Use none but the best butter in pastry.
“Cooking butter is a good thing,” said a grave epicure to me once, “an
admirable thing—in its place, which is in the soap-fat kettle or upon
wagon-wheels!”
It is certainly out of place in biscuits, cake, or in any substance
destined for human palates and stomachs. It is never less in place than
in pastry; never betrays its vileness more surely and odiously.
Butter intended for pastry should be washed carefully in several clear,
cold waters, and kneaded while under water, to extract the salt. Then
wipe it dry and lay it in a cold place until you are ready to work it
in.
“Keep cool,” is a cardinal motto for pastry-makers. A marble slab is a
good thing to roll out paste upon. Next to this, the best article is a
_clean_ board of hard wood, which is never used for any other purpose.
It is harder to make good pastry in warm weather than cold, on account
of the tendency of the butter to oil, and thus render the crust heavy
and solid.
Few people know what really good pastry is. Fewer still can make it.
It has no inevitable resemblance either to putty or leather. It _is_
light, crisp, flaky, goodly to behold—goodlier to the taste.
“Pork fat and pies kill more people yearly in the United States than do
liquor and tobacco,” said a popular lecturer upon conservatism.
Perhaps so; but I incline to the belief that bad pastry is answerable
for a vast majority of the murders. Not that I recommend pies of any
description as healthful daily food—least of all for children. But
since they are eaten freely all over our land, let us make them as
wholesome and palatable as possible.