It has been said that Molly was providing for visitors by economizing slightly in her table. She was always economical, but it made some difference whether the fish she bought was the inexpensive flounder, made by the art of good cooking into the aristocratic filet de sole, or what passes for such where veritable sole is not to be bought for money, or a more expensive sort; whether she used veal instead of chicken, or clams in place of oysters, and tomato or potato salad for lettuce. On Saturday, after Sunday’s marketing was done, her account stood thus:—
| Monday— | Sundries | $2.80 |
| Tuesday— | Sweet corn and milk | .10 |
| Wednesday— | Oysters | .15 |
| Liver | .10 | |
| Knuckle of veal | .20 | |
| Pork | .20 | |
| Thursday— | Kidneys | .05 |
| Yeast | .02 | |
| Sweet corn | .06 | |
| Friday— | Beets | .05 |
| Corned beef | .40 | |
| One flounder | .12 | |
| Soup meat | .15 | |
| Saturday— | Steak | .16 |
| Chicken | .50 | |
| Ice | .40 | |
| Fuel | .50 | |
| Milk | .56 | |
| $6.52 |
This made the week’s expenditure 23 cents less than the last week.
It will be remembered that Monday’s dinner was formed, with the addition of oysters, from what was left on Sunday; and therefore the lamb bought on Monday did not come into use till Tuesday, when three chops were used for breakfast, and the shoulder for the evening dinner.
Substituting, then, the lamb for the steak of the Tuesday before, and on Wednesday using lamb’s liver in place of the roast breast which was used on Thursday, the bills of fare were substantially the same as those of the preceding week, until Friday, when stuffed lamb’s heart for breakfast, and corned beef and flounders and beets for dinner, were new items, as was also the steak for Saturday, in place of the cutlets. Dessert and puddings of the first week were repeated.
Twice Molly had found in market green corn young enough for their taste, and had bought half a dozen ears. The beets, also, were moderate enough in price now to come within Molly’s purse. Needless to say, all articles which were expensive, only because too early or too late in season, had to be eschewed; but in autumn, in the country, where vegetables are rarely so plentiful as in New York, the market needs watching. One grocer may have a stray basket of string beans, quite young, or a few dozen of sweet corn, long after they have disappeared generally; and these are often quite cheap.
Molly had chosen a cheap part of corned beef—the plate—in preference to the round, at double the price: properly boiled, she liked it better. A small piece of four or five pounds of round of beef is very dry, even if the careful boiling prevents its being hard; therefore she got four pounds and a half at eight cents. She knew, from her cooking-school experience, the New York price was seven cents; but she had learned that most things were a little dearer in Greenfield. As she wrote down the recipes for cooking the heart, the corned beef, the flounders, and steak, I give them in that form.
Lamb’s Heart Baked.—The heart, which came with the lamb’s liver, instead of being cut up and fried in dry rings, as it is usually done, was cleansed of blood, the gristle (or “deaf ear”) cut away, and a veal stuffing made of a heaped table-spoonful of bread crumbs, a small tea-spoonful of parsley chopped very fine, and a pinch, between thumb and finger, of thyme, pepper and salt. Make this into a paste with butter by working a piece the size of a walnut into it, then fill the cavity in the heart with it; cut two thin slices of fat pork, wrap the heart in them, flour it and put it in a hot oven, in a small dish. Bake it twenty minutes, turning often so that it will be quite brown. Take it up, pour into the dish a very little boiling water or gravy (Molly had some of her veal stock), season nicely; if water is used, add a few drops of sauce or catsup; stir it well round the little dish to remove dried gravy, then serve with the heart, which thus makes a very appetizing dish.
The corned beef was washed, and, as the butcher had told Molly it was only moderately salt, she did not soak it.
Boiled Corned Beef.—Although it was quite a small piece, Molly intended it to come so very slowly to the boil that she had it put on the stove in cold water at two o’clock. The water was only at the boiling-point at three, and it was kept till six so slowly cooking that one had to look carefully in order to see that there was any movement in the water at all. At six it was taken up, and the bones drawn out, the rough edges trimmed off, carrot and turnip cones set round it, and boiled cabbage served with it. After dinner, it was put between two dishes, and two heavy flatirons set on it, and it was allowed to get cold under pressure, in order that it might cut in neat slices.
Young Beets Boiled.—The beets to be carefully washed, the roots not cut off at all, and the tops left an inch long; the idea is to prevent the skin being broken in any way. Put them in boiling water, and, if they are of average size, one hour will boil them tender. Try, without a fork, by pressing in a cloth; then pour the water off, and peel and slice them (or they can be left whole if preferred), and make the following sauce: A dessert-spoonful of butter, a scant one of flour; let them bubble one minute, put to them a scant half-pint of water; let it boil, season with pepper and salt, and then put in a large tea-spoonful more butter; stir till mixed, and add the juice of half a lemon; put the beets in this sauce, and let all come to a gentle boil together.
To Bone Flounders, and prepare as filet de sole. Take a flounder weighing as near two pounds as possible,—if too small they will make poor filets,—have the head removed, lay it on the board before you, and with a sharp knife make a cut right down the middle of the back, from neck to tail, letting the knife touch the bone all the way; then run the knife carefully between the flesh and the bones, working always towards the edge or fin, and keeping close to the bone; you have now detached one quarter of the flesh. Do the other side in the same way, and when the side uppermost is thus entirely loose from the bone, turn the fish over, and do the same with the other part. You will now find you can remove the bone whole from the fish. You have now two halves of the fish; cut away the fins, and you have four quarters of solid flesh, or filets. Lay each one, skin downward, in front of you; hold the end of the filet firmly, and with the knife cut the filet from the skin by pressing the edge of the knife downward on the skin, which you hold firmly with thumb and finger, and pushing, as it were, the flesh up from it. You will find the skin and flesh will separate without destroying the shape of the filet. Now bread them; have either a good supply of bread crumbs dried in the oven and sifted, or cracker meal; beat an egg with a table-spoonful of water, lay each filet in it, both sides, then lift it out and lay it in the crumbs; turn it over that both may be well covered, and press gently; then lay it aside, and do the other three. Have enough fat in a deep pan to cover them; let it get very hot, trying it with a bit of bread. If it brown at once, put the filets in, two at a time; have brown paper ready, and lay them on it when they are a fine golden brown, and serve on a hot dish.
Stewed Cannelon of Beef, or Rolled Steak.—Take a piece of the upper side of the round of beef, cut broad and thick. Make a veal stuffing in the following way: A cup of fine bread crumbs, a scant table-spoonful of finely chopped parsley, and a very scant tea-spoonful of thyme and marjoram mixed (if any one objects to either of these herbs, leave it out), a very little nutmeg, a half tea-spoonful of salt, and a half salt-spoonful of pepper; chop or mix all together with a good table-spoonful of butter; lay the steak on a board, and with a large knife hack it closely across and across, all over on one side only, then along the centre of the hacked side lay the stuffing; roll the meat over and fasten it with toothpicks to keep it, while you envelop it in thin slices of fat pork, round which you wind twine. When neat and compact, lay it in a saucepan with a pint of water, and a piece of carrot and onion cut fine, a salt-spoonful of salt, and a tea-spoonful of vinegar. Let this simmer very gently for three hours, closely covered, then take it up, lay it in a baking-pan, remove the strings and toothpicks very carefully, dredge it all over very thinly with flour, and set it in a very hot oven to brown quickly. If the saucepan was kept closely covered, and the simmering slow, there will be at least half a pint of thick, rich gravy in it; which strain, and skim free from fat (a table-spoonful of cold water thrown in will make it easier to skim). When the meat is brown, pour this gravy round it, and serve. If the gravy should have dried away too much, a little boiling water may be put into the saucepan, and well stirred, before straining,—but a little rich gravy is better than much and poor.
This dish Molly prepared herself, and it was a great success. Harry pronounced it better than filet de bœuf.
“Yes, it is either a very good dish, or a wofully bad one,—hard and dry and altogether unsatisfactory.”
But Molly knew it depended so entirely on great care, that the meat should be hacked thoroughly, yet not anywhere cut through, and then so very slowly simmered, so quickly browned, that she thought it one of those dishes she would always have to cook herself. She was not expecting too much from Marta. If she profited by her instructions sufficiently to know the rules of cooking, and abide by them so far that she might be trusted not to spoil a dish if left to watch it, and be able to cook a few things well, so that she could do when necessary unaided,—that was all Molly looked for.