ENGLISH cooks would call this “A Chapter on Sweets.” “_Dessert_” with
them is usually applied to fruits, nuts, etc. Webster defines the word
thus:
“A service of pastry, fruit or sweetmeats at the close of an
entertainment; the last course at the table after the meat.”
Without dwelling upon the fact that when fruit and coffee are served
they follow pastry or puddings or sweetmeats, we take advantage of the
elastic definition and assume that the dessert of the family dinner is
a single preparation of “sweets.”
The too-universal PIE will not appear on our _menu_. I am tempted to
wish its manufacture might soon be numbered among the lost arts.
Bayard Taylor once said that “If Rum had slain its thousands in
America, Pork-fat (fried) and Pies had slain their ten thousands.”
The average pastry of our beloved land would drive a Patrick Henry to
self-exile if he were obliged to eat it every day. Nor could one of a
dozen inexperienced cooks manipulate puff-paste as it should be handled
in order to be flaky and tender. Dexterity of motion and strength of
wrist are needed for this operation, such as belong only to the trained
cook.
The more wholesome and daintier jellies, custards and trifles, and
plain puddings we have selected from the vast variety of sweet things
known to our housewives, are adapted to the powers of novices in
cookery, and not unworthy the attention of adepts.
Boiled Custard.
This is the base of so many nice “fancy dishes,” and is itself so
excellent and popular that we may properly lay the knowledge how to
prepare it properly as the foundation-stone of dessert making.
One quart of fresh, sweet milk.
Five eggs.
One cup of sugar.
One quarter teaspoonful of salt.
One teaspoonful of essence of vanilla, lemon or bitter
almond.
Heat the milk to a boil in a farina kettle, or in a tin pail set in a
pot of boiling water.
In warm weather put a bit of soda no larger than a pea in the milk.
While it is heating beat the eggs in a bowl. When the milk is scalding,
add the salt and sugar, and pour the hot liquid upon the eggs, stirring
all the while. Beat up well and return to the inner vessel, keeping the
water in the outer at a hard boil. Stir two or three times in the first
five minutes; afterward, almost constantly.
In a quarter of an hour it _ought_ to be done, but of this you can only
judge by close observation and practice.
The color changes from deep to creamy yellow; the consistency to a soft
richness that makes it drop slowly and heavily from the spoon, and the
mixture _tastes_ like a custard instead of uncooked eggs, sugar and
milk.
When you have done it right once, you recognize these signs ever
afterward.
If underdone, the custard will be crude and watery; if overdone, it
will clot or break.
Take it when quite right—just at the turn—directly from the fire, and
pour into a bowl to cool, before flavoring with the essence.
With a good boiled custard as the beginning we can make scores of
delightful desserts. First among these we may place
Cup Custard.
Fill small glasses nearly to the top with cold custard.
Whip the whites of three eggs stiff.
Beat in three teaspoonfuls of bright-colored
jelly-currant, if you have it.
Heap a tablespoon of this _méringue_ on the surface of
each glassful.
Set in a cold place until it goes to table.
Floating Island.
Fill a glass bowl almost to the top with cold boiled custard and cover
with a _méringue_ made as in last receipt. Do not whip in the jelly so
thoroughly as to color the frothed whites.
It is a prettier dish when the bright red specks just dot the snowy
mass.
Frosted Custard.
Make a nice custard; let it get perfectly cold, and pile on it, instead
of the whipped egg, a large cupful of grated cocoanut, sprinkling it on
carefully, not to disturb the custard.
Eat with sponge cake.
Blanc-mange.
Like custard, this is the base—the central idea, or fact—of numberless
elegant compounds, and is delightful in its simplest form.
One package of Cooper’s gelatine.
Three pints of fresh, sweet milk.
One even cupful of white sugar.
One half teaspoonful of salt.
One teaspoonful of vanilla or other essence.
Soda as large as a pea, put into the milk.
Soak the gelatine three hours in a cupful of cold water. Then heat the
milk (salted) in a farina kettle.
When it is scalding, stir in without taking the vessel from the fire,
the sugar and soaked gelatine. Stir three minutes after it is boiling
hot, and strain through a coarse cloth into a bowl. Let it get almost
cold before adding the flavoring. Wet a clean mould with cold water;
pour in the blanc-mange and set on ice, or in a cold place until firm.
Dip a cloth in hot water, wring until it will not drip, wrap about the
mould, turn bottom upward on a flat dish, and shake gently to dislodge
the contents.
Eat with powdered sugar and cream.
Chocolate Custard.
Five minutes before taking the custard from the fire, add to it three
heaping tablespoonful of grated Baker’s chocolate rubbed to a paste
with a little cold milk. Stir until the mixture is of a rich coffee
color.
Turn out, and when cold, flavor with vanilla and put into glasses.
Whip the whites of three eggs to a smooth _méringue_, beat in three
tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar, and heap upon the brown mixture.
Chocolate Blanc-mange.
(Our French scholars will say that this should be termed
“_Brun-mange_.”)
Mix with the soaked gelatine four heaping tablespoonfuls of Baker’s
chocolate, grated, and stir into the scalding milk, and treat as
above directed. In straining, squeeze the bag hard to extract all the
coloring matter. Flavor with vanilla.
Coffee Blanc-mange.
Soak the gelatine in a cupful of strong, clear black coffee, instead of
the cold water, and proceed as with plain blanc-mange, using no other
flavoring than the coffee.