The next day not being a very busy one for Marta, Molly proposed to candy the lemon-peels, that had been lying in brine until enough had been collected. There were now the peels of nearly a dozen. These were put on in cold water, and when they had boiled an hour this was thrown away and fresh cold water put on them, the object being simply to freshen them. When they began to get tender Molly tasted them to see if any salt remained in them, but she found them quite fresh; had they not been, she would have changed the water once more. When they were tender enough to run a straw through them, which was when they had boiled nearly three hours, they were poured off, and a pint and a half of water and a pound and a half of sugar were put to boil to syrup, while Molly and Marta cut the peels into chips less than an inch long and a quarter inch wide. To accomplish this quickly Molly told Marta to cut each half lemon-peel into three equal sizes, then to lay one on the other, and cut across all three; the chips were about the right size thus cut.
When the syrup boiled the chips were dropped in; it was allowed to boil again, and to keep boiling slowly till the peels were clear, then more rapidly till there was so little liquid that they were in danger of burning; then they were drawn to the back of the range for the remaining syrup to dry away without burning. When they were at this point Molly sprinkled half a pound of sugar through them and spread them out on plates, telling Marta to put them in the oven with the door open, and let them remain all night to dry.
She explained to Marta, if ever she tried to do them alone, to remember there must be always enough syrup to cover the peels at first, made in the proportion of a pound of sugar to a pint of water.
Of course, although the process was a long one, the only attention required was to prevent the peels burning toward the last.
Molly knew she would be in the kitchen a good deal this week, for she did not expect Marta to be able to do much alone. The day on which she candied lemon-peels she planned to make iced cream coffee, a cake, and show Marta about the dinner.
Mrs. Winfield’s freezer was very small, the cylinder holding only a quart. Molly had not tried it hitherto, but home-made ices were so economical that she was anxious to become familiar with it. After breakfast a cup of black coffee was made by pouring half a pint of water through two table-spoonfuls of finely-ground coffee, in the same way as their usual breakfast coffee was made, only of double strength. To this was added a gill of thick cream and half a pint of boiled milk, and four table-spoonfuls of sugar. This was poured into the cylinder and frozen. Molly had ordered half a pint of cream to be kept for her the day before, so that she would be sure of having it from twenty-four to thirty-six hours old, and the other gill was left in the ice till it was thoroughly chilled. Buying cream in such small quantity she could not afford to have the usual milky residuum, and knew the only way to whip it solid without one tea-spoonful of waste, was to have it at least twenty-four hours old, and thoroughly chilled, then to beat it steadily, without taking the beater out till it was as solid as the white of egg. This usually happens in ten minutes with a pint of cream, but if the kitchen is warm and it does not “come” in that time, it is often an economy of time to set it in the ice, just as it is, to get chilled again; there is no occasion to remove the froth as it rises,—the whip will be finer and firmer without.
Marta made the Madeleine cake, while Molly stood by, recipe in hand.
“This cake, Marta, has no milk, and therefore requires no baking-powder; neither queen cake, sponge cake, pound cake, in fact none of the finer cakes have milk, and they are raised entirely with eggs. But several very good imitations of these cakes are made with baking-powder; the saving is not great, and a cake made without chemicals keeps fresh much longer.
“Madeleine Cake.—For Madeleine cake you must weigh four ounces of butter, half a pound of sugar, half a pound of flour twice sifted; then grate the rind of half a lemon into the sugar, separate the yolks from the whites of three large or four small eggs, put two table-spoonfuls of wine in this cup, and, before you begin to make the cake, butter a small cake-pan. Now beat the whites of the eggs till you can turn the bowl without their slipping, cream the butter well, then beat the yolks of eggs into it, then add the sugar and wine; beat well again, and then add flour and whites of eggs alternately, and when all is well mixed, pour it into the pan, and bake it in a rather slow oven for an hour.
“I am having only half the recipe made, so the cake is not very large; but we are such small cake-eaters that we get tired of a large one. Another time, if you make this cake, you may put rose-water or peach-water instead of the wine, and chopped candied lemon-peel instead of the grated peel. You see the batter is much thicker than for the cup cake you made, but if at any time you use flour that absorbs more moisture, you must add another egg; this is, as it should be, as thick as pound-cake batter,—which means, as thick as can be stirred. It is more a paste than a batter. Will you remember that, when you have a recipe which says ‘thick as pound-cake batter’? Any cake with baking-powder made as thick as this would be spoiled. It would be tough, with great holes here and there, so you must be very careful not to confuse the two rules,—moderately thick batter for plain cakes, with milk and baking-powder; very thick batter for the richer ones, made without. Yet, of course, they must be stirred with a spoon; if too stiff for that, your flour is very absorbent, and you need another egg. Remember there is never any harm in adding an egg; it will never spoil your cake as too much milk would do.
“All cakes without baking-powder or its equivalents, soda and cream of tartar, require a much slower oven than those with them. A slow oven ruins a plain cake, a quick one spoils a rich cake, and you must be especially careful to turn it very gently, and, in taking this or any cake with much butter in it from the oven, to put it on the table very gently. I have known a cake to come from the oven perfect, yet, from being dropped hastily on the table, to collapse with a puff of steam issuing from it. The same thing may happen from taking it from the pan while quite hot, or from its not being quite cooked through; cakes require to ‘soak’ a few minutes even after a broom straw comes out clean. Lack of knowledge on these small points is one of the reasons why many people who make excellent plain cakes—by which I mean all the variety of cakes with baking-powder and little butter—do not succeed with richer ones, and why so many look upon pound cake as so very difficult, while it is really as easy as any other.”
Marta had twice succeeded admirably with the cup cake, which her unfortunate bang of the oven door had spoiled the first time.
Instead of frying the filet de sole for dinner, Molly intended to have what is called by cooks turbans of sole, with béchamel. She put the bones and fins left from boning a flounder (see directions, Chapter XIX.) into a pint of water, and let them stew slowly at the back of the range; then she rolled up the filets and fastened each with a wooden toothpick, and set them to keep cool until she was ready to cook them.
For the miroton of beef she cut from the braised beef of the night before some very delicate slices and laid them in an oval dish; then she put a large table-spoonful of butter in a small saucepan, and let it get very hot, and poured into it a cup of rice, which had been boiled till just dry and tender, but not broken; this was fried, with frequent stirring, till pale brown, when it was poured over the beef, making a cover. The cold gravy, which was a solid jelly and rather too highly flavored for the purpose, was diluted with an equal quantity of hot water and a pinch of salt; a tea-spoonful of brown thickening was stirred into it, and enough poured over the rice to moisten the whole, but not make it “sloppy;” the dish was then put into the oven to remain for half an hour.
Marta had put on the potatoes early, and when they were boiled she mashed them (keeping them quite hot) with a fork, beating it rapidly back and forth till they were white and light; then Molly took them herself, and told her to strain the bones from the fish broth or stock, to put a salt-spoonful of salt in it, and set it to boil again; then to chop some parsley very fine, to cut a thin slice of blood-red pickled beet, and cut from it with a thimble (in the absence of the proper tube) little disks the size of a dime.
Molly seasoned the potatoes highly, putting to them (there was a scant pint) a dessert-spoonful of butter, salt, pepper, a grate of nutmeg, and a little parsley. Then she beat an egg and added part of it, keeping out only enough to brush over the balls when made. She formed each about the size of a small orange, and brushed them over with the egg. They were placed on a buttered tin and put in the oven to brown.
The turbans of fish were now put in the boiling stock, and boiled till they were milky-white instead of clear—about eight minutes; then Molly took them up with a skimmer, and in a small saucepan stirred a dessert-spoonful of butter and one of flour together, letting them bubble a few seconds, and then poured a gill of the fish stock and half one of milk to it, stirring all the time (in fact, making white sauce, but using part fish stock instead of all milk, which makes béchamel for fish; made with veal or chicken stock it is béchamel for meat). When seasoned with a little pepper, the little rolled filets were placed standing up in a small dish, and the sauce poured all over them to mask them entirely; then Molly took a little parsley on the end of a knife and carefully sprinkled it over the same, which, being thick, allowed it to rest upon it; then a disk of the blood-red beet was laid deftly on the top of each turban, and a very pretty dish was the result.
“Now, Marta, I leave you to bring the dinner in as soon as Mr. Bishop is ready. I have left the iced coffee packed ready; all you have to do is to wipe every spot of ice and salt from the outside, and then fill two cups from it. Pile each cup very high with the whipped cream, and bring in the cake at the same time.”