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THE LADY'S COUNTRY COMPANION;
OR,
HOW TO ENJOY A COUNTRY LIFE RATIONALLY.
BY
MRS. LOUDON,
AUTHOR OF "GARDENING FOR LADIES," ETC.
WITH
An Engraving on Steel, and Illustrations on Wood.
FOURTH EDITION.
LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.
1852.
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
In the present edition of the "Lady's Country Companion," a reduction
has been made in the price, to render the work still more generally
useful than it has hitherto been; but in all other respects it is
essentially the same.
The principal object of this work is to save young housekeepers the
pain and trouble of buying their own experience; and though it is
particularly addressed to those residing in the country, I have had the
satisfaction of finding that it has been in many cases almost equally
useful to those living in towns. It may, however, be interesting to
my readers to know that it was originally written for the benefit of
a young friend, who was precisely in the position I have represented
Annie to be in, and who, knowing I had resided in the country in
my youth, asked my advice. Of course, in preparing the work for
publication, many things were added or enlarged on, particularly in
the parts relating to cooking and gardening, and in the suggestions
for altering and furnishing the house; but nearly all the housekeeping
and farm-yard details were the result of my personal experience. It
happened in my youth, that my father, who was in the law, was obliged,
from ill health, to give up his profession, and to reside in the
country; and as my mother was dead I kept his house. I had thus to
practise what I have here attempted to teach; and I shall be only too
happy if I am the means of sparing others the annoyances I suffered
myself.
I have stated these facts now, as it is possible, from the gradually
declining state of my health, I may not have another opportunity of
mentioning them in their proper place, and as I think my readers will
be likely to place more confidence in my counsels when they know they
are founded on realities. I have always been anxious to make my books
useful, but I am now still more so than ever I was before.
J. W. LOUDON.
_Bayswater, Dec._ 10, 1851.
CONTENTS.
Preface
List of Engravings
LETTER I.
INTRODUCTION. 1
BOOK I. THE HOUSE.
LETTER II.
First Impressions of the Country.--Making Fires.
LETTER III.
Hall.--Morning Room.--Book-Cases.--Plants in
Pots.--Squirrels, Canary Birds, Parrots and Macaws, Monkeys,
Gold Fish, and Cut Flowers.--Drawing-room.--Dining-room.
LETTER IV.
Flies.--Servants' Offices, including the Housekeeper's
Room and Store Closet, the Kitchen, and the
Scullery.--Brewing; making Home-made Wines, Cider, and
Perry; and making Bread, Rolls, Cakes, Rusks, Muffins
and Crumpets, and Biscuits.
LETTER V.
Impromptu Cookery.--Soups.--Poultry.--Pigeons.--Game.--Salads
of Cold Meat and Potatoes.--Modes of
dressing Potatoes and Carrots.--Sauces.--Omelettes,
Creams, and Side Dishes.--Miscellaneous Cookery.--National
Cookery.--The French Pot-au-Feu.--Italian
Macaroni.--German Sauer Kraut--Polish Barsch.--Spanish
Olla Podrida and Puchero.--Scotch Haggis, Barley
Broth and Hotch-potch.--English Plum-pudding.
Puddings.--Potato Flour.--Pickles.--Pork Pies.
LETTER VI.
The Larder.--Salting Meat, Bacon, and Hams.--The
Dairy.--Management of Milk.--Making and keeping
Butter.--Making Cheese of various Kinds.--Ice-House,
Ice-Cellar, and Ice-Cooler.--Ice-Creams.
BOOK II. THE GARDEN.
LETTER VII.
Planting a regular Geometrical Flower-Garden.--List of
Plants.--Mode of laying out regular Figures on the
Ground.--Rules for arranging Colours.--Planting Side
Beds.--Plants with fragrant Flowers.--Culture of
Bulbs.--Reserve Ground.--Culture of Annuals, Perennials,
and Biennials.--Hotbeds and Frames for raising and
keeping Half-hardy Flowers.
LETTER VIII.
Use of Plant-Houses.--Nature of Climates.--Different
Kinds of Hothouses.--The Dry Stove, the Bark Stove,
and the Orchideous House.--Culture of Plants in the
Bark Stove.--Aquarium and Water Plants.--Red
Spider.--Culture of Succulent Stove Plants.--Culture
of Orchideous Plants.--The Greenhouse.--The Australian
House, and Culture of its Plants.--The common
Greenhouse, the Heath House, the Conservatory, the
Orangery, and the Camellia House.--The Culture of
Plants in the common Greenhouse.--Potting
Plants.--Heaths.--Culture of Plants in the
Conservatory.--Culture of Orange Trees.--Aphides.
LETTER IX.
The Park and Pleasure-Grounds.--Situation of old
Houses.--Water.--Forest Scenery.--Effect of a Shrubbery in
harmonising a Flower-Garden with a Park.--Opening
Vistas.--Scenes in a Park.--Fences against Cattle.--Styles
in Gardening.--Use of a Terrace.--Patte d'Oie.--Planting
an Architectural Garden.--Planting an
Arboretum.--Renovating Turf.
LETTER X.
Laying out a Kitchen-Garden.--Making Gravel Walks.--Box
Edgings.--Crops of Culinary Vegetables.--Cucumbers,
Melons, and Mushrooms.
LETTER XI.
The Management of Fruit Trees.--Planting.--Protecting
the Blossoms.--Stone Fruits.--Fig Trees.--Grapes.--Management
of a Vinery.--Growing Pine-apples.--Forcing
Peaches and Nectarines.--Standard Fruit Trees.--Kernel
Fruits.--Fruit Shrubs.--Strawberries.--Tart-Rhubarb.
LETTER XII.
Operations of Gardening.--Digging, Forking, and
Hoeing.--Sowing Seeds.--Taking off Suckers.--Making Layers
and Cuttings.--Budding, Grafting, and Inarching.--Pruning
and Training.--Disbudding.--Manuring.--Keeping Fruit in a
Fruit-Room.
BOOK III. DOMESTIC ANIMALS.
LETTER XIII.
Quadrupeds kept for Amusement.--Horses for riding and
driving in Pony Carriages.--Mules, Zebras, Quaggas,
and Donkeys.--Dogs and Cats.
LETTER XIV.
Quadrupeds kept for supplying Food.--Cows, Calves,
Goats, Pigs, Rabbits, and Deer.
LETTER XV.
Inhabitants of the Poultry-Yard: Fowls, Turkeys, Guinea
Fowls, Geese, Ducks, and Pigeons.--Peacocks and
Hens.--Diseases of Poultry, and their Cure.
LETTER XVI.
The Inhabitants of the Ponds: Fish and Aquatic Fowls,
including Swans, exotic Geese and Ducks.--Inhabitants
of the Woods: including Pheasants and Partridges,
Herons and Bitterns.--Aviary.--Apiary, and the
Management of Bees.--Silk-worms.
BOOK IV. RURAL WALKS.
LETTER XVII.
Shoes and Apparatus for Walking.--Rural Seats.--Natural
Objects noted in a Country Walk; the Mole; the Shrike;
the Black Snail; the Siller Cups; the Woundwort.--Pleasures
of studying Botany.--Granite.--Appearance
of the Clouds.
BOOK V. COUNTRY AMUSEMENTS.
LETTER XVIII.
Archery: Targets; Self Bows and Backed Bows; Bowstrings;
Arrows; Arm Bracer and Shooting-Glove; Belt and Tassel; and
Quiver.--Sketching in the open Air: Block-Book and Pencils;
Artist's Colours; Touch of the different
Trees.--Swinging.--Pleasure-Boats.--Skating.--Sporting Terms.
BOOK VI. COUNTRY DUTIES.
LETTER XIX.
Relation between a Landed Proprietor and the Cottagers
on his Estate.--How to relieve the Poor.--Establishing
Schools.--Teaching the Daughters of the Poor to
make Clothes, and teaching them Cooking.--Employing
the Poor.--Assisting the Poor in Illness.--Making
Clothes for the Poor.
INDEX.
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
Frontispiece. The Manor-House in its original State.
1. Ground Plan of the Manor-House.
2. Spigot and Faucet.
3. Mash-stirrer.
4. Mash-tub.
5. Fruit-crusher.
6. Cabbage-cutting Machine for preparing Sauer Kraut.
Garden Front of the Manor-House in its improved State.
7. Radiated Geometrical Flower-garden.
8. Square Geometrical Flower-garden
9. Diagram for forming the Beds of Flower-gardens.
10. Diagram for forming the Beds of Flower-gardens.
11. Diagram for forming the Beds of Flower-gardens.
12. Compound Geometrical Flower-garden.
13. Park Fence.
14. Poultry-yard.
15. Sitting-box for Hens.
16. Hen-roost
17. Hen-coop.
18. Nidulària campanulàta.
LETTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Your letter, my dear Annie, informing me that you are about to be
married and to settle in the country, has interested me exceedingly,
as it reminds me of my own youth, when my first essays in housekeeping
were made under circumstances very similar to those in which you will
be placed. It is true I was not then married, but, as my mother was
dead, the care of the house devolved on me; and I knew even less about
household affairs than most girls of my age and rank in life, as my
mother had an old and favourite housekeeper, who managed every thing,
and who would not suffer the slightest interference in her department.
When my mother died, this person left us; and my father, with a
shattered constitution and a greatly diminished fortune, retired to a
small estate he had in the country. I was then young and thoughtless;
I had no sisters; and having, like you, been brought up in a town, I
had no ideas of the country but as a place where eggs, cream, and fruit
were in abundance; where I might keep as much poultry as I liked; and
where there were shady lanes, and green fields abounding with pretty
flowers.
The place we went to live at had a good house, commanding a splendid
view; an excellent garden; three fish-ponds, and about thirty acres of
grass land, which enabled us to keep cows and horses, without troubling
us with any of the laborious duties of cultivating arable land.
At first I was enchanted with the change. I was never tired of feeding
my poultry, watching the dairy-maid, and managing the fruit and
flowers; but, alas! I soon found that there are few roses without
thorns. My first trouble was three gentlemen calling on us one day
unexpectedly, and my father asking them to stay dinner. We were seven
miles from the town where we had formerly lived; and, though there was
a small town within two miles of us, the road was bad, and the miles
very long ones; while the town itself, when we reached it, was one
of those provoking places the shopkeepers of which never have what
is wanted, though they always say they had abundance of the required
article the week before, and believe they shall have it again the week
after. I need not enter into the details of my troubles in preparing
for this well-remembered dinner. Meat was out of the question; and
though I was enabled, with infinite difficulty, to give my father's
friends enough to eat, no one but a young housekeeper in a similar
situation can have any idea of what I suffered. The lesson, however,
was not lost upon me; and you may easily imagine that ever afterwards I
took care to have a cooked piece of hung beef, or ham, or some similar
substantial article of food in the house, that I might be provided for
a similar occurrence.
The recollection of what I underwent while buying my experience makes
me anxious to spare you, my dear Annie, the pain of a similar ordeal;
particularly as it is more disagreeable for a young newly married woman
to feel in housekeeping difficulties than a single one; as it makes you
fear your husband had a higher opinion of you than you deserve. In your
situation the difficulty is increased by your husband not having lived
at the Manor-House since the death of his parents, when he was only ten
years old; so that he can have no idea of the petty troubles you will
be exposed to. Under these circumstances I will do my best to clear the
path that lies before you, and to teach you how to enjoy rationally a
country life.
[Illustration: _The Manor-House in its original State._]
BOOK I. THE HOUSE.
LETTER II.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE COUNTRY--MAKING FIRES.
You complain, my dear Annie, that when I wrote to congratulate you on
your marriage, I did not send you any of the advice I promised. The
neglect was intentional. I was unwilling to disturb the happiness of
the honeymoon by any allusion to the troubles of life; but now that
you are actually arrived at the mansion which is to be your future
dwelling, I will not delay any longer beginning the fulfilment of my
task. I am sorry to hear that you felt chilled and depressed at the
first appearance of the Manor-House; though I am not surprised that
you found the room you were ushered into dark and cold, since you tell
me that the windows are shaded by some lofty Scotch pines, which are
certainly the most gloomy of all the vegetable race, and which must
necessarily impede both the light and the warmth of the sun. You add
that you are ten miles from a market-town, and at least seven from
any visitable neighbours; that the kitchen-garden is a mile from
the house, and under the care of a cross old gardener, who cannot be
displaced; that there is no separate flower-garden; and, in short,
that if it were not for your affection for your husband, you would be
miserable.
Your letter would make me very uneasy on your account if I had not
had a good deal of experience of the world; but I am comforted when I
reflect that in early youth the vehemence of our feelings always makes
us exaggerate both our pains and our pleasures. Have you ever looked at
a landscape through a window of coloured glass, and remarked the cold
and miserable appearance presented through the purple pane, contrasted
with the rich glow thrown upon every object by the orange glass? Both
give a false idea of the reality; but the impressions thus received are
not more erroneous than those we often experience of what passes around
us, when viewed through the medium of our feelings. I thus consider
your letter as produced by a view taken through the purple glass; and I
am far from believing that you will dislike the country when you know
it better; and still less do I give credence to your vehement assertion
that you never can be happy in your present residence.
Happiness, I suspect, in most cases, depends more upon ourselves than
we are generally willing to allow; and I am quite sure that young
married people who are attached to each other, and have a competency,
may be happy if they will, particularly in the country, where their
principal amusements must all centre in home. You will, perhaps, be
surprised to find that I think this a cause of happiness, but you will
find in time that I am right; and that our chances of being happy
decrease in proportion as we depend upon others for our enjoyments. I
cannot conceive a more miserable life than that of a beauty who has no
pleasure but in being admired; and who, consequently, must pass her
time in fits of alternate depression and excitement. It would give
me the greatest pain to see you plunge into this species of mental
intoxication, and I rejoice that you are placed in a situation where
you will not be exposed to the temptations arising from bad example.
In this respect your present abode seems to be everything I could
wish; as, from the description you have given me of the difficulties
attending visiting your neighbours they seem to be enough to cure the
most ardent lover of dissipation; and, unless the neighbours be more
than commonly agreeable, I think you will not feel inclined--
----"Frequent visits to make
Through ten miles of mud for formality's sake,
With the coachman in drink, and the moon in a fog,
And no thought in your head but a ditch or a bog."
Do not suppose from this that I think you should be unsociable; on
the contrary, I think it a duty to mix occasionally with the world,
as, unless we do so, we should soon learn to set a false value upon
ourselves and upon every thing around us. The society of persons in our
own rank in life is, therefore, essential to teach us our true level;
and I have no doubt you will find some agreeable persons among your
neighbours when you know them better, whose friendship you will think
worth cultivating.
I will now take your objections to your residence in detail; and we
will try if some remedy cannot be devised for them. I am glad your
house is large. In town, we are often content to put up with the
inconveniences occasioned by want of room, as we know that space is
valuable, and cannot always be had; but, in the country, where we
feel the free air, and see no houses before us, it seems hard to be
confined. You may also find it convenient, in the winter, to have room
to take exercise within doors; and I hope you have a good-sized hall or
gallery to play at battledore and shuttlecock in; for that is a game
not to be despised in the list of country amusements. The trees are
certainly an objection. Our ancestors seem to have had strange ideas
about planting trees in front of a dwelling. It is true, that the
modern conveniences of blinds and verandas were then probably unknown;
and, therefore, a few trees were judged agreeable to shade the windows
from the glaring light and heat of the sun. At least, this appears
to me the only way of accounting for the strange manner in which we
often see trees placed close to the windows of an ancient manor-house,
as though purposely to intercept the prospect, and to impede the
entrance of two of the greatest blessings of nature, light and free
air. I should hope that your husband will consent to have these trees
cut down, or at least thinned out; and I am sure he will find the
sacrifice amply repaid by the air of cheerfulness which will be given
to his rooms. I have also no doubt that when these rooms are better
ventilated, and the sun is permitted to reach them, you will find them
warmer; though I confess that a country-house is generally colder than
one of the same size in town. I do not mean from the size of the rooms,
for large rooms, having fewer draughts, are less difficult to warm
than small ones; but because houses in the country are more exposed to
the wind, and the air round them is colder than in towns. In some old
country-houses the rooms are small, and there are numerous long, narrow
passages, which are sure to produce draughts: but to cure this evil,
thick curtains may be suspended over the doors, care being taken not
to prevent the doors from opening freely; or there may be double doors
and double windows.
In warming a room, if an open fireplace be used, a good deal depends
upon the mode of managing the fire. Servants are very apt to throw on a
quantity of coals at once, in such a manner as to smother up the flame;
and, when this is the case, the heated air produced by the imperfect
combustion of the coals passes up the chimney with the smoke, and very
little warmth enters the room. If, on the contrary, the coals are
carefully arranged on the fire so as to allow a free current of air
to pass through them, perfect combustion takes place, and the coals
become a glowing mass, from which rays of light and heat spread in
every direction; while the cheerful appearance of a bright glowing fire
must be felt by every one. Where an opportunity occurs of altering a
fireplace, its capability for diffusing radiant heat will be greatly
increased by making the back and sides of fire-brick or fire-stone; as
these substances retain heat much longer than any kind of metal, and
are consequently more likely to prevent the fire from being chilled by
the addition of fresh coal. Drying the coal before burning it is an
excellent plan to prevent smoking, as it makes the fire exceedingly
bright and fierce. It is true that the coal appears to vanish with
extraordinary rapidity, but the combustion is so complete, that a much
greater quantity of radiant heat is evolved from the same quantity of
fuel.
In many country places it is convenient to burn wood, especially where
the fireplaces are large, as wood burns best on the hearth, or with the
logs supported by what are called andirons or dogs; and fires of this
kind harmonise admirably with large rooms and the general appearance of
the fittings up of an old country-house. A wood fire, however, requires
a good deal of attention to manage it well, as, without care, it will
often go out before the logs are half burnt; especially when wood is
burnt in a grate, unless it is mixed with a little coal, and there is
a plate at the bottom of the grate to keep in the ashes. It must also
be remembered, that, though large logs are very useful to make a large
fire, yet, when a quick supply of heat is required, it is best to use
wood cut into short thick pieces; and that wood burns much better when
dry than when green. Green wood, indeed, contains about one-third of
its weight of water, which of course evaporates in the shape of vapour,
and this vapour aids in carrying the heat up the chimney; dry wood, on
the contrary, produces a clear bright fire, which gives out radiant
heat. Opinions differ as to what kind of wood is best for fuel. Pine
wood burns freely, from the quantity of turpentine it contains, but
it does not give out much heat. Beech is preferred on the continent
of Europe, and maple in America; but Count Rumford says that the
greatest mass of radiant heat is produced by the fuel of the lime tree.
Generally speaking, close-grained smooth woods make better fuel than
those the grain of which is open and rough. Pine cones are admirable
for lighting a fire; and you will find the gloomy Scotch pines, which
have so annoyed you with their shade, may be useful in this respect, as
producing an article of domestic economy.
If any of your chimneys should smoke, the usual remedy is contracting
the mouth of the chimney, or raising it higher by the addition of a
chimney-pot. The last is a most unsightly remedy, and I hope you will
not have occasion to try it. Indeed, old houses seldom smoke, unless
their chimneys are damp for want of use, or that birds have built in
them; though nothing can be more common than to have smoky chimneys in
modern houses. One reason, I believe, is, that newly built chimneys
very often smoke because they have not been properly cored; that is,
the projecting pieces of mortar, &c., which are formed inside the
chimney while it is building, have not been removed, and prevent the
proper ascent of the smoke. Another common fault in modern fireplaces
is, that they are too shallow to allow sufficient space for the grate;
and, when the grate is set too far forward into the room, it is evident
that a very strong draught will be required to draw the smoke up the
chimney. Neither of these faults is common in old houses; in them the
chimneys are generally as smooth inside as the walls of the room,
and the fireplaces are usually two feet deep, or even more, instead
of being only nine inches, as I am told is the case with some modern
villas. I say nothing about stoves, as I confess myself prejudiced
against them, from the numerous fires they have occasioned; and I
think open fireplaces not only safer and more agreeable, but much
more conducive to health, as they aid in ventilating the apartments,
and without a constant change of air there can be neither health nor
happiness.
In speaking of the different kinds of fuel, I forgot to mention peat
and charcoal, but you will find these more useful in the kitchen than
in the parlour; and coke I would not advise you to employ, on account
of its close unpleasant smell.
LETTER III.
HALL.--MORNING ROOM.--BOOK-CASES; PLANTS IN POTS; SQUIRRELS;
CANARY BIRDS, PARROTS AND MACAWS; MONKEYS; GOLD FISH; AND CUT
FLOWERS.--DRAWING-ROOM.--DINING-ROOM.
I have just received your letter, enclosing a plan of your house and
a sketch of its present appearance; and, I confess, it appears to me
that you have not complained of its gloominess without having abundant
reason for doing so. Pray tell your husband, however, that I fully
sympathise with his reluctance to cut down trees that he has been
familiar with from his boyhood; and that, so far from liking to see
wood felled myself, I feel positive pain when even the large limb of
a noble tree falls to the ground. But I think it a weakness to give
way too much to this feeling; and, if I had a favourite tree that I
was convinced was injurious to the health, or even to the comfort, of
human beings, I would instantly have it cut down, in the same manner
as I would submit, without hesitation, to the amputation of an arm or
a leg, if I had sustained an injury that I was quite sure could not
be cured in any other way. You say you felt excessively pained when
your husband said, that, though he did not think any circumstances
could ever have induced him to order those trees to be cut down, he
was quite delighted to have such an opportunity of pleasing you; and
that, when you heard the workmen employed in cutting the trees down the
following morning, you felt every blow they struck, and you thought he
must hate you for wishing him to make such a sacrifice. These feelings
are quite natural; but, in my opinion, the readiness with which your
husband complied with your wishes will strengthen the bond of affection
between you instead of weakening it, as there cannot possibly be a
stronger proof of love than is shown in sacrificing our prejudices in
favour of the beloved object; and I am sure, with your grateful and
amiable disposition, you will be delighted to prove that you can make
sacrifices in your turn, whenever a proper opportunity for doing so may
occur.
I am sure the removal of these trees will make the house appear more
cheerful; and I can now only recommend you strongly to take care that
your rooms are well ventilated, by the windows being always opened in
fine weather, whenever the rooms are unoccupied, for, I repeat, though
you laughed at my former assertion, that a free circulation of air is
essential both to health and happiness. You ask, how is it possible
that fresh air can contribute towards happiness? and I, in return,
ask you if you have never felt the influence of a fine clear bracing
morning in making you feel gay and happy, quite independently of moral
causes. On such occasions,
"The bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne,"
and we feel equal to any exertion that may be required of us. Look
at the contrast between country children, as they run shouting and
laughing only from the irrepressible glee of their own hearts, and the
children of a close and over-populated town, who creep from school
shivering and sad, with countenances as dull as the appearance of the
atmosphere they are compelled to breathe. You enjoy in the country the
inestimable advantage of being able to procure as much fresh air as you
like, only by opening your windows; but the inhabitants of towns, when
they throw open their sashes, often admit air more impure than that
already in their rooms.
I will now give you my opinion as to the best method of furnishing your
rooms, so as to make them look as cheerful as possible.
[Illustration: Fig. 1. _Ground Plan_--1, Hall. 2, Morning room and
library. 3, Drawing-room. 4, Dining-room. 5, Gentlemen's business
room. 6, Staircase. 7, Passages to offices. 8, Housekeeper's room and
store closet. 9, Dressing-room for men-servants. 10, Butler's pantry.
11, Kitchen. 12, Scullery. 13, Servants' hall. 14, Room for female
servants. 15, Dry larder, or pantry. 16. Wet larder and salting room.
17, Laundry. 18, Cheese room. 19, Butter room. 90, Churning-room.
21, Dairy. 22. Kitchen court. 23, Road to stable. 24, Terrace. 25,
Conservatory.]
I see by the plan (fig. 1.) that you have a good-sized _hall_, so that
you will have room for playing at battledore and shuttlecock after all;
and I repeat that it is a game not to be despised, though you do speak
so contemptuously of the
"Transports that shuttlecock yields."
I think you do wrong to treat with so much scorn these trifling
amusements. It is the part of true wisdom to enjoy every harmless
pleasure which falls within our reach, provided we do not occupy,
by so doing, those hours which ought to be devoted to more serious
employments. Thus, if you do not like battledore and shuttlecock,
perhaps you may billiards, and your hall would do admirably for a
billiard-table. The small room on the right hand is your husband's
business-room, and it is very conveniently situated, as people who
want to see him on justice-business, or to show him dogs, or any thing
relating to sporting, &c., can go in by the side glass door, without
entering the house.
On the other side of the hall is the room you thought so gloomy the
night you first arrived; and this I would advise you to fit up partly
as a _library_, and partly as a _morning sitting-room_. I see that one
of the windows faces the east; and this you will find is in itself
sufficient to make the room pleasant for a morning room, as you will
have the rising sun upon it, and that always diffuses an agreeable
warmth in a room, at a period of the day when warmth is particularly
agreeable. I wish the other window looked on a flower-garden, as it
faces the south; and, now that the gloomy Scotch pines have been cut
down, it would be just a little sheltered place, where flowers would
delight to grow, particularly if your husband would consent to remove
a small cedar that I see still casts a shade upon it. However, we must
not ask for too much at once; and, till your flower-garden is made,
I would advise you to have a few plants in pots in the east window.
Remember though, you must have only a few plants, as more than five
or six would give the window the appearance of being a substitute for
a greenhouse, a most unpleasant idea at any time, and particularly so
in the country. Two rather tall and spreading geraniums, with showy
trusses of flowers, a large well-trained Sóllya heterophýlla, a fine
Polýgala oppositifòlia, and two showy well-grown Fuchsias, will be
quite enough. They should be in large handsome pots, standing in
saucers for the sake of cleanliness; and care should be taken not to
fill the pots with earth higher than to within about an inch from
the brim, so as to leave plenty of room for watering. The space left
should be filled with water every morning, and the water suffered to
run through the pots into the saucers; which, after waiting about ten
minutes, or more if necessary, so to allow as much water as possible
to drain through the earth in the pots, should be emptied, as nothing
can be more injurious to most kinds of plants in pots than to let
water stand in their saucers. If a constant fire be kept in the room
so that the air is always hot and dry, the pots in which the plants
are kept should be set within other pots, and the space between the two
filled with moss. This is also a good plan with plants in balconies,
to prevent the roots of the plants becoming dry and withered. Plants
in rooms always require a great deal more water than plants in a
greenhouse, to counteract the dry atmosphere of a living-room; and
when practicable they should be set out in the rain, or syringed over
head, to wash off the dust which, from sweeping the room and other
causes, will inevitably rest on the leaves and choke up their pores,
thus impeding the action of these very important organs. Air also is as
essential to the health of plants as it is to that of human beings, as
both live by decomposing it; and thus when plants are kept in a room,
that room requires to be more carefully ventilated than would otherwise
be necessary.
You say that all your rooms must be completely new furnished, and ask
my advice as to the colours of the curtains, &c., in the different
rooms. It is extremely difficult to give this, as taste differs
exceedingly as to colours. As general rules, however, it may be
observed that cold colours, such as pale blues and greens, never look
well in rooms lighted from the north; and that warm colours, such
as rich yellows and reds, should be avoided in rooms lighted from
the south. As, however, it is desirable, if possible, to shake off
the dislike you have taken to what I hope you will make your morning
sitting-room, and as that dislike has arisen partly from the gloomy
dark green curtains and dingy tapestry on the walls, I would advise
you to adopt only light colours in the furniture; particularly as the
room will be generally used by daylight. First, the tapestry must be
entirely removed: indeed you say it is already half-decayed from age
and damp; and I would then advise you to have the walls, if they are
in a proper state, painted or papered according to your fancy; taking
care that the colour of the curtains and other furniture harmonizes
with that of the walls. If your curtains are of moreen or damask you
should have inner curtains of white muslin, which may be trimmed with
lace, or have a coloured border: and these white curtains alone you
will probably find sufficient during summer. There should be two sofas,
an easy chair or two, comfortable footstools, and several small tables
of different kinds, in addition to the ordinary chairs and tables; and
I should add a chiffonier and a cabinet piano. You can, if you wish
to be economical, have brown holland covers to the sofa and chairs;
and you can pin plain white muslin over the silk of the piano and the
chiffonier, to save them from the flies. The carpet may be Brussels,
or Kidderminster, or a printed drugget, the first of the three being
far the most expensive; the Kidderminster carpet and the drugget are
nearly alike in price, but the drugget looks best, though it does not
wear well. Whatever the material of the carpet may be, the colours
should correspond with those of the furniture and the walls. As your
books will be in daily use, they will be best in open cases with a
little curtain of leather nailed along the shelves to keep out the
dust. They should always, if possible, fill up entirely the space left
for them; and on this account it is best to have movable shelves where
it is practicable. Should the books not stand high enough to fill the
space for them, the housemaid may remove the dust with a goose's wing,
or with one of those brushes with long hairs now sold for similar
purposes; but do not let her take the books down oftener than twice a
year, as frequent removals will not only injure the binding of your
books, but will occasion you great annoyance, from the confused manner
in which they are sure to be replaced on the shelves.
I know you were always fond of pets, though you never kept any, as your
aunt did not like them; but now you are your own mistress, I think it
very likely you will have a canary bird, and perhaps a parrot; and I am
sure you will have some gold fish, which you will keep in your morning
room. I would not advise you to keep a squirrel, on account of its
unpleasant smell in a cage, and its hiding propensities out of one;
though in other respects squirrels are pretty little creatures from
their gracefulness and agility, and the intelligence that sparkles in
their bright little eyes. If you do keep a squirrel, feed it with bread
scalded in hot water, and plenty of nuts; and take care that its cage
is cleaned, its hay changed, and its tin for food washed out with hot
water, every day.
Your canary bird, if you have one, should be kept scrupulously clean,
and the bottom of its cage should be strewed with clean sand every
morning. It should also have fresh water every day, both for drinking
and bathing, the latter being in a shallow vessel; in the moulting
season a small bit of iron may be put in the water for drinking, but
no other medicine should be given. Its food should be as simple as
possible, and should consist principally of summer rape seed, that
is, those small brown rape seeds which are produced by plants sown
in spring, and are ripe in summer; and not those sown in autumn and
reaped in spring, which are large and black. A little duck-weed in
spring, lettuce leaves in summer, endive in autumn, and slices of
sweet apple in winter, may be added; and occasionally a few poppy or
canary seeds, and a very small quantity of bruised hemp seed: but
this last should be given as a great treat, and only sparingly: all
sugar, bread, and other delicacies, are very injurious. It must never
be forgotten that birds kept in cages are in a most unnatural state,
and that they require the greatest care to keep them in health. Three
things should be especially attended to: viz. cleanliness, simple food,
and abundance of fresh air. This last particular may appear strange to
those who know that the canary bird, being a native of a warm climate,
is easily injured by cold; so much so indeed, that in winter its cage
should never be hung in a room without a fire. But, notwithstanding
this, it should have the windows of the room open frequently when the
sun shines, even in winter; and in summer it should be kept as much
as possible in the open air. The poor little creature shows its own
feeling on the subject indeed very distinctly; for, as soon as it is
placed near an open window in the sunshine, it begins to bathe, and
to preen its feathers, and then it sings gaily its loudest songs of
joy, frequently fluttering its wings at the same time, as though from
a sensation of intense enjoyment. The cage for a single canary bird
should never be less than eight inches in diameter and a foot high, and
should have sticks placed across it at different heights for the bird
to perch on.
Parrots, macaws, and cockatoos thrive best on a pole with a stand at
the bottom for sand, as their tail and wing feathers generally become
ragged when they are kept in a cage. Some grey parrots and blue macaws
are very apt to pull out their breast feathers; but this is the result
of a disease brought on by eating too much meat. The same cause also
brings on gout in the feet, and other complaints. All the parrot tribe
are hard-beaked birds, and consequently not carnivorous: their food
in their native country is grain and fruit, and their habits in this
respect should always be kept in view in feeding them; for though birds
in confinement are in an unnatural state, and require more indulgences
than they would need if wild in the woods, yet they should never have
food given to them which their organs are quite unfitted to digest.
Parrots and other similar birds should therefore be fed as much as
possible on ripe fruit, boiled wheat or Indian corn, and milk; or, if
these articles be not attainable, bread or captain's biscuit soaked
in boiling water, with enough milk added to enable the bird to drink,
will be found the best substitute. Bird-fanciers use generally bread
made without salt, and very well baked, crumbled into water and then
slightly squeezed; but the birds get very thin if kept for a long
time only on this diet, and require a little milk, though that is a
food they certainly never can have in their natural state. Bechstein
says that they will get fat on the seed of the safflower (_Cárthamus
tinctòrius_), and indeed these seeds are called by the French _graines
de perroquets_. Though the parrot tribe are not carnivorous, they
are all very fond of a bone to pick; and I believe that they may be
indulged with one occasionally, provided there is no fat and very
little meat on it. Parrots should be supplied every day with clean
water to wash, and their feet should be frequently examined and cleaned
from any dirt that may be adhering to them.
Should you take a fancy to a pet monkey, most of the common kinds are
kept chained to a pole on a stand, and fed like parrots; but marmozets,
which are pretty little creatures, are very tender, and are generally
kept in a cage like squirrels. They will eat animal food, and one that
was at liberty is said to have snatched a gold fish out of the water,
and devoured it. The most interesting circumstance relating to them is,
however, their fondness for their young, which is nursed by both the
male and female like a baby.
Gold and silver fish are very ornamental and suitable objects to keep
in a lady's morning room. It is generally supposed that they are quite
incapable of affection; but some that we have certainly knew me again
when I came back after having been out of town; and one, which I call
Goldy, and which we have had four or five years, will come and nibble
my finger when I put it near him, or swim after a feather when I draw
it gently along the surface of the water.
It is, however, very difficult to keep gold fish long in a room,
particularly in a glass globe. When it is wished to do so, only two or
three should be in one globe, and the water should be changed every day
in winter, and twice a day in summer; the fish having no food but the
animalcula which they find in the water, which should always be from a
pond or river, as spring water is not only too cold, but often contains
some mineral substance which is likely to prove injurious. When several
fish are kept in a small space, the water should either be kept
continually changing by a fountain, or in some other mode; or the fish
should be fed with some farinaceous substance, but never with baker's
bread, as it is decidedly injurious to them. I am told that the dealers
in gold fish, who always keep a great number together in darkness, in
a large tub or tank, feed them twice a day with boiled grits; other
persons recommend crushed barley or oats: in France they use a kind of
paste made of maize or Indian corn; and in America, I am told, they
prefer brewer's grains, or a paste made of bran and flour. Whenever
farinaceous food of any kind is used, it should be given in small
quantities, and be quite fresh; the vessel in which the fish are kept
being always cleaned thoroughly every day, to prevent the possibility
of any of the food in a sour state remaining in it.
Though gold and silver fish certainly look best in a glass globe, I
doubt whether they live so long in one as they will do in an opaque
vessel. When I kept my fish in a large oblong china vase, I lost only
one in five years; but in a glass globe I lost seven in about six
months. I tried various modes of treatment, such as putting gravel
in the water, and giving the fish duck-weed and pond-weed to shelter
them from the sun; but I had still the mortification to see my fish
die, and generally without any apparent cause. The first symptom was
the fish appearing languid and unwilling to move; but in a few hours,
it began to swim on one side, and when turned on the other side it
instantly resumed its former position; shortly after, the tail drooped
down, so as to throw the body into an angular position, and in the
course of a few hours the poor fish was dead. It is true that the year
in which these experiments were tried appears to have been decidedly
unfavourable for gold fish, as a great many died, even in ponds, where
they are generally much more healthy than when kept in rooms. In one
instance, especially, nearly twenty died in the marble basin of a
fountain, where fish had been kept for years with an average of not
more than two or three deaths in a year. In many cases, the cause of
death in gold fish is evidently a plant nearly allied to the green
scum formed on stagnant water. This plant, which is called Achyla
prolífera, consists principally of threads so exceedingly fine as to
be imperceptible to the naked eye, but which take root in the body
of the fish, as the mistletoe grows on the apple tree, and in time
produce a soft downy substance like mould, that first appears on the
gills and tail, but gradually covers the whole body of the fish. When
this extraordinary disease, if it may be so called, is discovered in
its first stages, it may be stopped by sprinkling salt on the back and
sides of the fish; but the application appears to cause intense pain,
as the fish, as soon as it feels the salt, darts from one side to
the other of the vessel that contains it, and appears to be writhing
with agony. This, however, soon goes off, and the fish appears quite
restored, seldom requiring a second application.
The best way of keeping gold and silver fish is certainly in a pond
in the garden; particularly if the situation be warm and exposed to
the sun. It is necessary, however, if the pond be shallow, and the
water clear, to have two or three bundles of faggots thrown into it,
that the fish may find shade, when they wish it. Faggots are also
very useful when it is wished to breed gold fish; as they afford both
warmth and shelter, without which gold fish never produce young. When
first hatched the gold fish is nearly black, but it gradually becomes
streaked with gold or silver; the metallic hue increasing every year,
till the black finally disappears.
As you are fond of having flowers in your room, and as your present
garden is so far from your house, you will perhaps be glad to know how
to preserve cut flowers as long as possible. The most simple rules
are, not to put too many flowers in a glass, to change the water every
morning, and to remove every decayed leaf as soon as it appears,
cutting off the end of the stems occasionally, as soon as they show any
symptoms of decay. A more efficacious way, however, is to put nitrate
of soda or nitrate of potash (saltpetre) in powder into the water; as
about as much as can be easily taken up between the forefinger and
the thumb, put into the glass every time the water is changed, will
preserve cut flowers in all their beauty for above a fortnight. Camphor
in powder has nearly the same effect.
The _drawingroom_ should be fitted up with more elegance than any other
room in the house. The walls may be panelled, and the panels filled in
with fluted silk, with a gilt moulding round them; or the walls may
be covered with flock or satin paper, with a gilt moulding under the
cornice. In either case the cornice should be rich; and there should be
bosses on the ceiling to indicate the place for the chandeliers, if
you have any. A slight degree of conformity between the style of the
furniture and that of the house is, I think, advisable; but, as your
house appears to have had additions made to it in different reigns,
almost any style of furniture that suits your own taste may be adopted
without incongruity. There should be several large looking-glasses,
two or more chandeliers; and against the walls there should be a few
choice cabinet pictures, which should be characterised by delicacy and
beauty rather than force. A Claude or two, some of Guido's exquisite
female heads, and one of Raphael's Madonnas, would be very suitable, or
modern paintings of first-rate artists; but I think no picture should
be admitted unless its subject is elegant as well as pleasing. There
should be large mirrors in panels, or in richly gilt frames, and a
very handsome white marble chimney-piece, as I see there is but one
indicated in the plan, with a very rich-looking steel grate, made low
to show an ornamented back. I suppose the windows near the fireplace
are false ones, as otherwise there would be a cross light; the three
windows opening on the terrace are, however, quite sufficient to give
light to the room; and that at the south end I should like to see
opening into a conservatory. I scarcely know what colour to recommend
for the hangings of the walls. Full-toned colours lessen the size of a
room, and light colours enlarge it. Crimson is very becoming to female
beauty, and it has besides the advantage of being in perfect keeping
with the character of a drawingroom in an old mansion. The curtains
should be silk or silk damask, and made with either a piped valance
or very deep gold fringe; and the inner muslin curtains should have a
rich border, and be trimmed with either lace, or with silk fringe of
the same colour as the outer curtains. The chairs should correspond,
and should have a great deal of gilding about them. The carpet should
be Wilton, and made in one piece, of a pattern to fit the room; and
this pattern should consist chiefly of flowers. There should be several
sofas and ottomans and ornamental footstools, an excellent piano, and a
harp, ornamental screens to correspond with the style of the curtains;
consoles with richly gilt frames, and looking-glass slabs and brackets
for ornamental china; candelabra for lights; an elegant ormolu clock;
and in short, a variety of articles that will suggest themselves; only
take care not to crowd the room too much, lest you should give it the
air of an upholsterer's warehouse rather than a drawingroom.
The _dining-room_ should be characterised by the massive appearance
of its furniture, and the richness of its hangings. The curtains
may be of maroon-coloured cloth, or moreen, trimmed with gold. The
carpet should be Turkey or Axminster, and need not quite cover the
room, but may leave a part to be rubbed bright or painted. You should
have a large handsome chimney-piece, and a large grate, so contrived
with a plate at the bottom, as to contain wood as well as coal. Some
persons advise having no light in a dining-room except from one large
chandelier hung just over the dinner-table, but sufficiently high above
it to cast no shade; while others recommend side lights to show the
pictures, if there should be any, on the walls. If there are, they may
be of quite a different character from those in the drawingroom, and of
more solemn and serious subjects, though still not painful ones; and
they may include pictures by the Dutch masters, and those by English
artists in the domestic style. Your dining-room is very conveniently
placed in being so near the kitchen; and it is also convenient to have
folding-doors opening into both the dining-room and the drawingroom,
placed exactly opposite each other. The passage or vestibule between
them is useful in keeping out sounds from the drawingroom, and also
the smell of dinner; and it may easily be made ornamental by filling
the end next the window with greenhouse plants in flower. These will
also have a good effect from the hall; and in addition to them, the
vestibule may contain a bust or some choice piece of sculpture, before
which may be placed a lamp. The sideboard in the dining-room may be
placed in the recess left for it.
I have now given you all the advice that I think you will find
requisite; for, after all, you must remember that, notwithstanding any
thing I may have said, the furniture and decorations of the rooms must
depend principally on your own taste; I can do no more than point out
what kind of style is suitable to the different rooms, and you must do
the rest.
LETTER IV.
FLIES.--SERVANTS' OFFICES, INCLUDING THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM AND
STORE-CLOSET, THE KITCHEN, AND THE SCULLERY.--BREWING; MAKING HOME-MADE
WINES, CIDER, AND PERRY; AND MAKING BREAD, ROLLS, CAKES, RUSKS, MUFFINS
AND CRUMPETS, AND BISCUITS.
It gave me the greatest pleasure, my dear Annie, to hear that your
husband is so well pleased with the improvement produced by the removal
of the Scotch pines, that he wishes you to follow my advice in other
things, and that you have actually ordered furniture for your morning
room in accordance with my suggestions. You ask, however, why I have
said nothing of your husband's business-room, and add that you suppose
I forgot it; but this was far from being the case. The reason I omitted
it was, that I wished, if he asked your opinion respecting it, you
might be able to speak entirely from your own feelings, and not from
the advice of another. No female friend should ever, on any account,
interfere between a man and his wife. In any matter that falls within
your own province, I shall always be delighted to give you the best
advice I can, but that is all. Should any quarrels arise between you
and your husband, (and it would be very strange, indeed, if there
should not,) your best plan is to keep them entirely to yourself, and
never to ask advice respecting them from any friend whatever.
But to return to your house. I was very much surprised to find that you
were annoyed with flies, till I read "notwithstanding all the pains our
careful housemaid takes to catch them with saucers of sugar and water."
This explained the mystery. It is the saucers of sugar and water that
attract the flies, and, indeed, one half of what are called remedies
for these little pests only increase the nuisance. Besides, without
pretending to any morbid sensibility, I must confess that I always
think the sight of the poor flies struggling to get out of the liquid
grave into which they have been entrapped extremely painful to the
feelings. I know it is a law of nature that all creatures should prey
upon each other; but I do not like killing creatures by wholesale, when
there appears no absolute necessity for so doing. I think if you remove
your sugar and water, your flies will disappear of themselves; and, if
they do not, you must, in such rooms as are lighted from one side only,
adopt our kind friend Mr. Spence's admirable plan of putting network
over the window-frame, so that whenever the window is opened, either
at the top or the bottom, the space is still covered with the net. You
will be astonished to see how efficacious this simple plan is; as,
though the flies could easily get through the meshes, they are afraid
of trying, lest they should be entrapped.
I will now proceed to say a few words on your servants' offices, and
of these the _housekeeper's room_ generally ranks first. As I see
no store-closet marked in your plan, I suppose you will make the
housekeeper's room serve for that purpose; particularly as you say you
mean to be your own housekeeper; and you will find the store-closet
a most important place in the country, as it is necessary to lay in
larger stores of all the common articles of daily consumption than are
ever required in a town, where shops can be sent to on any emergency.
Your housekeeper's room should therefore have ranges of cupboards and
drawers all round it, to contain the household linen, china, glass,
pickles, preserves, cakes, tea, coffee, sugar, and in short every
article wanted by the family, a store of which is kept. There should
be a bureau, or desk with drawers beneath, to keep the account-books,
receipts for bills, and other papers relating to housekeeping; and
on one side of the fireplace you may have a cupboard with iron doors
enclosing a small oven, and a range of charcoal stoves, for making any
dishes in French cookery, or any cakes or preserves that you may take a
fancy to do yourself, with the assistance of your maid, apart from the
observation of the other servants. On the other side of the fireplace
may be a similar cupboard, containing a small sink with a wash-hand
basin furnished with a plug and waste-pipe to let off the water, and
two pipes, one to supply cold water from a cistern, and the other hot
water from a boiler behind the fireplace.
Before fixing up the cupboards the walls should be made perfectly dry,
and, if they are not so, they should be battened, that is, covered
with canvass strained over slips of wood nailed to the walls, strong
brown paper being afterwards pasted over the canvass. This preserves a
stratum of air between the walls and the backs of the cupboards, which
effectually excludes damp. You may easily know when a room is damp by
its appearance, before you have kept any thing in it. If the walls have
been whitewashed, they will show various-coloured stains; and, if they
have been papered, the paper will hang loose. No expense should be
spared to make a room dry, that is to be used for keeping stores in,
as the mischief done by damp is incalculable. Lump sugar crumbles into
powder; moist sugar hardens into lumps; saltpetre and bay salt turn
to water; preserves become mouldy or candied, cakes soft, and linen
mildewed. Nor is the mischief done by damp confined to any one part of
the house. In the butler's pantry the silver will become spotted; in
the cellar the wine will lose its strength and flavour; and, in the
living-rooms, the oil paintings will become blistered, and the books
and engravings stained.
But to return to the housekeeper's room. In one part you can have a
cupboard to open with folding-doors like a wardrobe, for keeping tea
and sugar and similar articles. There should be shelves in this, on
which should stand numerous tin canisters marked with the names of
the different articles they contain. In the upper part should be a
shelf suspended by cords passing through holes bored in the corners,
for loaves of sugar, or any similar articles likely to be attacked by
mice. The common tea should be kept in a chest lined with lead, which
may stand in the lower part of the closet, and the finer kinds should
be kept in canisters. A bag of raw coffee may also stand on the lower
shelf of the closet; but, after the coffee is ground, it should be kept
in a canister, and as far apart from the tea as possible, as, if it is
near it, it will give the tea an unpleasant taste. Moist sugar should
be kept in a large tin canister, the lid of which opens with a hinge.
The coffee-mill, if in this apartment, must be fixed to some part of
the room where it will be quite firm, and yet be so placed that the
person grinding may have room to use the arm freely; but many persons
have the coffee-mill in the kitchen, and also a mill for pepper. When
any thing is to be ground in a mill, of a different nature from what
it is generally used for, the mill should be first cleaned by grinding
in it a hard crust of bread.
A second cupboard should be set aside for the soap and candles. In
this there should be some strong hooked nails driven into the wall,
for the kitchen candles; and a kind of bench or wooden stand for the
boxes containing mould candles, if you use any, though most persons now
prefer the composition or stearine candles with plaited wicks, as they
do not require snuffing. These candles, and those of wax or spermaceti,
may be kept a long time without injury, if they are covered with paper
within the box, to prevent them from becoming discoloured, which they
will soon be, if much exposed to the air; but tallow candles of all
kinds should never be kept more than six months, as, when old, they
are very apt to gutter. Soap, also, should never be kept too long, or
be suffered to become too dry. It is true that, when used too new, it
wastes away very rapidly; yet, if it is kept more than six months, and
particularly if it becomes too dry, it cracks and shrinks so much, as
to render it very troublesome to use, and nearly double the quantity is
required.
Dried currants and raisins, for cakes and puddings, should be kept in
canisters in another closet; and almonds and raisins for dessert in
boxes. Sage and other herbs I have found keep best in powder, after
they have been dried in an oven. Every leaf should be pulled off
separately into a kind of tray made of tin, and put into an oven when
about the right heat for baking bread: as soon as the leaves are dry
enough to rub into powder, they should be crushed with a rolling pin,
and after being sifted, put into wide-mouthed bottles, which should be
carefully corked. Herbs thus prepared will keep good without losing
their flavour for years; and they have the advantage of being always
ready for use when wanted, without the smallest particle of dust.
As I think you have told me you are several miles from a town, it will
be necessary to recollect every thing that may be wanted when you send
there, to avoid the inconvenience of sending frequently. For this
purpose, I think you will find it useful to have a slate hanging up
beside your desk in the housekeeper's room, on which you can write down
the name of any article that you find is nearly exhausted when you are
giving it out.
Your _kitchen_ appears, by the plan you have sent me, to be of a
very good size, and well lighted, which is essential to both comfort
and cleanliness, as it is impossible for the cooking to be performed
properly, or the culinary vessels to be kept clean, without abundance
of light. It is also well placed, as it faces the north, which a
kitchen should do whenever it is practicable, to keep it free from
too much sun. In old country houses the ceiling of the kitchen is
frequently furnished with racks for bacon; and there are hooks driven
into the beams for hung beef, tongues, and hams, but in other places
these are kept in the larder. In either case I would advise you always
to have a plentiful supply of salted meat in the house, to be ready for
emergencies; and I would always have a ham, a tongue, or a piece of
hung beef, ready cooked; which will not only be useful for breakfast,
and luncheon, but will be found a most potent auxiliary in the case
of unexpected guests arriving when the larder may be at a low ebb. In
the course of my experience I have always found that there are few
things more agreeable to a husband than to be able to take a friend
home unexpectedly, and yet to be sure that he will find a good and even
elegant dinner, without any bustle or ill-temper being caused by his
appearance. In large establishments the sudden arrival of a stranger
is of very little consequence; but as your husband has an ancient name
to keep up on limited means, and, above all, as you have undertaken
to be your own housekeeper, you must remember that, in places where
the butcher lives several miles off, and calls for orders only once
or twice a week, it is essential you should make such provision as to
be never taken off your guard. To aid in this I will, if you like,
at some future time, give you a few hints on cookery, particularly on
_impromptu_ dishes, which I trust you will find useful; but I must now
return to the fitting up of the kitchen.
You tell me you shall want a new kitchen-range, and ask what kind
I would recommend. I would advise you to shun all those that are
said to burn remarkably little fuel, as they are generally very
complicated, and of course extremely liable to go out of order; a
serious inconvenience any where, but particularly in the country. I
should recommend you to have an open grate from four feet to eight
feet wide, having of course a contrivance to make the part intended
to contain the fire larger or smaller at pleasure; and the fireplace
should be at least two feet deep, to allow of a boiler behind the fire,
communicating with another on the side of the grate, care being taken
either to have the boilers fed constantly by a pipe from a cistern, or
to have them filled every night when the fire is low, as it is very
dangerous to pour cold water into a boiler when it is nearly empty and
quite hot. The sudden change from heat to cold sometimes indeed makes
the iron contract so rapidly as to burst the boiler. It is useful to
have an oven on one side of the grate, not, indeed, for baking any
thing, for food seldom has its proper flavour when cooked in such
ovens, but to keep plates and dishes warm. The floor of a kitchen is
generally laid with stone, but it is a great comfort to the cook to
have a part boarded near a table under one of the windows, for the
convenience of standing upon the boards when in the act of cooking. The
kitchen doors should have their hinges on the side next the fireplace,
to avoid disturbing the current of air near the fire when they are
opened.
As your kitchen is large, you may perhaps be able to have a small
range of charcoal pans for French cooking, in addition to the
ordinary kitchen-range, if you have not something of the kind in the
housekeeper's room; and among your kitchen utensils you should have two
or three that will be useful in French cooking. One of these should
be a braising pan, with a deep concave rimmed lid, in which fire can
be put whenever you have any dish cooked that requires fire above and
below; another should be two saucepans, one going within the other,
like a gluepot, forming a _bain marie_. German saucepans, and other
enamelled articles for the kitchen, are very convenient in all dishes
where milk or cream is used; but it is a long time before any liquid
boils in them; and when it does boil, it continues to do so for a
minute or more after the saucepan is taken from the fire, on account
of the enamel retaining the heat. You ought also to have a cupboard
in the kitchen, for the cook to keep her spices and other articles
in, fitted up with shelves and canisters: and there should be another
closet for the flour tub and bread jar, which should stand on a board
raised at least six inches above the floor, to keep them from the
attacks of mice and black beetles. The egg-basket and the salt-box may
also find a place in this closet, so as to keep the general appearance
of the kitchen neat and clean. Of course you will have one or two
dressers for plates and dishes, made with drawers and cupboards below.
Every kitchen should also contain a clock, that the cook may see
exactly how the time goes, and have no excuse for not being punctual.
The _scullery_ should be as close to the kitchen as possible. It
should be paved with Yorkshire stone or brickwork, and it should have
a cistern of water closely adjoining it. In every scullery there
should be a stone sink, with a plate-rack at one end, and under the
plate-rack should be a slanting dripboard with a kind of gutter at the
base, to convey the water that drains from the plates and dishes to the
waste-pipe of the sink; and it will be found a great convenience to
have a pipe carried to it from the boiler behind the kitchen fireplace,
in order to afford a constant supply of hot water. The scullery should
also contain two coppers, one small, for boiling hams or large pieces
of beef, and another of a much larger size for brewing.
For _brewing_ twelve gallons of _table ale_ at a time, the copper
should hold eighteen gallons, as about six gallons of water will be
absorbed by the malt. The usual proportion of malt and hops required
for this quantity is, one bushel of malt and three quarters of a pound
of hops. Pale malt is the best, and it should be plump and crisp,
breaking readily, and full of flour; it should also taste sweet.
The hops should have no bad smell, and they should be in condition,
that is, they should abound in the yellow powder called by chemists
lupuline, which makes them feel sticky when rubbed between the fingers.
The malt must be crushed or ground before it is used. River water is
preferred for brewing, and it should be heated in the copper to about
175°, or rather more.
[Illustration: Fig. 2. _Spigot and faucet_.]
A large deep tub is then provided, called a mash-tub, in one side of
which, at the distance of an inch or two from the bottom, is fixed a
cock, or what is called a spigot and faucet (fig. 2.), with the end
which projects within the tub covered with basket-work to prevent the
escape of the grains when the wort is drawn off. About six gallons of
hot water are then poured into the mash-tub, and some of the malt is
shaken in, a little at a time, and mixed with the water by the help
of a wooden instrument called a mash-stirrer (fig. 3.); more water
is then added, and then more malt, till nearly all the water has been
poured in, and only a peck of malt is left dry. The dry malt is then
strewed over the mass of malt which has been mixed with the water, and
the mash-tub, having some sticks laid across it, is covered with an old
blanket, a piece of sacking, or a coarse cloth, and the malt is left
for an hour and a half or two hours to steep. This is called mashing
the malt; and the goodness of the ale depends upon the care with which
this operation is performed. The water should never be suffered to
become cooler during the operation than 160°, or it will not dissolve
the starchy matter contained in the malt; and, if it is hotter than
180°, the malt will be set, as the maltsters call it, that is, it will
become changed into a glutinous paste, from which no strength can
be extracted. When the malt has been sufficiently mashed, the wort
is drawn off by the spigot, and it will be found that the eighteen
gallons of water have only yielded about thirteen gallons of wort, and
sometimes not so much.
[Illustration: Fig. 3. _Mash-stirrer_.]
A new kind of mashing-tub (fig. 4.) has been invented, which has a
false bottom pierced with holes, through which the wort filters,
instead of being drawn off by the spigot; and, by an improvement on
this, the hot water is poured through a tube into the part of the
mashing-tub which is below the false bottom, and suffered to rise up
through the malt. When ale and beer are to be made, the ale wort is
drawn off first, and then more water is heated to 175° and put to the
malt, to make the beer; but when all the liquor drawn from the malt is
mixed together, it is called in some places "table ale," and in others
"one-way beer."
[Illustration: Fig. 4. _Mash-tub_.]
While the malt is being mashed, the proper quantity of hops should be
steeped in water, having been first well rubbed and separated; and
when the wort is drawn off they should be added to it, and the whole
put into the copper to be boiled. During the boiling the mass should
be frequently stirred, to prevent the hops from either floating at the
top or settling to the bottom, which they would otherwise be very apt
to do. The boiling should continue briskly till the liquor begins to
break, the time for which varies from half an hour to two hours and a
half, according to the strength of the wort. The "breaking" is known by
large fleecy flakes which appear to float in the liquor; and, when it
appears, a bowlful of the liquor is taken out and set aside, when, if
the flakes part and subside, leaving the wort clear, it is considered
enough. Some large shallow vessels called coolers are then provided,
and some sticks being laid across one of them, a sieve or wicker
basket is set upon them, and the liquor is ladled out of the furnace
into the sieve, to strain it from the hops. The other coolers are
afterwards filled in the same manner, and then the whole are exposed to
a cool current of air, in order that the liquor may cool as rapidly as
possible.
When the liquor is about 70°, it is generally tunned off into a large
vat or cask for it to ferment. About three quarters of a pint of yeast
is mixed with a little of the wort, and as soon as it begins to work it
is added to the rest. Another mode is, as soon as the wort has cooled
to 70°, to convey it in the coolers to a cellar, where the temperature
is about 55°, and then to mix two gallons of it with a pint of good
thick yeast, and put it into an upright eighteen-gallon cask, the head
of which has been knocked out, but which is covered with a piece of
flannel, on which the head is laid loosely. As soon as the fermentation
has begun, about three gallons more of the wort are added, provided
it has not cooled below 65°; but, if it has, a pailful must be taken
out and heated, so that when mixed with the rest of the three gallons,
the whole shall be about 70°. When this has been added to the wort
fermenting in the cask and well stirred, the cask should be covered and
left to work for the night. Early the following morning the working
wort should be tried with a thermometer, and, if it is between 70° and
75°, five gallons more of the wort should be added, heated as before
to about 68°. The liquor should then be stirred, and left for six
hours, after which three gallons more wort at 65° are added. It is
then covered and left for four hours more, after which nearly all the
remaining wort is added, reserving only about two quarts.
This process is very tedious, but it is said to make the ale
exceedingly fine and clear; and, if the proportions be one bushel and
a half of malt to a pound and three quarters of hops to make twelve
gallons, it is said exactly to resemble the celebrated Indian ale. If
the heat of the working wort be ever found above 75°, the remaining
wort should be added cool, and the whole should be tunned out as soon
as possible.
In the usual mode of brewing, when the fermentation has gone on till
the yeast begins to look brown, the beer should be tunned; that is,
the yeast is removed, and the beer is put into the casks in which it is
to remain; and, in general, the beer is not taken down into the cellar
till at this period. The casks are placed slantingly, with the bung
out; and they are always kept quite full, being filled up with beer
reserved for that purpose, as the beer they contain works out. In about
a fortnight all the fermentation will be over, and the casks may be
bunged up.
According to the _Indian ale_ process, two quarts of wort were kept
back from that fermented; and when the beer is to be tunned, which it
is into two six-gallon casks, a quart of this unfermented wort is put
into each cask, with two table-spoonfuls of flour and one of salt.
The frothy yeast is then taken off the beer, which is poured into the
barrels till it reaches the bunghole, and the froth begins to flow
over: as the froth subsides, the barrels may be filled up with fresh
beer, and the yeast which flows down should be caught in a vessel
placed for the purpose. In a few days the yeast will become thick,
and will cease to flow over: the barrels should then be filled up and
the bungholes covered with brown paper, coated with thick yeast: the
fermentation will afterwards proceed more slowly, and in a fortnight
the barrels may be bunged down, and the bungs covered with a mass of
moistened clay and sand. The Indian ale should be kept six months
before it is tapped; but the other kind may be drunk in a month.
_Home-made wines_ may be manufactured from almost any kind of fruit;
and they are divided into two kinds, viz. those made with cold water,
and those made with hot water.
[Illustration: Fig. 5. _Fruit-crusher._]
_Green Gooseberry wine_ is made in the first manner, by crushing the
fruit in a deep tub with a fruit-crusher (fig. 5.), and pouring cold
water on it, in the proportion of one gallon of water to ten pounds of
fruit. It is then left to stand about six hours, when the mass, or marc,
as it is called, is put into a coarse bag and pressed; more water is
afterwards poured over the marc, which is again pressed, till as much
water has been added as will make the proportion in all four gallons
of water to ten pounds of fruit. The marc is then thrown away, and to
every gallon of the liquor, or must, as it is called, three pounds
of lump sugar are added, and the whole is well stirred together; the
tub is afterwards covered with a blanket, and the wine is left to
ferment in a temperature of from 55° to 60°. In twelve hours, if the
fermentation has begun rapidly, or in twenty-four hours, if it is slow,
the liquor is put into a cask and left to ferment, the bung being
put in loosely, and the cask being kept filled up with fresh must as
it works off. When the hissing noise subsides, the bung is driven in
firmly, and a little hole is made in the head of the cask, near the
bung, which is stopped with a wooden peg. In two or three days this peg
is loosened to let any air out that may have been generated; and this
is repeated, at intervals, several times, till no more air escapes,
when the peg is driven in tight. An excellent wine may be made in a
similar manner of the stalks of the giant tart rhubarb, which, if old,
should be peeled and cut in pieces before they are crushed.
_Ripe Gooseberry wine_ is made with hot water; first crushing the
fruit, and, after letting it stand twenty-four hours, pressing the
juice through a linen cloth. Hot water is then poured over the marc,
in the proportion of two quarts of water to every gallon of the fruit
before it was crushed; and, after remaining in the tub twelve hours,
the marc is again pressed, and the liquor from it mixed with that
produced by the fruit. Two and a half or three pounds of lump sugar
should now be added to every gallon of the liquor, and the whole left
to ferment. If moist sugar be used, the quantity should be four pounds
to every gallon of the liquor. The rest of the process is the same as
before; but when the fermentation has ceased it is usual to add British
brandy, in the proportion of one quart to two gallons and a half of
the wine.
When _Currant wine_ is made, it is said to be best to boil the liquor
after the sugar is added, before fermenting it in the cask.
_Elderberry wine_ is generally made with moist sugar, and ginger and
other spices are added to it.
_Cowslip wine_ is made by boiling sugar and water together, and
pouring the liquor over the rind of lemons and Seville oranges, in the
proportion of four of these fruits to a gallon of sugar and water: the
juice of the oranges and lemons is added, and the whole is fermented
with yeast. The cowslip flowers are then put into the wine, in the
proportion of one quart to every gallon of liquor, and stirred up well
till they sink. When the wine is tunned, a few sprigs of sweet briar
are often put into the cask, and one ounce of isinglass for every
gallon of liquor; in a few days it is bunged up close. In six months it
will be fit to bottle; but it will be better for remaining longer in
the cask.
Any other kind of wine may be made when the wine is to be made of
English fruit, either as was directed for the green or the ripe
gooseberry wines; and when not made of English fruit, by boiling sugar
and water, and fermenting it, before adding the substance that is to
give the flavour as directed for the Cowslip wine.
_Cider_ is made by grinding apples, and then expressing the juice,
which is fermented with yeast, but without sugar. _Perry_ is made in
the same way; and both may be made on a small scale by bruising apples
or pears in a deep tub, as was recommended for bruising fruit in made
wines.
_A brick oven for baking Bread_ is often placed in the scullery. The
ordinary size of an oven of this kind is about six feet long by four
feet deep; and it is about eighteen inches high in the centre of the
arch: the floor (which generally inclines a little from the head of
the oven to the mouth) is laid with tiles, and the arch is formed of
fire-brick, set in fire-clay or in loam mixed with powdered brick; the
whole being surrounded by a large mass of common brickwork, to keep in
the heat.
When the oven is heated, the faggots, or other kind of wood which is
used for that purpose, are lighted near the mouth, and then pushed on
till they are as nearly as possible in the centre of the oven, so that
the heat may spread as equally as possible through every part. When the
heat is between 250° and 300°, it is judged sufficient, and the fire
is drawn out to prepare the oven for the reception of the bread. As,
however, few cooks can be expected to have a proper kind of thermometer
at hand for ascertaining the heat exactly, it is necessary to have
some easier rules for judging; and the following, the correctness of
which I have experienced, are taken from the first volume of that
excellent and useful work, the _Magazine of Domestic Economy_.
"A judgment must be formed by the clear red heat of the bricks of the
arch and sides of the oven, and the lively sparkling of the embers on
its floor. The former criterion proves that the bricks have received
enough of body heat to consume that black carbonaceous coating which
the smoke communicates to them at the early stage of fire; the second
shows that the principle of combustion is in full activity, and not
rendered inert by a cold surface, either at the top, bottom, or sides.
Finally, if the brickwork be hot enough, and the point of a long stake
be rubbed forcibly over any part of it, so as for the moment to make a
black trace of charcoal, this trace will be burnt off, and the bricks
left clear in a second of time."
When the oven is sufficiently hot, the remaining embers are drawn out
with an iron hook fixed at the end of a long pole, and the bottom of
the oven is cleaned with a wet mop, made of long shreds of woollen
cloth or coarse sacking. The oven is then quite ready to receive the
bread, and it should be put in immediately. It generally takes about an
hour to heat a moderate-sized oven properly; and it takes an hour and
a half, or two hours, to bake loaves of the ordinary size.
Little iron grates are sometimes sold for heating ovens, but they are
more suitable for coal than wood; and, though an oven may be heated
with great rapidity with coal, it does not retain its heat so long,
and is more fitted for baking French bread, or cakes, than large-sized
household loaves. When, on the contrary, a brick oven is heated with
wood, and the hot embers are pushed by the scraper to every part of
the oven, the whole mass of brick becomes what is technically called
soaked, and is in a fit state for a family baking of bread. When the
bread is in, the oven door should be stopped quite close; but over the
door is a small opening called the stopper, which should be opened when
the bread has been in a little time, in order that the vapour from the
bread may escape. It is from not attending to this that home-baked
bread is so frequently heavy.
_Home-baked bread_ is generally best when made of what is called grist
flour; that is, wheat ground at a mill, and only the coarse bran
removed from the flour. Twenty-four pounds of this flour will make
about thirty-two pounds of bread; but if the best white flour is used,
two or three more pounds of it will be required to produce the same
quantity of bread. Bread is made either with leaven or yeast.
_Leaven_ is made by mixing flour with warm water into a thin paste and
then leaving it to ferment. When it begins to rise in bubbles, more
water and flour is added, and it is again left to ferment, and then
more flour with a little salt is added to make the dough. The dough
must be kept warm during the whole operation, as fermentation will not
take place unless the heat be from sixty to seventy, or seventy-five
degrees. Bread of this kind is very light, but it soon becomes acid.
Nearly all the household bread in France is made in this way.
When _yeast_ is used, the usual proportion is half a pint of brewer's
yeast mixed with a pint of warm water to twenty-four pounds of flour.
If no fresh yeast can be procured, it may be made by putting a
teacupful of split peas into a basin and pouring about a pint of
boiling water over them. A cloth is then put over the basin, and it is
set near the fire to keep warm. In about twelve hours it will begin
to ferment, and a kind of scum will rise, which may be used as yeast.
This is called Turkish yeast; but a better method is practised by the
Americans, which is as follows:--Take as much hops as may be held
between the thumb and finger, put them with a few slices of apples
into a quart of water, and boil the whole for about fifteen or twenty
minutes. Then strain the liquid, and when it is lukewarm stir in a
little flour with three or four table-spoonfuls of treacle so as to
make a thin paste; then set the whole in a warm place, and in a few
hours the fermentation will be sufficiently strong to allow enough
flour and water to be added to make a proper sponge for bread.
If you have a small quantity of yeast it may be increased in the
following manner:--Take one pound of fine flour, and mix it to the
thickness of gruel with boiling water; add half a pound of brown sugar,
mixing the whole well together. Then put three table-spoonfuls of yeast
into a large vessel, and pour the mixture upon it. It will ferment
violently, and the scum which rises to the top will be good yeast,
which may be used immediately, or may be preserved for some time in an
earthenware vessel covered closely from the air, and kept in a warm dry
place.
In the _Magazine of Domestic Economy_ it is said that when yeast has
become sour, and even slightly putrid, it may be recovered by adding a
tea-spoonful of flour, the same of moist sugar, a pinch of salt, and a
little warm water: this is to be stirred together and left to ferment
for half an hour. I have never tried this, but it is very nearly the
same as the receipt I have given above. The yeast from home-brewed beer
is very apt to be bitter; but it is said that this may be cured by
pouring it through a sieve containing about a pint of bran. To keep
home-brewed yeast it should be put into a large pan and have three
times the quantity of water poured upon it, being well stirred up, and
then left to settle. The next day the water is to be poured off, and
fresh put on, and in this manner it is said that yeast may be kept for
six weeks. All yeast is best purified before it is used; that is, the
yeast should be put into a vessel, and cold spring water being poured
upon it, they should be stirred together and then left to settle. The
water is afterwards poured off, and the yeast taken out carefully,
leaving a brown sediment at the bottom.
_The best way of keeping yeast_ is to hang it up in a cabbage net, so
as to let it dry with the air about it on all sides. This is the way
the Germans prepare their solid yeast, which is now so much used in
London.
_When bread is to be made_, the necessary quantity of flour is put into
a kneading trough, or into a deep-glazed earthenware pan, and a round
hole is made in the centre for the yeast and water, which is slightly
mixed with the surrounding flour, so as to form a light batter, and
over this is strewed enough dry flour to cover it. I remember, when I
was a child in my father's house, I have often watched the cook perform
this operation (which I now find is called setting the sponge); and I
always used to see her, when she had done, make a cross in the flour
sprinkled over the batter, without which she declared the bread would
never rise. As soon as the sponge is set, the earthenware pan is placed
before the fire, and a linen cloth laid over it. In a short time the
sponge begins to rise, and forms cracks in the covering of flour. More
water is then added, heated to about the warmth of new milk, and salt
is scattered over the flour, which gradually mixes with the water,
kneading it well with the hands so as to form a fine compact dough.
Some dry flour is then laid under it, and sprinkled over it; and the
dough, being again covered with a cloth, is left to ferment, which, if
the yeast were good, it does in about an hour, sufficiently to allow
the dough to be made into loaves of bread.
A kind of bread, which is very good for toast and butter, is made
by boiling and mashing some mealy potatoes, and then rubbing them
into flour which has been previously warmed before the fire, in the
proportion of half a pound of potatoes to two pounds of flour. When
well mixed, add a proper quantity of salt, with enough yeast, warm
milk, and water to make it into dough. It should be left to rise for
two hours before it is made into a loaf, and it should be baked in a
tin.
For _Rolls_. Warm an ounce of butter in a pint of skimmed milk, and
add a spoonful and a half of yeast and a little salt. This will be
sufficient for two pounds of flour, and will make seven rolls. The
dough should rise before the fire half an hour, and the rolls should
stand another half hour before the fire after they are made. They
should be baked in a quick oven, and will take about half an hour. The
butter may be omitted.
To make _French rolls_. Add half an ounce of soda to the above
quantity; make them long in shape, and rasp them when they are baked.
For _Sally Luns_. Take two pounds of flour, and add half a pint of milk
and half a pint of cream, with a bit of butter the size of a walnut;
when a little warm, put to it three well-beaten yolks of eggs, three or
four spoonfuls of well-purified yeast, and a little salt. Mix the whole
together, and let it rise for an hour; then make it into cakes, and lay
them on tins lightly rubbed over with a little butter. Let them stand
on the hearth to rise for about twenty minutes, covered with a thin
cloth, then bake them in rather a quick oven.
For _Yorkshire_ or _milk cakes_. Dry a pound and a half of flour before
the fire; beat up the yolk of an egg with a spoonful of yeast; add
three quarters of a pint of new milk lukewarm; strain the whole through
a hair sieve into the flour; mix it lightly into dough, and let it rise
by the fire an hour; then make it up into cakes. Rub the tins with a
very little butter, and let them be warm when you lay the cakes on
them; cover with a thin cloth, and let them rise on the hearth about
twenty or thirty minutes; bake them in a brisk oven. This dough makes
very good buns, with the addition of a little good moist sugar, and a
few caraway seeds or dried currants.
Both the Sally Luns and the milk cakes may be washed over with the
white of an egg before they are put in the oven.
For _Rusks_, or _Tops and Bottoms_. Beat up four eggs with half a pint
of new milk, in which a quarter of a pound of butter has been melted;
add two table-spoonfuls of yeast, and three ounces of sugar. Mix with
this as much flour as will make a very light batter, and set it before
the fire for half an hour; then add a little more flour, to make it
stiff enough to work. Knead it well, and, if wanted for _rusks_, roll
it into cakes about six inches long and two broad; when baked and
cold, cut them into slices, and dry them in a slow oven. For _tops and
bottoms_, make the dough into little square cakes, and flatten them.
When baked, just cut them slightly round, and then tear them in two,
and put them again into the oven.
To make _Banbury Cakes_. Set a sponge with two table-spoonfuls of thick
purified yeast, half a pint of warm milk, and a pound of flour. When
risen, mix with it half a pound of currants, well cleaned and dried,
half a tea-spoonful of salt, half a pound of candied orange and lemon
shred small, one ounce of spice, such as powdered cinnamon, allspice,
ginger, and nutmeg, or mace. Mix the whole well together with half a
pound of honey. Roll out puff paste a quarter of an inch thick; cut it
into rounds with a tin cutter about four inches across; lay on each
with a spoon a small quantity of the mixture; close it round with the
fingers in an oval form; place the joining underneath; press it gently
with the hand, and sift sugar over. Bake them on a baking-plate a
quarter of an hour in a moderate oven, and of a light colour.
For _Bath buns_. Rub half a pound of butter in a pound and half of
flour, quarter of a pound of powdered sugar, a little salt, and half
an ounce of caraway seeds. Beat the yolks of four eggs and three
whites; put half a pint of warm milk to four spoonfuls of good yeast;
when settled, pour it off on the eggs, and mix all into the middle of
the flour till about a third of the flour is mixed in. Cover it with
flannel, and set it before the fire to rise, about half an hour, then
mix all up, and cover it till well risen. Make up the buns, and set
them before the fire on a baking-tin about a quarter of an hour; bake
them in a quick oven; when done, brush them over with sugar and beaten
egg.
For _Oat cakes_. Merely mix oatmeal and water together till about as
thick as ordinary dough, then roll out as thin as possible, and bake on
a hot flat iron called a girdle, hung over the fire. A few eggs are
sometimes added to make what is called in Scotland Car cake.
For _Muffins_ and _Crumpets_. Take a pint and a half of warm milk
and dissolve in it a tea-spoonful of salt of tartar (subcarbonate of
potash), then mix with it five table-spoonfuls of yeast. When it has
stood to settle, pour it off by degrees, if for crumpets, into two
pounds of flour with a little salt, stir it well, and then beat it till
it looks like a thick batter, and may be drawn out to a great length
when you lift up the spoon. Set it before the fire to rise, and when it
bubbles up bake the crumpets on a hot stove, or a girdle. For muffins,
take three pounds of flour, and roll the dough into balls, and let them
rise before putting them on the iron plate. When the muffins begin to
bake they will spread into the proper shape; and when one side is done
they should be turned on the other side. The crumpets do not require
turning; but if they are wished to be thick, they may be baked in an
iron hoop. Potato crumpets are made by adding to three pounds of mealy
potatoes boiled and rubbed through a coarse sieve, half a pound of
flour, an egg, a little salt, and a spoonful of yeast.
For a _Brioche_. Take a pound of fine flour, divide it into three
parts, to one of which put a table-spoonful of yeast, mixed with warm
water into a light batter, then set it before a fire if the weather is
cold, and let it rise half an hour. In warm weather it need not be put
to the fire, as it will rise immediately. Mix the rest of the flour
with a quarter of an ounce of salt, three eggs, a quarter of a pound
of butter, and enough warm water to make it into a stiff dough. Work
it well, and then add the portion that was previously prepared. Knead
the whole well together, and then wrap the dough in a white napkin, and
leave it for seven or eight hours. Then divide the dough into pieces,
as if for buns, and make them into the usual half-twisted form of a
brioche, using a little warm milk to moisten them if necessary. Lastly,
wash them over with eggs well beaten, and put them in the oven.
I shall now give you two or three receipts for biscuits, and sweet
cakes.
For _Butter biscuits_. Warm two ounces of butter in as much skimmed
milk as will make a pound of flour into a stiff paste, knead it well,
and beat it with a paste roller; roll it out thin, cut the paste into
round cakes with a glass, and prick them with a fork. Bake in a quick
oven.
_Stamped biscuits_ are made by rubbing a quarter of a pound of
butter into a pound of flour, then mixing it with cold water and
a tea-spoonful of yeast into a paste. Knead it till it is quite
smooth; then cover it on the board with a basin for half an hour, and
afterwards make it into balls, stamping each with the print.
_Abernethy biscuits_ may be made by adding caraway seeds and a very
little sugar to the above.
For a _Sponge-cake_. Take half a pound of flour, three quarters of a
pound of lump sugar powdered, and seven eggs, leaving out three of the
whites; beat all well together, and add the rind of a lemon grated on
some of the sugar before it is pounded. Bake in a mould, and in a quick
oven.
For _Naples biscuits_. Put a quarter of a pint of water, two spoonfuls
of orange-flower water, and half a pound of fine sugar into a saucepan,
and let it boil till the sugar be melted; then pour it upon four eggs
well beaten, stirring the whole as fast as possible while the syrup
is poured in. Continue beating it well till cold; then stir in half a
pound of flour. Make clean white paper into moulds of the proper size
for the biscuits, pour the batter into them, and put them on tins to
bake; sift fine sugar on, and set them in a brisk oven, taking great
care that they are not scorched.
For _Wine cakes_. Mix two pounds of flour, one pound of sugar, and one
ounce of caraway seeds, with four eggs, and a few spoonfuls of water to
make a stiff paste; roll it thin, cut the cakes in any shape, and bake
them on floured tins. While baking, boil half a pound of sugar in half
a pint of water to a thin syrup; and, while both are hot, dip each cake
into it. Put them into the oven on tins, to dry for a short time; and
when the oven is cool put them in again, and let them remain in four or
five hours.
For a _Pound cake_. Take two pounds of flour, one pound of butter, one
pound of sugar, one pound of currants, a little cream, lemon-peel,
mace, and cinnamon; first rub the butter in the flour, then put in the
cream, a little yeast, and five eggs, and set it to rise; when risen
enough add the other ingredients. Bake in a tin lined with paper well
buttered.
For _Ratafia drops_. Blanch and beat four ounces of bitter and two
ounces of sweet almonds with a little rose-water, a pound of sifted
sugar, the whites of two eggs well beaten, and a table-spoonful of
flour. Drop this mixture so as to form balls about the size of a
nutmeg, and bake them on wafer paper.
For _Macaroons_. Blanch four ounces of sweet almonds, and pound them
with four spoonfuls of orange-flower water; whisk the whites of four
eggs to a froth, then mix them, and a pound of sugar sifted, with the
almonds, to a paste; and, laying a sheet of wafer-paper on a tin, put
the paste on in different moulds, or cut into little cakes, the shape
of macaroons.
_Gâteau d'Avranches_. Grate one pound of loaf sugar to a fine powder,
and add it to the yolks of fourteen eggs. Beat them well together for
half an hour, and then add the juice of two lemons, some orange-flower
water, and half a pound of potato flour. In the mean time another
person must beat the whites of the fourteen eggs for half an hour or
more till they look like snow, as, should any liquid remain, it will
spoil the cake completely. Put this snow to the yolks, and beat the
whole together for ten minutes; then pour the whole quickly into a
mould that has been well buttered before the fire, and put it directly
into an oven, which must be hot, but not quite so much so as for bread;
three quarters of an hour will bake it.
For _Gingerbread_. Put into a Maslin kettle half a pound of fresh
butter and three quarters of a pound of treacle, and keep them on the
fire, stirring them together, till they are melted and thoroughly
incorporated. In the mean time mix half a pound of moist sugar with
two pounds of flour and three quarters of an ounce of ginger, and pour
the treacle and butter quite hot on the flour, sugar, and ginger; work
the whole well together, and when almost cold roll the paste out, and
cut it into cakes. Bake them in rather a slow oven. If it is wished to
have the gingerbread very rich, only half the quantity of flour must be
used; and the paste, which is rolled very thin, is cut into squares.
This kind of gingerbread is called Parliament.
LETTER V.
IMPROMPTU COOKERY.--SOUPS.--POULTRY.--PIGEONS.--GAME.--SALADS
OF COLD MEAT AND POTATOES.--MODES OF DRESSING POTATOES AND
CARROTS.--SAUCES.--OMELETTES, CREAMS, AND SIDE DISHES.--MISCELLANEOUS
COOKERY.--NATIONAL COOKERY.--THE FRENCH POT-AU-FEU.--ITALIAN
MACARONI.--GERMAN SAUER KRAUT.--POLISH BARSCH.--SPANISH OLLA PODRIDA
AND PUCHERO.--SCOTCH HAGGIS, BARLEY BROTH, AND HOTCH-POTCH.--ENGLISH
PLUM-PUDDING.
The anxiety you express to see my promised hints on cookery has
induced me to send them to you without waiting till I had finished all
that I have to say of the servants' offices of your house; and you
will observe that I shall first confine myself to what may be styled
_Impromptu Cookery_, or cookery for the country, in contradistinction
to cookery in towns; my principal aim being to enable you to have a
nice little dinner ready in a short time on any emergency, without
keeping an expensive table in ordinary. I have already advised you
always to have a supply of salted meat in the house; but this is not
enough, as a single dish of meat with vegetables and pudding, though
quite sufficient as far as regards mere eating, does not form such a
dinner as your husband would like to see on his table, if he were to
bring a friend home unexpectedly. If, however, you are able to give
them a well-flavoured soup, and two or three nicely cooked made-dishes
to support the joint, (or _pièce de résistance_, as the French call
it,) you have at once a dinner that is not expensive, and yet gives an
air of elegance and refinement to the table.
I suspect indeed it would be a good plan to have several dishes on
your table every day, whether you have company or not. It is not
more expensive; for made dishes, by employing more vegetable matter,
actually save the consumption of solid meat: and it is certainly more
wholesome, as the stomach will more easily digest food of several
kinds than a dinner taken from a single dish. The French know this
perfectly well; and hence, however heartily a Frenchman may eat, he
is scarcely ever troubled with indigestion, while many English people
find indigestion the misery of their lives. "The Frenchman," says a
writer on Domestic Economy, "begins his dinner with light soup, and
successively disposes of his four dishes and his dessert. The whole
quantity that he has eaten is, however, much less than the Englishman's
meal from his single joint, and he experiences no inconvenience. In
eating of a number of dishes, a little of each, the imagination is
acted upon, and exaggerates the quantity really taken; the appetite is,
therefore, satisfied with much less. The different matters received
into the Frenchman's stomach, independently of their greater or less
approximation to chyme by the process of cookery they have undergone,
form a light heterogeneous mass or tissue, through which the gastric
juice readily passes, whilst many of the different varieties he has
swallowed act upon each other as solvents, and help the work of
digestion." Besides, it is well that the servants should be accustomed
to the same style of living when you are alone as when you have
company, to prevent the awkwardness inevitable when persons do any
thing that they are not in the habit of doing frequently. One of the
greatest dangers of a country life is, indeed, that of getting into
habits of slovenliness, both of the person and the table. If you once
allow yourself to say, "It is of no consequence how I dress, or what we
have for dinner to-day, for we are not likely to see any one," all my
exhortations will have been thrown away.
In the first place, in order always to keep up a good table at a small
expense, take care never to be without plenty of _Stock for soup_. The
best way of preparing this is to have two or three pounds of lean beef
cut into pieces, and put into a stewpan with five quarts of water,
a bunch of sweet herbs, two onions sliced, and a little pepper and
salt. Let it stew very gradually for two or three hours, without being
suffered to boil. When all the goodness is drawn from the meat, the
gravy should be strained off clear and kept in an earthen jar for use.
When a stock like this has been provided, it is easy to make any kind
of soup from it that may be required. For instance, if hare soup be
wanted, it is only necessary to cut a hare in pieces, and to let it
stew gradually in this gravy till it becomes tender. If a vegetable
soup be desired, it is simply adding onions, carrots, and turnips cut
into dice, with perhaps a little celery and a few cabbage lettuces
cut small: or these vegetables may be cut in slices and fried in
butter, and then stewed till tender in the soup, which should have
been previously thickened with a little butter worked up with flour.
On other occasions, the soup may be varied by adding macaroni, rice,
or vermicelli, or, in fact, any thing else usually put into soups; or
partridges or giblets may be stewed in it, according to circumstances.
The receipt for this excellent stock is taken from Dr. Hunter's
_Receipts in Modern Cookery_; and the following is another from the
same work, of much richer quality, but which I have also tried and
found excellent:--Take beef, mutton, and veal, of each equal parts.
Cut the meat into small pieces, and put it into a deep saucepan with
a close cover; the beef at the bottom, then the mutton, with a piece
of lean bacon, some whole pepper, black and white, a large onion in
slices, and a bundle of sweet herbs. Over this put the veal. Cover up
close, and put the pan over a slow fire for ten minutes, shaking it now
and then. After this pour on as much boiling water as will a little
more than cover the meat. Stew gently for the space of eight hours,
then put in two anchovies chopped, and season with salt to the taste.
Strain off and preserve for use. If properly made, this gravy will
become a rich jelly, which will keep good a long time, and a piece of
which may be cut out occasionally, when a made dish or a rich soup is
wanted in haste.
The two following receipts for _impromptu_ soups are from a French
cookery book. The first is called _Soup made in an hour_. Cut into
small pieces a pound of beef and a pound of veal; put them into a
casserole, or wide shallow saucepan, with a carrot and an onion cut in
slices, a few slices of bacon, and half a glass of water. Hold it over
the fire for a short time till the meat and vegetables begin to brown,
taking care, however, that they are not burnt; then pour over the whole
a pint of boiling water, and let the soup stew gently for about three
quarters of an hour; after which the soup only requires to be strained
through a sieve to be fit for use. The other is for _Soup made in a
minute_, and it consists in taking the congealed gravy from roast meat,
either from the dish or from under the dripping, after the dripping has
become cold and has been removed, in the proportion of a quarter of a
pint of jelly to a quart of boiling water, and adding pepper and salt
to the taste.
An excellent _white soup_ may be made by boiling a knuckle of veal
down to a strong jelly, with a bundle of sweet herbs, and another
of parsley. The liquor should then be strained from the meat and
herbs, and flavoured with mace and nutmeg, adding milk or cream,
and thickening with arrow-root. A few Jerusalem artichokes or young
turnips (particularly the Teltow turnips), boiled quite soft and rubbed
through a sieve, and a little celery, are a great improvement to this
soup. Partridges stuffed with forcemeat and stewed in the stock of
this soup till they are perfectly tender, but not so much so as to
fall to pieces, make a delicious dish; but in this case the soup will
not require either to be flavoured with mace and nutmeg, or to be
thickened, unless it is wished to be very rich. Vegetable marrow or
pumpkin, boiled and rubbed through a sieve, will form a variety to
thicken this soup; or chestnuts boiled, peeled, and mashed, may be used
for that purpose; celery may also be employed occasionally to flavour
it.
_For Hare Soup_, cut a large hare into pieces, and put it into a
stewpan with five quarts of water, one onion, a few corns of white
pepper, a little salt, and some mace. Stew over a slow fire for two
hours, or till it become a good gravy. Then cut the meat from the back
and legs, and keep it to put into the soup when nearly ready. Put the
bones into the gravy, and stew till the remainder of the meat is nearly
dissolved. Then strain off the gravy, and put to it two spoonfuls of
soy, or three of mushroom or walnut catsup. Cayenne pepper to the taste
may be added, and wine in the proportion of half a pint to two quarts
of gravy, if it is wished to make the soup very rich. Lastly, put in
the meat that was cut from the back and legs, and when it is quite hot
send the soup to table.
_A Green Peas Soup_ may be made by taking six or eight cucumbers pared
and sliced, the blanched part of as many lettuces, a sprig of mint, two
or three onions, a little parsley, some white pepper and salt, a full
pint of young peas, and half a pound of butter. Let these ingredients
stew gently in their own liquor for an hour. Then have in readiness a
quart of old peas, boiled tender. Rub them through a cullender, and
put to them two quarts of strong beef gravy. When the vegetables are
sufficiently tender, mix all together, and serve up the soup very
hot. This receipt is very suitable for the country, where vegetables
are abundant. In this respect you have a great advantage over the
dwellers in towns; and you will find it easy to make a great variety of
soups, by boiling any kind of vegetable till it is tender, afterwards
rubbing it through a coarse sieve, so as to make what the French call
a _purée_, and then mixing it with beef gravy or stock, as before
directed. A _purée_ of old peas or carrots makes an excellent soup.
I have only to add to my chapter on soups, that it is an excellent
plan to have the bones of a sirloin of beef or roast leg of mutton,
the remains of a hare, or, in fact, any thing of that kind, put into
a large deep earthen pan, with rather more than enough water to cover
them, a couple of carrots sliced, and perhaps a leek or an onion. The
pan should then be carefully tied down, or have a cover fitted on it,
and it should be put into an oven after the bread has been drawn, and
suffered to remain all night. This makes an excellent _consommé_ or
stock for any kind of brown soup: and it is a good plan to have a stock
of this kind prepared every time there has been a baking of bread,
so as to leave the oven in a proper state; as it not only saves the
purchase of fresh meat for soup, but makes an excellent use of food
that, under other circumstances, would very probably be wasted or
given to the dogs. The liquor in which veal or fowls have been boiled
should always be saved, and when cold, after the fat has been removed,
it should be poured off clear from the sediment and used as a stock
for white soups; and the scrag end of a neck of mutton, the root of a
tongue, and various other portions of beef and mutton, which would be
unsightly if sent to table, should, also, always be stewed down for
brown soups. In the latter case, if the stock made in this manner looks
pale or dingy, it may have a rich colour given to it by the following
composition or _Roux_, which is also useful for made dishes and sauces.
Put a quarter of a pound of lump sugar into a pan, and add a quarter
of a pint of water, with half an ounce of butter. Set it over a gentle
fire, stirring it with a wooden spoon till it appears burnt to a bright
brown colour; then add some more water. When it boils, skim, and
afterwards strain it; and then put it into a bottle, which should be
kept closely corked till the composition is wanted for use.