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The Dinner Year-Book

Chapter 148: Mutton Chops—Broiled.
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About This Book

A practical, year‑round guide to planning family dinners, offering weekly menus arranged for four weeks each month and tailored to seasonal ingredients and the average American market. The author emphasizes variety, economy, and the tasteful reuse of leftovers, providing techniques for stretching meats and transforming cold cuts, crumbs, gravies, and other odds‑and‑ends into attractive meals. Guidance includes larder and refrigerator management, balancing thrift with hospitality, and simplifying company dinners so everyday good cooking will suffice for entertaining. The tone is instructional and focused on achieving consistent, well‑cooked meals without waste or extravagance.

English Soup.

  • 6 lbs. brisket of beef, cut into thin strips.
  • 2 onions, sliced and fried in dripping.
  • The bones of yesterday’s chickens.
  • 2 carrots.
  • 3 turnips.
  • 4 stalks of celery.
  • 1 bunch of sweet herbs.
  • ¼ lb. of vermicelli.
  • Pepper and salt at discretion.
  • 6 quarts of cold water.

Put the beef, cut into strips, the “carcasses” of the chickens broken to pieces, and three quarts of cold water, into a large soup-pot, and heat gradually. When it boils, skim well, and add the fried onion and other vegetables, cut fine, and three quarts more of cold water. Stew, with the pot-lid on, five hours, after it again boils, giving it no attention save to see that it never boils fast, and that the liquid has not diminished to less than three-quarters of the original quantity. Strain at the end of this time, first taking out the meat that has not boiled to shreds, and the bones. Rub the vegetables through the colander; afterwards strain the soup again through your wire strainer or sieve, into the kettle when you have washed it out. Season, and simmer ten minutes after the boil recommences, skimming often. Break the vermicelli into short lengths, put into the soup when you have taken out two quarts for Sunday’s “stock.” Cook gently twelve minutes after the vermicelli goes in.

At first glance, the quantity of meat prescribed for this soup may seem extravagant; but, apart from the fact that the coarser and cheaper quality is used, you must note that you have now the foundation of three days’ soups, and that you have saved time, no less than money, by making this as I have directed. It is by the long, intelligent look ahead that the mistress proves her right to the title.

Mutton Chops—Broiled.

Next to beef, good mutton, properly cooked, deserves the most prominent place among the meats upon your weekly bill of fare. It is digestible, nutritious, and, as a rule, popular. I therefore offer no apology for the regular and frequent appearance of these two standard articles of diet upon these pages. They may well be named the two staves of healthful existence—for civilized humanity, at least.

Trim your mutton chops, if your butcher has neglected to do it, leaving a naked end of bone as a “handle” upon each. Lay them for fifteen minutes in a little melted butter, turning them several times. Then hold each up for a moment, to let all the butter drip off that will, and broil over a clear fire, watching constantly and turning them often when the falling fat threatens a blaze from below. If your gridiron is beneath the grate, they can be cooked far more satisfactorily, and with one-tenth of the trouble. Pepper and salt when they are laid upon a hot dish, and put a bit of butter upon each.

Sweet Pickles

“Go” well with broiled chops. For receipts for these and other pickles, with preserves and fruit jellies, the reader is respectfully referred to “Common Sense in the Household, No. 1, General Receipts.”

Browned Potato.

Mash your potatoes with milk, butter, and salt; heap as irregularly as possible in a vegetable dish, and hold a red-hot shovel close to them. They will brown more quickly if you glaze them with butter so soon as a crust is formed by the hot shovel, then heat it again and repeat the browning.

Stewed Tomatoes.

To one can of tomatoes allow a saltspoonful of salt, half as much pepper, a teaspoonful of sugar, and a great tablespoonful of butter. Drain off half the liquor, season thus, and stew fast for twenty minutes, in a vessel set within another filled with water on the hard boil. This receipt was given to me by a notable housewife. It is worth trying for her sake—and variety’s.

Orange Fritters.

  • 3 cups of milk.
  • 2 cups of prepared flour.
  • 4 eggs.
  • A little salt.
  • Lard for frying.
  • 6 or 8 sweet oranges.
  • A little powdered sugar.

Take the peel and thick white skin from the oranges. Slice, and take out the seeds. Make a batter of the ingredients given above, taking care not to get it too thin. Dip each slice in this dexterously and fry in boiling lard. Drain in a hot colander, and eat with the sauce given below.

Beehive Sauce.

  • ½ cup of butter.
  • 2 cups of sugar.
  • Juice and peel of a lemon.
  • ½ teaspoonful of nutmeg.
  • ¼ cup of currant jelly, or cranberry syrup.

Make hard sauce in the usual way by creaming the butter and sugar. Before beating in the lemon-juice and nutmeg, set aside three tablespoonfuls to be colored. Having added lemon and spice to the larger quantity, color the less by whipping in currant jelly or cranberry syrup, until it is of a rich pink. Shape the white sauce into a conical mound. Roll a sheet of note paper into a long, narrow funnel, tie a string about it to keep it in shape, and fill with colored sauce. Squeeze it gently through the aperture at the small end, beginning at the base, and winding round the cone to the top, guiding it so that the white will show prettily between the pink ridges.

The effect is pleasing and costs little trouble to produce.

Coffee

Is believed by some to aid digestion, and, since fritters are not generally classed among very wholesome dainties, it may be as well to give John and John’s wife—not the children—a cup of the fragrant elixir as a possible preventive against an attack of dyspepsia. It always lends grace even to a homely dinner.