BOILING.
BOILING is one of the things about which cooks are most careless;
theoretically they almost always know meat should be slowly boiled, but
their idea of "slow" is ruled by the fire; they never attempt to rule
that. There is a good rule given by Gouffé as to what slow boiling
actually is: the surface of the pot should only show signs of ebullition
at one side, just an occasional bubble. _Simmering_ is a still slower
process, and in this the pot should have only a sizzling round one part
of the edge. All fresh meat should boil _slowly_; ham or corn beef
should barely simmer. Yet they must not go off the boil at all, which
would spoil fresh meat entirely; steeping in water gives a flat, insipid
taste.
All vegetables except potatoes, asparagus, peas, and cauliflower should
boil as fast as possible; these four only moderately. Most vegetables
are boiled far too long. Cabbage is as delicate as cauliflower in the
summer and fall if boiled in plenty of water, to which a salt spoonful
of soda has been added, _as fast as possible_ for twenty minutes or half
an hour, then drained and dressed. In winter it should be cut in six or
eight pieces, boiled _fast_, in plenty of water, for half an hour, _no
longer_. Always give it plenty of room, let the water boil rapidly when
you put it in the pot, which set on the hottest part of the fire to
come to that point again, and you will have no more strong, rank, yellow
stuff on your table, no bad odor in your house. Peas require no more
than twenty minutes' boiling if young; asparagus the same; the latter
should always be boiled in a saucepan deep enough to let it stand up in
the water when tied up in bunches, for this saves the heads. Potatoes
should be poured off the minute they are done, and allowed to stand at
the back of the stove with a clean cloth folded over them. They are the
only vegetable that should be put into _cold_ water. When new, boiling
water is proper. When quite ripe they are more floury if put in cold
water.
SOUPS.--As I have before said, I do not pretend to give many recipes,
only to tell you how to succeed with the recipes given in other books. I
shall, therefore, only give one recipe which I know is a novelty and one
for the foundation of all soups. In one sense I have done the latter
already. The stock for glaze is an excellent soup before it is reduced;
but I will also give Jules Gouffé's method of making _pot-au-feu_, it
being a most beautifully clear soup.
It often happens, however, that you have sufficient stock from bones,
trimmings of meat, and odds and ends of gravies, which may always be
turned to account; but the stock from such a source, although excellent,
will not always be clear; therefore, you must proceed with it in the
following manner, unless you wish to use it for thick soup:
Make your stock boiling hot and skim well; then have ready the whites of
three eggs (I am supposing you have three quarts of stock--one egg to a
quart), to which add half a pint of cold water; whisk well together;
then add half a pint of the boiling stock gradually, still whisking the
eggs; then stir the boiling stock rapidly, pouring in the whites of
eggs, etc.; as you do it, stir quickly till nearly boiling again, then
take it from the fire, let it remain till the whites of eggs separate;
then strain through a clean, fine cloth into a basin. This rule once
learned will clear every kind of soup or jelly.
There are many people who are good cooks, yet fail in clear soup, which
is with them semi-opaque, while it should be like sherry. The cause of
this opacity is generally quick boiling while the meat is in. This gives
it a milky appearance. After the stock is once made and clear, quick
boiling will do no harm, but of course wastes the soup, unless resorted
to for the purpose of making it stronger. A word here about coloring
soup: Most persons resort to burnt sugar, and, very carefully used, it
is not at all a bad makeshift. But how often have we a rich-looking soup
put before us, the vermicelli appearing to repose under a lake of strong
russet _bouillon_, but which, on tasting, we find suggestive of nothing
but burnt sugar and salt, every bit of flavor destroyed by the acrid
coloring. Sometimes stock made by the recipe for _pot-au-feu_ (to
follow) requires no color; this depends on the beef; but usually all
soup is more appetizing in appearance for a little browning, and for
this purpose I always use burnt onions in preference to anything else.
If you have none in store when the soup is put on, put a small onion in
the oven (or on the back of the stove; should you be baking anything the
odor would taint); turn it often till it gets quite black, but not
_charred_. Then put it to the soup; it adds a fine flavor as well as
color, and you need not fear overdoing it.
Soup that is to be reduced must be very lightly salted; for this reason
salt is left out altogether for glaze, as the reduction causes the
water only to evaporate, the salt remains.
GOUFFÉ'S POT-AU-FEU.--Four pounds of lean beef, six quarts of water, six
ounces of carrot, six of turnip, six of onion, half an ounce of celery,
one clove, salt.
Put the meat on in cold water, and just before it comes to the boil skim
it, and throw in a wineglass of cold water, skim again, and, when it is
"on the boil," again throw in another wineglass of cold water; do this
two or three times. The object of adding the cold water is to keep it
just off the boil until all the scum has risen, as the boiling point is
when it comes to the surface, yet once having boiled, the scum is broken
up, and the soup is never so clear.
The meat must simmer slowly, _not boil_, for three hours before the
vegetables are added, then for a couple of hours more.
It is necessary to be very exact in the proportions of vegetables; but,
of course, after having weighed them for soups once or twice, you will
get to know about the size of a carrot, turnip, etc., that will weigh
six ounces. The exact weight is given until the eye is accustomed to it.
This soup strained, and boiled down to one half, becomes _consommé_.
CELERY CREAM is a most delicious and little-known white soup, and all
lovers of good things will thank me for introducing it.
Have some nice veal stock, or the water in which chickens have been
boiled, reduced till it is rich enough, will do, or some very rich
mutton broth, but either of the former are preferable; then put on a
half cup of rice in a pint of rich milk, and grate into it the white
part and root of two heads of celery. Let the rice milk cook very
slowly at the back of the stove, adding more milk before it gets at all
stiff; when tender enough to mash through a coarse sieve or fine
colander add it to the stock, which must have been strained and be quite
free from sediment, season with salt and a little _white_ pepper or
cayenne, boil all together gently a few minutes. It should look like
rich cream, and be strongly flavored with celery. Of course the quantity
of rice, milk, and celery must depend on the quantity of stock you have.
I have given the proportion for one quart, which, with the milk, etc.,
added, would make about three pints of soup.