayon of 32
Cream soup 32
Invalid's chop 35
Rice, steamed 35
Tapioca jelly 33
Violet jelly 34
_Works on Cookery_
MRS. LINCOLN'S COOK BOOK
New Edition. The Boston Cook Book. What to Do and What Not to Do
in Cooking. By MARY J. LINCOLN. With 51 illustrations. Revised
edition, including 250 additional recipes, 12mo. $2.00.
It is the trimmest, best arranged, best illustrated, most intelligible
manual of cookery as a high art, and as an economic art, that has
appeared.--_Independent._
It tells in the most ample and practical and exact way those little
things which women ought to know, but have generally to learn by sad
experience. _It ought to be in every household._--_Philadelphia
Press._
CARVING AND SERVING
Square 12mo. Illuminated board covers. 60 cents.
What an advantage it must be to be able to place with the left hand a
fork in the breast of a turkey, and, without once removing it, with
the right hand to carve and dissect, or disjoint, the entire fowl,
ready to be helped to admiring guests! This is done by skilful
carvers. The book contains directions for serving, with a list of
utensils for carving and serving.
BOSTON SCHOOL KITCHEN TEXT-BOOK
Lessons in Cooking for the use in Classes in Public and
Industrial Schools. 12mo. $1.00.
TWENTY LESSONS IN COOKERY
Compiled from the Boston School Kitchen Text-Book. With Index.
Cards in envelope. 40 cents per set _net_.
THE PEERLESS COOK-BOOK
One hundred pages of Valuable Receipts for Cooking, Compact and
Practical. 16mo. Paper covers. 15 cents.
MISS FARMER'S COOK BOOK. New Edition
The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book. By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER,
Principal of the Boston Cooking-School, author of "Chafing Dish
Possibilities." New edition, with one hundred additional
receipts. Illustrated. 12mo. $2.00.
Miss Farmer's Cook Book has constantly been growing in favor and is
now in the front rank. _The Congregationalist_ pronounces it
_thoroughly practical and serviceable_, and numerous authorities award
it the highest praise. It should be in every household.
If one were asked off-hand to name the best cook book on the market it
would not be strange if "The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book" were
named.--_The New York Woman's World._
_The recipes are compounded with a knowledge of the science of
cooking_, and with due regard to the conservative public, which must
be wooed into a knowledge and appreciation of foods, not merely as
palate-ticklers, but as the builders and sustainers of the human
body.--_The Outlook._
CHAFING DISH POSSIBILITIES
By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER. 16mo. $1.00.
Contents: I. Glimpses of Chafing Dishes in the Past; II. Chafing
Dish Suggestions; III. Toast, Griddle Cakes, and Fritters; IV.
Eggs; V. Oysters; VI. Lobsters; VII. Some Other Shell Fish;
VIII. Fish Réchauffés; IX. Beef; X. Lamb and Mutton; XI.
Chicken; XII. Sweetbreads; XIII. With the Epicure; XIV.
Vegetables; XV. Cheese Dishes; XVI. Relishes and Sweets; XVII.
Candies.
It is a book that no one who entertains with the chafing dish will be
without.--_St. Paul Globe._
Her recipes have the merit of simplicity and newness.--_Los Angeles
Evening Express._
There have been many volumes of chafing dish recipes, but none which
is more appropriately adapted for the breakfast or lunch table, or for
small congenial parties. Every feature is distinctly new.--_Boston
Herald._
Nearly 250 recipes, all simply and clearly written.--_San Francisco
Chronicle._
SALADS, SANDWICHES, AND CHAFING-DISH DAINTIES
By JANET MCKENZIE HILL, editor of "The Boston Cooking-School
Magazine." With 33 half-tone illustrations from photographs of
original dishes. 12 mo. Cloth, extra. $1.50.
To the housewife who likes new and dainty ways of serving food, this
book will simply be a godsend. There must be more than a hundred
different varieties of salad among the recipes--salads made of fruit,
of fish, of meat, of vegetables, and made to look pretty in scores of
different ways. There are also instructions for making different kinds
of lemonades and other soft drinks, and for making breads and rolls in
the truly artistic cooking-school style.--_Washington Times._
Sensible and practical.--_Chicago Evening Post._
Many of the dishes are new to the average housewife.--_Philadelphia
Times._
A most attractive volume. The subjects are presented in a clear and
pleasing form, and are beautifully illustrated from photographs of
original dishes.--_Advance._
Her recipes are founded upon scientific principles, her directions are
clear and uncomplicated, and are reliable.--_Brooklyn Times._
The very attractive form of the book fits it to go along with the
pretty adjuncts of the chafing dish supper.--_The Dial._
It is a thoroughly practical work and will be cordially welcomed in
every household where new and dainty ways of preparing food are
appreciated.--_Boston Globe._
Wholesome dishes that will please capricious appetites. Some of these
recipes will also appeal to the taste of invalids.--_Vogue._
I GO A-MARKETING
By HENRIETTA SOWLE ("Henriette"). 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.
Miss Sowle has for some time been a valued writer for the _Boston
Transcript_, and her articles published under the title of "I Go
A-Marketing" have been found helpful and suggestive to those who are
interested in dainty and palatable dishes. Her book is not a cook-book
in the ordinary sense but aims to give novel and delicious ways of
serving the many good things which may be found each month in the year
by those who "go a-marketing."
HELEN CAMPBELL'S WRITINGS
THE EASIEST WAY IN HOUSEKEEPING AND COOKING
Adapted to Domestic Use or Study in Classes. New revised
edition. 16mo. $1.00.
IN FOREIGN KITCHENS
With choice recipes from England, France, Germany, Italy, and
the North. 16mo. 50 cents.
THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB
A Story for Girls. 16mo. $1.50.
MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME
A Novel. 16mo. $1.50.
MISS MELINDA'S OPPORTUNITY
A Story for Girls. 16mo. $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
PRISONERS OF POVERTY
Women Wage-Workers, their Trades, and their Lives. 12mo. $1.00.
PRISONERS OF POVERTY ABROAD
16mo. $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
She went among the workers and the employers, and her statements are
based upon personal knowledge of the facts....--_Boston Post._
ROGER BERKELEY'S PROBATION
A Story. 12mo. $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
SOME PASSAGES IN THE PRACTICE OF DR. MARTHA SCARBOROUGH
16mo. $1.00.
This work directs attention to the physical and spiritual value of
foods.
WOMEN WAGE-EARNERS
Their Past, their Present, and their Future. 16mo. $1.00.
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
Publishers · 254 Washington Street, Boston
Transcriber's Note
The original book used sidenotes to indicate recipe names. In this
version of the e-book, the transcriber has rendered the recipe names
as sub-headings for ease of reading.
The table of contents has been added by the transcriber for the
convenience of the reader.
Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
Several terms appear variously with a hyphen or a space--bread-crumbs
and bread crumbs, chafing-dish and chafing dish, egg-plant and egg
plant, horse-radish and horse radish, etc. These are preserved as
printed. Hyphenation has otherwise been made consistent.
The author uses some variant spelling, for example, curaçoa or bran
new. There are also some inconsistencies--omelet and omelette, soufflé
and soufflée, piquant and piquante. These are all preserved as
printed.
There are some small inconsistencies between recipe names in the main
body of the book and those in the index. These are all preserved as
printed.
On page 29, the word chevril (a type of horse tea) occurred. As it
appeared in a paragraph referencing several herbs as seasoning, it has
been amended to chervil, on the assumption that that was actually the
intended word.
On page 216 is the phrase "tender, smallest stocks of celery." This
may be an error for "stalks of celery," or it could be that the
intention was to refer to a store of celery or the availability of
it. As there is no way to sure, it is preserved as printed.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Go A-Marketing, by Henrietta Sowle
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