Those who have eaten this prince of game fish in the Adirondacks,
within an hour after he has left the lake, will agree with me that he
never has such justice done him at any other time as when baked with
cream.
Handle the beauty with gentle respect while cleaning, washing, and
wiping him, and lay him at full length, still respectfully, in a
baking-pan, with just enough water to keep him from scorching. If
large, score the back-bone with a sharp knife, taking care not to
mar the comeliness of his red-spotted sides. Bake slowly, basting
often with butter and water. By the time he is done—and he should
be so well-looked after that his royal robe hardly shows a seam or
rent, and the red spots are still distinctly visible—have ready in a
saucepan a cup of cream—diluted with a _few_ spoonfuls of hot water,
lest it should clot in heating—in which have been stirred cautiously
two tablespoonfuls of melted butter and a little chopped parsley. Heat
this in a vessel set within another of boiling water, add the gravy
from the dripping-pan, boil up once to thicken, and when the trout is
laid—always respectfully—in a hot dish, pour the sauce around him as he
lies in state. He will take kindly to the creamy bath, and your guests
will take kindly to him. Garnish with a wreath of crimson nasturtium
blooms and dainty sprigs of parsley, arranged by your own hands on the
edge of the dish, and let no sharply-spiced sauces come near him. They
would but mar his native richness—the flavor he brought with him from
the lake and wild-wood. Salt him lightly, should he need it, eat and be
happy.
If the above savor of bathos rather than “common sense,” my excuse is,
I have lately eaten baked salmon-trout with cream-gravy.