Wrap the fish, when you have washed and wiped it, in a clean
linen cloth—not too thick—baste it up securely, and put into the
fish-kettle. Cover with cold water in which has been melted a handful
of salt. Boil slowly, allowing about a quarter of an hour to each
pound. When the time is up, rip open a corner of the cloth and test
the salmon with a fork. If it penetrate easily, it is done. If not,
hastily pin up the cloth and cook a little longer. Skim off the scum as
it rises to the top. Have ready in another saucepan a pint of cream—or
half milk and half cream will do—which has been heated in a vessel set
in boiling water; stir into this a large spoonful of butter, rolled in
flour, a little salt and chopped parsley, and a half-gill of the water
in which the fish is boiled. Let it boil up once, stirring all the
while. When the fish is done, take it instantly from the kettle, lay it
an instant upon a folded cloth to absorb the drippings; transfer with
great care, for fear of breaking, to a hot dish, and pour the boiled
cream over it, reserving enough to fill a small sauce-boat. Garnish
with curled parsley and circular slices of hard-boiled yolks—leaving
out the whites of the eggs.
After serving boiled salmon with cream-sauce, you will never be quite
content with any other. If you cannot get cream, boil a pint of milk
and thicken with arrow-root. It is not so nice, but many will not
detect the difference—_real_ cream being a rare commodity in town.
You may pickle what is left, if it is in one piece. Or devil it, as I
have directed you to treat cold halibut. _Or_ mince, mixed with mashed
potato, milk, and butter, and stir into a sort of stew. Or, once again,
mix with mashed potato, milk, butter, and a raw egg well-beaten; make
into cakes or balls, and fry in hot lard or dripping. At any rate, let
none of it be lost, it being at once one of our most expensive and most
delicious fish.