CULINARY CORRESPONDENCE.
LETTER NO. VI
DEAREST ELOISE,—I here inclose you the last receipt which I intend to give you for invalids. You will, no doubt, fancy that my diet is extravagant; but let me teach you that when you must pay the doctor’s bill, which I consider an extra and painful tax upon humanity, it is ours and their duty to try to restore health as soon as possible, which my receipts might, if well coupled with the science of a medical man, cause a prompt restoration, and have the desired effect of increasing the butcher’s bill by diminishing that of the doctor. But I must also tell you that I intend this part of our little work, if ever published, to be useful to all classes of society, and that, among those receipts, the rich as well as the humble, may partake and benefit by them in selecting according to their means and their requirements. I am confident that you will agree with me that even here I have closely studied the rules of economy.
I shall therefore close the sick-room door to open the one of the parlor, and to witness the merry faces of the million who have abandoned their industrious occupations for the day, and partake, in the family circle, their simple but substantial Sunday meal. I always used to say, when in business, that he who works well deserves to live well,—I do not mean to say extravagantly, but that devoting one hour a day to their principal meal ought to be classified as a matter of business in regard to economy. We, therefore, must be very positive upon this important question, and make them perceive that dining well once or twice a week is really unworthy of such a civilized and wealthy country as ours, where provisions cannot be excelled by any other, both in regard to quantity and quality. Yours, etc.
Hortense.
LETTER NO. VII
My dear Mrs. B.—Your observation upon the way many people live in this country is no doubt very correct, but do you not think that if you were not quite so abrupt on the subject, we should probably be more likely to succeed in bringing our friends round to your style of management; of which, for my part, I very much approve. But as it is a matter of importance, I should like you to describe in your next communication what are the principal and most useful joints in a family, and to discourse on them, in pointing out the good which may be achieved, and the evils to be avoided. Ever yours, &c.
ELOISE.
LETTER NO. VIII
Many compliments to you, my dear Mrs. L.
At your request I here inclose the list you require, and which will show you how circumscribed the middle classes are in respect to the variation of their meals, in the way of meat and manner of cooking it. I do not disapprove of your idea in wishing me here to give a series or list of those provisions; but, on the other hand, I must tell you frankly my opinion, it being a subject which for some years I have made a study, indeed quite a hobby. If I am wrong, let any one who knows better correct me; you will allow I am always open to conviction and improvement, no matter how trifling, which often leads to an important one.
I shall therefore name all joints of meat which, though numerous, offer but little variation when continually dressed the same way, and observe that everybody has the bad habit of running only upon a few which are considered the best. They are as follow:
Those in beef are the sirloin, ribs, round, silver-side, aitch-bone.
In mutton—leg, saddle, haunch, loin.
Lamb—fore-quarter and leg.
Veal—fillet, loin.
Pork—leg, sparerib, loin.
Every one of these joints are of the most expensive parts, because generally used, although many of the other parts are equally as good, as I shall prove to you, in the receipts which I shall write for the dinner, what can be done in the way of made dishes out of those parts which are rarely or never used in this country by the middle classes, which will more clearly develope to you my ideas on the subject Besides, there is this advantage, that if a small tradesman were to follow these receipts, and buy every other time he goes to the butcher what he now considers a second-class joint, he would not only be conferring a public benefit, but also one on himself, and be the means of diminishing the price of those now considered the first class, which at the present moment bear too high a price in proportion, but which his pride causes him to purchase.
To prove to you that my argument is correct, look carefully over the inclosed list, which contains all the joints that are cut from beef, veal, mutton, lamb, pork, and you will find that ten of the prime are in daily use to one of the other, and principally for a want of the knowledge of cookery; leaving the science of cooking our food to a fierce or slow fire, or plunging our expensive provisions into an ocean of boiling water, which is thrown away, after having absorbed a great portion of the succulence of the meat. Try the receipt for the Pot-au-feu; taste the broth and eat the meat, and tell me which plan you consider the best. Do not think that I object to our plain joint, because, now and then, I am rather partial to them; but why not manage to make use of the broth, by diminishing the quantity of water, and simmering them, instead of galloping them at a special railway-train speed? Were the middle classes only but slightly acquainted with the domestic cookery of France, they would certainly live better and less expensively than at present, very often, four or five different little made dishes may be made from the remains of a large Sunday’s joint, instead of its appearing on the table of a wealthy tradesman for several days cold, and often unsightly, and backed by a bottle of variegated-colored pickles, made with pyroligneous acid, which sets my teeth on edge merely in thinking of it, and balanced by a steaming dish of potatoes, which, seen through the parlor window by the customers in the shop, would make them think there was a grand gastronomic festivity taking place at Mr. A.’s or B.’s, the butterman or greengrocer; this may be excusable once or twice, on a hot summer’s day, with an inviting salad, seasoned with merely salt, pepper, oil, and vinegar, but the continual repetition of that way of living in winter is, I consider, a domestic crime.
You will, perhaps, say that, in large firms, where forty or fifty, or more young men dine every day, or even in public establishments still more numerous, many professed cooks would be required to dress the dinner, if my plan was adopted; not at all, if the kitchen is properly constructed: but in these establishments, joints, of necessity, must be the principal viand, and there is very little left; what there is, is consumed cold for supper; but even there an amelioration might take place, although only a plain joint, either boiled or roasted, roasted or boiled, which is generally the yearly bill of fare, and so simple, yet seldom well done, and often badly, which, in a large establishment, must create great waste, and make bad food out of good meat, and that for want of care or a little more knowledge, which may appear to you but a trifling matter, but not so to thousands of poor old people, with toothless gums and fatigued stomachs, made comfortable within walls erected by the good feelings of government, or by public charity. I have often thought, when visiting these establishments, that a professed cook ought to be appointed, as well as a medical man, to visit all such in the metropolis, not only to inspect the quality of the provisions, but superintend the arrangements of the dietary table, and see that the viands are properly cooked, and thus correct the lamentable ignorance which exists at the present day; I am confident that tons of meat are daily wasted in such institutions throughout the country, which, if well employed, would feed a great part of the starving poor of the United Kingdom. The same system ought to be adopted in all the provincial towns; and, if it was in existence, we should not have to deplore such lamentable scenes which we had latterly to witness at Tooting, where, no doubt, many were to blame; for, by the calculation I have made, the allowance, though rather limited, was amply large enough to allow for good provisions, and leave sufficient remuneration for any reasonable and not covetous man. Why should not these poor children be watched over, and made as comfortable in every respect as the wish of those who pay to support them require? besides, it has an effect upon after generations; for upon the food at the period of growth depends the nature of the mind at a more advanced age, as well as the stature of the man. Do we not evince our care to objects of the brute creation, and feed, with the greatest attention, the race-horse? compare him with others of his species not so humanely treated, and note the difference: so it is with the human race; and I might almost say the prosperity of a country depends upon the food of its youth. You will perhaps think that I am rather sharp in my remarks, and probably longer than is required, but still it will be gratifying to both of us, should we find that these remarks prove beneficial to such establishments as above-mentioned; and it is only by giving notoriety to these important details, and being positive in exposing the truth, that we can be believed and followed, and you must not mind displeasing the few, if you are to be useful to the many. Forever, &c.
HORTENSE.
LETTER NO. IX
MY DEAR HORTENSE,—After the receipt of your last observations, which, on first seeing, I thought too long, but after having read them over again, I am convinced that I shall not be able to shorten them; at all events, there is a great deal of truth in them, and, as you justly say, they are the observations of a person who has constantly studied domestic comfort and economy; I shall therefore copy them in the journal just as you send them to me. Truly yours,
ELOISE.
LETTER NO. X
MY DEAR ELOISE,—I am glad to hear that you will not alter any of my last copy sent, because I assure you I wrote with a full conviction that I was right, and from facts which experience alone can engrave on the memory; but, however, we will now proceed: but I think it will be necessary to alter our original intention, namely, in order to save any confusion, to class all the receipts for the dinner together, and thus form a large bill of fare, and follow, on a small plan, what M. Soyer, of the Reform Club, has done on a large scale, in his ‘Gastronomic Regenerator,’ by which the most inexperienced hands may easily provide a large or small dinner adapted for all classes, without committing a blunder, and thus make a selection from soups, different dishes of fish, and an innumerable number of removes; entrées, roasts, savory dishes, vegetables, sweets, dessert, &c., and having chosen one or two of each series, and, on referring to the receipt, an idea of their cost, within a few pence of the market-price, may be gained.
Let me know, dear, by return of post, if you approve of my new idea, as it is rather deviating from our original one; but observe, that having so very distinctly given the Breakfast Receipts, and also for Invalids, it will be more clearly understood than by repeating the same over and over again, which would be unavoidable if following our first proposition. Yours truly, in haste,
HORTENSE.
LETTER NO. XI
MY DEAR HORTENSE,—Never were you inspired by a better idea respecting your new plan; it is so clearly explained, that I fancy our labor is over; but I must tell you that, on the receipt of your last, I wrote to M. Soyer, to inquire if he would object to our taking a few hints from his “Kitchen at Home,” which forms the last part of his work. His answer was immediate, short, and as follows:
“DEAR MADAM,—It would be entirely deviating from the preface of my ‘Gastronomic Regenerator’ to refuse you anything in my power; and as your simple demand lies within that scope, you are quite welcome to take a few hints, if you require them for your little work, from the part entitled ‘My Kitchen at Home.’
“Wishing your exertions may be well appreciated, I am, dear madam, most sincerely, your humble and devoted,
“Reform Club.
A. Soyer.”
As you have his book, you, no doubt, know to which part he alludes. He says, in his preface, that he has made it a rule never to refuse ladies anything in his power; so far he has kept his word with us: so you may, dearest, if you require, make use of his offer. I shall expect, by the next post, the commencement of the Dinner Receipts, which I am confident you will make as simple and as short as possible. With kindest regards, yours,
ELOISE.
Roasting, Baking, Boiling, Stewing, Braising, Frying, Sautéing, Broiling.
ROASTING being the most general in use, we will first describe it, although not that which was first put in practice in cooking, it being evidently an improvement on broiling: we can easily understand how, in the early primitive times, man, finding that his food got covered with the ashes with which he cooked his meat, he would invent a species of grate upon which he could raise the fire, and cook his meat before it: this primitive mode of cooking has lasted, in many countries, up to the present day, and even in London to within a few years; for I remember seeing, in the old Goldsmith’s Hall, a fire-place, consisting of stages, on which was laid the wood, and when the meat, &c., was spitted and arranged before it, the wood was lighted, and a man turned the spits. (It was, no doubt, from arranging the wood thus in stages that the name of range was derived.) In many noblemen’s castles and ecclesiastical establishments, dogs were kept to turn the spit, from whence we have those of the name of turnspit; whilst in others, where there happened to be a person of a mechanical turn of mind, they applied a water-wheel to the purpose, and the water from it formed a stream in the kitchen, which served as a reservoir for live fish. Different opinions exist as to the mode and time required for roasting, but this must all depend upon the nature of the fire and the meat. In the Receipts will be found the time which each requires. My plan is to make up as large a fire as the nature of the grate will allow, because I can place my joint near or not, as may be required, and thus obtain every degree of heat.
BAKING is a branch of the art of cooking which, although one of the oldest, is the least understood. (As I shall have to refer to this subject again, I will give the reason why in a future letter.) It is performed in various kinds of air-tight chambers, called ovens, the best of which have the same form as in the time of the Egyptians. Previous to the art of baking being practised, boiled pulse and corn were the food of the people; even Rome contained no bakers until near six hundred years after it was founded. Of late years, great improvements have been made in the construction of ovens for baking of meat, called roasting ovens, which cause great economy in the expenditure of fuel; and, in large public establishments, where a number of the same kind of joints are required, it is the best plan of cooking. In the Receipts will be found the time required by each for baking, but, in a general way, for meat, hot ovens are the best; for poultry, not so hot as meat; and pastry, according to its kind. In using dishes or utensils for the oven, they ought, if of metal, to be of galvanized iron, and separate ones for meat and fish.
BOILING is the next branch of the art which is of the most importance and appears the most simple, yet, at the same time, the most difficult, and is a subject upon which, if I were to dilate, would occupy a good quarto volume; it is one of those easy things which it is supposed everybody can do, and therefore no attention is paid to it, and it is generally done badly. According to the way in which it is done, meat may be rendered hard and tough or tender, lose or retain its flavor or nourishment; great difference of opinion exists amongst medical men which are the easiest of digestion—roasted or boiled meats. I say it is a subject quite impossible to decide, as it must depend upon the different constitutions and climate; for we might as well say that the food of the Esquimaux is adapted for the native of Italy.
STEWING ought to be the best understood, on account of its economy; pieces of coarse meat, subjected to stewing, if properly done, become tender, as the gelatinous parts become partly dissolved; it should be done slowly, the pan partly uncovered, and frequently skimmed. Great cleanliness should be observed in all the vessels used for stewing.
BRAISING is the next and most important part of the art of cooking, and, like the sauté, belongs entirely to the French school, from whom it takes its name, braise being the remains of wood burnt in the oven, or live charcoal: and as this plan of cookery requires the action of the fire under and over the braising-pan, which is air-tight, in order that the aromatic flavor arising from its contents may be imbibed by the meat or poultry, and give it that succulence so much esteemed by epicures. The braise is put on the cover, which, in some cases, is made deep on purpose to hold it. Its origin is stated to be owing to a gastronomic society which was formerly in existence in Paris, whose object was to benefit and improve the art of cookery, and who offered a reward of a silver gridiron to any culinary artist who would discover a new mode of dressing a turkey. Although a gridiron was, no doubt, intended to be used, yet a young artist named La Gacque, warmed by the offer, directed his imagination to quite a different mode, and used the pan instead of the gridiron, and thus composed the braise, which was unanimously approved of by that scientific, gastronomic, and epicurean body, who awarded him the prize. The chief art in braising is to do it slowly, taking care that the ingredients are well-proportioned, receipts for which will be found in their proper place.
FRYING.—Of all the apparently simple modes of cookery there is none more so than that of frying, but yet how rare to meet with it done properly. I believe it is to be attributed, in a great measure, to the idea that, to do it well is expensive. I have therefore made a series of experiments upon a plan such as should be followed in every private house, and I am convinced that to do it well is cheaper than doing it badly; but, in the first place, we ought to consider, What is frying? It is the insertion of any substance into boiling oil, or grease, by which the surface of that substance becomes carbonized, and the heat which effects this object is sufficient to solidify the albumen and gelatine, or, more commonly speaking, cooked; to do this properly, the substance ought to be covered by the liquid, so that the heat acts all over it at the same time, or otherwise the osmazome, or gravy, will be dried out of that part which is not covered, and the succulence and flavor of the viand lost; or, should the liquid not be of that degree of heat which would carbonize the surface on the moment of its immersion, it would then enter into the substance, render it greasy, and destroy its flavor, which no degree of heat afterwards could remedy. Those articles which are fried are generally those which have a coating of materials (such as bread-crumbs and batter) which are quickly carbonized, and thus form a crust which prevents the grease penetrating, concentrates the liquids, and preserves the flavor of the article; the carbonization once effected, the fire should be immediately moderated, particularly if the article is large, in order that the interior may become properly solidified. All articles properly fried are generally much liked, as they are agreeable to the eye, and afford a pleasing variety.
The plan that I recommend you to adopt is, to obtain an iron or copper pan long enough for a good-sized sole, and 6 to 8 inches deep, and fill three to four inches of it with fat—the skimmings of the stock-pot, or, if that should not be sufficient, the kidney-fat of beef, cut up, melted, and strained. In wealthy establishments, lard, and, in some, bacon-fat melted is used, and, for some articles, olive oil, which can only be used once; but in our less luxurious homes I think the above is sufficient, besides, it has the advantage of not requiring that great attention which the other does. When you have the fat on, before immersing the substance you intend to fry, see that it is sufficiently hot by dipping your finger (not in the fat), but in a little water, and then hold it over the fat, so that a few drops go into it; if it spits and throws back the water, it is sufficiently hot: or, throw in a small dice of bread and take it out immediately; if it is firm or colored, it is hot enough: or, in frying of fish, before putting it in, lay hold of the head and dip the end of the tail, and, if it crisps it, then let the remainder go in. I have found, if due attention is paid to the pan to prevent it from burning, forty articles may be fried in it before it wants renewing; and I am certain it will be found cheaper than the common way of putting a little fat into the frying-pan and turning the sole over and over, for you are then almost certain of sending the grease up to the table, where it is not wanted. When the fat is not used, it should be emptied, whilst hot, through a sieve, into an earthen pipkin, and covered with paper to prevent the dust going in it. For the purpose of frying, an iron wire-basket, with a handle, is used, in which the object to be cooked is placed, and thus inserted in the liquid. The cost of this instrument is trifling.
SAUTEING.—You will perceive, dearest, by the following, that the word fried is often wrongly used in cookery instead of the word sauté, which process is totally different, and produces quite another effect on food. Sauté means anything cooked in a very small quantity of butter, oil, lard, or fat, one side of the article at a time, whilst the other requires about 100 times more of the above-named materials to cook properly. You will see, in these remarks, that it is not frying a pancake, omelette, or still less a chop, steak, or cutlet, but that they are sautéd; and how to explain that word, to use it instead of the misapplied word fry, puzzles me considerably, as I am quite ignorant of its origin as regards its application to cookery. All the researches I have made in English and French Dictionaries and Encyclopædias, have not enlightened me in the least on the subject. In French, it means to jump, hop, skip, understood by our boys at school, as well as by the grasshopper tribe, called in French sauterelles, from the word sauter, to jump. I well remember at school we had a French emigré for a dancing-master, who used to get into a passion when we did not dance to his professional taste; and used to say, in shaking his powdered wig, as holding his fiddle in one hand and his bow in the other, making all kinds of grimaces and contortions, which used to remind me of the principal figure in the group of the Laocoon,—“Mon dieu, mon dieu, young miss, vous sautez très bien, mais vous dansez fort mal;” which means, “You jump very well, but you dance very badly.” It also reminds me of an expression made by a friend of ours from Havre, who was on a visit to us last November. Seeing some Guy Fawkes carried about the street, he asked me what it meant; when I told him, that in the year 1605, an attempt was made to destroy by gunpowder the King and Parliament in the House of Lords, as well as ——. “Oui, oui, madame, I know, I remember reading of it in English history; it was that little brute qui a voulut faire sauter le Parlement,” replied he very quickly. “Sauter, sauter,” I said; “no, sir, not sauté—blow up.” “Oui, oui, madame, I know, it is the same thing.” “Same thing,” replied I. This of course puzzled my culinary imagination still more; and I perceived, that if the word was translated to his meaning, it would sound most absurd and ridiculous; as, for example, on being at a festive board, and a polite young gentleman, or even your own husband, might gallantly offer to give you a blow-up cutlet, instead of a cotelette sauté, as they say in fashionable circles. I can easily conceive, that if the cotelette was blown up, it would stand a chance of coming down on the other side, thus saving the cook the trouble; but if Guy Fawkes had unfortunately succeeded, it would have produced quite another effect. Having failed in my literary researches, I tried to find it in practice. I therefore went to my kitchen, and put two spoonfuls of oil in a sautépan; I took a nice spring chicken prepared for broiling, put on the fire; and, as it began to act upon it, the oil began to jump, and also slightly the chicken. I then perceived that the way my French friend used the word was right; and that, after all, there was not such a great difference in Guy Fawkes’s plan of cooking the Parliament and that of a cutlet or chicken, for both were doomed to destruction, the one by falling in awful ruins on the fire, and the other devoured by a ravenous stomach on the dinner-table. Now, dearest, having found no means of translating it to my satisfaction, I see no other plan but to adopt it amongst us, and give it letters of naturalization, not for the beauty of the word, but for its utility. The process of sautéing is at once quick, simple, and economical, and to be well done furnishes a pleasing article of food. The art of doing it well consists in doing it quickly, to keep the gravy and succulence in the meat, which a slow process would nullify, and is of course confined to small articles of every kind of food.
BROILING is, without doubt, the earliest and most primitive mode of cookery, it being that which would present itself to man in a state of nature. It is one of the easiest parts of cookery, and therefore should be done well; it entirely depends upon the fire, which must be exceedingly clear, and the best gridiron is that having round bars, which should be placed slanting over the fire, to prevent the fat going into it; the bars should be greased, and the gridiron should be placed on the fire to get hot before the object to be cooked is placed on it I have heard that great difference of opinion exists in cookery books upon the proper broiling of a steak, if it should be turned only once or often. My plan is to turn it often, and my reason is, that, if turned but once, the albumen and the fibrine of the meat get charred, and the heat throws out the osmazome or gravy on the upper side, which, when turned over, goes into the fire; by turning it often, so as at first only to set the outside, the gravy goes into the centre, and it becomes evenly done throughout. (See “Soyer’s Mutton Chop.”) As regards the thickness of the meat to be broiled, that depends in a great measure on the intensity of the fire, but the quicker the better, and also the sooner it is eaten after taken from the fire the better. I have latterly, in broiling rump-steaks, added that which, by a great many, is considered an improvement; it is, on turning them the last time, to dredge them out of a dredger with fine holes, in which has been placed four tablespoonfuls of fine biscuit or rusk-powder, one tablespoonful of salt, one teaspoonful of pepper, a saltspoonful of either eschalot-powder or mushroom-powder, or finely-pulverized salts of celery, well mixed together, and the steak to be placed in a very hot dish, with a little mushroom-ketchup and a small piece of butter, and served immediately.
SAUCES.
SAUCES in cookery are like the first rudiments of grammar, which consists of certain rules called Syntax, which is the foundation of all languages: these fundamental rules are nine, so has cookery the same number of sauces, which are the foundation of all others; but these, like its prototype the grammar, have two—brown and white, which bear a resemblance to the noun and verb, as they are the first and most easily learnt, and most constantly in use; the others are the adjuncts, pronouns, adverbs, and interjections; upon “the proper use of the two principal ones depends the quality of all others, and the proper making of which tends to the enjoyment of the dinner; for to my fancy they are to cookery what the gamut is in the composition of music, as it is by the arrangement of the notes that harmony is produced, so should the ingredients in the sauce be so nicely blended, and that delightful concord should exist, which would equally delight the palate, as a masterpiece of a Mozart or a Rossini should delight the ear; but which, if badly executed, tantalize those nervous organs, affect the whole system, and prove a nuisance instead of a pleasure. I will therefore be very precise in describing the two, in order that when you make them, you will not cause your guests to make grimaces at each other, when partaking of them at your festive board, for the present age is a little more refined than at the time of Dr. Johnson, and we are often obliged to swallow what we do not like; for it is reported of him, that being at a ceremonious dinner-party, and indulging in his usual flow of wit, he unconsciously partook of a spoonful of very hot soup, which he immediately returned to the plate he had taken it from; and observing the astonishment of some of his neighbors, he very coolly remarked, “A fool would have burnt his mouth.”
When we are at home alone, I very seldom trouble myself by making white or brown sauce, which I can avoid by selecting simplified dishes, which easily produce their own sauce whilst cooking them. But when I expect a little company, the first I order of my cook is to make me half of the quantity of the following receipts for white and brown sauces:—
130. White Sauce.—Cut and chop a knuckle of veal, weighing about four pounds, into large dice; also half a pound of lean bacon; butter the bottom of a large stewpan with a quarter of a pound of butter, add two onions, a small carrot, a turnip, three cloves, half a blade of mace, a bouquet of a bay-leaf, a sprig of thyme, and six of parsley, add a gill of water, place over a sharp fire, stirring round occasionally, until the bottom of the stewpan is covered with whitish glaze, when fill up with three quarts of water, add a good teaspoonful of salt, and let simmer at the corner of the fire an hour and a half, keeping well skimmed, when pass it through a hair sieve into a basin; in another stewpan put a quarter of a pound of butter, with which mix six ounces of flour, stirring over the fire about three minutes, take off, keep stirring until partly cold, when add the stock all at once, continually stirring and boiling for a quarter of an hour; add half a pint of boiling milk, stir a few minutes longer, add a little chopped mushrooms if handy, pass through a hair sieve into a basin, until required for use, stirring it round occasionally until cold; the above being a simplified white sauce, will be referred to very often in the receipts.
131. Brown Sauce.—Put two ounces of butter into a stewpan, rub it over the bottom, peel two or three large onions, cut them in thick slices, lay them on the bottom, cut into small pieces about two pounds of knuckle of veal,[3] all meat, or three pounds if with bone, a quarter of a pound of lean bacon cut small, two cloves, a few peppercorns, a tablespoonful of salt, two bay-leaves, a gill of water; set it on a brisk fire, let it remain ten minutes, when stir it well round, subdue the fire, let it remain a few minutes longer, and stir now and then until it has a nice brown color; fill your pan with three quarts of water; when boiling, set it on the corner of the stove, with the lid three parts on the saucepan; when boiling, skim fat and all; after one hour, or one hour and a half simmering, pass it through a sieve into a basin. To make the thickening or roux for it, proceed as follows:—Put two ounces of butter into a pan, which melt on a slow fire, then add three ounces of flour, stir it until getting a thin deep yellow color; this in France is called roux, being very useful in cookery, and will be often referred to in these receipts. This process will take five minutes, when remove from the fire for two minutes to cool, then add at once three and a quarter pints of the above stock, very quickly set it on the fire to boil, remove to corner to simmer, and skim; it ought to be entirely free from grease, and of a light chestnut color.
132. Demi-Glaze—Thin Brown Sauce for Made Dishes.—When I have a small dinner-party, I always, as I told you before, make small quantities of white and brown sauce as above, but this is a nice way of clarifying a brown sauce without much trouble, and makes it a beautiful transparent brown color: but although I have made it quite a study, that each entrée, or made dish for daily use, should make its own sauce, yet I must impress upon you that this sauce is the real key to cooking a good and ceremonious dinner. Put a pint of brown sauce in a middle-sized stewpan, add to it half a pint of broth or consommé, put it on the stove, stir with wooden spoon, let it boil as fast as possible, take the scum off which will rise to the surface, reduce it until it adheres lightly to the spoon, pass it through a sieve or tammy into a basin, stir now and then until cold, to prevent a skin forming on the top, put it by until wanted for use. It will keep for a week in winter, by adding half a gill of white broth every other day, and giving it a boil; the addition of a tablespoonful of tomatos, gives it a beautiful color; use where indicated.
133. Thin Brown Sauce of Mushrooms.—Put twelve tablespoonfuls of thin brown sauce in a small stewpan to boil, then have six or eight small mushrooms well cleaned and washed, chop them fine, and place in sauce, and boil for five minutes; taste if it is to your liking; the addition of a little sugar is an improvement: a little cayenne, if liked, may be introduced. This sauce is good for cutlets, broiled fowl and game, &c.
134. Eschalot Sauce.—Chop fine about a good tablespoonful of eschalot, wash them by placing them in the corner of a napkin, and pouring water over them; press them until dry, put them in a small stewpan with two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, one clove, a little mace; boil two minutes, add ten tablespoonfuls of demi-glaze, boil a little longer, add a little sugar, and serve.
135. Piquant Sauce.—Put two tablespoonfuls of chopped onions, or eschalots, cleaned as above, into a stewpan; put also four tablespoonfuls of vinegar and a bay-leaf, and boil; then add ten tablespoonfuls of brown sauce, half a one of chopped parsley, ditto of green gherkins; boil five minutes, skim, add a little sugar, taste if well seasoned, take out bay-leaf and serve.
136. Tarragon Sauce.—Put eight tablespoonfuls of demi-glaze, and four of broth, into a stewpan; boil for a few minutes, add a tablespoonful of vinegar, have ready picked twenty leaves of fresh tarragon, put in to simmer two minutes, and serve with any kind of poultry, but especially spring chickens.
137. Brown Cucumber Sauce.—Peel a small fresh cucumber, cut it in neat pieces, put in a stewpan with a little sugar, add half an ounce of butter, set it on a slow fire, stir it now and then, add twelve tablespoonfuls of brown sauce, and four of broth; let it simmer till tender, skim the butter off, remove the cucumbers into another stewpan, reduce the sauce a little, taste it and serve.
138. Mince Herb Sauce.—Put two tablespoonfuls of finely chopped onions in a stewpan, add a tablespoonful of oil, place it on the fire, stir a few minutes, add ten tablespoonfuls of demi-glaze and four of broth or water; boil, skim; if too thick, and the scum should not rise, add half a gill of broth or water; boil, and reduce to a proper thickness, and add a tablespoonful of chopped parsley if handy, one of mushrooms, and season with a little cayenne, the juice of a quarter of a lemon; serve. I often introduce a little garlic in this.
139. Italian Herb Sauce.—Proceed in the same way as the above, only add a little chopped thyme and a small glass of sherry.
140. Robert Sauce.—Peel and cut up two good-sized onions, put them in a stewpan with an ounce of butter till they are a nice yellow color, then add eight tablespoonfuls of demi-glaze, and two of water or broth; skim, boil quick; when a proper thickness, add a good tablespoonful of French mustard; season it rather high; if no French mustard, use English, but it completely changes the flavor, though still very palatable.
141. Ravigote Sauce.—Put in a stewpan one middle-sized onion sliced, with a little carrot, a little thyme, bay-leaf, one clove, a little mace, a little scraped horseradish, a little butter, fry a few minutes, then add three teaspoonfuls of vinegar, ten tablespoonfuls of brown sauce, four of broth; when boiling, skim, add a tablespoonful of currant jelly; when melted, pass all through a tammy, and serve with any kind of meat or poultry; with hare or venison it is excellent.
142. Brown Mushroom Sauce.—Clean and cut twelve small mushrooms in slices, place them in a stewpan with a little butter, salt, pepper, the juice of a quarter of a lemon, set it on a slow fire for a few minutes, then add ten spoonfuls of demi-glaze; boil till they are tender, and serve. A little mushroom catsup may be introduced.
143. Orange Sauce for Game.—Peel half an orange, removing all the pith; cut it into slices, and then in fillets; put them in a gill of water to boil for two minutes; drain them on a sieve, throwing the water away; place in the stewpan ten spoonfuls of demi-glaze, or two of broth; and, when boiling, add the orange, a little sugar, simmer ten minutes, skim, and serve. The juice of half an orange is an improvement. This is served with ducklings and waterfowl: those that like may add cayenne and mustard.
144. Garlic Sauce.—Though many dislike the flavor of this root, yet those that like it ought not to be deprived of it. Put in a stewpan ten tablespoonfuls of demi-glaze, a little tomatos if handy; boil it a few minutes, scrape half a clove of garlic, put it in with a little sugar, and serve.
145. Mint Sauce for Lamb.—Take three tablespoonfuls of chopped leaves of green mint, three tablespoonfuls of brown sugar, and put into a basin with half a pint of brown vinegar; stir it well up, add one saltspoonful of salt, and serve.
146. Liaison of Eggs.—Break the yolks of three eggs in a basin, with which mix six spoonfuls of milk, or eight of cream; pass it through a fine sieve, and use when directed.
147. Anchovy Butter Sauce.—Put into a stewpan eight spoonfuls of demi-glaze, or three of broth; when boiling, add one ounce of anchovy butter; stir continually till melted: serve where directed.
148. Soyer’s Sauce.—Put six spoonfuls of demi-glaze into a stewpan; when hot, add four spoonfuls of Soyer’s Gentleman’s Sauce; let boil, and serve with either chop, steak, cotelettes, poultry, or game.
149. Papillotte Sauce.—Scrape half an ounce of fat bacon, put it in a pan with four tablespoonfuls of chopped onions, stir over the fire for a few minutes, then add ten tablespoonfuls of brown sauce, and boil; then add a tablespoonful of mushrooms chopped, one ditto of parsley, a little nutmeg, a little pepper and sugar, a little scraped garlic; reduce till rather thickish; put on dish till cold, and use it for anything you may put up “en papillotte.”
150. Tomato Sauce.—If fresh, put six in a stewpan; having removed the stalk, and squeezed them in the hand to remove pips, &c., add half an onion, sliced, a little thyme, bay-leaf, half an ounce of celery, one ounce of ham, same of butter, teaspoonful of sugar, same of salt, a quarter one of pepper; set on fire to stew gently; when all tender, add a tablespoonful of flour, moisten with half a pint of broth, boil five minutes, add a little cayenne, taste if highly seasoned, pass it through sieve or tammy, put it back in stewpan, until it adheres rather thick to the back of the spoon, and use it for any kind of meat or poultry. If preserved tomato, proceed as for poivrade sauce respecting the vegetables, omitting the vinegar, add the tomato, instead of brown sauce, add a tablespoonful of flour and broth to bring it to a proper thickness, and pass it through a sieve, and serve as above.
151. Curry Sauce.—This I generally keep ready-made in the larder, being very fond of what I consider such wholesome food as curry; but not liking to be troubled with making it often, I cause my cook to prepare a certain quantity at a time. Mr. B. is very partial to curry, but he likes it in winter; for my part, I prefer it in summer. After having partaken of some one very hot summer’s day, I felt quite cool. Capt. White, who has been nearly twenty years in the East Indies, tells me that it will produce that refreshing effect; but I can enjoy it in any season.
Put into a pan four good-sized onions, sliced, and two of peeled apples, with a quarter of a pound of butter, the same of lean ham, a blade of mace, four peppercorns, two bay-leaves, two sprigs of thyme; stir them over a moderate fire until the onions become brown and tender, then add two tablespoonfuls of the best curry powder, one of vinegar, two of flour, a teaspoonful of salt, one of sugar; moisten it with a quart of broth or milk, or even water, with the addition of a little glaze; boil till in a pulp, and adhering rather thickly to the back of the spoon; pass all through a fine sieve or tammy, give it another boil for a few minutes, put it in a basin, and use when required. Any kind of meat, poultry, and fish, or parts of game, is excellent warmed in this sauce, and served with well-boiled and dry rice. I have kept this sauce in a cool place in the winter for a month, boiling it now and then. The quantity of powder may be omitted, and a spoonful of curry paste used, or some mangoes. (See Curries.)
152. A very good and useful White Sauce (quite new).—Put a quart of white sauce in a stewpan of a proper size on a fire; stir continually until reduced to one third; put two yolks of eggs in a basin, stir them well up, add your sauce gradually, keep stirring, put back in stewpan, set it to boil for a few minutes longer, then add one pint of boiling milk, which will bring it to its proper thickness; that is, when it adheres transparently to the back of a spoon; pass through a tammy into a basin, stir now and then till cold; if not immediately required, and I have any stock left, I use half of it with half of milk. I also try this way, which is very convenient: when the yolks are in, and well boiled, I put it in a large gallipot, and when cold, cover with pieces of paper, and it will keep good in winter for two or three weeks, and above a week in summer; and when I want to use a little of it, I only take a spoonful or two and warm it on the fire, and add enough milk or white broth to bring it to a proper thickness, and use where required. This sauce is very smooth, and never, turns greasy; it lies beautifully on fowl, or any white made dish; the addition of a drop of cream gives it a very fine white appearance.
153. Onion Purée Sauce.—Peel and cut six onions in slices; put in a stewpan, with a quarter of a pound of butter, a teaspoonful of salt, one of sugar, a half one of pepper; place on a slow fire to simmer till in a pulp, stirring them now and then to prevent them getting brown, then add one tablespoonful of flour, a pint of milk, and boil till a proper thickness, which should be a little thicker than melted butter; pass through a tammy, warm again, and serve with mutton cutlets, chops, rabbits, or fowl; by not passing it, it will do for roast mutton and boiled rabbit as onion sauce.
154. Purée of Cauliflower Sauce.—Boil a cauliflower well in three pints of water, in which you have previously put one ounce of butter, two tablespoonfuls of salt; when done, chop it up, having prepared and slowly cooked in a stewpan an onion sliced, a little celery, half a turnip, one ounce of ham, two of butter, a little bay-leaf, mace, add then the cauliflower, stir round, add a tablespoonful of flour, moisten as above for onions, pass and finish the same way.
155. Jerusalem Artichoke Sauce.—Peel twelve, and well wash, boil till tender, and proceed as above.
156. Turnip Sauce Purée.—Boil six middle-sized ones, press all the water you can out of them, and proceed as the above.
157. White Cucumber Purée.—Peel two, or one large one, cut in slices, put in the stewpan with the same vegetables, &c., as for the cauliflower; when tender, add a tablespoonful of flour, three gills of milk or broth, boil, and finishing as the cauliflower.
158. Sorrel Sauce, or Purée.—Wash well four handfuls of sorrel, put it nearly dry into a middle-sized stewpan, with a little butter; let it melt, add a tablespoonful of flour, a teaspoonful of salt, half one of pepper, moisten to a thick purée, with milk, or broth, or cream; pass it through a sieve, put it back in a stewpan, warm again, add two whole eggs, two ounces of butter, and stir well, and serve where directed.
159. Spinach Purée (see Vegetables, 2d Course).—Endive is often used in France, and called chicorée. This purée may be made like the cauliflower, or only plainly chopped, put into a pan with two ounces of butter, a gill of white sauce, a little grated nutmeg, and a little salt, pepper and sugar.
160. Stewed Peas and Sprew Grass.—For cutlets, sweetbreads, fowls, or any dishes, they are applicable (see Vegetables, second course), also French beans, only using one third of the quantity that you would for a made dish for an entremet.
161. Scooped Jerusalem Artichokes.—Scoop with a round cutter twenty-four pieces of artichoke, of the size of half an inch in diameter, wash them, put them in a small stewpan with half an ounce of butter and a quarter of an ounce of sugar; put it on a slow fire for a few minutes, add two tablespoonfuls of white sauce, six of white broth or milk, let them simmer till tender, skim, mix a yolk of an egg with two tablespoonfuls of milk, pour in stewpan, and move it round very quick, and serve; it must not be too thick, and the artichokes must be well done; they must not be in purée; they are good with or served under any white meat.
162. Scooped Turnips.—Proceed exactly the same, only serve a little thinner: they will not do if stringy.
163. Button Onions.—The same, only make the sauce thinner, and boil longer, according to their size.
164. Young Carrots.—Scrape and trim to shape twenty small and young carrots, pass in sugar and butter, add white or brown sauce, but keep it thinner, as it requires a longer time boiling; when tender, if for white sauce, add a tablespoonful of liaison, stir, and serve.
165. White Mushroom Sauce.—Use small white ones; cut the dark part out and remove the tail, wash in several waters, put in a stewpan with a little butter, salt, pepper, juice of lemon, sauté it for a few minutes, add a gill of white sauce, four table-spoonfuls of broth, milk, or water; boil and serve under any white meat.
166. White Cucumber Sauce.—Peel two cucumbers, divide each lengthways into four, remove the pips, and cut into pieces one inch long; add, in stewpan one ounce of butter, a teaspoonful of sugar, half of salt, let it stew on the fire for fifteen minutes, then add a gill of white sauce, six spoonfuls of milk, broth, or water, simmer gently and skim, add a tablespoonful of liaison, and serve where directed, but observe that all these garnitures ought to be served under the meat and over poultry.
167. Ragout of Quenelles.—Make twelve nice small quenelles (see Quenelles), warm half a pint of white sauce, in which you have put four tablespoonfuls of milk, and half a teaspoonful of eschalot; when well done, pour on the liaison over with the juice of a lemon, and serve. A few English truffles or mushrooms may be added to this sauce.
168. Maître d’Hôtel Sauce.—Put eight spoonfuls of white sauce in a stewpan, with four of white stock or milk; boil it five minutes, then stir in two ounces of maître d’hôtel butter; stir it quickly over the fire until the butter is melted, but do not let the sauce boil after the butter is in; this sauce should only be made at the time of serving.
169. Green Peas Stewed.—Put a pint of young peas, boiled very green, into a stewpan, with three table-spoonfuls of white sauce, two ounces of butter, a little sugar and salt, and two button onions, with parsley, tied together; boil them ten minutes; add two tablespoonfuls of liaison, stir it in quickly, and serve.
170. Green Peas, with Bacon.—Put a pint of well-boiled peas into a stewpan, with five spoonfuls of brown sauce, two of brown gravy, a teaspoonful of sugar, two button onions, and a bunch of parsley; let it boil about ten minutes; have ready braised about a quarter of a pound of lean bacon, cut it in dice about a quarter of an inch square, add it to the peas, take out the onions and parsley, season with an ounce of butter and half a teaspoonful of sugar; mix well together, stew twenty minutes, and serve.
171. Blanched Mushrooms.—Get a pottle of fresh mushrooms, cut off the dirt, and likewise the heads (reserving the stalk for chopping), wash the heads in a basin of clean water, take them out and drain in a sieve; put into a stewpan two wine-glasses of cold water, one ounce of butter, the juice of half a good lemon, and a little salt; turn or peel each head neatly, and put them into the stewpan immediately, or they will turn black; set your stewpan on a brisk fire, let them boil quickly five minutes, put them into a basin ready for use; chop the stalks and peel very fine, put them into a stewpan with three tablespoonfuls of the liquor the mushrooms have been boiled in; let them simmer three minutes, put them into a jar, and use where indicated.
Observe: Turning or peeling mushrooms is an art that practice alone can attain; if they are very fresh and white, wash them quickly, and wipe them on a cloth; throw them into the liquid above mentioned.
172. Onions Stuffed.—Peel twelve large onions, cut a piece off at the top and bottom to give them a flat appearance, and which adds a better flavor if left, blanch them in four quarts of boiling water twenty minutes, then lay them on a cloth to dry; take the middle out of each onion, and fill them with veal forcemeat (with a little chopped eschalot, parsley, and mushroom, mixed in it), and put them in a sauté-pan well buttered, cover them with white broth, let them simmer over a slow fire until covered with a glaze, and tender; turn them over and serve where required.
173. Hot Tartar Sauce.—Put two table-spoonfuls of white sauce in a small stewpan, four of broth or milk, boil a few minutes, then add two tablespoonfuls of the tartar sauce (see Salads) in it, stir it very quick with a wooden spoon, make it quite hot but not boiling; put it on a dish, and serve where described.