broiling ought not to be too old or too dry, it would perhaps eat rank:
nothing requires more care than broiling. Either get a slice of ham
weighing a quarter of a pound or two ounces, which lay on your gridiron;
put them over the fire; it will take perhaps five minutes, if the fire
is good, and more, of course, if slow, but in that short space of time
turn them three or four times, and it is done. Proceed the same if you
want to serve it with poached eggs, but be careful that the eggs be
ready at the same time as the bacon or ham, or both would eat badly. If
you happen to have a whole ham by you for that purpose only, begin to
cut the slices in a slanting direction and the same thickness, and
proceed to the end of the ham with the remainder; it will prove more
profitable to broil with greens, peas, broad beans, &c., &c.
To sauté it, put a little butter or good fat in the pan; set it on the
fire with your slice in it, sauté very gently, turning very often, and
serve it on very thin toast.
32. _Ham and Eggs._--While your ham is doing, break two fresh eggs in
the pan, season slightly with salt and pepper, set it before the fire
till the eggs are delicately done, and slip them whole carefully into
your dish, without breaking the yolk.
33. _Bacon._--The streaky part of a thick flank of bacon is to be
preferred; cut nice slices not above a quarter of an inch thick, take
off the rind, put to broil on the gridiron over a clear fire, turn it
three or four times in the space of five minutes; this will be all the
cooking required: serve it very hot. Though this is the best part, the
whole of the bacon is still good, especially if not rank, which can be
easily detected by its yellowish color: if too dry or salt, after it has
been cut in slices, dip it into a little vinegar and water three or four
times, and sauté as usual, it will make it softer and less salt: serve
as usual. If any remain after a dinner of boiled bacon, it is also very
good broiled or fried for next day's breakfast.
34. _Sausages._--Sausages are very frequently esteemed for breakfast. By
all means, never use them, except you are confident that they are fresh.
The skin must be transparent, that the meat should be seen through; they
keep good two or three days in a cold place in summer, nearly a week in
winter (with care). For the receipt how to make them in the homely way,
see future letter.
35. _Sausages, how to cook them._--Prick them with a pin all round about
twenty times, put them on the gridiron over a gentle fire, turn three or
four times, by doing which you will have them a very nice yellow color;
dish them, and serve them very hot.
36. _Sautéd Sausages._--If your fire smokes, it is preferable to sauté
them; put some butter in the pan, with four sausages; after you have
pricked them as before-mentioned, sauté gently, a few minutes will do
them, turn them often; in many instances a thin slice of bread sautéd in
the fat they have produced is a great improvement; save the fat, as it
is always useful in a kitchen. In case you are in a hurry to do them,
throw them into hot water for one minute previously to their being
broiled or sautéd; they will then be the sooner cooked, and even eat
rather more relishing to a delicate stomach, having extracted the oil
from the skin; they may also be fried in the frying-pan.
37. _Black Puddings, broiled._--Make about six or eight incisions
through the skin with a knife, in a slanting way, on each side of the
pudding; put it on the gridiron for about eight minutes, on rather a
brisk fire, turn it four times in that space of time, and serve it
broiling hot.
I should recommend those who are fond of black puddings to partake of no
other beverage than tea or coffee, as cocoa or chocolate would be a clog
to the stomach. In France they partake of white wine for breakfast,
which accounts for the great consumption of black pudding. Now really
this is a very favorite dish with epicures, but I never should recommend
it to a delicate stomach.
ON COFFEE.--Coffee, which has now come so generally into use,
originally came from Arabia, where it has been known from time
immemorial, but was brought into use in England in the year 1653;
as it is not generally known how it was introduced, I will give you
the account of it from "Houghton's Collection," 1698. "It appears
that a Mr. Daniel Edwards, an English Merchant of Smyrna, brought
with him to this country a Greek of the name of Pasqua, in 1652,
who made his coffee; this Mr. Edwards married one Alderman Hodges's
daughter, who lived in Walbrook, and set up Pasqua for a coffee-man
in a shed in the churchyard in St. Michael, Cornhill, which is now
a scrivener's brave-house, when, having great custom, the
ale-sellers petitioned the Lord Mayor against him, as being no
freeman. This made Alderman Hodges join his coachman, Bowman, who
was free, as Pasqua's partner; but Pasqua, for some misdemeanor,
was forced to run the country, and Bowman, by his trade and a
contribution of 1000 sixpences, turned the shed to a house.
Bowman's apprentices were first, John Painter, then Humphrey, from
whose wife I had this account." Having examined the renter
churchwarden's book of St. Michael, Cornhill, I find that the house
or shed Bowman built is now part of the Jamaica Coffee-House; it
was rebuilt by Bowman, after the fire, in 1667.
It is a very remarkable fact that but few persons in England know
how to make good coffee, although so well supplied with the first
quality of that delicious berry; but, by way of contrast, I must
say that the middle classes of France are quite as ignorant of the
method of making tea.
I remember, upon one occasion, whilst staying at Havre with Mr. B.,
where we were upon a visit at the house of one of his agents, who
invited a few of his friends to meet us at a tea-party _à
l'Anglaise_, as they used to call it, about an hour previous to
tea, and previous to the arrival of the guests, I was walking upon
the lawn before the house, when my attention was attracted by a
cloud of steam issuing from the kitchen-window, smelling most
powerfully of tea: my curiosity led me to the kitchen, where I
found the cook busily engaged making cocoa and most delicious
coffee, but preparing the tea in a ridiculous fashion, the leaves
of which were in an awful state of agitation, attempting as it were
to escape from an earthen pot at the side of the fire, in which the
delicious soup we had for dinner was made a few hours previously.
(_See_ Pot-au-Feu.)
"My dear girl," said I (in French), "what process do you call that
of making tea? it never ought to be boiled."
"I beg your pardon, Madame," says she, "master and mistress like it
well done, and it will be another short half-hour before it is
properly cooked (ce sera alors copieux)."
"You are decidedly wrong," said I, "and I shall be most happy to
show you the way we make it in England."
"Yes, I know what you mean, Madame," replied she; "I used to make
it that way before, but no one liked it, that is, to boil it one
hour in a copper-pan over a charcoal fire." Upon which I retired,
making a most comical grimace, to refrain from laughing at her
still more ridiculous fashion.
You must, however, observe that this occurred nearly twelve years
ago, and I have no doubt but a reform has taken place since then
by the continual traffic of the English through that part of the
country. I must say, with respect to ourselves, we do not make
quite such a blunder respecting coffee, but still our middle
classes very seldom enjoy the aroma of that delicious beverage,
which should be made as follows:
Choose the coffee of a very nice brown color, but not black (which
would denote that it was burnt, and impart a bitter flavor); grind
it at home if possible, as you may then depend upon the quality; if
ground in any quantity, keep it in a jar hermetically sealed. To
make a pint, put two ounces into a stewpan, or small iron or tin
saucepan, which set dry upon a moderate fire, stirring the coffee
round with a wooden spoon continually until it is quite hot
through, but not in the least burnt; should the fire be very
fierce, warm it by degrees, taking it off every now and then until
hot (which would not be more than two minutes), when pour over a
pint of boiling water, cover close, and let it stand by the side of
the fire (but not to boil) for five minutes, when strain it through
a cloth or a piece of thick gauze, rinse out the stewpan, pour the
coffee (which will be quite clear) back into it, place it upon the
fire, and, when nearly boiling, serve with hot milk if for
breakfast, but with a drop of cold milk or cream if for dinner.
To prove the simplicity of this mode of making coffee, I shall here
give a repetition of the receipt as it actually is:
38. Put two ounces of ground coffee into a stewpan, which set upon the
fire, stirring the powder round with a spoon until quite hot, when pour
over a pint of boiling water; cover over closely for five minutes, when
pass it through a cloth, warm again, and serve.[1]
The foregoing proportions would make coffee good enough for any
person, but more or less coffee could be used, if required; the
cloth through which it is passed should be immediately washed and
put by for the next occasion. A hundred cups of coffee could be
made as here directed in half an hour, by procuring a pan
sufficiently large, and using the proper proportions of coffee and
water, passing it afterwards through a large cloth or jelly-bag.
39. _Coffee, French fashion._--To a pint of coffee, made as before
directed, add a pint of boiling milk, warm both together until nearly
boiling, and serve. The French never use it any other way for breakfast.
40. _White Coffee, a new style._--Put two ounces of unground coffee,
slightly roasted, into a clean stewpan, which set upon a moderate fire,
slowly warming the coffee through, shaking the stewpan round every
half-minute; when very hot, which you will perceive by the smoke arising
from it, pour over half a pint of boiling water, cover the stewpan well,
and let it infuse by the side of the fire for fifteen minutes, then add
half a pint of boiling-hot milk, pass the coffee through a small fine
sieve into the coffee-pot or jug, and serve with white sugar-candy or
crystallized sugar; it is, as you will perceive, a great novelty, and an
agreeable change; but if by neglect you let the coffee get black, or the
least burnt, do not attempt to make use of it; it should only be
sufficiently charred to break easily in a mortar if required.
41. _Coffee, made with a filter._--To make a quart; first put a pint of
boiling water through the filter to warm it, which again pour away, then
put a quarter of a pound of ground coffee upon the filter, upon which
put the presser lightly, and the grating, pour over half a pint of
boiling water, let it drain three or four minutes, then pour over a pint
and a half more boiling water; when well passed through, pour it into a
clean stewpan, which set at the corner of the fire until a light scum
arises, but not boiling; pour it again through the filter, and when well
drained through, pour into the coffee-pot, and serve with hot milk, or a
little cream, separately.
42. _Another way, more economical._--Proceed as in the last, but
draining the coffee through once only, and serve, after which pour
another quart of boiling water over the coffee-grounds, which, when
drained through, reserve, and boil up for the next coffee you make,
using it instead of water, and an ounce less coffee.
TEA is, without doubt, one of the most useful herbs ever introduced
into England, which was in the year of the fire of London, 1666: it
has replaced an unwholesome and heavy drink (ale) which used to be
partaken of previously, and has created habits of sobriety. It is
indigenous to China, Japan, and Siam, and consists of many
varieties, the proper mixing of which constitutes the great art of
a tea-dealer. It is exceedingly useful in many cases of sickness,
and particularly after having partaken of any liquor to excess, or
after extraordinary fatigue. When new, it is a narcotic; but when
old it has a different effect,[2] and in its native country is
never partaken of until a year old, and not then, unless
exceedingly desiccated. I cannot recommend you any one in
particular, as that depends on taste; but this I advise, that when
you have a kind to your liking, to keep to it.
And now, my dear friend, without wishing in the least to offend
you, or attempting to aggravate your good nature, I must beg to
contradict your assertion made at the commencement of our
undertaking, where you say, respecting tea, of course I know how to
make it; you made it whilst staying at our house occasionally, and
Mr. B. found there was a great difference between it and mine. But
to tell you the truth respecting tea, I have a little secret of my
own, being a discovery which I made a short time ago by accident.
Whilst in the act of making tea, I had just put the dry tea in the
pot, when I heard a fearful scream up-stairs in the drawing-room;
rushing there, I found my little girl had had a severe fall in
reaching something from the chimney-piece, the stool upon which she
stood having upset: twenty minutes at least had elapsed before I
returned to my tea (which, being alone, I was in no particular
hurry for), when I found that the servant, thinking there was water
in the pot, and fearing the tea would be spoiled, put it into the
oven, which was rather hot; when she brought it to me, I was rather
annoyed, when all at once it struck me that the leaves being hot
through, the tea would not require so long to draw; I then filled
the teapot with boiling water, and in a minute afterwards had a
most delicious cup of tea, since which I have adopted the system
upon all occasions, and am now having made a small spirit-lamp to
warm the pot and leaves, as the oven is not always hot: it may,
however, be made hot in front of the fire, but not too close of
course. I gave the receipt to one of our neighbors, who actually
laughed at the idea, but never tried it, saying, "We cannot teach
anything to our grandmothers, and that what did for them would do
for us." Now what could you say to such people? why nothing, but
let them alone, as I shall do for the future. But you, my dear, I
know have better sense; proceed as I have directed, and you will
find it a great improvement. Put your tea in the pot a quarter of
an hour before ready for it, warming both tea and pot, fill with
boiling water, and leave it from three to five minutes to draw,
when it is quite ready.
CACAO was first known in Europe after the discovery of America, and
it retains its Indian name; of course, it was first used in Spain,
and did not come into use in England until much later; and we find
that there was imported into England, in the year 1694, about
13,000 lbs. weight of it; at the present day there was, in 1848,
410,000 lbs. It is a long fruit, about five to eight inches, and
three or four thick, which contains about thirty nuts: the tree
grows to only a few feet in height.
In the course of my experiments, I have found that the shell is
almost as nutritious as the kernel, with less oily particles in it,
which, to many, are unpleasant.
43. _Chocolate._--Scrape two ounces of the cake, which put into a stew
or saucepan, with a gill of water, upon the fire, keeping it stirred
with a wooden spoon until rather thick, when work it quickly with the
spoon, stirring in half a pint of boiling milk by degrees; serve very
hot, with sugar separate.
44. _Chocolate made in the Italian method._--Procure a regular
chocolate-pot with a muller, the handle of which comes through the lid,
one might be procured at any brazier's, put in two ounces of chocolate
(scraped), over which by degrees pour a pint of boiling milk, put on the
lid, with the muller inside, which keep well moving, setting the pot
upon the fire, and when very hot and frothy, serve.
45. _Cocoa._--Put a teaspoonful and a half of canistered cocoa into a
cup, which fill by degrees with boiling milk, stir it until dissolved,
when it is ready to serve; sugar separately.
LETTER No. III
Oatlands Cottage, Jan. 20, 1849.
DEAR HORTENSE,--I have inclosed the whole of the receipts which you
have sent me for the breakfasts, properly classified, having
omitted the cold meats (as you desired me) from this series,
thinking, as you do, they are more suited for the luncheon. To save
useless repetition, I have placed the receipts in numbers, by which
references can be easily made, and any dish appearing in the dinner
or luncheon series, but available for breakfast, can be directly
found.
But one thing I remember when at your house was, that when the
remains of a joint were rather large, you used to put it upon a
side table, and let any one help themselves from it there; your
idea being, I believe, that very few persons liked to have a large
dish of meat before their eyes almost immediately after rising from
their beds, or at the first meal of the morning. Respecting the way
your table was laid out, to the best of my recollection, it was as
follows:--First the large table-cloth, over which was laid a small
napkin before each person, with cups and saucers for tea or coffee,
at choice, small plates for rolls, and a size larger for meat,
sausages, eggs, &c., a small knife and fork for each; the butter in
a pretty freezing butter-glass, just covered with clear spring
water, and garnished with a few sprigs of parsley or watercresses;
the cream in a small china cream-jug, and a larger jug containing
hot milk for coffee; orange marmalade in its original pot,
honeycomb, watercresses, and once a few nice young radishes, which
were excellent, although a little out of season; one day also dry
toast was served, another day buttered, the next muffins, then
crumpets, white and brown bread, and small rolls, thus making a
continual change, but all so small and inviting. I shall always,
when I have company, as you had then, arrange everything in the
same manner, especially now that I have your receipts down. But
when you are alone, you tell me, you never make any such display,
which of course would be ridiculous; still even then you vary, by
having either tea, coffee, or chocolate, which change I like as
well as you. I eat meat but occasionally, but Mr. L---- generally
likes a little broiled bacon, or boiled egg, things in themselves
very simple and pleasant to have upon the table. Yours, in haste,
ELOISE.
EARLY LUNCHEONS.
LETTER
LETTER No. IV.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--I feel perfectly satisfied with the manner in
which you have classified my receipts respecting the breakfasts,
and must say I felt very much interested in looking over them; I am
confident they would prove interesting and instructive to any young
housekeeper; I hope, therefore, you will preserve the originals, as
I do not keep any copies, fearing they would confuse me by making
reference to them; so that, if at any future time I should make a
repetition in other series, you would be able to correct me, for I
am as willing as yourself that we should complete our work by going
through every series comprising meals of the day.
The next meal, then, to breakfast, in the ordinary course of
events, is the luncheon. Although it is a meal we never touch
ourselves, I am aware many small families make it a regular one, so
our little journal would not be complete without some few remarks,
which I intend making as short and concise as possible. When we
were in business, our luncheons were comprised of any cold meats
which were cooked for previous dinners; if a joint of cold roast or
boiled meat, it requires to be nicely trimmed before making its
appearance at table, but reserving the trimmings for hash, if of
roast meat, or bubble-and-squeak, if salt beef, which is an
excellent method of disposing of the remainder of a joint to
advantage; if the joint happened to be cold veal, I used to send
for a plate of ham to serve with it, unless there was a piece of
bacon also left; if mutton, I used to dish up the leg with a pretty
little paper frill upon the knuckle, also trimming the joint
lightly, for you must be aware that, after four or five have dined
from a leg of mutton, its appearance becomes quite spoiled, and
looks blackish when cold. Pork I also serve the same; when parsley
was cheap, I always laid a few branches round it, which used, as my
visitors said, to make the meat look very refreshing and inviting.
Our only addition was sometimes the remainder of game, which at
that time used frequently to be presented to us--pheasants,
partridges, or grouse; as it would then have been very extravagant
to have purchased them, especially when they were so expensive. As
an accompaniment to the meat, I always kept two different sorts of
mixed pickles, good bread, butter, cheese, and a glass of excellent
table ale; or, if our guest was some bosom friend or good customer,
a bottle of sherry (not decantered), never any port, thinking that
more fit for the dinner-table. Such was my plan in the first five
years after my marriage: everything upon our table was of the first
quality, and every one used to admire the neatness with which the
table was laid out.
My method now, when luncheon is required (as we do not dine until
half-past five o'clock, Mr. B. being engaged until four in the
city), I have the cloth laid at twelve, and lunch at half-past; and
that time being just after the nursery dinner, we generally have
some sort of pudding or tart, made at the same time with theirs.
For cold meat, I always serve that up which has been left from a
previous dinner, if any, or any remains of poultry, game, ham, or
tongue. When, however, we have six or eight friends from the
country at Christmas, I feel proud to show them my style of doing
things well and economically, for they are very intelligent people,
and can appreciate good living, though at home they really live too
plain for their incomes; but they say, "We do not understand how it
is that you make a nice little dish almost out of nothing." For
should I have the remnants of any poultry or game not very inviting
to the sight, I generally cut it up and show my cook how to hash it
in a variety of ways; and I always remark, that they never partake
of any cold meat whilst any of the hash remains. For the methods of
making various hashes of fowl, game, hare, rabbit, beef, mutton, as
also curries, minced veal and poached eggs, cold pies of game,
poultry, mutton, beefsteak, or pigeon, as also plain mutton
cutlets, steaks, and broiled bones, the whole of which may be
served for luncheon, I must refer you to the series of receipts
belonging to the dinner; any of these articles are placed in order
upon the table, with the pickle-stand, two different cruet-sauces,
orange marmalade, potatoes, butter, cheese, sherry and port wines.
This style of luncheon will no doubt surprise you, but I can assure
you it scarcely increases my expenditure, having the same number to
provide for daily, so that the luncheon is generally made up from
the remains of dinner, and the remains of luncheon will dine our
three servants at half-past one. In the summer, I introduce a few
dishes of fruit, and less meat; and when there are several ladies,
I often introduce some English-made wine, which once I used to make
myself, but which I can now buy cheaper.
THE NURSERY DINNER.
LETTER No. V
DEAR FRIEND,--Now here I must call your especial attention to the
way many people treat this department of domestic comfort, which is
often very slight and irregular. Now, for my part, I have made
quite a study of it, and could prove that health is always
dependent on the state of the digestive organs; and that, if you
should improperly treat young stomachs, by over or under supplying
their wants, or using them to ill-cooked food, you not only destroy
the functionary coating of the stomach, but also impede the
development of the intellect. It is, then, as much a science to
manage the food of children, as to cater for the palate of the
gourmet, and I shall always consider that good food is to the body
what education is to the mind.
My plan of managing the nursery meals is as follows:--At eight
o'clock in the morning, which was my usual time, I used myself to
prepare that glutinous food upon which our ancestors and race were
first reared, rather unclassically denominated pap. My method was
very simple:
46.--Put two ounces of rusk, or tops and bottoms, in a small saucepan,
with just sufficient water to moisten them; set the saucepan upon the
fire until its contents are thoroughly warmed through; pour a little of
the water away, if too thin, pressing the rusk with a spoon; then add a
teaspoonful of brown sugar, and beat the whole with a spoon until quite
a pulp; it is then ready for use.