A sound stomach may be said to be the mainspring of all our comfort; and there would be no difficulty in proving that this viscera influences (much more than people in general imagine) all our actions: the destiny of nations has often depended upon the more or less laborious digestion of a prime minister.
The oft-misspelled William Kitchiner (1777?–1827) was a physician by trade, though it’s not easy to see where he found time to practice medicine. Among his contributions to general knowledge was The Cook’s Oracle from 1817, with a second edition the following year. (He obviously liked the “Oracle” element; in 1828 he wrote The Traveller’s Oracle, or Maxims for Locomotion.) He prided himself on the “precision”—his word—of his recipes:
The Receipts are the results of experiments carefully made and accurately and circumstantially detailed, the time requisite for dressing being stated, and the quantities of the various articles contained in each composition being given either by weight or measure, a precision never before attempted in former cookery books, but which I found indispensable, from the impossibility of guessing the quantities intended by the usual obscure expressions employed for this purpose in former works; such as, a little bit of salt, a good bit of butter, a handful of this, a pinch of that
Here is an example of a recipe giving these precise times and quantities:
Mince a thin slice of a clove of garlick with some parsley, tarragon, chervil, burnet, and basil, each in proportion to their flavours: when well washed and squeezed dry, let it simmer in a little water, without boiling; press through a sieve, add a bit of butter, flour, pepper, and salt; boil it to a good consistence, and add lemon juice to make it relishing and smart tasted.
Oh well. If reliable quantities are important, stick with Eliza Acton and later writers.
Spoiler: The advertised “Six Hundred Receipts” are really 570. The numbers go up to 575, but Nos. 99–101, 139, 183–184, 447 and 482–83 are missing; to make up for it, there are duplicate 170–171, 182 and 463. Of those 570, almost half—Nos. 254–481 inclusive—are sauces, forcemeats and related matters. That includes No. 328, Wow Wow Sauce—an item that staggered me, as I’d always assumed Terry Pratchett made it up. The name can’t be found in either Acton or Beeton; maybe they called it something else.
The terms “allspice” and “Jamaica pepper” are used interchangeably. Beeton’s Book of Household Management explains that “allspice” is
the popular name given to pimento, or Jamaica pepper, known to naturalists as Eugenia pimenta, and belonging to the order of Myrtaceæ. . . . It is an inexpensive spice, and is considered more mild and innocent than most other spices; consequently, it is much used for domestic purposes, combining a very agreeable variety of flavours.
Do not look in your local grocery store, or even your local gourmet foodie emporium, for saltpeter. It’s no longer used in home kitchens, thanks to what is now known about nitrates and nitrites.
Capillaire is syrup of maidenhair fern—hence the name.
The author is very partial to single words: drippingpan, fryingpan, bakingpan, forcemeat, wineglass.
Among unexpected spellings, “avoirdupoise” with spurious final “e” was common enough that I left it as-is. The Contents has variously “fricasée” [sic] and “fricassée”; the body text has “fricassèe” [sic]. I left them all as I found them.
In 1817, peas were in transition from mass noun (pease) to count noun (one pea, two peas). At various points in the book we’ll meet pease soup, split peas, and “the flavour of the pea”.
This book predates the 1824 Weights and Measures Act, so a pint may be sixteen ounces rather than 20. A teaspoon is ¼ tablespoon. A “wineglass”, as a unit of liquid measure, is two ounces.
A few recipes call for “a wooden spoonful of flour”. If Dr. Kitchiner thinks a wooden spoon is a standard unit of measure, he is mistaken. Similarly one can only guess how much a “ladleful” is. Mine holds between a third and a half cup, depending on how close to the brim I fill it.
Several recipes refer to the size of a “three-shilling piece”. In 1816, probably while the first edition of The Cook’s Oracle was in preparation, this coin was replaced with the half-crown (two and a half shillings, or one-eighth pound). The second edition accordingly updates everything to “a half-crown piece”. The three-shilling coin was 34.5mm in diameter; the half-crown was a bit smaller at 32mm. If you are old enough to have a mental picture of the US half-dollar, those were 30.6 mm. Unfortunately, sources are less forthcoming about the thickness of these coins.
There are also a few references to the size of a sixpence, often in the form “as much [of some spice] as will lay on a sixpence”. (Yes, he consistently says “lay”.) The version minted from 1786 to 1791 was 21 or 22 mm, about the diameter of a US nickel; in 1816 this would be replaced by a slightly smaller coin, 19mm or about the size of a US penny.
Reminder for Americans: Two ounces of butter is half a stick; half an ounce is a tablespoon (1/8 stick).
This ebook is based on two copies of the 1817 edition: one at Leeds University, the other at the New York Public Library. I was obliged to toggle between two, because no one copy had all pages. For those who need to investigate more closely: Leeds is missing a3v-4, B9v-10, I9v-10, K9v-10, N6v-7; NYPL is missing B2v-3, D5v-6, D7v, H5v-6, H12v-I1, I7v-8, I10v-11, M7v-8. Aside from the single page D7v (a blank scan), each of these is a spread, not a leaf. So either the scanner operators were exceptionally slapdash, or there were a lot of pages stuck together thanks to heavy use in years past.
What do you mean, “D7v”? In a remarkably archaic touch, the first edition of The Cook’s Oracle did not have numbered pages. Instead, the first five leaves of each duodecimo quire had a signature mark: E1, E2, E3, E4, E5. For the ebook I’ve added the other signatures, as well as marking the verso pages: E1, E1v, E2, E2v . . . E12, E12v. (The second edition had numbered pages, as befits this modern 19th century. It also put the informational or “General Observations” chapters in a group at the beginning of the book, before all recipes. Other than that, it is generally the same as the first edition.)
In the informational sections, footnotes—some of them unconscionably long—are shown after each paragraph. In the recipes, they are grouped at the end of each recipe. Where necessary, I have changed the footnote markers so they start at * in each paragraph or recipe. At least twice, you will find a footnote to a footnote.
And finally: It is not a mistake. The section headed Broths, Gravies, and Soups is immediately followed by one headed Sauces and Gravies.
As described above, this ebook is based on two copies of the 1817 edition, both via the Internet Archive: one at Leeds University, the other at the New York Public Library.
Typographical errors are marked with mouse-hover popups and are listed again at the end of each chapter. The word “invisible” means that the letter or punctuation mark is missing, but there is an appropriately sized blank space. “Corrected from second edition” means that I had doubts, so I checked this edition’s reading against the 1818 second edition.
APICIUS REDIVIVUS;
OR,
THE COOK’S ORACLE:
Wherein especially
THE ART OF COMPOSING SOUPS, SAUCES, AND FLAVOURING ESSENCES
IS MADE SO CLEAR AND EASY, BY THE QUANTITY OF EACH
ARTICLE BEING ACCURATELY STATED BY WEIGHT AND
MEASURE, THAT EVERY ONE MAY SOON LEARN
TO DRESS A DINNER, AS WELL AS THE
MOST EXPERIENCED COOK;
Being Six Hundred Receipts,
the
RESULT OF ACTUAL EXPERIMENTS
instituted in
THE KITCHEN OF A PHYSICIAN,
for the purpose of composing
A CULINARY CODE FOR THE RATIONAL EPICURE,
and augmenting
The Alimentary Enjoyments of Private Families;
COMBINING ECONOMY WITH ELEGANCE;
and saving expense to housekeepers,
and trouble to servants.
“I have taken as much pains in describing, in the fullest manner, how to make, in the easiest, most agreeable, and most economical way, those Dishes which daily contribute to the comforts of the middle rank of Society, as I have in directing the preparation of those piquante and elaborate relishes, the most ingenious and accomplished “Officers of the Mouth” have invented for the amusement of Grands Gourmands. These are so composed, as to be as agreeable and useful to the stomach, as they are inviting to the appetite; nourishing without being inflammatory, and savoury without being surfeiting.”—Vide Preface, page 3.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR SAMUEL BAGSTER,
No. 15, PATERNOSTER-ROW,
By J. Moyes, Greville Street.
1817.
to
TASTEFUL PALATES,
KEEN APPETITES,
and
HEALTHFUL AND CAPACIOUS STOMACHS:
the following receipts,
composed
for their rational recreation,
are respectfully inscribed.
The following Receipts are not a mere marrowless collection of shreds and patches, and cuttings, and pastings, from obsolete works, but a bona fide register of practical facts, accumulated by a perseverance not to be subdued or evaporated by the igniferous terrors of a roasting fire in the dog-days, or a vote of censure from the Cooks’ Company, for thus daring to promulgate the profound mysteries of the (till now, in the following pages, explained and elucidated to the humblest capacity,) occult art of cookery. The Receipts have been written down by the fire-side, “with a spit in one hand, and a pen in the other,” in defiance of the combined odoriferous and califacient repellents of roasting and boiling, frying and broiling; the author submitting to a labour no preceding cookery-book-maker, perhaps, ever attempted to encounter; and having not only dressed, but eaten each Receipt before he set it down in his book. As they have all been received with a hearty welcome by a sufficiently well educated palate, and a a3v rather fastidious stomach; perhaps this certificate of the eatability of the respective preparations will partly apologize for the book containing a smaller number of them than some preceding writers on this gratifying subject have transcribed for the profit and amusement of “every man’s master,” the STOMACH*.
* “The stomach is the grand organ of the human system, upon the state of which all the powers and feelings of the individual depend.”—See Hunter’s Culina, page 13.
I have endeavoured to describe each preparation in so plain and circumstantial a manner as I hope will be easily understood, even by the amateur who is wholly unacquainted with the practical part of culinary concerns. Old housekeepers may think I have been tediously minute on many points, which, to them, appear trifling, and former writers on this subject have deemed unworthy of attention. But these little delicate distinctions constitute all the difference between a common table and an elegant one, and are not trifles to the novice, who must learn them either from the communication of others, or blunder on till his own slowly-accumulating and dear-bought experience teaches him. A wish to save trouble and time to uninformed beginners, was my motive for publishing this book, and I could accomplish it only by supposing the reader, when he first opens my book, to be as ignorant of cookery as I was when I first thought of writing on the subject.
By a careful attention to the directions herein given, a4 the most ignorant will easily learn to prepare food, not only in an agreeable and wholesome, but in an elegant and economical manner.
The cardinal virtues of cookery, “CLEANLINESS, FRUGALITY, NOURISHMENT, AND PALATEABLENESS,” preside over each preparation; for I have not presumed to insert a single composition without previously obtaining the “imprimatur” of an enlightened and most indefatigable “COMMITTEE OF TASTE,” whose persevering and cordial co-operation I cannot too highly praise; and here most gratefully record the unremitting zeal they manifested during their arduous progress of proving the respective recipes, who were so truly philosophically and disinterestedly regardless of the wear and tear of teeth and stomach, that their labour appeared a pleasure to them. This laudable perseverance has enabled me to give the most inexperienced amateur this unerring guide how to excite as much pleasure as possible on the palate, with as little trouble as possible to the principal viscera.
Every attention has been paid in directing the proportions of the following compositions, not merely to make them inviting to the appetite, but agreeable and useful to the stomach; nourishing without being inflammatory, and savoury without being surfeiting.
I have no new forms of luxury to communicate; no claims to the Roman Emperor’s bounty for inventing a new pleasure; nor do I pretend to give any information a4v to those grand masters and mistresses of the alimentary art, who are commonly called “profess cooks,” whose greatest praise is in contriving dishes, not to allay the appetite, but to excite it, to gratify those who live upon sauces instead of food, and who see the sun rise with no other hope than that they shall fill their bellies before it sets. I have written for those who make nourishment the chief end of eating*, and do not a5 desire to provoke appetite beyond the power and necessities of nature; proceeding, however, on the purest Epicurean principles of indulging the palate as far as it can be done without injury or offence to the stomach. The pleasures of the table have always been highly appreciated and carefully cultivated in all countries and in all ages; and, in spite of the Stoics, every one will allow they are the first we enjoy, the last we leave, and those we taste the oftenest. A sound stomach may be said to be the mainspring of all our comfort; and there would be no difficulty in proving that this viscera influences (much more than people in general imagine) all our actions: the destiny of nations has often depended upon the more or less laborious digestion of a prime minister. The great philosopher Pythagoras, in his Golden Verses, shews himself to have been extremely nice in eating, and makes it one of his chief principles of morality to “abstain from beans.” Our great English moralist, Dr. Johnson, (says Boswell,) was a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery, and talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction. “Some people,” said he, “have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind what they eat; for my part, I mind a5v my belly very studiously and very carefully, and I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind any thing else.” Mr. B. adds, “I never knew a man who relished good eating more than he did: when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment: nor would he, unless in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite.”
* Although pleasing the palate be the main end in most books of cookery, it is my aim to blend the toothsome with the wholesome; for, after all, however the hale Gourmand may at first differ from me in opinion, the latter is the chief concern; since if he be even so entirely devoted to the pleasure of eating, as to think of no other, still the care of his health becomes part of that; if he is sick, he cannot relish his food.
“The term gourmand, or epicure, has been strangely perverted; it has been conceived synonimous with a gluttony like that of the great eater of Kent; or a fastidious appetite only to be excited by fantastic dainties, as the brains of peacocks or parrots, the tongues of thrushes and nightingales, or the teats of a lactiferous sow. In the liberal acceptation of the term epicure, and as I use it, it means only the person who relishes his food cooked according to scientific principles, so prepared that the palate is delighted, rendered of easy solution in the stomach, and ultimately contributing to health; exciting him, as an animal, to the vigorous enjoyment of those recreations and duties, physical and intellectual, which constitute the happiness and dignity of his nature.” In this etymological illustration, I am indebted to my scientific friend, Apicius Cœlius, junr., with whose erudite observations several of the pages of this work are enriched, as will be understood when the signature A. C. junr. is affixed.
The Receipts are the results of experiments carefully made and accurately and circumstantially detailed, the time requisite for dressing being stated, and the quantities of the various articles contained in each composition being given either by weight or measure*, a precision never before attempted in former cookery books, but which I found indispensable, from the impossibility of guessing the quantities intended by the usual obscure expressions a6 employed for this purpose in former works; such as, a little bit of salt, a good bit of butter, a handful of this, a pinch of that, a shake of pepper, a squeeze of lemon, a dash of vinegar, a dust of flour, and season it to your palate, (meaning the cook’s,) which, if she has any, it is very unlikely that it is in unison with that of her employers, as, by continually tasting piquante relishes, it becomes blunted and insensible, and soon loses the faculty of appreciating delicate flavours, so that every thing is done at random.
* The weights are avoirdupois; the measure, the graduated glass used by apothecaries, which appeared more accurate and convenient than any, the pint being divided into sixteen ounces, and the ounce into eight drachms: by a wineglass, is to be understood two ounces of apothecaries’ liquid measure; by a large or table spoonful, half an ounce; by a small or tea spoonful, a drachm, or half a quarter of an ounce, i. e. nearly equal to two drachms avoirdupois. At Hancock’s glass warehouse, in Cockspur Street, Charing Cross, you may get measures divided into tea and table spoons. No cook should be without one, who wishes to be regular in her business.
These culinary technicals* are so differently estimated by different cooks, and “the rule of thumb” is so extremely indefinite, that if the same dish be dressed by two persons, it will generally be so unlike, that nobody would imagine they had worked from the same directions; nor will they assist a person who has not served a regular apprenticeship in the kitchen, more than reading “Robinson Crusoe” would enable a sailor to steer safely from England to India.
* “In the present language of cookery, there has been a woeful departure from the simplicity of our ancestors; such a farrago of unappropriate and unmeaning terms, many corrupted from the French, others disguised from the Italian, some misapplied from the German, while many are a disgrace to the English. What can any person suppose to be the meaning of a shoulder of lamb in epigram, unless it were a poor dish, for a pennyless poet? aspect of fish, would appear calculated for an astrologer, and shoulder of mutton surprised, designed for a sheep-stealer.”—A. C. junr.
a6vThis carelessness in the cook is the more surprising, as the confectioner is regularly attentive, in the description of his preparations, to give the exact quantities, though his business, compared to cookery, is as unimportant as the ornamental is inferior to the useful: yet the maker of blanchmange, custards, and trifles, and the endless and useless collection of pretty play-things for the palate, is scrupulously exact, even to a grain, in his ingredients, whilst the cooks affect to be most unintelligibly indefinite, although they are intrusted with the administration of our food, upon the proper preparation of which all our powers of both body and mind depend; the energy being invariably in the ratio of the performance of the restorative process. Unless the stomach be in good humour, every part of the machinery of life will vibrate with languor.
We may compare the human frame to a watch, of which the heart is the main spring, the stomach the regulator, and what we put into it the key by which the machine is set agoing; according to the quantity, quality, and proper digestion of what we eat and drink, will be the pace of the pulse, and the action of the system in general: and when a due proportion is preserved between the quantum of exercise and that of excitement, all goes well: when disordered, the same expedients are employed for its readjustment as are used by the watch maker; the machine requires to be carefully cleaned, and then judiciously oiled.
a7Thus does our health always, and the life often of invalids, and those who have weak and infirm stomachs, depend upon the skill of the cook. Our forefathers were so well aware of this, that in days of yore no man of consequence thought of making a day’s journey without taking his “Magister Coquorum” with him. The variety of this talent in a high degree is so well understood, that besides very considerable pecuniary compensation, his Majesty’s first and second cooks are now Esquires by their office; and we have every reason to suppose they were persons of equal dignity heretofore. In Dr. Pegge’s “Forme of Cury,” 8vo. London, 1780, we read, that when Cardinal Otto, the pope’s legate, was at Oxford, A.D. 1248, his brother officiated as “Magister Coquinæ.” This important post has always been held as a situation of high trust and confidence, and the “Magister Coquus,” chief cook, or Master-Kitchiner, has, time immemorial, been an officer of considerable dignity in the palaces of princes.
I believe it is a generally received opinion, which the experience of every individual can confirm, that the food we fancy most, appears to sit easiest on the stomach: the functions of digestion must go on more merrily when exercised by food we relish, than when we eat merely because it is the usual hour of dining, or swallow something out of necessity, to appease the raging of the gastric juices.
Instinct speaks pretty plainly to those whose instruments a7v of digestion are in a delicate and impaired state, and commonly pleads with more perfect truth (for those materials they stand most in need of,) than any dietetic rules that can be contrived.
To affirm that such a thing is wholesome, or unwholesome, without considering the subject in all the circumstances which it bears relation to, is, with submission, talking nonsense*.
* Celsus spoke very sensibly when he said, “that a healthy man under his own government, ought not to tie himself up by strict rules, nor to abstain from any sort of food; that he ought sometimes to fast, and sometimes to feast.” When applied to eating, nothing is more true than that
“Bonarum rerum, consuetudo pessima est.”
The author of this work wishes he had leisure to devote more time to the subject. An ingenious chemist, and an intelligent cook, might form a very complete work, by taking for their text Dr. George Pearson’s admirably arranged catalogues of food, drink, and seasoning; the most comprehensive and learned abstract of this subject we have ever seen. This epitome was printed for his Lectures on Therapeutics, &c. which the author attended in 1801.
No regimen of life can be laid down that will suit every body; no food is so delicious that it pleases all palates; and nothing can be more correct than the old adage, “one man’s meat is another man’s poison.”
It would be as difficult for a Laplander to convince our good citizens that train oil is a more elegant relish a8 than their favourite turtle, as for the former to fancy that Alderman Birch or Mr. Angell’s soup can be as agreeable, as the grease and garbage, which custom has taught him to call delicious.
The cook, therefore, should be cautious of seasoning high, and leave it to the eaters to add the condiments according to their own palate and fancy: for this purpose, “The Magazine of Taste,” or “Sauce-box*,” will be found an invaluable acquisition, as its contents will instantaneously produce any flavour that may be desired.
I have a very good reason to give in support of my doctrine, that what the appetite desires most, the stomach will digest best, which is, that mastication†, the a8v first act of the important process of digestion, is then more perfectly performed; because, as we naturally detain upon our palate those things which please it, the food we relish most is consequently most broken down by chewing, and most intimately incorporated with the saliva.
† To chew long and leisurely is the only way to extract the quintessence of our food, to completely enjoy the taste of it, and to render it easily assimilable and convertible into laudable chyle, by the facility it gives to the gastric juices to dissolve it without trouble. The pleasure of the palate, and the health of the stomach, are equally promoted by this salutary habit, which all should be taught to acquire in their infancy. The more tender the meat is, the more we may eat of it. From thirty to forty may be given as the mean number of munches that solid meat requires, to prepare it for its journey down the red lane, according to the tenderness of the meat; less will be sufficient for tender, delicate, and easily digestible white meats. The sagacious gourmand must calculate this precisely, and not waste his precious moments in useless jaw-work, or invite an indigestion by neglecting mastication. I cannot give any rules for this, as it depends so much on the strength or weakness of the subject, especially the state of the teeth and maxillary glands: every one ought to ascertain the condition of these useful working tools, and to use them with proportionate diligence is an indispensable exercise which every rational epicure will cheerfully perform, who has a proper regard for the welfare of his stomach.”—Almanach des Gourmands, vol. iii. page 249, &c. Mastication is the source of all good digestion: with it almost any thing may be put into any stomach with impunity: without it, digestion must be always difficult, and frequently impossible: and be it remembered, it is not merely what we eat, but what we digest well, that nourishes us. The sagacious gourmand is ever mindful of his motto,
“Masticate, denticate, chump, grind, and swallow:”
The four first acts of which he knows he must perform well, before he dare attempt the fifth.”
To encourage the best performance of the machinery of mastication, the cook must take care that her dinner is not only well dressed, but that each dish be sent to table with its proper accompaniments in the neatest and most elegant manner.
a9Remember, that to excite the good opinion of the eye, is the first step towards awakening the appetite.
Decoration is much more rationally employed in rendering a plain, wholesome, and nutritious dish inviting, than in the elaborate embellishments which are crowded about custards and trifles.
Not only the health and comfort of the family, but so many other things are, of necessity, intrusted to her discretion, that an honest and frugal cook who knows her business, and conscientiously studies the interest of her employers, deserves every encouragement; and if you are not generous enough to give it to her in money, you invite her to levy contributions on every article confided to her care; and do not be surprised, should she now and then strip your meat of its fat, crib your candles, and cabbage your potatoes, to increase the weight of the grease-pot. Depend upon it, “true self-love and social are the same;” and I am always for giving to those we are obliged to trust, every inducement to be honest, and no temptations to play tricks.
“It is impossible for a cook in large families to attend to her business in the kitchen with any degree of certain perfection, if she is employed in other household concerns. It is a service of such importance, and so difficult to perform even tolerably well, that it is sufficient to engross the entire devotion and attention of at least one person. Yet, this is a maxim which is neither generally understood nor admired in some families, where the a9v cook is also expected to be a house servant, and coals are meted out to her by the quart, and butter by the pat, &c.: nevertheless, these unreasonable masters and mistresses are surprised if most of their ragouts, and sauces, &c. are spoiled; and the roasts either burnt up, or not half done; but how can it be otherwise, when the cook is obliged to be the slave of the bell?” &c.
A good cook has really quite enough to do if she attends perfectly to her own business; and those who wish to have their tables well served, must not require any more of her, and are fortunate mortals if they regularly obtain this. Mistress of her time, she will devote the whole of it to her art; rising with the sun in winter, and by six in summer, her first care will be to set every thing to rights in her kitchen, see that all her utensils are perfectly clean, and arrange them in their proper places. This done, she puts on her soup-kettle, and does not leave it till she has well skimmed it: she will then go early to market, to have the opportunity of selecting from those shops which have the best choice, and charge reasonably. On her return home, she will prepare the dinner according to the bill of fare which she has settled with her master the evening before; prepare her made dishes, ragouts, &c. &c. for the second course; lard and trim the roasts; and, in a word, get every thing ready in time, so that the service may not meet with any obstruction.
When this time comes, she seasons her soup, garnishes a10 all her dishes, and disposes them in the order they are to appear in.
Besides understanding the management of the spit, the stewpans, and the rolling-pin, a complete cook must know how to go to market, write legibly, and keep accounts: she must, moreover, have a full share of cleanliness, good temper, and activity; never give herself airs, but receive as the highest testimonies of her employers’ regard, whatever observations they make on her work, as the most unequivocal proofs of their desire to make her thoroughly understand their taste, and retain her in their service. She must entirely enter into all their plans of economy, and endeavour to make the most of every thing, as well for her own honour, as her master’s profit.
In those houses where the cook enjoys the confidence of her master so much as to be intrusted with the care of the store-room, which is not very common, she will keep an exact account of every thing as it comes in, for her own satisfaction, as well as that of her employer, and will not trust the key of this room to any one; she will also keep an account of every thing she takes from it, and manage with as much consideration and frugality as if it was her own property she was using, endeavouring to disprove the adage, that “plenty makes waste.” The honesty of a cook must be above all suspicion: she should obtain, and (in spite of the numberless temptations that daily offer to bend her a10v from it,) preserve a character of spotless integrity, remembering it is the fair price of independence, which all wish for, but none without it can hope for: only a fool or a madman will be so silly or so crazy as to expect to reap where he has been too idle to sow.
If we now take a review of the qualifications* we have set down as indispensable, to form that highly estimable domestic, “a complete, good cook,” we shall find how very few deserve that name. The majority of those who set up for masters and mistresses of this art, are grovelling, dirty creatures; selfish, and pilfering every a11 thing they can: others add indolence to insolence: those who understand their business, (which are by far the smallest number,) are too often either most ridiculously saucy, or insatiably thirsty; in a word, a good subject, in this class, is a rara avis indeed.
* “He must be endowed with a full portion of common sense; quick and strong of sight; his hearing most acute, that he may be sensible when the contents of his vessels bubble, although they be closely covered, and that he may be alarmed before the pot boils over: his auditory nerve ought to discriminate (when several saucepans are in operation at the same time,) the simmering of one, the ebullition of another, and the full toned wabbling of a third.
“It is imperiously requisite that his organ of smell be highly susceptible of the various effluvia, that his nose may distinguish the perfection of aromatic ingredients, and that in animal substances it shall evince a suspicious accuracy between tenderness and putrefaction: above all, his olfactories should be tremblingly alive to mustiness and empyreuma.
“It is from the exquisite sensibility of his palate, that we admire and judge of the cook; and from the alliance between the olfactory and sapid organs it will be seen, that their perfection is indispensable.”—A. C. junr.
“Happy the master who finds a servant, who with a proper knowledge of her business unites a zeal and pride to perform it to the best of her abilities, and is, moreover, honest and cleanly: for the rest, he must be indulgent, and such a servant deserves to be treated with some consideration. Give her liberal wages, according to her deserts, and treat her with kindness, but without familiarity: do not pass any dish without observation, qualifying your censure by telling her,
“The reason why I point out faults so small,
Is, ’cause ’tis better to have none at all.”
When you make out the bill of fare for the next day, take every opportunity of encouraging her. Due praise is the most agreeable reward a woman can receive, and more gratifying than pecuniary compensation; and is the way to make a faithful servant, who will be a treasure.”
The foregoing observations are from the ingenious French author we have before quoted.
I have submitted (with no small pains,) to an attentive perusal of every preceding work, connected with the subject, that I could meet with; in number amounting a11v to no fewer than one hundred and seventeen. These books vary but little from each other, except in the prefatory matter: cutting and pasting seem to have been much oftener employed than the pen and ink: any one who has occasion to refer to two or three of them, will find the receipts almost always “verbatim et literatim;” equally unintelligible to those who are ignorant of, and useless to those who are acquainted with, the business of the kitchen.
In my tedious progress through these books, I often wished the authors had been satisfied with giving us the results of their own practice and experience*, instead a12 of idly perpetuating the errors and prejudices of their predecessors, by copying the strange, unaccountable, and uselessly extravagant farragos, and heterogeneous compositions†, which fill their pages; combinations which no rational being would ever think of either dressing or eating, and without having applied both these tests, and ascertaining the practicability of preparing their receipts, and their eatability when done, they should never have ventured to recommend them to others; so that the reader may put the same quære, as Jeremy, in Congreve’s comedy of “Love for Love,” when Valentine observes, “There’s a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor.”—Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?”
* Thomas Carter, in the preface to his “City and Country Cook,” London, 1738, says, “What I have published, is almost the only book, one or two excepted, which of late years has come into the world, that has been the result of the author’s own practice and experience: for though very few eminent practical cooks have ever cared to publish what they knew of the art; yet they have been prevailed on, for a small premium from a bookseller, to lend their names to performances in this art, unworthy their owning.”
Robert May, in the introduction to his “Accomplished Cook,” 1665, says, “To all honest and well-intending persons of my profession, and others, this book cannot but be acceptable, as it plainly and profitably discovers the mystery of the whole art; for which, though I may be envied by some, that only value their private interests above posterity and the public good; yet, (he adds,) God and my own conscience would not permit me to bury these, my experiences, with my silver hairs in the grave.”
† To farce (the culinary technical for to stuff,) a boiled leg of mutton with red herrings and garlick, and many other receipts of as high a relish; and easy of digestion as the devil’s venison, i.e. a roasted tiger stuffed with tenpenny nails.
Half of these books are made up with pages cut out of obsolete works, such as the “Choice Manuel of Secrets,” the “True Gentlewoman’s Delight,” &c. of as much use, in this age of refinement, as the following curious quotation from “The Accomplished Lady’s rich Closet of Rarities, or ingenious Gentlewoman’s Delightful Companion,” 12mo., London, 1653, chapter 7, page 42: “A gentlewoman being at table, abroad or at home, a12v must observe to keep her body straight, and lean not by any means with her elbows, nor by ravenous gesture discover a voracious appetite; take not in your wine too greedily, nor drink not till you are out of breath, but do things with decency and order, gnaw no bones, keep your fingers from your mouth, throw not any thing over your shoulders:” with the addition of what they call “a choice collection of excellent and approved family receipts of sovereign efficacy in all manner of maladies:” the proper appellation for which would be, “a dangerous budget of medical vulgar errors;” commonly concluding with a bundle of extracts from “The Gardener’s Calendar,” “The Vintner’s Vade Mecum,” and “The Publican’s Daily Companion.” But let us remember, that
“One science only will one genius fit,
So wide is art, so narrow human wit.”
And without interfering with the physician or the gardener, the publican or the vintner, our Book will be confined to the business of the kitchen, to endeavour to improve the ignorant, and remind the skilful, how and when to make the best and the most of every thing. I have taken very great pains to teach the young cook how to perform, in the best manner, the common business of her profession; and being well grounded in that, she will find it easy to do all the rest to satisfaction, and will be able to shew, that an English girl, properly instructed, b can equal the best foreign gentleman in every thing, except impudence and extravagance, and send up a delicious dinner with half the usual expense and trouble. I have endeavoured to lessen the labour of those who wish to be thoroughly acquainted with their profession; and they will find, that an attentive perusal of the following pages will save them much of the irksome drudgery attending an apprenticeship at the stove; an ordeal so severe, that few pass it without irreparable injury to their health, whilst many lose their lives before they learn their business. “Cleanliness, and a proper ventilation to carry off smoke and steam, should be particularly attended to in the construction of a kitchen; and the grand scene of action, the fireplace, should be placed where it may receive plenty of light: hitherto the contrary has prevailed, and the poor cook is continually basted with his own perspiration.”—A. C. Junr.*
* A good dinner is one of the greatest enjoyments of human life; and the practice of cookery is attended with not only so many disgusting and disagreeable circumstances, but even dangers, that we ought to have some regard for those who encounter them for our pleasure, and to reward their attention, by rendering their situation every way as agreeable and comfortable as we can, for mere money is not a sufficient compensation to a complete cook.
To say nothing of the deleterious vapours and exhalations of the charcoal, which soon undermine the health of the heartiest, the glare of a vivid scorching fire, and the smoke so baneful to the eyes and the complexion: these are continual and inevitable dangers, and a cook must live in the midst of them, as a soldier in a field of battle, surrounded by bullets, and bombs, and Congreve’s rockets; with this only difference, that for the first, every day is a fighting day, that his warfare is almost always without glory, and his most praiseworthy achievements pass not only without reward, but frequently without even thanks; for the name of the most consummate cook is, alas! seldom heard by the guests who frequent his master’s table; who, while they are eagerly devouring his turtle, and drinking his wine, care very little who dressed the one, or sent the other.
The master who wishes to enjoy the rare luxury of a table regularly well served in the best style, must treat his cook as his friend, and watch over his health* with the tenderest care, and especially be sure his taste does not suffer from his stomach being deranged by bilious attacks, &c.
* The greatest care should be taken by the man of fashion, that his cook’s health be preserved: one hundredth part of the attention usually bestowed on his dog, or his horse, will Suffice to regulate his animal system.—A. C. Junr.
The most experienced artists cannot be sure of their work without tasting; they must be incessantly tasting; and the spoon of a good cook is continually passing from the stewpans to his tongue; for nothing but frequent tasting his sauces, ragouts, &c. can discover to him what progress they have made, or enable him to season the soup with any certainty of success: his palate, therefore, must be in the highest state of excitability, that the least fault may be perceived by it.
But, alas! the constant empyreumatic fumes of the stoves, the necessity of frequent drinking, and often of bad beer, to moisten a parched throat; in short, every thing around him conspires quickly to vitiate the organs of taste: the palate becomes blunted, its quickness of feeling and delicacy, on which the sensibility of the organs of taste depends, grows daily more obtuse, and in time becomes quite indurated, and the gustatory nerves unexcitable and unmoveable.
When you find your cook neglect his business, that his ragouts are too highly spiced or salted, and his cookery has too much of the “haut goût,” you may be sure that his index of taste wants regulating, that his palate has lost its sensibility, and that it is time to call in the assistance of the apothecary, who will prepare him well, by two days’ aqueous diet, and give him a purging potion, composed of manna, senna, and salts, regulating the dose according to the greater or less insensibility of his palate; give him a day’s rest, and then purge him again; let him have two days’ rest after his second dose of physic, and you may then hope to have at the head of your stoves a man altogether renovated.
This receipt, to ensure good cheer, is no joke, but the actual practice in those kitchens where the master is proud of the reputation of his table. All great cooks submit to the operation without a murmur; to prevent which, it should be made the first condition in hiring them. Those who refuse, prove they were not born to become masters of their art; and their indifference to fame will rank them, as they deserve, among those stupid slaves, who pass their lives in as much obscurity as their own stewpans.
To the preceding observations from the “Almanach des Gourmands,” we may add, that the Mouthician will have a still better chance of success, if he can prevail on his master to observe the same regime which he orders for his cook.
I have here done my utmost candidly to communicate, in as clear and intelligible a manner as I am able, b2 the whole truth of the heretofore abstruse mysteries of the culinary art; herein, I hope, so plainly developed, b2v that the most ignorant student in the occult art of cookery may comprehend and work from my receipts with the utmost facility: and thus they will soon acquire the enviable art of adorning the table with that splendid frugality which cannot fail to give every possible satisfaction.
I am well aware of the extreme difficulty of the task I have undertaken, in attempting to teach those who are entirely unacquainted with the subject, and to convey my ideas correctly by mere receipts to those who have had no opportunity of seeing the work performed; and in my anxiety to be readily understood, I have, perhaps, been under the necessity of occasionally repeating the same directions in different parts of the book: however, I chose rather to be censured for repetition, than for omission or obscurity.
b3It has been customary to fill a certain number of pages with “proper rules to be observed in marketing,” in knowing and buying poulterers’, fishmongers’, and butchers’ ware, giving a true insight into the mystery of each; and, indeed, all the skill of the most accomplished cook will avail nothing, unless she is furnished with prime provisions. The best way to procure these is to deal with shops of established character: you may pay, perhaps, ten or fifteen per cent more than you would were you to deal with those who pretend to sell cheap, but you will be more than in proportion better served. Every trade has its tricks and deceptions, and those who follow them can deceive you if they please, and are too apt to do so if you provoke the exercise of their over-reaching talent, and challenge them to a game at “catch who can,” by entirely relying on your own judgment: which nothing but very long experience can make equal to the combat of marketing to the utmost advantage,
The best rule for marketing, is to pay ready money for every thing, and to deal with the most respectable tradesmen in your neighbourhood; and if you leave it to their integrity to supply you with a good article, at the fair market price, (I have, from my own experience, every reason to believe,) you will be supplied with better provisions, at as reasonable a rate, as those bargain hunters who trot around around around about a market, till they are trapped to buy some unchewable old b3v poultry*, starved tough mutton, stringy beef, or stale fish, (at a little less than the price of prime and proper food:) b4 with these they toddle home in triumph, cackling all the way, like a goose that has got ankle deep into good luck.
* COURT OF REQUESTS, Tuesday, Nov. 5, 1816.
This was a case of some importance to the public. The defendant, a walking poulterer, was summoned by the plaintiff, a widow lady residing near the Asylum, to shew cause why he did not pay back to her four shillings, which he had obtained from her under false representations. The plaintiff stated, that the defendant called at her house on Wednesday last, and inquired if she wanted a fine fowl, as he had some he could recommend. She desired he would select her one she might depend upon as being young and good. He accordingly picked out one which he said he could recommend as being a young one, and she took it upon his recommendation, and paid him four shillings. At dinner, however, to her great dismay, on attempting to carve this delicate young chicken, she discovered that so great an attachment had the bones and joints formed to each other from long acquaintance, that they successfully resisted all her attempts to separate them, and she was obliged to give over the attempt. A favourite pug-dog was then allowed to commence his operations upon the breast, but so thick was the skin, and so solid the flesh, that he, after much labour, found himself foiled, as his mistress had been before him. On the following day the plaintiff applied to the defendant, sending back the fragments of the young chicken, and desiring to have her money back again; but the defendant positively refused either to receive back his property, or to refund the money he had received; upon which refusal, the plaintiff summoned him.
Mrs. Howard’s servant corroborated her statement, and added, that defendant, as he was quitting the house, desired her to boil the fowl double the time her mistress told her, because it was a large one. It was accordingly boiled more than double the usual time.
The defendant did not attempt to deny that the fowl was an old one, but said, he was himself deceived by the person of whom he purchased it, and the plaintiff having seen it before she paid for it, could not complain of any imposition being practised upon her.
The Court, however, decided that the defendant should refund the four shillings, and pay all the costs. It was plain, that when he sold the fowl he was aware of the imposition he was practising. He had given evidence of this himself, by desiring the servant to boil it longer than the usual time. At the same time, however, that the Court thus gave judgment against the defendant, they could not avoid censuring, to a certain extent, the plaintiff, and all those who encouraged persons of the defendant’s description, by dealing with them. Little doubt could exist in the mind of any one, that most of the fowls thus hawked about the streets were stolen, at least by those who sold them to the hawkers; and whilst the thieves could find so ready a market for their plunder, there was little chance that the robbing of fowl-houses would be put an end to.
The defendant being informed, that unless the debt and costs were immediately paid, an execution would forthwith issue against him, paid the sum demanded, and departed.
If you have a well-ventilated larder, in a shady, dry situation, you will ensure much credit to yourself by ordering in your meat and poultry such a time before you want it as will render it tender, which the finest meat cannot be, unless hung a proper time; (see observations on roasting;) longer or shorter, according to the season and nature of the meat, &c., but always till it has made some advance towards putrefaction! The tendency to that takes place the moment that life is extinguished. The allowing this process to proceed to a certain degree, renders the meat more easy of solution in the stomach, without diminishing the nutritious quality of it. Before you go to market* look over your larder, and it will save you much time and trouble to make out a list of the several articles you want, because when once your kitchen business is begun, you must never leave off till it is finished: if you have forgotten any article indispensable for the day’s dinner, request your employers to send one of the servants for it: the cook must never quit her post till her work is complete.
* Especially on a Saturday. No well-regulated family must suffer the disorderly caterer to be jumping in and out to the chandler’s shop on a Sunday morning.
It is not expected that the most expert artist can perform his work in a perfect manner, without a sufficient number of proper instruments: you cannot have neat work without nice tools; nor can your victuals be well dressed without an apparatus appropriate to the work b5 required: it will be to little purpose to provide good provisions, without proper utensils* to prepare them in; therefore, after a few words of Advice to Cooks†, I begin my book with a catalogue of such articles of kitchen furniture as are indispensably necessary, in a moderate-sized family of five or six people, who occasionally entertain half a dozen friends.
* “A surgeon may as well attempt to open a vein with an oyster knife, as a cook pretend to dress a dinner without proper tools to do it.”—Preface to Verall’s Cookery, 8vo. London, 1759, page vi.
† A chapter of Advice to Cooks we hope will be found as useful as it is original: all we have on this subject in the works of our predecessors is the following: “I shall strongly recommend to all cooks of either sex, to keep their stomachs free from strong liquors, and their noses from snuff.”—Vide Clermont’s Professed Cook, page 30, 8vo. London, 1776.
skip to Advice to Cooks
when Valentine observes, “There’s a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor.”—Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?”
[The exchange comes near the beginning of Act I.]
[Footnote] the welfare of his stomach.”—Almanach des Gourmands
[There is no telling where in this long footnote the quotation started.]
[Footnote] he knows he must perform well, before he dare attempt the fifth.”
punctuation unchanged
[I can see no reason for the close-quote.]
[Footnote] to bury these, my experiences, with my silver hairs in the grave.”
close quote missing
[Footnote] the same regime which he orders for his cook
[Aaand . . . exhale. In the printed book, this footnote began three pages ago and took up most of the two intervening pages—including the subsidiary footnote halfway along.]
b5v
On your first coming into a family, lose no time in immediately getting into the good graces of your fellow-servants, that you may learn from them the customs of the kitchen, and the various rules and orders of the house; especially take care to be on good terms with the servant who waits at table; you will then hear how your work has pleased in the parlour, and be enabled to rectify any mistake: also request the favour of an interview with your employers, and beg of them to explain to you, as fully as possible, how they like their victuals dressed, whether much or little done, and of what complexion they wish the roasts, of a gold colour, or well browned, and if they like them frothed; of the soups and sauces, do they like them thick or thin, or white or brown, clean or full in the mouth, and what flavours they fancy, especially of spice and herbs; for it is impossible the most accomplished cook can please their palates, till she has first learned their b6 particular taste*: always avoid over-dressing, or over-seasoning, b6v as it is a fault that cannot be mended†. It will save you infinite trouble and anxiety if you can prevail on your employers to use the “SAUCE-BOX,” No. 463, hereinafter described in the chapter of sauces. With the help of this “delicious magazine of taste,” every one in company may flavour their soup and sauce, and adjust the vibrations of their palate, exactly to their own fancy: if the cook give a decided predominant and piquante flavour to a dish, to tickle the tongue of two or three visitors whose taste she knows, perhaps she may thereby make the dinner disgusting to all the other guests. Never undertake more work than you are quite certain you can do to perfection; and if you are ordered to prepare a larger dinner than you think you can send up with ease and neatness, or dress any dish you are not acquainted‡ with, rather than run the risk of spoiling a single dish, by which, perhaps, you may lose all your credit, request your employers to let you have some help, for it requires no small care and contrivance b7 to have all things done as they should be, and all hot together, and
“A feast must be without a fault;
And, if ’tis not all right, ’tis naught.”
But
“Good nature must some failings overlook,
Forgive mischance, not errors of the cook;
As, if no salt is thrown about the dish,
Or nice crisp’d parsley scatter’d on the fish;
Shall we in passion from our dinner fly,
And hopes of pardon to the cook deny,
For things which Mrs. Glasse herself might oversee,
And all mankind commit as well as she?”
Vide King’s Art of Cookery.
* “De gustibus non est disputandum.” Tastes are as different as faces, and without a most attentive observation of the directions given by her employers, the most experienced cook will never get any credit: It will not go far to pacify the rage of a ravenous gourmand, who likes his mutton chop broiled till its juice is quite dried up, to be told that some of the customers at Dolly’s chop-house choose to have them only half done, and that this is the best way of eating them: I believe we all think that is the best way which we relish best, and which agrees best with our stomachs: in this, reason and fashion, all powerful as they are on most occasions, yield to the imperative caprice of the palate.
“The Irishman loves usquebaugh; the Scot loves ale, called blue cap;
“The Welshman he loves toasted cheese, and makes his mouth like a mouse trap.”
Our Italian neighbours now eat many things we think carrion. Vide Ray’s Travels, page 362 and 406. While the Englishman boasts of his beef, the Frenchman dresses his favourite frog and soup, the Tartar feasts on horseflesh, and the Chinaman on dogs; and what at one time, or in one country, is considered as beautiful, fragrant, or savoury, is at another time or place regarded as deformed and disgustful*.
* Assafœtida was called, by the ancients, “food for the Gods.” The Persians, Indians, and other eastern people, now eat it in sauces, and call it expressly by that name: while the Germans call it “Devils’ Dung.”—See Pomet on Drugs, 4to. London, 1744.
† If your roasts and boils are a little under-done, the stew-pan or the gridiron can soon repair the mistake of the spit or the pot.
‡ And such is the endless variety of culinary preparations, it would be as vain and fruitless a search as that for the philosopher’s stone, to expect to find a cook who was equally perfect in all the operations of the spit, the stewpan, and the rolling-pin.
Take care to begin your business betimes, or it will be impossible to have your dinner ready at the time it is ordered*: to be half an hour after the time, is so frequent b7v a fault, that there is the more merit attached in being ready at the appointed hour†. This is certainly sometimes a rather difficult task to perform; and in the best regulated families you can only be sure of your time by thus properly arranging your business‡.
* In a note of invitation to dinner, five o’clock seems to be generally understood to mean at six; five precisely, half past five; and five most precisely, (so that dinner may be on the table within ten minutes after,) five o’clock exactly, (allowing this for the variation of watches.) If the guests have any respect for their host, or prefer a well-dressed dinner to one that is spoilt, instead of coming half an hour after, they will take care to make their appearance before the time appointed: the dinner that would have been most excellent at five, must be uneatable if not sent to table till half past five: the operations of the cook are governed by the clock, and the moment the roasts, &c. are ready, they must go to table, if they are to be eaten in perfection. It is the least punishment that a blundering ill-bred Booby can receive, who comes half an hour after the time he was bidden, to find the soup removed, and the fish cold.
† Those who desire regularity in the service of their table, should have a DIAL, of not less than twelve inches diameter, placed over the kitchen fire-place, carefully regulated, to keep time exactly with the clock in the hall or dining parlour; with a frame on one side, containing A TASTE TABLE, or the peculiarities of the master’s palate, and the particular rules and orders of his kitchen; and on the other side, of the rewards given to those who attend to them, and for long service.
‡ With all our love of punctuality, we must not forget that the first consideration must still be, that the dinner “be well done when ’tis done.” If any accident occurs, which is likely to prevent your sending the soup, &c. to table at the moment it is expected, send up a message to your employers, stating the circumstance, and bespeak their patience for as many minutes as you think you shall want to be ready. This is certainly better than either keeping the company waiting without any apology, or dishing your dinner before it is done enough, and so disgusting the stomachs of the guests at the first appearance of it.
Remember to have your kitchen chimney swept once a month; many good dinners have been spoiled by the soot falling.
b8When you have a very large entertainment to prepare, first attend to your broths and gravies for your soups and sauces, and by all means get these ready the day before. The pastry, jellies, &c. you may prepare while the broths are doing; then truss your game and poultry, and trim and shape your collops, cutlets, &c., and put them in plates, and arrange them upon the dresser in regular order: next see that your roasts and boils are all nicely trimmed, trussed, and singed, and quite ready for the spit or the pot. Get all your vegetables neatly cut, pared, picked, and clean washed in the cullender: provide a tin dish to hold your fine herbs; onions and shallots, parsley, marjoram, thyme, tarragon, chervil, and burnet, minced very fine, and lemon-peel grated, or cut thin, and chopped very small, pepper and salt ready mixed, and your spicebox* and salt-seller always at hand, so b8v that every thing you want may be ready for your stove-work, and you need not be scampering about the kitchen, hunting after these trifles, while the dinner is waiting: nothing can be done in perfection, that must be done in a hurry; therefore, if you wish the dinner to be sent up to please your master and mistress, and do credit to yourself, set a high value on your character for punctuality: this shows the establishment is orderly, is extremely gratifying to the master and his guests, and most praiseworthy in the attendants.
* In one drawer under your spice-box keep ready ground, in two ounce stopper bottles, the several spices, separate; and also that mixture of them we have called “Ragout Powder;” in another keep your dried and powdered sweet savoury and soup-herbs, &c., and a set of weights and scales: you may have a third drawer, containing your flavouring essences, &c., an invaluable auxiliary in finishing soups and sauces: (see the account of the “Magazine of Taste,” or “Sauce-Box,” No. 463, in the chapter on sauces:) have also ready some thickening, made of the best white flour sifted, mixed with soft water with a wooden spoon till it is the consistence of thick batter, a bottle of plain browning, and a bottle of strained lemon-juice.
“But, remember, you cannot obtain this desirable reputation without good management in every respect; and if you wish to ensure ease and comfort in the latter part of your life, you must not be unwilling to pay the price for which only they can be obtained, and earn them by a diligent and faithful performance of the duties of your station in your young days, which, if you steadily persevere in, you may depend upon ultimately receiving the reward your services deserve.
“Quiet steady perseverance is the only sure spring to infallibly promote your progress on the road to independence: and if your employers do not immediately appear to be sensible of your endeavours to contribute your utmost to their comfort and interest, be not easily discouraged, persevere steadily in the right path; patiently and conscientiously attend to your duties; and those you serve must soon discover the inestimable value of such a faithful and intelligent prime minister in their kitchen.”
skip to Table of Weights and Measures
For things which Mrs. Glasse herself might oversee
[Hannah Glasse, author of The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy (1746).]
your spicebox and salt-seller always at hand
spelling unchanged: expected salt-cellar
“But, remember
[Lack of pagination isn’t the author’s only archaism. These final two paragraphs have open quotes at the beginning of every line.]
[Footnote] the first consideration must still be, that the dinner “be well done when ’tis done.”
[Maybe not the most appropriate literary reference, considering.]
To reduce our culinary operations to as exact a certainty as the nature of the processes would admit of, we have, wherever it was needful, given the quantities of each article.—The weights, avoirdupoise.—The measure. The liquid graduated measure of the apothecaries, as it appeared more accurate and convenient than any other, the pint being divided into sixteen ounces, the ounce into eight drachms: a middling size teaspoon will contain about a drachm; four such teaspoons are equal to a middling size, large, or tablespoon, or half an ounce; four tablespoons, to a common-sized wineglass. The specific gravities of the various substances being so extremely different, we cannot offer any auxiliary standards* for the weights, which we earnestly recommend the cook to employ, if she wishes to gain credit for accuracy and uniformity in her business: these she will find it necessary to have as small as the quarter of a drachm avoirdupoise, which is equal to nearly seven grains troy weight.
* A large tablespoonful of flour weighs about half an ounce.
b9vGlass measures, divided into tea and table spoons, and containing from an ounce to half a pint, may be had at Hancock’s Glass Warehouse, Charing Cross; and at Price’s, near Exeter Change, Strand; where may also be had double-headed pepper and spice boxes, with caps over the gratings. The superiority of these, by preserving the contents from the action of the air, must be sufficiently obvious to every one: the fine flavour of Cayenne pepper is soon lost, from the bottles it is usually kept in not being well stopped.
Did he mean to make a table, and then forget? I checked three different copies of this edition, and one of the second edition; there’s neither hide nor hair of a table.
b10
NO. | |
---|---|
BOILING. | |
General Rules. | |
Loss of weight by boiling and other modes of cookery. | |
Leg of Mutton | 1 |
Neck of Mutton | 2 |
To Boil Lamb | 3 |
To Boil Veal | 4 |
Beef Bouillie | 5 |
To salt Beef and Pork | 6 |
Boil a Round of salted Beef | 7 |
H-Bone of Beef | 8 |
Ribs of Beef salted and rolled | 9 |
To Boil a Calf’s Head | 10 |
Pickled Pork | 11 |
Pigs’ Pettitoes | 12 |
Bacon | 13 |
Ham | 14 |
Tongue | 15 |
Fowls | 16 |
Rabbits | 17 |
Tripe | 18 |
ROASTING. | |
General Observations. | |
Sirloin of Beef | 19 |
Ribs of Beef | 20 |
Ribs of Beef boned and rolled | 21 |
Rump of Beef | 22 |
Observations on Roasting Mutton | 23 |
Dean Swift’s Receipt. | |
A Leg | 24 |
A Chine | 25 |
A Saddle | 26 |
A Shoulder | 27 |
A Loin | 28 |
A Neck | 29 |
A Breast | 30 |
A Haunch | 31 |
Mutton, Venison fashion | 32 |
Observations on Roasting Veal | 33 |
Fillet of Veal | 34 |
A Loin | 35 |
A Shoulder | 36 |
Neck, best end | 37 |
Breast | 38 |
Veal Sweetbread | 39 |
Observations on Roasting Lamb | 40 |
Hind Quarter | 41 |
Fore Quarter | 42 |
Leg | 43 |
Shoulder | 44 |
Ribs | 45 |
Loin | 46 |
Neck | 47 |
Breast | 48 |
b10v Observations on Roasting Pork | 49 |
A Leg | 50 |
Leg of Pork roasted without the Skin, or Mock Goose | 51 |
The Griskin | 52 |
Bacon, Sparerib | 53 |
Loin | 54 |
A Chine | 55 |
Roast Pig | 56 |
Turkey | 57 |
Capons or Fowls | 58 |
Goose | 59 |
Green Goose | 60 |
Duck | 61 |
Observations on dressing Game | 62 |
Recipe for Sauce to Wild Fowls. | |
Haunch of Venison | 63 |
Neck and Shoulder of Venison | 64 |
Fawn | 65 |
Hare | 66 |
Rabbit | 67 |
Pheasant | 68 |
Mock Pheasant | 69 |
Partridges | 70 |
Black Cock | 71 |
Moor Game | 72 |
Grouse | 73 |
Wild Ducks | 74 |
Widgeons and Teal | 75 |
Woodcock | 76 |
Snipes | 77 |
Roast Pigeons | 78 |
Pigeons on a poor man’s spit | 79 |
Larks, and other small birds | 80 |
Wheat Ears | 81 |
Lobster | 82 |
FRYING. | |
General Observations. | |
To clarify Drippings | 83 |
To melt Suet | 84 |
Rump Steaks | 85 |
Beef Steaks and Onions | 86 |
Sausages | 87 |
Sweetbreads full dressed | 88 |
Sweetbreads plain | 89 |
Veal Cutlets | 90 |
Veal Cutlets full dressed | 91 |
Lamb, or Mutton Chops | 92 |
Pork Chops | 93 |
BROILING. | |
General Observations. | |
Beef Steaks | 94 |
Kidneys | 95 |
The Inside of a Sirloin of Beef | 96 |
Fowl or Chicken | 97 |
Pigeons | 98 |
VEGETABLES. | |
General Observations. | |
Potatoes | 102 |
Potatoes boiled and broiled | 103 |
Potatoes fried in slices | 104 |
Potatoes fried whole | 105 |
Potatoes mashed | 106 |
Potatoes mashed with Onions | 107 |
Escalloped Potatoes | 108 |
Roast Potatoes | 109 |
Roast Potatoes under Meat | 110 |
Potatoe Balls | 111 |
Savoury Potatoe Balls | 112 |
Casserole of Potatoes | 113 |
Potatoe Snow | 114 |
b11 Watery Potatoes | 115 |
New Potatoes | 116 |
Jerusalem Artichokes | 117 |
Cabbage | 118 |
Boiled Cabbage fried | 119 |
Savoys | 120 |
Sprouts | 121 |
Spinach | 122 |
Asparagus | 123 |
Sea Kail | 124 |
Cauliflower | 125 |
Brocoli | 126 |
Red Beet Roots | 127 |
Parsnips | 128 |
Carrots | 129 |
Turnips | 130 |
Mashed Turnips | 131 |
Turnip-tops | 132 |
French Beans | 133 |
Green Peas | 134 |
Cucumber Stewed | 135 |
Artichokes | 136 |
Stew Onions | 137 |
Roast Onions | 138 |
FISH. | |
General Observations. | |
To Boil Turbot | 140 |
Dutch method of Boiling Turbot | 141 |
To Fry Turbot | 142 |
To dress Brill | 143 |
To Boil Soles | 144 |
To Fry Soles | 145 |
To Stew Soles | 146 |
Fillets of Soles Fried | 147 |
Fillets of Soles, White | 148 |
Cod Boiled | 149 |
Salt Fish Boiled | 150 |
Slices of Cod Boiled | 151 |
Codlings Broiled | 152 |
Whitings Fried | 153 |
Skate Fried | 154 |
Plaice or Flounders Fried | 155 |
Water Souchy | 156 |
Haddocks Boiled | 157 |
Carp Stewed | 158 |
Perch Fried | 159 |
Perch Boiled | 160 |
Salmon Pickled | 161 |
Salmon Boiled | 162 |
Salmon Broiled | 163 |
Eels Stewed, Wiggy’s way | 164 |
Eels Fried | 165 |
Eels Spitchcocked | 166 |
Mackarel Boiled | 167 |
Mackarel Soused | 168 |
Mackarel Broiled | 169 |
Mackarel Baked | 170 |
Mackarel Pickled | 171 |
Sprats Broiled | *170 |
Herrings Broiled | *171 |
Herrings Soused | 172 |
Smelts Fried | 173 |
Shrimps Pickled, the American way | 174 |
Shrimps Potted | 175 |
Lobster Boiled | 176 |
Crab | 177 |
Lobster Potted | 178 |
Lobster Cake | 179 |
Lobster Pudding | 180 |
Oysters | 181 |
Oysters Scolloped | 182 |
Oysters Stewed | *182 |
Mr. Wm. Tucker’s Observations on Fish. | |
BROTHS, GRAVIES, AND SOUPS. | |
General Observations. | |
Beef Broth | 185 |
Beef Gravy | 186 |
Beef Broth, for Glaze | 187 |
b11v Strong Beef Gravy | 188 |
Beef Cullis | 189 |
Family Soup | 190 |
Veal Broth | 191 |
Veal Gravy | 192 |
Knuckle of Veal Soup | 193 |
Mutton Broth | 194 |
Mock Mutton Broth | 195 |
Queen’s morning Broth | 196 |
Hodge Podge | 197 |
Ox-heel Jelly | 198 |
Jelly Broth of fragments | 199 |
Clear Gravy Soup | 200 |
Shin of Beef Soup | 201 |
Harrico Mutton Soup | 202 |
Mutton Broth with Cutlets | 203 |
Scotch Barley Broth | 204 |
Scotch Leek Soup | 205 |
Rice Soup | 206 |
Potatoe Soup | 207 |
Turnip Soup | 208 |
Turnip Soup | 209 |
Turnip Soup, the French way | 210 |
Carrot and Turnip Soup | 211 |
Carrot Soup | 212 |
Parsnip Soup | 213 |
Celery Soup | 214 |
White Harrico Bean Soup | 215 |
Green Pease Soup | 216 |
Green Pease Soup without Meat | 217 |
Pease Soup | 218 |
Pease Soup without Meat | 219 |
Pease Soup with Pickled Pork | 220 |
Plain Pease Soup | 221 |
Asparagus Soup | 222 |
Water Soup | 223 |
Maigre Gravy Soup | 224 |
Fish Soup | 225 |
Onion Soup Maigre | 226 |
Brown Soup Maigre | 227 |
Soup-Herb Soup in twenty minutes | 228 |
Soon made Savoury Soup | 229 |
Dripping Soup | 230 |
Vermicelli Soup | 231 |
Vermicelli Soup, White | 232 |
Maccaroni Soup | 233 |
Maccaroni Soup, the new way | 234 |
Cray Fish Soup | 235 |
Prawn, or Shrimp Soup | 236 |
Lobster Soup | 237 |
Soup and Bouilli | 238 |
Ox Cheek Soup | 239 |
Ox Tail Soup | 240 |
Hare Soup | 241 |
Partridge Soup | 242 |
Soup Without Water | 243 |
Giblet Soup | 244 |
Mock Mock Turtle | 245 |
Mock Turtle | 246 |
Mock Turtle | 247 |
English Turtle Soup | 248 |
Malaga Tawny Soup | 249 |
Turtle Soup | 250 |
Turtle Fins. | |
Mock turtle Soup | 251 |
Portable Soup | 252 |
To Clarify Broth, &c. | *252 |
SAUCES AND GRAVIES. | |
General Observations. | |
Observations on Melted Butter | 254 |
Zest | 255 |
Melted Butter | 256 |
Thickening | 257 |
Savoury Thickening | 258 |
b12 Clarified Butter | 259 |
Burnt Butter | 260 |
Parsley and Butter | 261 |
Mock Parsley Sauce | 262 |
Gooseberry Sauce | 263 |
Chervil and Butter | 264 |
Fennel and Butter, for Mackarel, &c. | 265 |
Mackarel Roe Sauce | 266 |
Egg Sauce | 267 |
Pudding Sauce | 268 |
Plumb Pudding Sauce | 269 |
Anchovy Sauce | 270 |
Anchovy Sauce, for Roast Meat | 271 |
Garlick Sauce | 272 |
Lemon Sauce | 273 |
Caper Sauce | 274 |
Mock Caper Sauce | 275 |
Dutch Sour Sauce, for Fish | 276 |
Cream Sauce, for Fish | 277 |
Oyster Sauce | 278 |
Pickled Oyster Sauce | 279 |
Bottled Oyster Sauce | 280 |
Cockle Sauce | 281 |
Muscle Sauce | 282 |
Shrimp Sauce | 283 |
Lobster Sauce | 284 |
Sauce for Lobster, &c. | 285 |
Crab Sauce | 286 |
Liver and Parsley Sauce | 287 |
Lemon and Liver Sauce | 288 |
Celery Sauce, White | 289 |
Celery Sauce, Brown | 290 |
Sorrel Sauce | 291 |
Tomata, or Love Apple Sauce | 292 |
Mock Tomata Sauce | 293 |
Shallot Sauce | 294 |
Shallot Sauce, for Boiled Mutton | 295 |
Young Onion Sauce | 296 |
Onion Sauce | 297 |
Onion Sauce | 298 |
Fried Onion Sauce | 299 |
Sage and Onion Sauce | 300 |
Portugal Onion Sauce | 301 |
Carrier Sauce | 302 |
Mint Sauce | 303 |
Apple Sauce | 304 |
Mushroom Sauce | 305 |
Mushroom Sauce, Brown | 306 |
Italian Sauce with Mushrooms | 307 |
Italian Ramolade | 308 |
Italian Ramolade, hot | 309 |
Poor Man’s Sauce | 310 |
Garlick Gravy | 311 |
Mr. Michl. Kelly’s Sauce for Boiled Calf’s Head, or Cowheel. | |
Mr. Kelly’s Sauce Piquante | |
Ravigotte Sauce | 312 |
Burnet Sauce | 313 |
Tarragon Sauce | 314 |
Herb Sauce Piquante | 315 |
Truffle Sauce | 316 |
Fried Parsley | 317 |
Crisp Parsley | 318 |
Fried Bread Sippets | 319 |
Fried Bread Crumbs | 320 |
Bread Sauce | 321 |
Plain Browning | 322 |
Greening | 323 |
Red | 324 |
Yellow | 325 |
Gravy, for Roast Meat | 326 |
Gravy, for Boiled Meat | 327 |
Wow Wow Sauce, for Bouilli Beef | 328 |
To make Gravy. | |
Beef Gravy Sauce | 329 |
b12v Ragout Sauce, or strong Beef Gravy with Mushrooms | 330 |
Onion Gravy | 331 |
Maigre Gravy | 332 |
Fish Gravy | 333 |
Gravy Sauce for Poultry, without Meat | 334 |
Mock Gravy Sauce | 335 |
Soup-Herb, and soon made Savoury Sauce | 336 |
Gravy Sauce, for Game | 337 |
Orange Gravy Sauce, for Wild Ducks | 338 |
Woodcock Sauce | 339 |
Snipe Sauce | 340 |
Bonne Bouche, for Goose or Duck | 341 |
Savoury Sauce, for Roast Pork or Geese, &c. | 342 |
Turtle Sauce | 343 |
Wine Sauce, for Venison | 344 |
Vinegar Sauce, for Venison | 345 |
Sweet Sauce, for Venison | 346 |
Mutton Gravy, for Venison | 347 |
Curry Sauce | 348 |
Soup-Herb and Savoury Powder, or Double Relish Sauce | 349 |
Ham Sauce, for Poultry | 350 |
Essence of Ham | 351 |
Ham Sauce | 352 |
Minced Ham Sauce, for Eggs or Pease | 353 |
Sauce for Veal Cutlets | 354 |
Grill Sauce | 355 |
Sauce for Rump Steaks or Mutton Chops | 356 |
Savoury Jelly for Cold Meat, &c. | 357 |
Russian Sauce, for Cold Meat | 358 |
Sauce for Cold Meat, Poultry, &c. | 359 |
Sauce for Hashes of Mutton or Beef | 360 |
Sauce for Hashed or Minced Veal | 361 |
White Gravy Sauce | 362 |
To make Marinade | 363 |
Bechamel Sauce | 364 |
Poivrade Sauce | 365 |
Poivrade Sauce, cold | 366 |
Sauce Tournée | 367 |
Sauce Velouté | 368 |
Mustard in a Minute | 369 |
Mustard, to make | 370 |
Salt | 371 |
Salad Sauce | 372 |
Forcemeat Stuffings | 373 |
Veal Stuffing | 374 |
Veal Forcemeat | 375 |
Stuffing for Roast Turkey, or Capon, or Fowl | 376 |
Stuffing for Boiled Turkey | 377 |
Goose or Duck Stuffing | 378 |
Stuffing for Hare | 379 |
Forcemeat Balls for Turtle, Mock Turtle, or Made Dishes | 380 |
Egg Balls | 381 |
Curry Balls | 382 |
Soup-Herb Powder Balls | 383 |
Savoury Powder Balls | 384 |
Soup-Herb and Savoury Powder Balls | 385 |
Zest Balls | 386 |
Orange or Lemon-Peel, to mix with Stuffing | 387 |
Mock Cream | 388 |
Raspberry Vinegar | 389 |
Raspberry Vinegar, another way | 390 |
Syrup of Lemons | 391 |
b13 Orange Syrup, for Puddings | 392 |
Syrup of Orange or Lemon Peel | 393 |
Syrup of Nutmegs | 394 |
Syrup of Vinegar | 395 |
Tarragon Vinegar | 396 |
Basil Vinegar | 397 |
Mint Vinegar | 398 |
Essence of Vinegar | 399 |
Garlick Vinegar | 400 |
Eshallot Vinegar | 401 |
Eshallot Wine | 402 |
Camp Vinegar | 403 |
Brochard Sauce, for Cold Meat | 404 |
Essence of Cayenne | 405 |
Prepared Lemon Juice | 406 |
Essence of Lemon-Peel | 407 |
Quint-Essence of Lemon-Peel | 408 |
Spirit of Celery | 409 |
Preserved Juice of Fruits without Sugar | 410 |
Essence of Ginger | 411 |
Essence of Allspice | 412 |
Tincture of Allspice | 413 |
Essence of Clove and Mace | 414 |
Tincture of Clove | 415 |
Essence of Cinnamon | 416 |
Essence of Marjoram | 417 |
Alum Finings, for clarifying Spirituous and Oleose Cordials, Compounds, &c. | 418 |
Spirit of Sweet-Herbs, for Broths, &c. | 419 |
Soup-Herb Spirit | 420 |
Spirit of Savoury Spice | 421 |
Soup-Herb, and Savoury Spice Spirit | 422 |
Relish for Chops, &c. | 423 |
Original Receipt for Quin’s Sauce | 424 |
Fish Sauce | 425 |
Fish Sauce | 426 |
Keeping Mustard | 427 |
Sour Crout | 428 |
Sauce Superlative | 429 |
Mock Anchovies | 430 |
Essence of Mock Anchovies | 431 |
Mock Essence of Anchovies | 432 |
Essence of Anchovy | 433 |
Anchovy Paste | 434 |
Anchovy Powder | 435 |
Soy | 436 |
Essence of Walnuts | 437 |
Walnut Catsup | 438 |
Mushroom Catsup | 439 |
Mushrooms Preserved | 440 |
Oyster Catsup | 441 |
Cockle and Muscle Catsup | 442 |
Tomata Catsup | 443 |
White Catsup | 444 |
Cucumber Catsup | 445 |
Pudding Catsup | 446 |
Potatoe Mucilage | 448 |
Mrs. Raffald’s Browning | 449 |
Mrs. Raffald’s Lemon Pickle | 450 |
Hash Sauce | 451 |
Piquante Vinegar, or Sauce for Salads or Cold Meat | 452 |
Salad Mixture | 453 |
Curry Powder | 454 |
Cheap Curry Powder | 455 |
Italian Tamara | 456 |
Savoury Ragout Powder | 457 |
Pea Powder | 458 |
Soup-Herb Powder, or Vegetable Relish | 459 |
Soup-Herb and Savoury Powder, or Quintessence of Ragout | 460 |
b13v To preserve Sweet and Savoury Herbs | 461 |
Pickles | 462 |
The Magazine of Taste | 463 |
Toast and Water | *463 |
Cool Tankard, or Beer Cup | 464 |
Cider Cup | 465 |
Flip | 466 |
Tewahdiddle | 467 |
To bottle Beer | 468 |
Rich Raspberry Wine or Brandy | 469 |
Punch | 470 |
Fine Red Ratifia | 471 |
Cherry Brandy | 472 |
Raspberry Brandy | 473 |
Curaçoa | 474 |
Clarified Syrup | 475 |
Capillaire | 476 |
Lemonade in a minute | 477 |
Punch directly | 478 |
Shrub | 479 |
Mock Arrack | 480 |
Spirituous Syrup of Tea | 481 |
MADE DISHES. | |
General Observations. | |
Hash Mutton | 484 |
To warm up Hashes | 485 |
Hash Beef | 486 |
Cold Meat Broiled, with Poached Eggs | 487 |
Irish Stew | 488 |
Harrico Mutton, or Lamb | 489 |
Shewed Mutton Chops | 490 |
Shoulder of Lamb Grilled | 491 |
Lamb’s Fry | 492 |
Shin of Beef Stewed | 493 |
Brisket of Beef Stewed | 494 |
Harricot of Beef | 495 |
Hunter’s Beef | 496 |
Ragout of Beef | 497 |
Rib of Beef Stewed | 498 |
Cold Beef garnished with Jelly | 499 |
Stewed Rump Steak | 500 |
Rump Steak, with Onion Gravy | 501 |
Alamode Beef, or English Turtle | 502 |
To Pot Beef | 503 |
Beef Cakes | 504 |
Bubble and Squeak, or Fried Beef and Cabbage | 505 |
Hash Beef and Roast Beef Bones Broiled | 506 |
Ox-Cheek Stewed | 507 |
Ox-Tails Stewed | 508 |
Potted Ham | 509 |
Marbled Veal | 510 |
Minced Veal | 511 |
To make an excellent hot dish of cold Veal | 512 |
Veal Sweetbread Fricasée, white | 513 |
Veal Sweetbread Fricasée, brown | 514 |
Breast of Veal Stewed | 515 |
Stewed Veal and Beef | 516 |
Breast of Veal Ragout | 517 |
Veal Olives | 518 |
Cold Calf’s Head Hashed | 519 |
Calf’s Head Hashed, or Ragout | 520 |
Veal Cutlets Broiled | 521 |
Knuckle of Veal, to ragout | 522 |
Knuckle of Veal Stewed with Rice | 523 |
Mr. Gay’s Receipt to Stew a Knuckle of Veal | 524 |
Lamb’s Head and Pluck | 525 |
Slices of Ham or Bacon | 526 |
Relishing Rashers of Bacon | 527 |
Hashed Venison | 528 |
Jugged Hare | 529 |
Hashed Ducks or Geese | 530 |
b14 Stewed Giblets | 531 |
Hashed Woodcock | 532 |
Hashed Turkey, Fowl, or Chicken | 533 |
Pulled Turkey, Fowl, or Chicken | 534 |
To dress Cold Fowl, Duck, Pigeon, or Rabbit | 535 |
Fricassée of Chickens with Mushrooms | 536 |
Fricassée of Chicken in a Minute | 537 |
Devil | 538 |
MISCELLANEOUS. | |
Toast and Cheese | 539 |
Toasted Cheese, No. 2 | 540 |
Buttered Toast and Cheese | 541 |
Potted Cheese | 542 |
Ramaquin | 543 |
Marrow Bones | 544 |
Eggs Fried with Bacon | 545 |
To Poach Eggs | 546 |
To Boil Eggs in the Shell | 547 |
Eggs Poached with Sauce of Minced Ham | 548 |
Fried Eggs and Minced Bacon | 549 |
Egg Tea | 550 |
Suet Pudding, Wiggy’s way | 551 |
Yorkshire Pudding under Roast Meat | 552 |
Plumb Pudding | 553 |
Plumb Pudding | 554 |
Pease Pudding | 555 |
Cumberland Pudding | 556 |
Maccaroni Pudding | 557 |
Rice Pudding | 558 |
Ground Rice Pudding | 559 |
Custard Pudding | 560 |
Orange Pudding | 561 |
White Wine Whey | 562 |
Beef Tea | 563 |
A fine strengthening Mutton Broth | 564 |
Barley Water | 565 |
Sanative English Tea | 566 |
Toothach and Antirheumatic Embrocation | 567 |
Peristaltic Persuaders | 568 |
Stomachic Tincture | 569 |
Paregoric Elixir | 570 |
Dr. Cullen’s Receipt to make Water Gruel | 571 |
Water Gruel immediately | 572 |
Anchovy Toast | 573 |
Devilled Biscuit | 574 |
To warm Water without Fire | 575 |
The Table of Contents makes it look as if there is a separate section, Miscellaneous, beginning with No. 539. But there is no break in the text.
To Clarify Broth, &c. *252
[Throughout the book, he would have saved himself endless confusion if he had realized that “*252” is simply 253.]
Mrs. Raffald’s Browning / Mrs. Raffald’s Lemon Pickle
[Elizabeth Raffald, The Experienced English Housekeeper (1769).]
The London mode of cutting up this Animal, with the name and relative value of each Joint.
The prices are fixed (Jan. 1. 1817.) by an eminent Butcher who sells an article of first-rate quality, and though the price should vary, the relative value will be exhibited.
the Hind Quarter of Beef. | ||
---|---|---|
per lb | ||
1 | Sir Loin | 0 . 9 |
2 | Rump | 0 . 9 |
3 | Edge Bone | 0 . 6 |
4 | Buttock | 0 . 7 |
5 | Mouse Do | 0 . 6 |
6 | Veiny Piece | 0 . 7 |
7 | Thick Flank | 0 . 6 |
8 | Thin Do | 0 . 6½ |
9 | Leg | 0 . 2½ |
the Fore Quarter. | ||
---|---|---|
per lb | ||
10 | Fore Rib, 6 Ribs | 0 . 9 |
11 | Middle Do. 3 Do. | 0 . 7 |
12 | Chuck Do. 3 Do. | 0 . 5 |
13 | Shoulder, or Leg of |
0 . 6 |
14 | Brisket | 0 . 6 |
15 | Clod | 0 . 4½ |
16 | Neck, or Sticking Piece | 0 . 3½ |
17 | Shin | 0 . 2½ |
18 | Cheek |
References to the respective Joints of Veal.
per lb | ||
---|---|---|
1 | Loin, best end | 0 . 11 |
2 | Do. chump end | 0 . 11 |
3 | Fillet | 1 . 1 |
4 | Knuckle, Hind | 0 . 7 |
The whole Leg | 0 . 10½ | |
5 | Neck, best end | 0 . 11 |
6 | Do. scrag end | 0 . 8 |
The whole Neck | 0 . 9½ | |
7 | Blade Bone | 0 . 10 |
8 | Breast, best end | 0 . 11 |
9 | Do. brisket end | 0 . 10 |
10 | Knuckle, Fore | 0 . 7 |
The Head |
b18
References to the respective Joints of Mutton.
per lb | ||
---|---|---|
1 | Leg | 0 . 8 |
2 | Loin, best end | |
3 | Do. chump end | |
4 | Neck, best end | 0 . 7 |
5 | Do. scrag end | 0 . 5 |
6 | Shoulder | 0 . 7 |
7 | Breast | 0 . 5 |
Head | ||
The Chine, two Loins | 0 . 8 | |
The Saddle, two Necks | ||
The Haunch is a Leg, |
References to the respective Joints of Pork.
per lb | ||
---|---|---|
1 | Hind Loin | 0 . 9 |
2 | Fore Do. | 0 . 9 |
3 | Leg | 0 . 10 |
4 | Spring | 0 . 8 |
5 | Face | |
The Chine is the back bone as far as the fore loin extends |
0 . 10 | |
The Spare Rib is all the Ribs under the Shoulder |
0 . 9 |
The two sections—ox and calf, sheep and pig, each with facing diagrams, making a total of four leaves—may have been bound in separately. In one of the three copies I looked at, the Sheep and Pig came first.
[The Ox: Fore Quarter] 18 Cheek
[I don’t suppose he means that the butcher will throw in an ox cheek for free, but the price is also missing in the second edition’s version of the table. The same goes for the calf’s head, sheep’s head and pig’s face.]
This most simple of culinary processes is not often performed in perfection. Boiling requires less nicety and attendance than roasting; and to skim your pot well, and keep it really boiling (the slower the better) all the while, and to know how long is required for doing the joint, &c. comprehends almost the whole art and mystery. This, however, requires a patient and perpetual vigilance, of which few persons are capable.—The cook must take care that the water really boils all the while she is cooking, or she will be deceived in the time; and she should make up a sufficient fire at first, to last all the time, without much mending or stirring. As it is coming to a boil, Bv there will always, from the cleanest meat and clearest water, rise a scum to the top of the pot: this proceeds partly from the foulness of the meat, and partly from the water, and must be carefully taken off as soon as it rises: if you neglect this, and suffer it to boil, the scum will fall, and stick to the meat. On this depends the appearance of all boiled things. When you have scummed well, throw in some cold water and a little salt, which will throw up the rest of the scum. The oftener it is scummed, and the cleaner the top of the water is kept, the cleaner will be the meat. If let alone, it soon boils down, and sticks to the meat*; which, instead of looking delicately white and nice, will have that coarse and filthy appearance we have too often to complain of, and the butcher and poulterer get blamed for the carelessness of the cook in not scumming her pot. Many put in milk, to make what they boil look white; but this does more harm than good: others wrap it up in a cloth; but this is needless, and better let alone; if the scum be attentively removed, it will have a colour and flavour that B2 it never has when muffled up. It is the best way to take out all the dirt, not to defend the meat against it.
* If, unfortunately, this should happen, the cook must carefully take it off when she dishes up, either with a clean sponge or a paste-brush.
Put your meat into plenty of cold* water, not less than a quart to a pound, so that it may get gradually warm through before the outside gets hard: begin to reckon the time from its first coming to a boil. The old rule of 15 minutes to a pound of meat we think rather too little; for the slower it boils, the tenderer, plumper, and whiter it will be. From 20 to 30 minutes to a pound will not be found too much for gentle boiling by the side of the fire; allowing more or less time, according to the thickness of the joints; always remembering, the slower it boils the better.
* Cooks, however, as well as doctors, disagree; for some say, that “all sorts of fresh meat should be put in when the water boils.” I prefer the above method, for the reason given.
Meat will take rather longer time boiling in cold than it wants in warm weather; and, if frozen, must be thawed before boiling as before roasting, by laying some time in cold water: or, two or three hours before you dress it, bringing it into a place the temperature of which is not less than fifty degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. B2v Take care that the covers of your boiling pots fit close, not only to prevent unnecessary evaporation of the water, but that the smoke of the fire may not insinuate itself under the edge of the lid, and give the meat a bad taste. Never let your meat or poultry remain in the water after it is done enough, as that makes it sodden, and it loses its flavour.
Beef and mutton a little underdone is not a great fault—by some people it is preferred—but lamb, pork, and veal, are uneatable if not thoroughly boiled.
A trivet set on the bottom of your boiling pots, raising the contents about four inches from the bottom, will be found a great improvement, and always prevent that side of the meat which comes next the bottom from being done too much. If you have not a trivet, use four skewers, or a plate.
Take care of the liquor you have boiled your meat in; for in these times no good housewife has any pretensions to rational economy who boils a joint without making some sort of soup. If the liquor be too salt, only use half the quantity, and the rest water, &c.
The best way is to wash salted meat well with cold water before you put it into the boiler.
B3In whatever way the flesh of animals is cooked, a considerable diminution takes place in its weight; but less by boiling than any of the other ways of dressing; and, independent of the smaller loss of weight by boiling, it is the most economical cookery, as it affords the opportunity of converting a considerable quantity of water into a nourishing and wholesome soup, which receives the nutritive matter and juices of the meat, that, in roasting, broiling, or baking, are evaporated and lost. We have given the results of some experiments, made on purpose to show the comparative loss of weight by the various culinary processes.
Beef by boiling lost | 26½ per cent. |
Ditto by baking | 30 per ditto. |
Ditto by roasting | 32 per ditto. |
Mutton by boiling lost | 22 per ditto. |
Ditto by roasting | 32 per ditto. |
Thus the diminution by cookery amounts to from one-fifth to one-third of the weight.
B3v
Cut off the shank bone and trim the knuckle of a leg of mutton, and put it into lukewarm water for an hour; wash it clean, put it on in plenty of cold water; let it boil gently; and skim it carefully. A leg of nine pounds will take three hours boiling.
Put four or five pounds of the best end of the neck into a gallon and a half of water, and let it simmer slowly for two hours; it will eat most deliciously tender: it will look most delicate if you do not take off the skin till it has been boiled. Caper sauce and turnips, or spinage, are expected to accompany boiled mutton.
Lamb will take quite as much time in boiling as mutton, and is managed in the same way. After the observations on boiling, which commence this chapter of our work, we have nothing to add.
As this is always expected to come to table looking B4 very delicately clean, &c., you must be careful to have clean water and a clean vessel, and constantly catch the scum, and attend to the directions before given in the preliminary observations. Send up bacon and greens, and parsley and butter, with it.
In plain English, is understood to mean boiled beef; but its culinary acceptation, is fresh beef dressed without boiling, but kept gently simmering over a slow fire. English cooks seem to have no notion that good soup can be made without destroying a great deal of meat: however, by a judicious regulation of the fire, and a vigilant attendance on the soup kettle, this may be accomplished without much difficulty, and you shall have a tureen of such soup as the finest palate will be pleased with, and the meat make its appearance at table possessing its full portion of nutritious succulence. This requires nothing more than to boil or rather stew the meat slowly, instead of fast, and to take it up when it is done enough. Meat cooked in this manner affords more than double the nourishment it does dressed in the common way, is easy of digestion in proportion as it is tender, and an invigorating diet, especially valuable to the poor, whose laborious employments require support, which if they could derive from good eating being put within their reach, they would often go to the butcher’s shop, when they now run to the public house. Our neighbours the French are so justly famous for their skill in the affairs of the kitchen, that, as the adage B4v says, “as many Frenchmen so many cooks;” surrounded as they are by a profusion of the most delicious wines and most seducing liqueurs, offering every temptation and facility to render drunkenness delightful, a tippling Frenchman is a “rara avis:” they know how so easily and completely to keep life in repair by good eating, they require little or no adjustment from drinking. This accounts for that “toujours gai,” and happy equilibrium of spirits which they enjoy with more regularity than any people: the elasticity of their stomachs, unimpaired by spirituous liquors, embrace and digest vigorously the food they sagaciously prepare for it, which they render easily assimilable by cooking it sufficiently, wisely contriving to get half the work of the stomach done by fire and water.
See Receipt for Soup and Bouillie, No. 237.
Before you salt meat, remember to take out the kernels: there is always one in the udder of a round of beef, and one in the fat in the middle of the round, and several about the thick end of the flank, and another in the mouse buttock; and if they are not taken out, all the salt in the world will not keep the meat.
The great art of salting meat is to rub in the salt thoroughly and evenly into every part, and to fill all the holes full of salt where the kernels were taken out, and where the butcher’s skewers were: a round of beef of 40 pounds will take a pound and a quarter of salt to be rubbed in all at first, and turn it and rub it every day with the B5 brine: it will be ready for dressing in eight or ten days, if you do not wish it very salt. In summer, salt your meat as soon as it comes in, and take care to defend it from the flies. In winter, it will eat the shorter and tenderer if kept three or four days before it is salted; and in frosty weather warm the salt in a frying-pan, and rub it on the meat while it is hot. If you wish it to look red, rub it with saltpetre and bay salt, in the proportion of two ounces of each of these to half a pound of common salt.
An H-bone will require about half a pound of salt to be well rubbed into it, and will be ready in four or five days, if turned and rubbed every day.
Pork requires a longer time to cure it (in proportion to its weight) than beef, and a leg of pork should be in salt eight or ten days.
Salted meat should always be well washed before it is boiled, especially if it has been in salt long, that the liquor the meat is boiled in, may not be too salt to make soup of. If your meat has been in salt a long time, and you think it will be too salt, lay it in water the night before you intend to dress it.
This is generally too large for a moderate family, so we shall write directions for the dressing half a round.
Skewer it up as tight and as round as possible, and tie a fillet of broad tape round it, to keep the skewers in their places. Put it into plenty of cold water, and carefully catch the scum as it rises; let it boil till all the scum is removed, and then B5v put the boiler on one side of the fire to keep simmering till it is done. Half a round of 20lbs. will take near three hours; if it weighs more, give it more time. When you take it up, wash it well with a paste brush, and garnish the dish with carrots: send up carrots, turnips, and parsnips, or greens, on separate dishes. Pease pudding is very good with it.
Is to be managed in exactly the same manner as the round, but will be sooner boiled, as it is not so solid: an H-bone of 20lbs. will be enough in about two hours and a half, and H-bones of 10lbs. in two. Be sure the boiler is big enough to allow it plenty of water-room; for the more water it is boiled in, the better it will look, and the tenderer it will eat.
Obs.—In “Mrs. Mason’s Ladies’ Assistant” this joint is called haunch-bone; in “Henderson’s Cookery,” edge-bone; in “Domestic Management,” aitch-bone; in “Reynolds’ Cookery,” ische bone. We have also seen it spelt ach-bone, and each-bone.
Briskets, and the various other pieces, are dressed in the same way. Wow Wow sauce (No. 328) is an agreeable companion to them.
Take out the brains, then wash the head well in several waters, and let it lie in soak in warm water B6 for an hour before you dress it. Tie the brains up in a cloth with half a dozen sage-leaves, put them with the head into a kettle with plenty of cold water: when it is coming to a boil, and the scum rises, carefully remove it: when the meat at the neck-end is tender, it is done enough. Half a calf’s head, without the skin on, will take from an hour and three quarters to two hours and a quarter, according to its size; with the skin on, about half an hour longer. Chop the brains with the sage-leaves that were boiled with them, and send them to table on a separate dish, with the tongue (peeled), and cut down the middle, laid on each side of them. This dish is usually attended by bacon or pickled pork, and greens, cauliflowers, or peas, and always parsley and butter, No. 261.
If you like it full dressed, beat up the yolk of an egg, and rub it over the head with a feather; powder it with a seasoning of dried and powdered lemon thyme, parsley, pepper, and salt, and bread crumbs, and give it a brown with a salamander, or in a tin Dutch oven: when it begins to dry sprinkle a little melted butter over it with a paste brush. You may garnish the dish with broiled rashers of bacon laid round it.
Obs.—Calf’s head is one of the most delicate and favourite dishes in the list of boiled meats; but nothing is more insipid when cold: and again, nothing makes so nice a hash: therefore, always save a quart of the liquor your head was boiled in, to make sauce, &c. for the hash. Cut it into slices about a quarter of an inch thick, flour them, and lay them ready on a plate: take the bones of the head and the trimmings, a quarter of a pound of bacon cut into slices, (some of that B6v which was dressed to eat with the calf’s head when hot, will do,) a bundle of sweet herbs, a large onion, and a blade of bruised mace: put these into a saucepan with the quart of liquor you have saved, and let it stew for an hour and a half; then put half an ounce of butter into another stewpan: when it is melted, add a table spoonful of flour to it, stir it well together, and by degrees add to it the gravy you have made with the bones and trimmings, straining it through a hair sieve: season it with a glass of white wine, and a table spoonful of ketchup; give it a boil up, skim it, and then put in the calf’s head and bacon to warm, (it must not boil after,) and it is ready.
N. B. You may garnish the edges of the dish with slices of bacon toasted in a Dutch oven, and slices of lemon.
Requires more time than any meat. When you cook a leg, which, when well dressed, is a favourite dish with almost every body, take care it does not boil fast; if it does, the knuckle will break to pieces before the thick part of the meat is warm through: a leg of seven pounds will take nearly three hours.
If not done enough, nothing is more disagreeable: if boiled too long, it loses not only its flavour, but its substance becomes soft like a jelly. It can never appear at table without a good pease pudding, and, if you please, turnips and greens, &c. and remember not to forget your mustard pot.
B7Put a thin slice of bacon at the bottom of a stewpan, with some broth, a blade of mace, a bay-leaf, a few peppercorns, and a bit of thyme: boil the feet till they are quite tender: this will take full twenty minutes: but the heart, liver, and lights, will be done enough in ten; when they are to be taken out, and minced fine.
Put them into a stewpan with a little gravy, thicken it with a little butter rolled in flour, season it with a little pepper and salt, set it over a gentle fire; let them simmer for five minutes, shaking them about very often.
While this is doing, have a thin slice of bread toasted very lightly, divide it into sippets, and lay them round the dish: pour the mince and sauce into the middle of it, and split the feet and lay them round it.
N. B. The pettitoes are sometimes fried in batter.
Obs.—If you have no gravy in the water you stew the pettitoes in, put an onion, a sprig of lemon thyme, or sweet marjoram, with a blade of bruised mace, a few black peppers, and a large tea-spoonful of lemon pickle; and you will have a very tolerable substitute for gravy.
Put a pound of nice streaked bacon into two quarts of boiling water, and let it boil quick for 30 or 40 minutes; take it up, scrape the under side well, and cut off the rind: grate a crust of bread over it, and put it before the fire for a few B7v minutes; it must not be there loo long, or it will dry it too much and spoil it
Two pounds will require an hour, three pounds an hour and a half; the hock or gammon being very thick, will take full a quarter of an hour to a pound more.
Though of the bacon kind, has been so altered and hardened in the particular way of curing, it requires a very different manner of dressing.
It is generally not half soaked, as salt as brine, and hard as flint: if it is very dry, it must be soaked from 12 to 24 hours: scrape it clean, trim it neatly, and put it into lukewarm water, which will help to mellow it very much. Give it plenty of water; a copper is the best thing to boil it in; put it in while the water is cold, and manage the fire so that it may be three or four hours before it boils: to prevent this, put in a little cold water occasionally, but do not put in so much at a time as to prevent its simmering; keep scumming it carefully all the time: then stir up your fire, and make the water boil slowly, and a middling sized ham will be finished in an hour and a half; a large one in two hours, or a very little more; and it will be very clean, and eat very tender.
Pull off the skin carefully, so as to preserve it as whole as possible, as it will form an excellent covering to keep the ham moist: when you have removed the skin, rub some bread raspings through a hair sieve, or grate a crust of bread over it.
B8A Tongue is so hard, whether prepared by drying or pickling, that it requires much more time, &c. than a ham: nothing, of its weight, takes so long to dress it properly.
A tongue that has been salted and dried, should be put to soak 24 hours before it is wanted, in a large quantity of water: a green tongue fresh from the pickle requires soaking only a few hours; they take nearly the same time dressing. Let your tongue be put into plenty of cold water, and give it from three and a half to four hours very slow simmering, according to its size: about half an hour before it is done, take it up, peel it, and put it into the pot again to finish it; scum the pot frequently while it is doing, and it will come out tender and clean. It is a general rule with some cooks to try if the tongue will peel, and then allow it half an hour after that.
Under this title we include all the kinds of tame fowls, from the turkey to the chicken: they are all boiled exactly in the same manner, and according to the same rules, only allowing time, according to the size. For stuffings, &c. see No. 374 and 377.
Turkies, and large fowls, should always have the strings or sinews of the thighs drawn out.
Fowls for boiling should be chosen as white as possible: those which have even black-legs had better be roasted.
B8vMake a good and clear fire; set on a clean pot, with plenty of pure and clear water, the more the better; and the slower it boils the whiter and plumper the fowl will be. You may rub a lemon over the breast of your fowl, and put it in. When there rises any scum, the common method of some who are more nice than wise, is to wrap them up in a cloth, to prevent the scum attaching to them; which if it does, by your neglecting to skim your pot, there is no getting it off afterwards, and the poulterer is blamed for the fault of the cook. However, if there be water enough, and it is attentively scummed, the fowl will both look and eat much better this way than when it has been tied up in the cleanest cloth; and both the colour and flavour of your poultry will be preserved in the most charming and delicate perfection.
Truss your rabbits short, put them into plenty of water, and boil them half an hour; if large ones, three quarters; smother them with onion sauce, and send up liver sauce in a boat.
Cut the tripe into pieces about two inches broad and four long; put it into a stewpan of clean boiling water, and let it boil half an hour; then have another clean stewpan with an equal quantity of milk and water; when this boils, take the tripe out of the water, and put it into the milk and water.
B9Boil (by themselves) some Spanish, or the whitest common onions you can get; when they are tender, drain them in a hair sieve, and put them to the tripe in a tureen or soup-dish: take off the fat if any floats on the surface; but tripe dressed in this way is seldom greasy.
Obs.—Rashers of bacon are a very good accompaniment to boiled tripe.
skip to Roasting
Beef by boiling lost 26½ per cent. / Ditto by baking 30 per ditto.
[It may have escaped the printer’s notice that the word “ditto” is longer than the word “cent”.]
there is always one in the udder of a round of beef
[I learn from Eliza Acton that “udder” is, in addition to its more familiar meaning, firm white fat.]
in “Domestic Management,” aitch-bone;
text has in “Domestic Management,” aitch-bone;” with superfluous close quote
put half an ounce of butter into another stewpan: when it is melted, add a table spoonful of flour to it, stir it well together, and by degrees add to it the gravy you have made
[Otherwise known as a roux.]
B9v
In all studies, it is the best practice to begin with the plainest and easiest parts; and so proceed, by degrees, to such as are more difficult: we, therefore, first treat of plain boiling and roasting*; B10 and shall then gradually unravel, to our culinary students, the art and (until we candidly and clearly develop it in this work) mystery of making, with the least trouble and expense, the most delicious and highly finished made-dishes.
* The muscular flesh of animals, which is the subject of culinary operations, is composed of many elements. A nice discrimination of these parts is by no means necessary for our present purpose; it will be sufficient to point out, that of muscular flesh one part becomes coagulated at the boiling heat of 212° of Fahrenheit, and resembles, in its properties, the white of an egg; it has, therefore, been called albumen. Another component part is the animal glue or jelly, termed gelatin; and the other is the coloured juice contained within the smaller vessels, which, in compliance with custom, we denominate gravy. In the preparation of food by boiling and roasting, the albumen is coagulated: the same effect takes place in the drawing of gravy. In this latter operation the gelatin and fluids contained in the smaller vessels are extracted; and the albumen, coagulated with the fibrous matter, remains.
It will be evident, from this statement, that roasted meat is more nutritious than boiled; because, at the boiling heat, a great quantity of the gelatinous part is extracted by the water.
Let the young cook never forget that cleanliness is the first cardinal virtue of the kitchen; and, as the first preparation for Roasting, take care that the spit be properly cleaned with sand and water; nothing else. When it has been well scowered with this, dry it with a clean cloth. If spits are wiped clean as soon as the meat is drawn from them, and while they are hot, a very little cleaning will be required. The less the spit runs through the meat the better*; and take especial care it be evenly balanced on the spit, that its motion may be regular, and the fire operate B10v equally on each part of it; therefore be provided with balancing skewers.
* As many small families have not the convenience of roasting with a spit, a remark upon roasting by a string is necessary.—Let the cook, before she puts her meat down to the fire, pass a strong skewer through each end of the joint: by this means, when it is about half done, she can with ease turn the bottom upwards; the gravy will then flow to the part which has been uppermost, and the whole joint cut and eat most delicately.
All your attention in roasting will be thrown away if you do not take care that your meat has been kept long enough to be tender*. The only way to make sure of this, is to have it home, and hang it up in your own larder. If you have not a good airy place for this purpose, bespeak your meat and poultry three or four days before you wish to dress it. Examine it, before you spit it, that it is properly jointed. The cook as often loses her credit by meat being dressed too fresh, as by fish that is too stale. Dr. Franklin, in his philosophical experiments, tells us, that game or poultry, &c. killed by electricity, may be dressed immediately, and will be deliciously tender.
* The time meat should hang depends entirely on the degree of heat and humidity of the air: if not kept long enough, it is hard and tough; if too long, it loses its flavour: it should hang where it will have a thorough air, and dry it well with a cloth night and morning, to keep it from growing damp and musty. When you dress it, pare off the outsides, as they sometimes get a bad taste.
Make up the fire in time, and let it be proportioned to the dinner to be dressed, and about four inches longer at each end than the thing to be roasted. The chemists talk of their several B11 degrees of heat, and the cook must be as particular to proportion her fire to the business she has to do.
The fire that is but just sufficient to receive the noble sirloin, will parch up a lighter joint. Proportion the solidity of your fire to the size of your joint; and from half an hour to an hour before it is necessary to put it down to roast, prepare the fire by putting a few coals on, which will be sufficiently burnt by the time you wish to make use of your fire; rake out the bottom, and press it down so as to make the fire solid and good; between the bars and on the top put small round coal or large round coals, according to the bulk of the joint, and the time the fire is required to be strong; after which, throw all your cinders (wetted) at the back. Never put your meat down to a burnt-up fire if you can possibly avoid it; but should it be so, that having a large dinner to cook the fire is become fierce, be sure to place the spit at a considerable distance, and allow your meat a little more time. Always preserve the fat by covering it with paper; keep by you, for this purpose, paper called “kitchen paper,” and fine twine to tie it on: pins and skewers can by no means be allowed, as they are so many taps to let out the gravy of your meat; besides, the paper with the heat of the fire often B11v starts from them and catches light, to the great injury of the meat.
If the thing to be roasted be thin and tender, the fire should be little and brisk; and when you have a large joint to roast, make up a sound, strong fire; it must be equally good in every part of the grate, especially at the ends, or your meat cannot be equally roasted, nor have that uniform colour on every part of it, which constitutes the beauty of good roasting.
Give the fire a good stirring before you lay the joint down, examine it every quarter of an hour while the spit is going round; keep it clear at the bottom, and take care there are no smoky coals in the front of it, which will spoil the look and taste of the meat, and hinder it from roasting evenly. When the joint to be roasted is thicker at one end than the other, place the spit slanting, so that the whole time the thickest part is nearest the fire, and also the thinnest by this means is preserved from being overmuch roasted.
Take care not to put your meat too near the fire; the larger the joint, the farther it must be kept from the fire*; for if once it gets scorched, the B12 outside will become hard, and acquire a disagreeable strong taste; and the fire being prevented from penetrating into it, the meat will appear enough, before it is little more than half done, besides losing the pale brown colour which it is the greatest beauty of all roast meat to have.
* From 14 to 10 inches seem to be about the distance meat is generally put from the grate when first put down: it is extremely difficult to offer any thing like an accurate general rule for this, as it depends so much upon the size of the fire and of that of the thing to be roasted, till some culinary philosopher shall invent a thermometer to ascertain the degree of heat of the fire, and a graduated spit rack to regulate the distance from it, the process of roasting must remain among those which can only be performed well by very frequent practice.
If you wish your jack to go well, keep it as clean as possible, oil it, and then wipe it; as, if the oil is not wiped off again, it will gather dust: to prevent this, as soon as you have done with your jack cover it up. Never leave the winders on whilst the jack is going round, unless you do it, as Swift says, that it may fly off and knock those troublesome servants on the head, who will be crowding round your kitchen fire.
Be very careful to place the drippingpan at such a distance from the fire, as just to catch the drippings: if it is too near, the ashes will fall into it, and spoil the drippings;* (which, we shall hereafter B12v shew, will be found not only an excellent substitute, but for many purposes are decidedly superior to either butter or lard;) if it is too far from the fire to catch them, you will not only lose your drippings, but the meat will be blackened and spoiled by the fœtid smoke which will arise when the fat falls on the live cinders.
* Which the good housewife will take up occasionally, as by leaving it all in the dripping-pan until the meat is taken up, it not only becomes very strong, but when the meat is rich and yields much of it, it is apt to be spilt in basting.
The time meat will take roasting will vary according to the temperature of the weather: the same piece will be twenty minutes or half an hour longer in cold weather* than it will be in warm.
* If the meat is frozen, put it into cold water till it is thawed, then dry and roast it as usual; or bring it into the kitchen for two or three hours before you want to roast it, and the warm air will thaw it perhaps better than any other way.
It is difficult to give any specific rule for time; but if your fire is made as before directed, your meat skreen is sufficiently large to guard what you are dressing from currents of air, and the meat is not frosted*, we cannot do better than recommend the C old general rule of allowing a quarter of an hour to the pound; a little more or less, in proportion as the piece is thick or thin, the strength of the fire, the nearness of the meat to it, and the frequency with which you baste it: the more it is basted, the less time it will take, as it keeps the meat soft and mellow on the outside, and the fire thereby acts with more force upon it.
* The tin meat-screens made by Lloyd, furnishing ironmonger, near Norfolk Street, Strand, are infinitely the best; as they also answer all the purposes of a large Dutch oven, plate warmers, warm hearths. &c.; where are also sold, bright block tin concave reflectors, to screw on the ends of the spit: these are very useful and economical, as they not only save fire, but are indispensably necessary to brown the ends of your joints; without which, these parts will seldom be done as they should be. The same, and all other kitchen and ironmongery goods, are excellently well made by Brownley, Greek Street, Soho.
A large joint should be basted every quarter of an hour, till within half an hour of the time it is done.
It is also a good general rule, when, your joint is half done, to remove the spit and drippingpan back, and stir up your fire thoroughly, that it may burn clear and bright for the browning: when the steam from the meat draws towards the fire*, it is a sign of its being done enough; but you will be the best judge of that from the time it has been down, the strength of the fire you have used, and the distance your spit has been from it.
* When the steam begins to arise, it is a proof that the whole joint is thoroughly saturated with heat: any unnecessary evaporation, is a waste of all the best nourishment of the meat.
CvJust before you take it up, baste it, and dredge it with flour carefully: (if you are very particular about the froth, you must use butter instead of dripping:) (see Receipt to Roast a Turkey;) and send up what you roast with pleasing froth, so presenting an agreeable appearance to the eye, the palate may be prepossessed in its favour at first sight.
Though roasting is one of the most common, and is generally considered one of the most easy and simple processes of cookery, it requires more unremitting attention to perform it perfectly well, than it does to make most made-dishes.
That made-dishes are more difficult, I think really deserves to be reckoned among the culinary vulgar errors: for in these the cook has nothing to do but follow the receipt, and cannot very easily fail: but in plain roasting and boiling it is not easy to repair a mistake once made; and all the discretion and attention of a steady careful cook must be unremittingly upon the alert*.
* A celebrated French writer has made the following observations on roasting:
“The art of roasting victuals to the precise degree, is one of the most difficult in this world, and you may find a thousand good cooks sooner than one perfect roaster: (See “Almanach des Gourmands,” vol. i. p. 37.) In the mansions of the opulent they have, besides the chief cook, a roaster, perfectly independent of the former. All erudite gourmands know these two important functions cannot be performed by one artist, and that it is quite impossible at the same time to direct the operations of the spit, and the stewpan.”—Further on the same author observes: “No certain rules can be given for roasting, the perfection of it depending on many circumstances which are continually changing; the age, size, shape, and nature of the pieces, the quality of the coals, the temperature of the atmosphere, the currents of air in the kitchen, the more or less attention of the roaster; and, lastly, the time of serving. For supposing the dinner ordered to be on table at a certain time, if the fish and soup are much liked, and detained longer than the roaster has calculated; or, on the contrary, if they are despatched sooner than is expected, the roasts will in one case be burnt up, in the other not done enough—two misfortunes equally to be deplored. The first, however, is without a remedy; five minutes on the spit more or less, decides the goodness of this mode of cookery; and it is almost impossible to seize the precise instant when it ought to be eaten; which epicures in roasts express by saying, ‘It is done to a turn.’ So it is that there is no exaggeration in saying, that the perfect roaster is even more rare than the professed cook.
“In small families, where the cook is also the roaster, it is almost impossible the roasts should be well done; the spit claims exclusive attention, and is an imperious mistress, who demands the entire devotion of her slave. But how can this be? When the cook is obliged at the same time to attend her fish and soup kettles, and watch her stewpans and all their accompaniments, it is morally and physically impossible; if she gives that delicate and constant attention to the roasts which they require, the rest of the dinner must often be spoilt; and most cooks will rather lose their character as a roaster, than neglect the made-dishes and ‘entremets,’ &c. where she thinks she can display her culinary science, than sacrifice these to the roast; the perfection of which, she thinks, will only prove her steady vigilance and patience.
A diligent attention to time, distance, basting C2v often*, and judicious management of the fire, are all the general rules we can prescribe for roasting C3 in perfection; we shall deliver particular rules for particular things, as the several articles occur, and do our utmost endeavours to instruct our reader as completely as we could find words to describe the process, and teach
“The management of common things so well,
“That what was thought the meanest, shall excel:
“That cook’s to British palates most complete,
“Whose sav’ry skill gives zest to common meat:
“For what are your soups, your ragouts, and your sauce,
“Compar’d to the fare of old England,
“And old English roast beef!”
The time given in the following Receipts is calculated for those who like their meat thoroughly roasted.
* Our ancestors were very particular in their bastings and dredgings, as will be seen by the following quotation from “May’s Accomplished Cook.” London, 1665, p. 136.—“The rarest ways of dressing of all manner of roast meats, either flesh or fowl, by sea or land, and divers ways of breading or dredging meats to prevent the gravy from too much evaporating.
1. Flour mixed with grated bread. 2. Sweet herbs dried and powdered, and mixed with grated bread. 3. Lemon peel dried and pounded, or orange peel mixed with flour. 4. Sugar finely powdered, and mixed with pounded cinnamon, and flour, or grated bread. 5. Fennel seeds, corianders, cinnamon, and sugar, finely beaten, and mixed with grated bread or flour. 6. For young pigs, grated bread or flour mixed with beaten nutmeg, ginger, pepper, sugar, and yolks of eggs. 7. Sugar, bread, and salt mixed.
1. Fresh butter. 2. Clarified suet. 3. Minced sweet herbs, butter and claret, especially for mutton and lamb. 4. Water and salt. 5. Cream and melted butter, especially for a flayed pig. 6. Yolks of eggs, grated biscuit, and juice of oranges.
C3v
The noble sirloin of about fifteen pounds will require to be before the fire about four hours: take care to spit it straight, that it may not be heavier on one side than the other; put a little clean dripping into the drippingpan, tie a sheet of paper over it to preserve the fat*, and baste it well as soon as it is put down, and baste it every quarter of an hour all the time it is roasting till the last half hour; then take off the paper, stir the fire and make it clear: to brown and froth it, sprinkle a little salt over it, baste it with butter, and dredge it with flour; let it go a few minutes longer till the froth rises, take it up, put it on the dish, &c. To make gravy for it, put a teaspoonful of salt into half a pint of boiling water, and pour it over the underside of the meat, and through the hole the spit comes out of. Garnish with horseradish scraped as fine as possible with a very sharp knife. A Yorkshire pudding is an excellent accompaniment. (No. 595.)
Obs.—The inside of the sirloin must never be cut hot, but reserved entire for the hash. (See some hints to housekeepers on this subject in the Receipt to Hash Beef.) No. 506.
* If there is more fat than you think will be eaten with the meat, cut it off, it will make an excellent pudding; or clarify it, and use it for frying.
C4The three first ribs, of fifteen or twenty pounds, will take three hours and a half: the fourth and fifth ribs will take as long, managed in the same way as the sirloin. Paper the fat, and the thin part, or it will be done too much, before the thick part is done enough.
When you have kept two or three ribs of beef till quite tender, take out the bones, and skewer it as round as possible, (like a fillet of veal,) and bind it with tape to prevent the skewers breaking out: as the meat is more in a solid mass, it will require more time at the fire than in the preceding receipt; and a piece of ten or twelve pounds weight will not be well and thoroughly roasted in less than three hours and three quarters. For the first half hour it should not be less than 12 inches from the fire, that it may get gradually warm to the centre: the last half hour before it will be finished, take off the tape, sprinkle a little salt over it, and flour and froth it.
Is very difficult to spit, and should have two strong skewers tied on it to keep it steady; their usual weight is from sixteen to twenty-four pounds; C4v and the time they must be at the fire, from four hours to four and a half.
As beef requires a large sound fire, mutton must have a brisk and fierce one: it is never well done unless the fire is quick and clear, and the mutton has been hung as long as it will keep*.
* Dean Swift’s Receipt to Roast Mutton.
“Gently stir and blow the fire,
Lay the mutton down to roast,
Dress it quickly I desire,
In the dripping put a toast,
That I hunger may remove,—
Mutton is the meat I love.
“On the dresser see it lie;
Oh! the charming white and red!
Finer meat ne’er met the eye,
On the sweetest grass it fed:
Let the jack go swiftly round,
Let me have it nicely brown’d.
“On the table spread the cloth,
Let the knives be sharp and clean,
Pickles get and salad both,
Let them each be fresh and green.
With small beer, good ale, and wine,
O ye gods! how I shall dine!”
A leg of eight pounds will take two hours and a quarter: let it be well basted and frothed, in the same manner as roast beef.
C5(i.e. the two loins) or
(i.e. the two necks,) of ten or eleven pounds, two hours and a half: tie a sheet of paper over them: baste the strings you tie it on with directly, or they will burn; and let the meat be well basted.
Of seven pounds, an hour and a half: put the spit in close to the shank bone, and run it along the blade bone; take care to froth it nicely.
Of mutton an hour and a half. The most elegant way of carving this, is to cut it lengthwise, as you do a saddle.
* Common cooks very seldom brown the ends of neck and loins: to have this done nicely, and in perfection, let the fire be a few inches longer at each end than the joint that is roasting, and occasionally place the spit slanting, so that each end may get sufficient fire: but nothing does this in such perfection as the concave reflectors before mentioned. This is much better than taking up the meat and putting it down before the fire to do the ends; as, by the latter method, you cannot send it to table frothed.
An hour and a half. It must be carefully jointed, or it is very bad to carve.
C5vObs.—If there is more fat upon them than you think will be eaten with the lean, cut it off, and it will make an excellent suet pudding.
An hour and a quarter.
(i.e. the leg and part of the loin) of mutton is spitted and managed in the same way as a haunch of Venison; (see Receipt, No. 63.) send up two sauce boats with it; one of the richest drawn gravy that can be made without spice or herbs; and the other of sweet sauce.
Take a neck of good five or six year old down mutton cut long in the bones; let it hang at least a week; two days before you dress it, take allspice and black pepper ground and pounded fine, an ounce each, with a quarter of an ounce of saltpetre, and a large spoonful of brown sugar; rub them all well together, and then rub your mutton well with this mixture twice a day: when you dress it, wash off the spice with warm water, and roast it in paste, as we have ordered the haunch of venison: a haunch of mutton will take double the quantity of the preparation, and one day longer preparing.
Obs.—Ingenious epicures have invented many methods to make mutton eat like venison: the above is the best imitation we have met C6 with; and if you get prime mutton, keep it a proper time, and prepare and dress it as above directed, you may depend upon having a most delicious dinner: if it does not possess all the precise flavour of venison, it is certainly the most savoury and elegant way of eating mutton, which, by this process, approximates nearer to the taste of venison than by any other way we have tried, and is not attended with any extraordinary trouble or expense.
Veal requires particular care to roast it a fine brown. Let the fire be the same as for beef, in proportion; a sound large fire for a large joint, and a brisker for a smaller: put it at some distance from the fire to soak thoroughly, and then draw it near to finish it brown. When it is first laid down, it is to be basted with butter; when it is almost done, it is to be basted again, and lightly dredged with a little flour to froth it nicely. With those joints which are not stuffed, send up cakes or balls of forcemeat, (No. 375,) as garnish to the dish, or fried pork sausages. Bacon and greens are also always expected to attend veal.
Of from twelve to fourteen pounds, will require three hours and a half at a good fire: stuff it with forcemeat, (see Receipt, No. 374.) where the bone is taken out, and under the flap, that there may be some of the stuffing left to eat cold, or to season C6v a hash: brown it and froth it in the same way as beef, and pour good melted butter over it; garnish with thin slices of lemon, and cakes or balls of stuffing, No. 374, or No. 375.
Is the best part of the calf: it will take two hours and three quarters roasting. Paper the kidney fat and the back.
Two hours and a half: stuff it with the forcemeat ordered for the fillet of veal, but in the underside.
Will take two hours. The scrag part of a neck of veal is not good roasted; it is best made into a pye, or broth.
An hour and a half. Let the caul remain on till it is almost done, then take it off, to brown it; baste, flour, and froth it.
Trim a fine heart-sweetbread, parboil it for four or five minutes, and throw it into a basin of cold water.
Beat up the yolk of an egg, and prepare some fine bread crumbs. When the sweetbread is cold, C7 dry it thoroughly in a cloth, run a lark spit or a skewer through it, and tie it on the spit: egg it all over with a paste brush, and powder it well with bread crumbs, and put it down to roast: twenty or thirty minutes will dress them.
For sauce, fried bread crumbs round them and melted butter, with a little mushroom catsup and lemon juice.
Obs.—Instead of spitting them, you may put them into a tin Dutch oven.
Is a delicate, tender meat, easily spoiled in the dressing; the fire must be small and brisk, and kept clear all the while; the meat must be papered on the outside; and to the usual accompaniments of roast meat, green mint sauce is commonly added.
Grass lamb is in season from Easter to Michaelmas.
House lamb from Christmas to Lady-day.
Of eight pounds, will take from an hour and three quarters to two hours, basted and frothed in the same way as beef.
Of ten pounds, two hours.
N. B. It is a pretty general custom, when you take off the shoulder from the ribs, to squeeze a C7v Seville orange over them, and sprinkle them with a little pepper and salt.
Of five pounds, an hour and a half to three quarters.
With a quick fire an hour.
An hour and a quarter: stew the scrag for gravy.
An hour and a quarter.
An hour.
Three quarters of an hour.
The prime season for pork is from Michaelmas to March. Take particular care it be done enough: other meats underdone are unpleasant to some, but pork is uneatable by all.—Remember your mustard pot.
C8Of eight pounds, will require two hours and a half: score the skin across in narrow stripes, about half an inch apart; stuff the knuckle with a little sage and onion minced fine; rub a little sweet oil on the skin with a paste brush, or a goose feather; this makes the crackling crisp and brown much better than basting it with dripping; and it will be a better colour than all the art and diligence of cookery can make it any other way. This way of dressing, also, always prevents the skin from blistering.
Parboil it for half an hour, take off the skin, and then put it down to roast, and baste it with butter, and make a savoury powder of dried and powdered sage, ground black pepper, salt, nutmeg, and bread crumbs; sprinkle it with this from time to time, as it roasts; put half a pint of made gravy into the dish.
Of seven or eight pounds may be dressed in the above manner: it will take an hour and a half roasting.
Usually weighs about eight or nine pounds, and will take from two to three hours to roast it well; C8v not exactly according to its weight, but from the thickness of the meat upon it, which varies very much: lay the thick end nearest to the fire. A proper bald sparerib (so called because almost all the meat is pared off,) with a good clear fire, will be done in an hour and a half.
When you lay it down, dust on some flour, and baste it with a little butter; dry twelve sage leaves, and rub them through a hair sieve: about a quarter of an hour before the meat is done, baste it, strew on the pulverized sage, and dust on a ladle of flour, and sprinkle it with a little salt.
Obs.—Make it a general rule never to pour gravy over any thing that is roasted; by so doing, the dredging is washed off, and it eats insipid. Some people carve a sparerib by cutting out slices in the thick part at the bottom of the bones: when this meat is cut away, the bones may be easily separated, and are esteemed very sweet picking. Apple sauce, mashed potatoes, and good mustard.
Of five pounds, must be kept to the fire about an hour and a half. Score the skin, and rub it with salad oil, as directed in the receipt for the leg; and you may sprinkle over it some of the savoury powder recommended for the mock goose.
Is parted down the back-bone, so as to have but one side. A good fire will roast it in two hours: if not parted, three hours.
C9A roasting pig is considered to be in primest order for the spit when about three weeks old; should be fat, and newly killed. It is not like other meats, good as long as they are sweet. The pig loses part of its goodness every hour after it is killed. To be in perfection, it should be killed in the morning to eat at dinner; and it requires very nice and careful roasting; the ends must have much more fire than the middle. For this purpose is contrived an iron to hang before the middle part, called a pig-iron. When the cook has not this, she must keep the fire fiercest at the two ends. Take the crumb of a stale twopenny loaf, i.e. about four ounces, rub it through a cullender; mince fine a handful of sage, about two ounces and a half, and a large onion, about an ounce and a half*; mix these together with some pepper and salt, and a bit of butter as big as an egg; fill the belly of the pig with this, and sew it up; lay it to the fire, and take half a pound of fresh butter and keep basting it till it is quite done, and do not leave it a moment, for it requires the most vigilant attendance.
Roast it at a clear brisk fire, at some distance, that the crackling may get nicely crisped and browned without being blistered or burnt: it will be enough in about an hour and a half. Before you take it off the spit, cut off the head, and part that and the body down the middle; chop the C9v brains very fine with some boiled sage, and mix them with some good beef gravy in a sauce-tureen. Send up plenty of gravy in the dish, and a tureenful besides. Lay your pig back to back into the dish, with one half of the head on one side, the other half on the other side, and the ears one at each end, which you must take care to make nice and crisp, or you will get scolded as well as the good man was who bought his wife a pig with only one ear.
Obs.—Some professors of cookery insist upon it that nothing so well produces and preserves the beauty and crispness of the crackling as sweet oil, applied as directed in the receipt to roast a leg of pork.
* Boil the sage and onion in a little water (before they are cut); it softens and takes off the rawness of their flavour.
A fowl and a turkey require the same management at the fire, only the latter will take more time. Let them be carefully picked, &c. and twist up a sheet of large clean writing paper, light it, and thoroughly singe the turkey all over, turning it about over the flame. Be careful when you draw them to preserve the liver, and not to break the gall-bag, as no washing will take off the bitter taste it gives, where it once touches. Prepare a nice clear brisk fire, for if the fire be poor and dead, your poultry will be vapid and ill-tasted. A very brisk and clear fire will only answer the purpose, and this will give them their true taste, and make them look beautiful.
Prepare your stuffing according to one of the receipts in the chapter of forcemeats, &c. No. 376; C10 stuff this under the breast where the craw was taken out, paper the breast, place the liver under one wing, and the gizzard under the other, baste it with butter, and dredge it with flour, keep it at a distance from the fire for the first half hour, that it may warm gradually, then put it nearer, and when it is plumped up, and the steam draws in toward the fire, it is nearly enough, then take off the paper, put a bit of butter into your basting ladle, and as it melts baste the turkey with it, and dredge it lightly again with flour; this will raise a much finer froth than using the drippings out of the pan. A very large turkey of fourteen or fifteen pounds weight, will require three hours to roast it thoroughly; a middling sized one of eight or ten pounds, about two hours; and a small one may be done in an hour and a half.
Fried pork sausages are a very savoury and relishing accompaniment to either roasted or boiled poultry. A turkey thus garnished, is called “an alderman in chains.” The sausage meat may be used as a stuffing also, instead of the ordinary forcemeat. In cold weather a turkey eats the better for being kept eight or ten days. If you wish it to be tender, never dress it till at least four or five days after it has been killed, or a fowl till after three. Hen turkeys are preferable to cocks for whiteness and tenderness, and the small fleshy ones are the most esteemed.
Send up with them, oyster, egg, bread, or gravy sauce.
These must be killed a couple of days before C10v they are dressed, or they will eat tough: they are managed exactly in the same manner, and sent up with the same sauces as a turkey, only require proportionately less time at the fire: a full grown fowl three quarters, a moderate size one half an hour, and a chicken ten minutes less.
Pork sausages fried are in general a favourite accompaniment, or stuff them with turkey stuffing; (see Forcemeats, No. 374, 5, 6, and 7;) put in plenty of it, so as to plump out the fowl, which must be tied closely both at the neck and rump to keep in the stuffing: some cooks put the liver of the fowl into this forcemeat, others rub it up with the flour and butter, to thicken and give flavour to the gravy, which receives further improvement by stewing the legs of the fowl in it, instead of sending them to table, and the fowl looks much better without them.
Obs.—The age in poultry makes all the difference: nothing is tenderer than a chicken, and few things are tougher or harder of digestion than an old cock or hen: the season of perfection in poultry is just before they have quite come to their full growth, and before they have begun to harden.
When your goose is well picked, singed, and cleaned, take two large onions*, and half as much C11 sage, chop them very fine, a large breakfastcupful of stale bread crumbs, and some pepper and salt, add to them the yolk of an egg, and incorporate the whole well together; put this stuffing into the goose; do not quite fill it with stuffing, but leave a little room for it to swell, spit it, and tie it on the spit at both ends, so as it will not swing round, and to keep the stuffing from coming out. An hour and a quarter will roast a large full grown goose: send up rich gravy and apple sauce with it.
For another stuffing for geese, see No. 388, Chapter on Forcemeats, &c.
Obs.—The Michaelmas goose is famous in the mouths of the million; but for those who eat with delicacy, it is at that time too full grown. The true period when the goose is in its highest perfection, is when it has just acquired its full growth, and not begun to harden. If the green goose is insipid, the Michaelmas goose is rank; the fine time is between both; from the last week in June to the first week in September.
* If the flavour of the raw onions is too strong, cut them in slices and lay them in cold water for a couple of hours, or add as much apple or potatoe as you have onion.
The only difference in roasting a green, or a full grown goose, consists in leaving out the sage and onion, and putting only a seasoning of pepper and salt into it, and that forty or fifty minutes will roast it.
The following forcemeat is sometimes introduced: chop some sweet herbs, grate some bread, nutmeg, pepper and salt, moisten with an egg, C11v and mix with it the liver cut small, and a bit of minced bacon; mix all well together, and fill the body of the goose with it.
Mind your duck is well cleaned, and then wipe it out with a clean cloth; then take an ounce of onion, and half an ounce of green sage, chop them very fine, and mix them with two ounces, i.e. about a teacupful of bread crumbs, a little pepper and salt, and the yolk of an egg to bind it; mix these thoroughly together, and put it in the duck. For another stuffing, see No. 388. Thirty or forty minutes will be enough to roast it, according to the size: contrive to have the feet crisp, as some people are very fond of them: to do this, you must have a very sharp fire.
N. B. If you think the raw onion will make too strong an impression upon your palate, parboil it.
For the following observations I am indebted to Major Hawker’s entertaining and informing work, “Instructions for Young Sportsmen,” London, 1816.
“Old pheasants may be distinguished by the length and sharpness of their spurs, which in the younger ones are short and blunt.
“Old partridges are always to be known during the early part of the season, by their legs being of a pale blue, instead of a yellowish brown: so C12 that when a Londoner receives his brace of blue legged birds in September, be should immediately snap their legs, and draw out the sinews, by means of pulling off the feet, instead of leaving them to torment him, like so many strings, when he would be wishing to enjoy his repast. This remedy to make the legs tender, removes the objection to old birds, provided the weather will admit of their being sufficiently kept; and indeed they are then often preferable, from having a higher flavour.
“If birds are over-kept, their legs will be dry, their eyes much sunk, and the vent will become soft, and somewhat discoloured. The first place to ascertain if they are beginning to be high, is the inside of their bills, where it is not amiss to put some hether straw, or spice, if you want to keep them for any length of time. Birds that have fallen into the water, or have not had time to get cold, should not be packed like others, but sent openly, and dressed as soon as possible. Sportsmen are often heartily abused by their acquaintance, (I cannot yet bring myself to hackney the word friends quite so fluently as I ought to do,) for sending them ‘tough and good-for-nothing game,’ while all the blame should, in many instances, rest with themselves, or their pudding-headed cook, who may be dresses an old pheasant or hare the very day after it was killed; or perhaps, while engrossed in a story or argument, leaves it to roast away, till there remains neither juice nor flavour. All game should be kept till properly tender. The following sauce for wild fowl has been preferred to about fifty others; and, C12v at one time, was not to be got without the fee of a guinea:
Port wine, or claret | 1 glass. |
Sauce à la Russe*, (the older the better) |
1 tablespoonful |
Catsup | 1 ditto. |
Lemon juice | 1 ditto. |
Lemon peel | 1 slice. |
Shalot, (a large) | 1 sliced. |
Cayenne Pepper, (the darkest, not that like brickdust) |
4 grains |
Mace | 1 or 2 blades. |
To be scalded, strained, and added to the mere gravy which comes from the bird in roasting. To complete this, the fowl should be cut up in a silver dish that has a lamp under it, while the sauce is simmering with it.
* By à la Russe we suppose cavice, or coratch, or soy, is meant.
Make a paste of flour and water, as much as will cover a haunch of venison, wipe it over with a dry cloth in every part, and take off the skin from the upper side, rub a large sheet of paper all over with butter, and cover the venison with it, then roll out the paste about three quarters of an inch thick, lay this all over the fat side, then cover it well with three or four sheets of strong white paper, and tie it very well on with packthread; have a strong close fire, and baste your venison as soon as you lay it down to roast, or the paper and string will burn; it must be well basted all the time. A haunch of sixteen pounds will take four D hours and a half roasting: a quarter of an hour before it is done, the string must be cut, and the paste carefully taken off; now baste it with butter, dredge it lightly with flour, and when the froth rises, and it has got a fine light brown colour, garnish the knuckle bone with wet writing paper, and send it up, with good gravy in one boat, and currant-jelly sauce in the other.
Obs. Buck venison is in greatest perfection from Midsummer to Michaelmas, and Doe from November to January.
Are to be managed in the same way as the haunch; only, as they are smaller joints, they will not require so much time.
The best way to spit a neck, is to put three skewers through, and put the spit between the skewers and the bones.
When very young, is trussed, stuffed, and spitted the same way as a hare; but they are better eating when of the size of a house lamb, they are then roasted in quarters, and the hind quarter is most esteemed. They must be put down to a very quick fire, and either basted all the time they are roasting, or be covered with sheets of fat bacon: when done, baste it with butter, and dredge it with a little salt and flour till you make a nice froth on it.
Send up venison sauce with it. See the preceding receipt, or No. 344, &c.
DvThe first points of consideration are, how old is the hare? and how long it has been killed? When young, it is easy of digestion, and very nourishing; but when old, the contrary in every respect. To ascertain the age, examine the first joint of the fore foot; you will find a small knob if it is a leveret, which disappears as it grows older: then examine the ears; if they tear easily, it will eat tender, if they are tough, so will be the hare, which will eat better stewed, or jugged, than it will roasted. When newly killed, the body is stiff; as it grows stale, it become limper. As soon as you receive a hare, take out the liver, parboil it, and keep it for the stuffing, as some are very fond of it; but do not use it, if it be not quite fresh and good. Wipe the hare quite dry, rub the inside with pepper, and hang it up in a dry cool place.
Do not prepare too fierce a fire, or you will burn the outside before the inside is warm.
When you have paunched and skinned your hare, wash it and lay it in a large pan of cold water for four or five hours, changing the water two or three times; lay it in a clean cloth, and dry it well, then truss it, and take a twopenny loaf and rub the crumb through a cullender, then take some dried sweet herbs rubbed fine, a handful of parsley, and a roll of very thin cut lemon peel minced very fine, some pepper and salt, and a bit of butter as big as a walnut: mix all well together with the yolk of an egg, and moisten it with milk: D2 put this pudding into the belly of your hare, sew it up tight, cut the neck skin to let the blood out, or it will never appear to be done enough, spit it, and put a quart of milk* into your drippingpan, and baste it continually till you think it is nearly done, (which it will be in about an hour and a quarter;) if it wants more, let it have it, or it will be hard and dry: when almost roasted enough, put a quarter of a pound of butter into your basting-ladle, and baste it with this, and flour it, and froth it nicely. Serve with good gravy, and currant-jelly. For another stuffing, see receipt No. 389. Some cooks cut off the head, and divide it, and lay one half on each side of the hare.
Obs.—Hares should always be paunched in the field when caught, or as soon as they are brought home, by making an incision in the belly about four inches long, then lay hold of the head and ears with one hand, and the rump with the other, shake it for a little while backwards and forwards, and the guts and stomach will fall out, leaving the heart, kidneys, and liver behind; wipe it, &c. as we have directed in the beginning of this receipt, and put in a wisp of dry straw or hay; it will then keep as long again.
Cold roast hare will make an excellent soup, chopped to pieces, and stewed in three quarts of water for a couple of hours: the stuffing will be a D2v very agreeable substitute for sweet herbs and seasoning. See receipt for Hare soup, No. 241.
* Mrs. Charlotte Mason, in her “Complete System of Cookery,” page 283, says she has “tried all the different things recommended to baste a hare with, and never found any thing so good as small beer; our receipt says milk; but, perhaps, after all, plain water is better than any thing.”
If your fire is clear and sharp, thirty minutes will roast a young one, and forty minutes a full-grown rabbit.
When you lay it down, baste it with butter, and dredge it lightly and carefully with flour, that you may have it frothy, and of a fine light brown. While the rabbit is roasting, boil its liver with some parsley; when tender, chop them together; melt your butter, and divide the parsley and liver into equal parts, one of which stir into the melted butter, and divide the other into half a dozen small parcels, and garnish the dish with them.
Obs.—A large, well grown, but young warren-rabbit, kept some time after it has been killed, roasted with a stuffing in its belly, eats very like a hare, to the nature of which it approaches, inasmuch it is very nice nourishing food when young, but hard and unwholesome when old.
Requires a smart fire, but not a fierce one. Thirty minutes will roast a young bird; a full grown pheasant will require forty. Pick and draw it, and cut a slit in the back of the neck, and take out the craw, but don’t cut the head off; wipe the inside of the bird with a clean cloth, twist the legs close to the body, leave the feet on, D3 but cut the toes off; turn the head under the wing, and skewer the wings close to the back: baste it, butter and froth it, &c., as we have given you instructions to do in the receipt to roast fowls and turkeys.
If you have only one pheasant and wish for a companion for it, get a fine young fowl of as near as may be the same size as the bird to be matched, truss with the head on, turned exactly like the pheasant’s, and dress it according to the above directions, and very few persons will discover which is the pheasant, and which is the fowl, especially if the latter has been kept four or five days.
Are cleaned and trussed in the same manner as a pheasant, and the breast is so plump it will require almost as much time roasting: send up with them bread sauce. No. 321, and good gravy.
If you wish to preserve them longer than you think they will keep good undressed, half roast them, and they will keep two or three days longer.
Are dressed like pheasants and partridges: the black cock will take as much time as a pheasant, and the moor game and grouse as the partridge: D3v send up with them currant-jelly and fried bread crumbs.
For roasting a wild duck, you must have a clear brisk fire; for it must be browned upon the outside, without being sodden within. To have it well frothed and full of gravy is the nicety. Prepare the fire by stirring and raking just before it is laid down, and fifteen or twenty minutes will do it. This is the fashionable way; but if it is required a little more done, allow it a few minutes more: if it is too much, it will lose all its fine high flavour.
For the sauce, see No. 338.
Are dressed exactly as the wild duck, only that less time is requisite for a widgeon, and still less for a teal.
Spit them on a small bird spit, put them to roast at a clear fire, and lay a slice of bread in the drippingpan under them to catch the trail*; baste them with butter, and froth them with flour; lay the toast on a hot dish, and the birds on it; pour some good beef gravy into the dish, and send some up in a boat: about twenty, or D4 twenty-five minutes will roast them. Garnish with slices of lemon.
* This bird, it seems, has so insinuated itself into the favour of refined gourmands, that they pay it the same honours as the grand Lama, making a ragout of its excrements, and devouring them with ecstasy.
Differ little from woodcocks, unless in size: they are to be dressed in the same way; only they are, according to their smaller size, done in from five to ten minutes less time.
When the pigeons are trussed for roasting, chop a handful of green parsley very fine, season it with a little pepper and salt, and fill the belly of each bird with this mixture. Roast them at a hot clear fire, they will be enough in about fifteen or twenty minutes: send up parsley and butter in the dish under them, and some in a boat.
Obs.—If the pigeons are fresh, they will this way have their full relish, for there is no bird has a finer flavour, but it goes entirely off with a very little keeping; nor is it ever so well preserved as by roasting: a little melted butter may be put into the dish with them, and the gravy that runs from them will mix with it into fine sauce. Pigeons are in their greatest perfection in September, as there then is the most plentiful and best food for them: and the finest growth for them is just when they are full feathered. When they are in the pen-feathers they are flabby; when they are full grown and have flown some time, they are hard; just at the period of their growth, when they are at perfection, and have had no time to D4v harden, they are best; their juices are then in full perfection, and the flesh in all its delicacy.
This was the secret of Solomon, the famous pigeon-feeder of Turnham Green, who is celebrated by the poet Gay,
“That Turnham Green which dainty pigeons fed,
But feeds no more, for Solomon is dead.”
Fill their bellies with parsley clean washed and chopped, the livers minced fine, grated bread and hard egg, an equal quantity of each, season it with a very little beaten mace or nutmeg, and pounded all together with the yolk of an egg; tie the neck end close, so that it cannot come out; put a skewer through the legs, and have a little iron on purpose with six hooks to it; on each hook hang a pigeon, fasten one end of a string to the chimney piece, and the other end to the iron (which is commonly called a poor man’s spit,) flour them, and baste them with butter, turn them steadily and gently, and they will roast very nicely, and be full of gravy: garnish with crisp parsley.
Obs.—This is by far the best way of roasting pigeons, as it preserves their gravy; when you roast them on a spit, much of the gravy runs out; if you stuff them and broil them whole, you cannot save the gravy so well, though they are very good with parsley and butter in the dish, or split and broiled with pepper and salt.
These delicate little birds are in high season in November. When they are picked, gutted, and D5 cleaned, truss them with a leaf of red sage to every lark between the joints of the legs; beat up the yolk of an egg, and with a feather egg the larks, and then sprinkle them well with bread crumbs; cut some thin slices of fat bacon about three inches long and an inch broad; lay the birds in a row, side by side, with a piece of bacon between every two larks; spit them on a lark spit, which tie on to a larger spit, having a slice of bacon on both the outsides of the larks; baste them well while they are roasting: for the sauce, fry some grated bread crisped in butter, and set it to drain before the fire that it may harden: serve the crumbs under the larks when you dish them, and garnish them with slices of lemon.
These birds are dressed in the same way as larks.
See receipt for boiling. No. 176.
We give no receipt for roasting lobster, being of opinion with Dr. King, that
“By roasting that which our forefathers boiled,
And boiling what they roasted, much is spoiled.”
skip to Frying
A Yorkshire pudding is an excellent accompaniment. (No. 595.)
[I don’t know where he got “595”. The only mention of Yorkshire pudding is No. 552, “Yorkshire Pudding under Roast Meat”.]
(See . . . the Receipt to Hash Beef.) No. 506.
punctuation unchanged
[The “No. 506” really belongs inside the parentheses. The second edition is even more confused: “(See the Receipt to Hash or Broil Beef,) (No. 506,) and (No. 484,) and (Nos. 486, and 487.)”]
Grass lamb is in season from Easter to Michaelmas. House lamb from Christmas to Lady-day.
[Michaelmas and Lady Day (the Annunciation) are on 29 September and 25 March, respectively. Easter, being variable, could come either before or after Lady Day. Wouldn’t it make more sense to specify the same holiday both times?]
In the Table of Contents, this item is labeled “Observations on dressing Game”.
an old pheasant or hare the very day after it was killed
text has very day day after
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
Cayenne Pepper 4 grains
[A modern teaspoon is 80 grains (in Kitchiner’s time it was 60), so this is a very modest amount of cayenne.]
To be scalded . . . . simmering with it
[This final paragraph ought to have quotation marks fore and aft, since the whole section is quoted from Hawker’s Instructions. In the 1826 fifth edition—the earliest I find online—it begins on page 238. While there, I confirmed that Hawker did not say “day day”.]
I can’t make head or tail of these instructions. Does the paper go over the paste, under it—or both?
D5v
Frying is often a convenient mode of cookery, as it may be performed on a fire which will not do for broiling; and by the introduction of the pan between the meat and the fire, things get more equally dressed.
Be very particular, in frying, never to use any oil, butter, lard, or drippings, but what is quite clean, fresh, and free from salt. Any thing dirty spoils the look, any thing bad tasted or stale spoils the flavour, and salt prevents its taking a browning. Fine olive oil is by far the most delicate medium for frying; but to have the best oil is very expensive, and bad oil spoils every thing that is dressed with it. For general purposes, and especially for fish, or bread, clean fresh lard* is the best thing to fry with: it is not so expensive as oil or clarified butter, and does almost as D6 well as either, except for cutlets and collops. Butter often burns before you are aware of it, and what you fry will get a dark, dirty appearance. If you use oil, it must be the best olive or salad oil; the inferior eating oil is often bad tasted and stale.
* If drained through a hair sieve, it will do a second time as well as it does the first.
Drippings, if clean and fresh, are very good to fry with; if they are not clean, they may be easily clarified by the means directed for that purpose in receipt, No. 83.
To know when the fat is of a proper heat, according to what you are going to fry, is the great secret in frying.
To fry fish, parsley, potatoes, or any thing that contains much water, your fire must be very sharp and clear, and the fat extremely hot*, which you may be pretty sure it is when it has done hissing and is still. We cannot insist too strongly on this point: if the fat is not very hot, you cannot fry fish either to a good colour, or firm and crisp.
* To be quite certain, the best way is to throw a little bit of parsley or bread into the pan; if it fries crisp, the fat is ready; if it burns the bread and is too hot, cut a turnip in slices and put in it; this takes off the heat of the fat and the burnt taste sooner than any thing.
Bread, eggs, and little things must be put into D6v the pan as soon as the fat is melted; as less fat is wanted, it gets hot so much sooner, they would be burnt before they are done enough.
Always have a good light to fry by, that you may see when you have got the right colour: a lamp fixed on a stem with a loaded foot, that has an arm which will lengthen out, and slide up and down like a reading candlestick, is a most useful appendage to a kitchen fire-place, which are seldom light enough for the nicer operations of cookery. After all, if you do not drain the fat well from what you have fried, your cooking will do you no credit, especially those things that are full dressed in bread crumbs.
To fry fish in general, see the receipt to fry soles, which is the only circumstantial account of this process that has yet been printed, if the cook will study it with a little attention, she will soon learn to fry fish in the utmost perfection.
D7
Put your drippings into a clean saucepan over a clear fire; when it is just going to boil, take it off, and pour them into a pan half full of hot water; set it in a cool place till the next day, you will find the drippings at the top of the water as clean and white as can be.
Most people put the drippings into cold water, but that sets them at once, and the foul parts will not be deposited half so well.
Obs.—Sweet and well cleansed drippings, and the fat skimmings of the broth pot, will baste every thing as well as butter, except game and poultry, and should supply the place of butter for common fries, and for frying most things are equal, if not superior to lard.
Cut beef or mutton suet into small thin slices, put it into a thick and well tinned saucepan, and set it over a very slow stove, or in an oven, till it is all melted but the skins; strain it into a clean brown pan through a hair sieve. When quite cold, tie a paper over it and keep it for use. Hogslard is prepared in the same way.
Obs.—The waste occasioned by the present D7v fashion of feeding cattle till they are almost as much fat as lean, may, by good management, be in some measure prevented, by cutting off the superfluous suet, and preparing it as above, or make puddings of it.
Let the steaks be cut rather thinner than for broiling, put some butter into an iron fryingpan, when it is hot lay in the steaks, and keep turning them till they are done enough; lay them in a hot dish before the fire; then put a tablespoonful of flour into the fryingpan with half a pint of hot water, a tablespoonful of ale, or small beer, that is neither bitter nor stale, a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper; rub and boil up together for a couple of minutes, and run the sauce through a hair sieve over the steaks.
Obs.—We like this way of dressing a beef steak much better than broiling, as all the gravy is preserved, and the meat eats more tender and is more equally dressed.
Fry the steaks according to the directions given in the preceding receipt; lay them on a dish to keep hot: have ready some onions sliced as thin as possible, fry them brown in the same pan the steaks were fried in; when done, take them up with a fish slice, and lay them on the steaks, then finish the sauce as in the foregoing receipt, or prepare the onion sauce as No. 299.
D8To prevent their bursting in the fryingpan, lay them in a deep dish, pour boiling water over them, and let them be till they are cold; then prick them with a fork, put them into a fryingpan, and shake them about till they are well browned.
No butter or lard, &c. is required; putting them in the boiling water prevents the skins from cracking.
Obs.—Poached eggs, pease-pudding, or fried cabbage sent up with them, are excellent accompaniments.
Parboil them, let them get cold, and then cut them in pieces three quarters of an inch thick, dip them in the yolk of an egg, then in fine bread crumbs, with a little pepper, salt, and very little nutmeg; put some fresh butter into a fryingpan; when it boils, put in the sweetbreads, and fry them a fine brown. For sauce, mushroom catsup and melted butter.
Parboil them, slice them as before, and fry them a delicate brown, take care to drain the fat well from them, and garnish them with slices of lemon, and sprigs of parsley or chervil. Or when parboiled, &c., dip them in the following batter: an ounce of flour, an egg, a tablespoonful D8v of milk, and the same of table beer, a little white pepper and salt beaten together with a wooden spoon for ten minutes: fry them a nice brown, put a little catsup and butter in the dish, and garnish it with fried parsley.
Take care to have a fresh sweetbread; for it spoils almost sooner than any thing, and should be parboiled as soon as it comes in. This is called blanching, or setting it. Mutton kidneys may be broiled and sent up with the sweetbreads.
Let your cutlets be about half an inch thick, trim them, and flatten them with a cleaver; you may fry them in fresh butter, or good beef dripping; or first fry some bacon, and the fat of that melting will leave enough in the pan to fry your veal: when brown on one side, turn them and do the other; or if the fire is very fierce, they must change sides oftener. The time they will take depends on the thickness of the cutlet and the heat of the fire: half an inch thick will take about fifteen minutes. Put the trimmings into a stewpan with a pint of water, an onion, a roll of lemon peel, a blade of mace, a sprig of thyme and parsley; let it stew over a slow fire an hour, then strain it, and put half an ounce of butter into a stewpan; as soon as it is melted, mix with it a tablespoonful of flour, stew it over the fire a few minutes, then add the gravy by degrees till it is all mixed, boil it up for five minutes, and strain it through a tammis sieve, and put it to the cutlets: you may add some browning, catsup, or lemon pickle, &c. to it.
D9Cut your veal into pieces a little bigger than a crown piece, chop fine, or, what is better, take a little of the dried powder of parsley, lemon thyme (savoury or marjoram), lemon peel a little grated, nutmeg and mace, pepper and salt; rub these well together in a mortar, beat up the yolk and white of an egg together on a plate, dip the cutlets in it, and then strew the seasoning over them, dip them again in the egg, and then strew some fine bread crumbs over them, put a little butter into a cold fryingpan over a slow fire, and fry them a nice brown. Make gravy as in the last receipt.
Are dressed in the same way.
Cut as many chops from the loin as you want, about half an inch thick; trim them neatly; put a fryingpan on the fire; as soon as it is hot, put in your chops, turning them often till brown all over, they will be enough in fifteen minutes: take one upon a plate and try it; if done, season with pepper and salt. For gravy, keep half a tablespoonful of the fat in the pan you fried the chops in, put to it about a teaspoonful of flour, rub it well together over the fire, as soon as it looks a little brown put a teacupful of water, season D9v with salt, give it a boil up, strain through a hair sieve to your chops, or you may send them up with their own gravy in the dish.
Obs.—A little powdered sage, &c., strewed over them, will give them a nice relish. See No. 51.
Cut your veal into pieces a little bigger than a crown piece
[38.61mm, or exactly the size of a post-1990 £5 coin. This is about the size of an old-style US silver dollar, if you are old enough to remember those.]
D10
Cleanliness is extremely essential in this mode of cookery. Keep your gridiron quite clean between the bars, and bright on the top; and when it is hot, wipe it well with a linen cloth: just before you use it, rub the bars with clean mutton suet, which will prevent the meat from being marked by the gridiron; take care to prepare your fire in time, so that it may burn very clear; the briskness and clearness of the fire are indispensable. Very frequent turning is necessary to some things, and very little to others; be very attentive to watch the moment any thing is done; never hasten in any manner any thing that is broiling, lest you make smoke and spoil it. Let the bars of the gridiron be all hot through, but yet not burning hot upon the surface: this is the perfect and fine condition of the gridiron; for if it is hastily heated, the bars will be hot enough to scorch the things laid on them on the outside, as the bars D10v must always keep away so much of the heat as their breadth covers: it is absolutely necessary they should be thoroughly hot before the thing to be cooked be laid on them. The bars of gridirons should be made concave, terminating in a trough to catch the gravy; and also keep the fat from dropping into the fire and making a smoke, which will spoil your broil. The upright gridirons are the best, as they can be used at any fire without fear of smoke, and all the gravy is preserved.
D11
Those who are nice about steaks never attempt to have them except in weather that permits the meat to be hung till it is tender. The best steaks are those cut from the middle of the rump, that has been killed at least four days, when they can be cut about six inches long, four inches wide, and half an inch thick, let them be beaten with a chopper, or rolling-pin, to make them tender; take care to have a very clear brisk fire, and throw a little salt on it, to take off the sulphur, make the gridiron hot, and set it slanting, to prevent the fat from dropping into the fire, and making a smoke. For want of these little attentions, this very common dish, which every body is supposed capable of dressing, seldom comes to table in perfection.
Put a tablespoonful of catsup and a little minced shalot into a dish before the fire, while you broil the steak; turn it often, to keep the gravy in: it will be done in ten minutes; rub a bit of butter over it, and send it up garnished with horseradish. No. 356.
* The season for these is from the 29th of Sept. to the 25th of March.
D11vCut the kidneys through the long way, score them, and broil them over a very clear fire, turning them often till they are done, which will take about ten minutes, if the fire is brisk. Lay them on the dish, sprinkle them with a little salt and pepper, and rub a piece of butter over them, or fry them in butter, and make gravy for them in the pan, (after you have taken out the kidneys,) by putting in a teaspoonful of flour; as soon as it looks brown, put in as much water as will make gravy for your kidneys: they take five minutes more to fry than to broil.
Cut out the inside of a sirloin of beef close to the bone, in steaks nearly a quarter of an inch thick; take off all the skins, and season it with pepper and salt, then warm an ounce of butter on a plate, just enough to melt it a little, but not to make it into a thin oil, mix the yolk of an egg with it, dip the steaks in on both sides, and then in fine bread crumbs; lay them on a clean gridiron, over a clear slow fire; if the fire is sharp, the bread crumbs will be burnt before the beef is done: when you turn them, take them off the fire, and lay them on a dish to catch the gravy: when they are dressed, put them on a hot dish with their own gravy, and a spoonful of mushroom catsup.
Pick and truss a fowl the same as for boiling, cut it open down the back, wipe the inside clean with a D12 cloth, season it with a little white pepper and salt, and lay it on a gridiron over a very clear slow fire, with the inside of the fowl towards the fire; turn it in about ten minutes, and it will take about ten minutes more to broil it till it is a fine brown. Lay it on a hot dish, with mushroom sauce thrown over it, or melted butter flavoured with mushroom catsup or cavice: garnish with the liver and the gizzard, slit and notched, and seasoned with pepper and salt, and broiled nicely brown, and some slices of lemon. For sauce, see No. 355.
Clean them well, split them down the backs, and pepper and salt them; broil them over a clear slow fire; turn them often, and put a little butter on them: when they are done, pour over them, either stewed or pickled mushrooms, and melted butter.
Garnish with fried sippets; or, when the pigeons are trussed as for boiling, flat them with a cleaver, taking care not to break the skin, or the backs, or breasts; season them with pepper and salt, dip them in melted butter, and dredge them well with grated bread, then lay them on the gridiron, and turn them frequently: if your fire is not very clear, lay them on a sheet of paper well buttered, to keep them from getting smoked.
Same sauce as in the preceding receipt.
[Footnote] The season for these is from the 29th of Sept. to the 25th of March.
[Elsewhere in the book he would say “from Michaelmas to Lady-day”.]
D12v
There is no article in which the difference between an elegant and an ordinary table is more seen, than in the dressing of greens: they may be the same at one place as at another; however, their look and taste are extremely different, and this chiefly from the careless way in which they are cooked. As to the quality of vegetables, freshness is their only value and excellence; the eye easily discovers if they have been kept too long; they soon lose their beauty in all respects. Roots, greens, &c. and the various productions of the garden, when first gathered, are plump and firm, and have a fragrant freshness, that no art can give them again, when they have lost it by being kept too long, though it will revive them a little to put them into cold spring water for some time. They are in greatest perfection just before they come to their full growth. Soft water will preserve the E green colour best; if you have only hard water, put to it a teaspoonful of salt of wormwood.
Take care to wash and cleanse them from dust, dirt, and insects: this requires great attention: pick off all the outside leaves, and trim them nicely, and lay them in a pan of clean water far an hour before you dress them. They should always be boiled in a saucepan by themselves, and have plenty of water: if meat is boiled with them in the same pot, they spoil the look and taste of each other.
The water must always boil before you put in what you intend to boil in it, which should boil briskly, in an open saucepan; the quicker they boil, the greener they will be; and when the vegetables sink, they are generally done enough, if the water has been kept constantly boiling; but if it has not, they will lose their colour. Take them up immediately, or they will lose their colour and goodness. Drain the water from them thoroughly before you send them to table. This humble branch of cookery requires very constant attention: if vegetables are too long on the fire, they lose all their beauty and flavour, and if they are not thoroughly boiled tender, they are tremendously indigestible, and much more troublesome to the stomach than underdone meats. Ev Above all, take care your vegetables are fresh; for as the fishmonger often suffers for the sins of the cook, so the cook often gets undeservedly blamed for not well dressing vegetables, which, in this metropolis, are often kept so long, that no art can make them either look or eat well.
E2
Although this most useful vegetable is dressed every day, in almost every family, it is very seldom well prepared; and for one plate of potatoes that comes to table as it should, ten are spoiled.
Be careful in your choice of potatoes; no vegetable varies so much in quality. The reddish kind are better than the white, but the yellowish looking ones are generally the best. Choose them of a moderate size, free from all blemishes, and fresh, and buy them in the mould; they should not be wetted till they are cleaned to boil. Peel and wash them, fill the saucepan half full of potatoes of equal size*, and put to them as much cold water as will cover them about an inch: most boiled things are spoiled by having too little water, but potatoes are commonly spoiled by too much: they must merely be covered, and a little allowed for waste in boiling, so that they may be covered at last.
Set them on a moderate fire till they boil, then take them off, and set them by the side of the fire to boil gently (the slower the better) till they are soft enough to admit a fork, (there is no dependence on the usual test of their cracking or breaking, which, if they are boiled fast, some potatoes will do when they are not half done, and the inside is quite hard,) then pour the water from them, uncover the saucepan, and set it by the side E2v of the fire for fifteen or twenty minutes, that their superfluous moisture may evaporate, and they will become perfectly dry and mealy.
This method of managing potatoes is in every respect superior to steaming them; they are dressed in half the time, and will retain no moisture.
Obs.—There are so many different sorts and sizes of potatoes, it is impossible to say how long they will take doing; the best way is to try them with a fork. Moderate sized potatoes will generally be enough in fifteen or twenty minutes.
* Or the small ones will be done to pieces before the large ones are boiled enough.
Dress your potatoes exactly as before directed, put them on a gridiron over a very clear, brisk fire; turn them as they brown, till they are done all over, and send them up dry, with melted butter in a cup.
Peel large potatoes, and slice them the thickness of a two-penny piece; dry them well in a clean cloth, flour them, and fry them in lard. Take care that your lard and fryingpan are quite clean; put it on a quick fire, watch it, and as soon as it boils, and the lard is still, put in the slices of potatoe, and keep moving them till they are crisp; take them up and lay them to drain on a sieve, send them up with a very little salt sprinkled over them.
When boiled as per the first receipt, put them E3 into a stewpan with some nice clean beef drippings, shake them about often for fear of burning till they are of a fine brown, and crisp: drain them well from the fat, and send them up.
Obs.—It will be an elegant improvement to the three last receipts, previous to frying or broiling the potatoes, to dip them in the yolk of an egg, and then in fine sifted bread crumbs.
When your potatoes are boiled, drain and dry them perfectly, and rub them through a cullender, or, what is still better, a coarse hair sieve, into a clean stewpan: to a pound of potatoes put about half an ounce of butter, and a large tablespoonful of milk; mix them well together, and put them by the side of the fire to keep warm; if you put them too near they will get a bad taste.
Obs.—After Lady-day, when the potatoes are getting old and specky, this is the best way of dressing them.
Prepare some boiled onions by putting them through a sieve, and mixing them with the potatoes. In proportioning the onions to the potatoes, you will be guided by your wish to have more or less of their flavour.
Mash the potatoes as before directed; then have some nice scollop shells, very clean, and E3v well buttered; put in your potatoes, make them smooth at the top, score them across with a knife, strew a few fine bread crumbs on them, and sprinkle them with a paste brush with a few drops of melted butter, and set them in a Dutch oven; when they are browned on the top, take them carefully out of the shells and brown the other side. If you have no scollop shells, put them into teacups.
Wash and dry your potatoes, put them in a tin Dutch oven, or cheese toaster; take care not to put them too near at first, or they will get burnt on the outside before they are warmed through. Large potatoes will require two hours to roast them.
Peel and wash large potatoes, put them on the fire in cold water, and let them boil till they are half done; drain the water from them, and put them into an earthen dish, or small tin pan: set them under the meat that is roasting, and baste them with some of the drippings; when they are browned on one side, turn them and brown them all over; send them up round the meat, or in a small dish.
Mix mashed potatoes with the yolk of an egg, roll them into balls, flour them, and fry them in clean drippings. Brown them in a Dutch oven.
E4Are made by adding a quarter of a pound of grated ham to a pound of mashed potatoes with the yolk of a couple of eggs, as in the last receipt.
Obs.—They are an agreeable relish to veal, and make a good supper dish.
Peel, wash, and boil your potatoes till they are soft enough to mash; drain and dry them well, then mash them till they are very fine; season with a little salt, some butter and milk; make a wall of about three inches high and an inch and a half thick all round the dish; set it in a Dutch oven till it is of a fine light brown colour.
Fill the middle with stewed rump steaks, broiled mutton, or lamb chops, or harrico mutton, or pork chops.
Choose those that are free from spots, and the whitest you can pick out; put them on to boil in cold water, and when they begin to crack, strain the water from them, and put them into a clean stewpan by the side of the fire till they are quite dry and fall to pieces; rub them through a sieve on the dish they are to be sent up in, and do not disturb them afterwards.
Wash the potatoes clean, and put them into a E4v closely covered pot, without any water, on a slow fire; the heat very soon draws out sufficient water to stew them in, and the potatoes so managed are dry and mealy, though the same boiled in the common way are hardly eatable.
The best way to clean new potatoes when they are too young to peel, is to rub them with a coarse cloth or a flannel, or scrubbing brush; and proceed as in the first receipt to boil potatoes.
Are boiled in the same manner as potatoes, and dressed in the various ways we have just before directed for potatoes.
Pick them very carefully clean, and wash them thoroughly, and after washing, look them over carefully again; quarter them if you please, if they are very large. Put them into a saucepan with plenty of boiling water; if any scum rises, take it off, put a large spoonful of salt into the saucepan, and boil them till the stalks feel tender. A young cabbage will take about twenty minutes, when full grown, half an hour: see that they are well covered with water all the time, and that no smoke or dirt arises from stirring the fire. By this management, they will look as beautiful when dressed, as they did when growing.
E5See receipt for Bubble and Squeak.
Are boiled in the same manner, but always quarter them when you send them to table.
The receipt we have written for cabbages will answer as well for sprouts, only they will be boiled enough in fifteen or twenty minutes.
Spinach should be picked a leaf at a time, and washed in three or four waters: when perfectly clean, lay it on a sieve, or cullender, to drain the water from it. Put a large saucepan on the fire three parts filled with water; when it boils, put a small handful of salt to it, with the spinach, let it boil as quick as possible till quite tender; it will be enough in about ten minutes, if boiled in plenty of water; if the spinach is a little old, give it a couple of minutes longer. When done strain it on the back of a sieve, squeeze it dry with a plate, or between two trenchers, chop it fine, and put it into a stewpan with a bit of butter and a little salt; a little cream is a great improvement. Spread it in a dish, and cut it into squares of proper size to help at table.
Obs.—A little grated nutmeg is a favourite addition E5v with some cooks, and is added when you stir it up in the stewpan with the butter.
Set a pan of cold water upon the table, and a stewpan with plenty of water in it on the fire; sprinkle a handful of salt into it, and while it is heating prepare your asparagus. Scrape all the stalks till they are perfectly clean, throw them into the pan of cold water as you scrape them; when they are all done, tie them up in little bundles, with bass if you can get it, or tape; string cuts them to pieces: cut off the stalks at the bottom that they may be all of a length, leaving just enough to serve as a handle for the green part; put them on when the water boils; when they are tender at the stalk, which will be in about ten minutes, they are done enough. Great care must be taken to watch the exact time of their becoming tender, and take them up just at that instant, and they will have their true flavour and colour, but a minute or two more boiling destroys both.
While the asparagus are boiling, toast a round of a quartern loaf about half an inch thick, brown it delicately on both sides, dip it lightly in the liquor of the asparagus, and lay it in the middle of a dish; melt some butter, then lay in the asparagus upon the toast all round the dish, with the ends of the stalks outwards. Pour no butter over them, but send it up in a boat. To the common melted butter, you may add a little pepper and salt, a teaspoonful of vinegar, and the yolk of a couple of eggs, beat up, and carefully mixed to keep them from curdling.
E6Is tied up in bundles, and dressed exactly in the same way as asparagus.
Choose those that are close and white, trim off the outside leaves, cut the stalk off flat at the bottom, let them lie in salt and water an hour before you boil them, put them into boiling water with a handful of salt in it, and let it boil slowly till done, which a small one will be in fifteen, a very large one in twenty minutes, and take them up carefully with a slice.
The great art in dressing brocoli is, that it be not overboiled, and yet boiled enough. Set a pan of clean cold water on the table, and a saucepan on the fire with plenty of water, and a handful of salt in it: the brocoli is prepared by stripping off all the side shoots, leaving the top: peel off the skin of the stalk with a knife, cut it off at the bottom, and put them into the pan of cold water: when the water in the stew pan boils, and all the brocoli is ready, put it in, let it boil briskly till the stalks feel tender, and take it up with a slice, that you may not break it; let it drain, and serve up: if some of the heads of brocoli are much bigger than the others, put them on to boil first, so that they may get all done together.
Obs.—It makes a nice supper dish served upon a toast, like asparagus.
E6vAre not so much used as they deserve; they are boiled exactly in the same way as parsnips: a large root will take an hour and a half boiling; to be sent to table with salt fish, boiled beef, &c.
Are to be done just in the same manner as carrots, only give them as much water as you can; they require more or less time according to their size, and you must try them by thrusting a fork into them as they are in the water; when that goes easily through, they are done enough: an hour and a quarter will boil a large parsnip.
Obs.—Parsnips are sometimes sent up mashed in the same way as turnips.
Let them be well washed and brushed, not scraped; half an hour is enough for young spring carrots; grown carrots will take an hour and a half; and the large Sandwich kind full two hours. When done, rub off the peels with a clean coarse cloth, and slice them in two or four, according to their size. The best way to try if they are done enough, is to pierce them with a fork.
Peel off half an inch of the stringy outside; full-grown turnips will take thirty minutes gentle boiling; (if they boil too fast, they will burst;) try E7 them with a fork; when tender, take them up, and lay them on a sieve ten minutes, to drain the water thoroughly from them.
Obs.—Young turnips should not be peeled.
When they are boiled quite tender, squeeze them as dry as possible between two trenchers, put them into a saucepan, and mash them with a wooden spoon, add a little bit of butter, keep stirring them till the butter is melted and well mixed with them, and they are ready for table.
Are the shoots which grow out, in the spring, of the old turnip roots. Put them into cold water an hour before they are dressed; the more water they are boiled in, the better they will look; if boiled in a small quantity of water, they will taste bitter; when the water boils, put in a small handful of salt, and then your vegetables; if fresh and young, they will be done in about twenty minutes: drain them on the back of a sieve.
Cut off the stalk end, and beginning at the other, string them carefully; the strings are very tender when they first come in, but are as hard, in proportion to the beans then, as they are when more grown: cut off the stalks and tips; let a bowl of spring water, with a little salt dissolved in it, E7v stand before you, and as the beans are cleaned and stringed, throw them in: when all are done, put them on the fire, in boiling water, with some salt in it; when they have boiled fifteen or twenty minutes, take one out and taste it; as soon as they are tender*, throw them into a cullender, drain them, and lay them on a plate, in a little heap, highest in the middle. To send up the beans whole is much the best method, when they are thus young, and their delicate flavour and colour are much better preserved. When a little more grown, they must be cut across in two, after stringing; and for common tables, they are to be split first, and cut across afterwards; but those who are nice, never have them at such a growth as to require splitting. When they are very large, they look very pretty cut into lozenges; in this case they are not split.
* If you wish to have them very green, when they are done throw them instantly into cold water; when you wish to send them to table, warm them again in a tureen of boiling water.
Young green peas well dressed, are one of the most delicious delicacies of the vegetable kingdom. They must be young, or no art can boil them tender; it is equally indispensable that they be fresh gathered, and cooked as soon as they are shelled, for, by being exposed to the air, they soon lose both their colour and sweetness, and if you wish to feast upon peas in perfection, you must have them gathered the same day they are dressed, and E8 put on to boil within half an hour after they are shelled. Pass them through a coarse sieve, which is made for the purpose. This precaution of separating them is necessary, for large and small peas cannot be boiled together, as, of course, the former will take more time than the latter. For a peck of peas, set on a saucepan with a gallon of water in it; when it boils, put in your peas with a tablespoonful of salt, and two teaspoonsful of lump sugar; keep them boiling quick from twenty to thirty minutes, according to their age and size: the best way to judge of their being done enough, and indeed, the only way to make sure of cooking them so, and not beyond the point of perfection, as the pea eaters say of “boiling them to a bubble,” is to take some out with your spoon and taste them. When they are enough, drain them on a hair sieve, put them into a pye dish, divide some butter into small bits, and lay them on the peas; put another dish over them, and turn them over; this will melt the butter through them, and is by far the best way of buttering peas.
Obs.—You may boil a few sprigs of mint in a saucepan by themselves, and garnish your dish of peas with them: see Pea Powder.
Peel and cut your cucumbers into slices nearly a quarter of an inch thick; flour and dry them in butter; let the butter be quite hot before you put in the cucumbers; fry some sliced onions with them till they are a delicate light brown colour, then put them into a stewpan, with as much gravy E8v as will cover them; stew slowly till they are tender; this will take about an hour: take out the cucumbers with a slice, thicken the gravy with flour and butter, give it a boil up, and season it with pepper and salt, put the cucumber in to warm, and it is ready.
Obs.—The relish of this dish is sometimes augmented by the addition of bay leaves, anchovies, wine, ale, and the savoury spices.
Wrench out the stalk close to the bottom, by which the fibres will be drawn out, put them into cold water, and wash them well, then put them into plenty of boiling water, with a handful of salt, and let them boil gently till they are tender, which will take an hour and a half, or two hours; drain them on a sieve; and send up melted butter with them.
The large Portugal onions are the best for this purpose; take off the coats of half a dozen of these, taking care not to cut off the tops or tails too near, or the onions will go to pieces; put them into a stewpan big enough to hold them without laying them a top of one another; just cover them with good broth; as soon as it boils fast, add to them half an ounce of lump sugar, put them on a very slow fire, and let it simmer two hours, till the broth is reduced to a glaze; when you dish E9 them, turn them upside down; pour the sauce over them.
This is a very elegant preparation of onions.
They are done best in a Dutch oven, turning them occasionally, that they may be done equally on all sides.
slice them the thickness of a two-penny piece
[The thickness of a pre-decimal coin is not nearly as easy to look up as the diameter. But it can’t possibly be more than 2 or 3 mm, making Kitchiner’s fried potatoes closer to potato chips (“crisps”) than to fried potatoes in the modern sense. ]
a little cream is a great improvement.
. missing
E9v
This department of the business of the kitchen depends more upon practice than any other; a very few moments too much or too little, and the fish is spoilt. So many circumstances operate on this occasion, it is almost impossible to write rules that are generally applicable. There are decidedly different opinions, whether the water should be cold, tepid, or boiling. The Dutch, who are famous for dressing fish, always use the latter. See No. 141. We believe for some of the fame the Dutch cooks have acquired they are a little indebted to their situation enabling them to always have fish in perfection; and that the superior excellence of the fish in Holland, is because none are used, unless they are brought alive into the kitchen, (except mackerel, which die the moment they are taken out of the water.) The Dutch are as nice about this as, Seneca says, the E10 Romans were; who, complaining of the luxury of the times, says, they are come to that daintiness, they will not eat a fish, unless upon the same day that it is taken, that it may taste of the sea, as they express it.
On the Dutch flat coast, the fish are all taken with nets; whereas, on our rocky coast, fish are mostly caught by bait and hook, which immediately kills them. The fish are brought alive by land, to the Dutch markets in water-casks with air holes in the top. Salmon, and other fish, is thus preserved in rivers, in a well-hole, in the fishing boat.
The good folks of this metropolis are so often disappointed, by having fish which have been kept too long, they are apt to run into the other extreme, and suppose no fish will either dress well, or eat well, unless it is quite alive. Some very respectable fishmongers have, however, assured the editor, that they are oftener in danger of losing their credit, by selling fish too fresh, and that especially turbot and cod must be kept a day or so after they are dead, before they will eat well; and, like meat, require a certain time before they are in the best condition to be dressed: then they recommend them to be put into water, (salted in proportion of half a pint of salt to a gallon E10v of water,) that you should have just stopped the boiling of, by pouring in, just before you put in the fish, a pint of cold water, and let them boil slowly till done.
E11
Clean and wash a nice white turbot, cut it across the thickest part of the underside; this is to prevent it breaking on the breast, which happens from the fish swelling, and cracking the skin, if this precaution is not used: lay it in a fish kettle, with the white side upwards; put a large handful of salt on it, cover it with cold spring water, set it on a hot fire till it boils, skim it carefully, and set it on the side of the fire, to boil gently for about twenty minutes, (if it boils fast, the fish will break to pieces;) supposing the fish to weigh eight or nine pounds; for sixteen or eighteen pounds, an hour. Send it up on a fish-drainer, garnished with sprigs of green parsley. Save a little of the inside coral spawn of the lobster, rub it through a hair sieve, without butter. When the turbot is dished, sprinkle the spawn over it. Garnish the dish with sprigs of curled parsley, sliced lemon, and finely scraped horseradish; and, if you like to send it to table in full dress, surround it with some nicely fried smelts. Send up lobster sauce (see receipt, No. 294,) in a boat, or two boats, if it is for a large party.
In boiling a large turbot, four or five handfuls E11v of salt are put into the water it is to be boiled in; which strong brine makes the fish crimp and savoury; the thick parts of the fish are cut, or scored, to admit the salt water. The salt must be put into cold water; but before the fish is put in, the water must boil strongly. A large turbot will be well boiled in half an hour. (From Mr. Twiss the traveller.)
Clean a small turbot well, and dry it in a cloth, beat an egg on a plate ten minutes, wash the fish all over with the egg, then cover it with fine bread crumbs, that have been rubbed through a hair sieve: have some clean lard, or dripping in an iron fryingpan, over a hot fire; when it has done talking, and is quite still, put the fish in; in about four minutes turn it, and fry it on the other side; when done, lay it on a hair sieve, to drain the fat from it.
Lobster or shrimp sauce.
Is dressed the same way as a turbot.
Wash and clean your soles well, put them into a fish-kettle, with a handful of salt, and as much cold spring water as will cover them; put them on a quick fire, and when they boil, set them on the side of the fire to boil gently ten minutes; that will be long enough, unless they be very large. E12 Send them up on a fish-drainer, garnished with sprigs of parsley.
Obs.—Slices of lemon are a very universally acceptable garnish, with either fried or boiled fish; a few sprigs of crisp parsley may be added, if you wish to make it look very smart.
Be sure your soles are quite fresh, or all the good cooks in the world cannot make them either look or eat well. An hour before you intend to dress them, wash them thoroughly, and wrap them in a clean cloth, to make them perfectly dry, or the bread crumbs will not stick to them. Beat the yolk and white of an egg well together, on a plate, with a fork; flour your fish, to absorb any moisture that may remain, and wipe it off with a clean cloth: dip them in the egg on both sides all over; or, what is better, egg them with a paste-brush, rub some stale bread through a cullender, or hair sieve, strew it all over the fish, so that it covers every part, and take up the fish by the head, and shake off the loose crumbs. The sole is now ready for the fryingpan.
Put a pint or more of fresh sweet olive oil, or a pound of lard*, or beef suet, (the fat ought to cover the fish; what we here order, is for a middling-sized pair of soles,) into a fryingpan, over a sharp and clear fire; watch it, and when it boils, i.e. when it has done bubbling, and is still, and the smoke E12v just begins to rise from the surface, (if the fat is not extremely hot, it is impossible to fry fish of a good colour, or to make them firm and crisp. The best way to ascertain the heat of the fat, is to try it with a bit of bread as big as a nut, if it is quite hot enough, the bread will be brown immediately,) put in the fish, it will be crisp and brown on the side next the fire, in about four or five minutes; to turn it, stick a two pronged fork near the head, and support the tail with a fish-slice, and fry the other side: one sole is enough to put in at a time, except the pan is very large, and you have plenty of fat. When your fish are fried, lay them on whited brown paper, on a hair sieve, placed slanting, and near enough the fire to keep them warm, till the fat is thoroughly drained from them; this will take five or ten minutes. When soles are fried, they will keep very good in a dry place for four days, and eat as well as when fresh dressed, if you warm them in a Dutch oven, or in good gravy.
Obs.—There are several general rules in this receipt which apply to all fried fish: we have been very particular and minute in our directions; for, although a fried sole is a very frequent and favourite dish, it is very seldom brought to table in perfection. Batter will occasionally supply the place of egg; and biscuit powder, of bread crumbs: the latter is sold at Russell’s excellent biscuit shop, nearly opposite Villiers Street in the Strand†.
* The fat will do two or three times, if strained through a hair sieve, and put by; if you do not find it enough, put a little fresh to it.
† The very indifferent manner in which the operation of frying fish is usually performed, we suppose produced the following jeu d’esprit, which appeared a few months since in that ably conducted daily register, “The Morning Chronicle.”
“The King’s Bench Reports have cook’d up an odd dish,
An action for damages, Fry versus Fish.
But sure, if for damages action could lie,
It certainly must have been Fish against Fry.”
These are done the same as eels, Wiggy’s way, in good gravy. See No. 164.
Take the fillets of a pair of good soles, trim them neatly, and wipe them on a dry cloth; beat the yolk and white of an egg together on a plate for five minutes, dip the fillets into the egg, and then into fine stale bread crumbs, that have been rubbed through a hair sieve. Have some clean lard hot in an iron fryingpan; put in the fillets and fry them of a fine brown colour; lay them on a hair sieve as you do them, and keep them hot before the fire till the following sauce is ready.
Make half a pint of good melted butter, squeeze in the juice of a lemon, lay the fillets of soles round the dish, and pour the sauce into the middle.
Take off the fillets, trim them, and cut them in two; butter a clean earthen dish or pan, lay the fillets in it, and butter a paper cut to the size of the dish, and lay it close to the fillets, set it in a cool oven, or over a very slow fire, for about fifteen or twenty minutes; take them up, and dry Fv them on a sheet of clean paper, or on a clean napkin: dish on a hot dish, and pour a little good white sauce over them.
Clean and wash your fish, and rub a little salt in the inside of it; if the weather is very cold, a large cod is always the better for being kept a day: put plenty of water in your fish-kettle, so that the fish may be well covered; put in a handful of salt: when the water boils, stop its boiling by pouring in a pint of cold water, and then put in your fish; a very small fish will require from twenty to thirty minutes, a very large one near an hour; drain it on the fish-plate; dish it with garnish of the roe, liver, chitterling, &c.
Salted fish requires soaking, according to the time it has been in salt; that which is hard and dry requires two nights soaking; the intermediate day lay it on a stone floor; for the barrelled cod, less time will do; and for the best Dogger Bank split fish, which has not been more than a fortnight or three weeks in salt, less time will be needful. Put it on in cold water.
Lay the slice of fish at the bottom of a fish-kettle, with as much cold spring water as will cover it, and a large handful of salt; set it on a quick fire, and when it boils, set it on one side of the fire to boil gently, for ten minutes, or a quarter F2 of an hour, according to the size of the fish. Garnish with a slice of the liver on one side, and chitterlings on the other. Oyster sauce and plain butter.
Wash them well, dry them in a cloth, beat an egg on a plate well, dip the fish in the egg, and then flour them all over; lay them on a clean gridiron over a slow and clear fire; when they are done on one side, turn them gently; they will take about twenty minutes, or half an hour. Anchovy sauce.
Skin them, and fasten their tails to their mouths; dip them in egg, and then in bread crumbs, and fry them in hot lard; lay them in the pan with their backs towards the fire, and let the fat boil over them, but do not turn them, they are more liable to break than any fish.
Obs.—When whitings are very scarce and dear, the fishmongers can skin and truss young codlings, so that you can hardly tell the difference. A codling has a beard under its mouth, which a whiting has not: this distinguishing mark is sometimes cut off; however, if you look, you will soon see the mark where the beard was, and thus discover if it is a whiting or a shaved codling.
After you have cleaned them thoroughly, F2v divide it into fillets, dry them on a clean cloth; beat the yolk and white of an egg together on a plate for five minutes, dip the fish in this, and then in fine bread crumbs; fry it in hot lard or drippings till they are of a beautiful brown colour; lay them on a hair sieve to drain; garnish with crisp parsley.
Clean them well, and wipe them on a dry cloth to absorb all the water from them; flour them and fry them in hot lard, and send them up with plain butter in a boat, or anchovy sauce.
This, I believe, is a Dutch dish, and is made of several small fish, such as flounders, plaice, whiting, gudgeons, eels, or perch; these must be very fresh, and very clean, for what they are boiled in is sent up with them: cut notches in your fish and throw them into fresh spring water; (this is what is called crimping fish); put them into a stewpan with as much water as you think will fill the dish, with some parsley leaves and parsley roots, a glass of white wine, and a tablespoonful of vinegar, and as much salt as you would for broth; take care to skim it well when it boils; when your fish is done enough, send it up in a deep dish, with some slices of bread and butter on a plate.
Wash it well, and put it on to boil in as much F3 cold water as will cover it, with plenty of salt in it; a haddock of three pounds will take twenty minutes after it boils. These are sometimes stuffed with the same stuffing you put to veal.
When your fish has been properly washed, lay it in a fish kettle, with a pint of port wine and about as much water as will half cover it; a bay leaf, a carrot, a large onion, a head of celery, a dozen berries of black pepper, the same of allspice, and an ounce of lean ham; cover the fish kettle close, and let it stew gently for half an hour; take the fish up, lay it on a hot dish, and thicken the liquor that it was boiled in with flour; season with pepper, salt, and a little grated nutmeg; when it has boiled ten minutes, strain it through a tammis into a clean stewpan, make it very hot, and pour it over the fish; if there is more sauce than the dish will hold, send the rest up in a boat.
Wash the fish well, and wipe them on a dry cloth, flour them lightly all over, and fry them ten minutes in hot lard or drippings; when they are fried, lay them on a hair sieve to drain; send them up on a hot dish: garnish with sprigs of green parsley. Anchovy sauce.
Clean them carefully, and put them in a fish kettle, with as much cold spring water as will F3v cover them, with a handful of salt; set them on a quick fire till they boil; when they boil, set them on one side to boil gently for ten minutes.
Cut a salmon into pieces and put it into a fish kettle, with a large handful of salt, and cold spring water enough to cover it; when it boils set it on one side of the fire to boil gently half an hour; when it is enough, dry it on a clean cloth.
Put the top of the salmon liquor into a stewpan, to which add the same quantity of white wine vinegar, a quarter of an ounce of whole pepper, the same of allspice, and two bay leaves; set it on the fire to boil ten minutes; skim it well; take it off the fire, and when it is cold, pour it over the fish and tie it down; in three days it may be turned, and in a week it will be fit for eating, and will remain so for several months. Garnish with sprigs of fennel.
Obs.—This is in the finest condition when fresh salmon is most plentiful about Midsummer; the season for it is from February to September*.
* The three marks of the goodness of pickled salmon are, 1st. The brightness of the scales, and their sticking fast to the skin. 2dly, The firmness of the flesh; and 3dly, Its fine red colour.
Put on a fish kettle, with as much spring water as will cover the salmon you are going to dress. When the water boils, put in a large handful of F4 salt, take off the scum, if any rises, have the fish well washed, put it in, and let it boil half an hour.
Clean the salmon well, and cut it into slices three inches thick, dry it thoroughly in a clean cloth, and rub it all over with sweet oil, or thick melted butter, and sprinkle a little salt over it; put your gridiron over a clear fire, at some distance; when it is hot, wipe it clean, and then rub it with sweet oil or lard; lay the salmon on, and when it is done on one side, turn it gently and broil the other side. Anchovy sauce.
Take two pounds of fine silver* eels; the best size are those that are not much less than a three-shilling piece in circumference, quite fresh, full of life, and as brisk as an eel; such as have been kept out of water till they can scarce stir, are good for nothing. Gut them and rub them with salt till the slime is cleaned from them, wash them in three different waters, and divide them into pieces about four inches long: you may season them with salt, and beaten mace or nutmeg, and then egg and bread crumb them; dredge them with a little flour, and fry them in drippings till they are brown; lay them to dry on a hair sieve. F4v Have ready a quart of good beef gravy; it must be quite cold when you put the eels into it, or the skin of the eels will crack, and the beauty of this dish consists in sending them up whole: set them on a slow fire till they boil, then put them by the side of the fire to simmer very gently for a quarter of an hour, take them out of the stewpan with a fish slice, be careful not to bruise their skins, lay them on a dish about two inches deep, mix two teaspoonsful of flour with two tablespoonsful of port wine, stir it into the sauce by degrees, and strain it over the fish through a tammis sieve.
Obs.—To kill eels instantly, without the horrid torture of cutting and skinning them alive, pierce the spinal marrow close to the back part of the skull with a sharp pointed skewer: if this be done in the right place, all motion will instantly cease.
* The yellow eels are apt to taste muddy; the whiteness of the belly of the fish, is not the only mark to know the best; the right colour of the back is a coppery hue, very bright; the olive coloured are inferior; and those tending to a green are worse.
Skin and gut them, and wash them well in cold water, cut them in pieces four inches long, season them with pepper and salt, beat an egg well on a plate, dip them in the egg, and then in fine bread crumbs; fry them in fresh clean lard, drain them well from the fat, garnish with crisp parsley; for sauce, plain melted butter, with the juice of half a lemon in it.
This the French cooks call the English way of dressing eels, and though not of their own invention, they frequently send it up to the best tables.
Take two middling-sized fine silver eels, leave F5 the skin on, cut off the heads, slit them on the belly side, and take out the bone and guts, and wash and wipe them nicely, and then cut them into pieces about three inches long, wipe them quite dry, put two ounces of butter into a stewpan with a little minced parsley, thyme, sage, pepper, and salt, and a very little chopped shallot; set the stewpan over the fire; when the butter is melted, stir the ingredients together, and take it off the fire, mix the yolks of two eggs with them, and dip the eel in, a piece at a time, and then roll them in bread crumbs, making as much stick to them as you can; then rub a gridiron with a bit of suet, set it high over a very clear fire, and broil your eels of a fine crisp brown: dish them with crisp parsley, and send up plain butter in a boat, and anchovy and butter.
Obs.—We like them better with the skin off; it is very apt to offend delicate stomachs.
This fish loses its life as soon as it leaves the sea, and the fresher it is the better. They are very tender fish, and the less you handle them the better. Wash and clean them thoroughly, put them into cold water with a handful of salt in it; be careful not to let them boil, but only simmer about ten minutes, till they are enough, which you will discover by their beginning to split at the tail; do not let them stand in the water after they are done, being so delicate that the heat of the water will break them. This fish rarely appears at table in perfection; either the mackarel is boiled too much, or the roe too little. The best way is to F5v open a slit opposite the middle of the roe; this will allow the water access, and the roe will then be done as soon as the fish, which it is seldom otherwise; and some sagacious gourmands insist upon it they must be taken out and boiled separately.
After boiling them as above directed, put into the liquor they were boiled in a few peppercorns, some salt, and half as much vinegar, boil up together, and when the mackarel are cold pour this over them. There must be enough of it to cover them completely. They will be good in two days, and keep so a fortnight. Send them to table garnished with sprigs of fennel.
Clean a fine large mackarel, wipe it on a dry cloth, and cut a long slit down the back; fill it with parsley and fennel, equal quantities of each minced fine, season it with pepper and salt and a little butter, oil it on both sides, and lay it on a clean gridiron over a very clear slow fire; when it is done on one side turn it, but be careful that it does not burn; send it up with fennel sauce in a boat, or plain butter with mushroom catsup or soy in it.
Cut off their heads, open them, and take out the roes, and clean them thoroughly, rub them on the inside with a little pepper and salt, put the F6 roes in again, season them (with a mixture of powdered allspice, black pepper and salt, well rubbed together) on both sides, and lay them close in a bakingpan, lay a couple of bay leaves on the top, cover them with equal quantities of cold vinegar and water, tie them down with strong white paper doubled, bake them for an hour in a slow oven. They will keep for a fortnight.
Procure them as fresh as possible, split them open, take off the heads, and trim off all the thin part of the belly, put them into salt and water for one hour, drain and wipe your fish, and put them into jars or casks, with the following preparation. Take salt and bay salt, one pound each, saltpetre and lump sugar, two ounces each, white pepper, half an ounce, and cardamum seeds, one dram; grind and pound the spices and salt well together, put the fish into jars or casks, with a layer of the preparation at the bottom, then a layer of mackarel with the skin side downwards; so continue alternately till the cask or jar is full; press it down and cover it close. In six months they will be fine, and fit for use, and will keep for a couple of years, or more, in prime condition, and the flavour will be delicious.
Have an iron wire as thick as packthread, and as long as your gridiron is broad; run this through the head of your sprats, sprinkle a little flour and salt over them, put your gridiron over a clear F6v quick fire, turn them in about a couple of minutes; when the other side is brown, draw out the wire, and send up the fish with melted butter in a cup.
Wash them well, and then dry them with a cloth, dust them with flour, and broil them over a slow fire till they are well done. Send up good melted butter in a boat.
Cut off the heads of two dozen fine fresh herrings, open and wash them very clean, season them with salt, allspice, and black pepper, put them into a pot, and cover them with white wine, vinegar and water, equal parts of each, tie the pot up close, and set it in a slow oven to bake for two hours. They will keep a month or six weeks.
Clean and dry them thoroughly in a cloth, beat an egg on a plate, and dip them in it, then in fine bread crumbs that have been rubbed through a sieve; fry them in clean lard; as soon as the lard boils and is still, put in the fish. It will take about five minutes to give them a fine gold colour. Drain them on a hair sieve. When quite dried, send them up on a hot dish, with shrimp sauce in a boat.
F7Pick the finest shrimps, and put them into white wine vinegar with some salt in it; put them into wide-mouthed bottles.
When you have picked them, powder them with a little beaten mace, grated nutmeg, white pepper and salt, add a little cold butter, and pound all well together in a marble mortar till it is the consistence of paste. Put it into pots covered with clarified butter.
Always buy them alive, for those who sell them sometimes keep them too long before they boil them, and they then have not half their flavour. Choose those that are full of motion, which is the index of their freshness. The heaviest are generally the best, and those of a middle size. Never take them when the shell is encrusted, which is a sign they are old. The male lobster is preferred to eat, and the female on account of her eggs to make sauce of. The female lobster is distinguished by having a broader tail than the male, and less claws. Set on a pot of water with a tablespoonful of salt in it, having tied the tail of the lobster fast to the body, when the water boils put it in, and, if very large, keep it boiling briskly for half an hour; wipe all the skum off it, and set it by till it is F7v cold, then rub the shell with a very little butter or sweet oil, to make it shine; break off the great claws, crack them carefully in each joint, so that they may not be shattered to pieces, and yet come to pieces easily, cut the tail down the middle, and send up the body whole.
These fish come in about April, and continue plentiful till the Oyster season begins.
The above observations apply to crabs, which should neither be too small nor too large. The best size are those which measure from eight to ten inches across the shoulders.
Crabs make their appearance and disappearance about the same time as Lobsters. The Cromer Crabs are most esteemed.
Select fine hen lobsters when full of spawn, boil them thoroughly, pick out all the eatable parts, and pound them in a mortar, adding to them by degrees finely pounded mace, black pepper, salt, and a little clarified butter. When the whole is well mixed, and beat to the consistence of paste, press it down hard in a preserving-pot, pour clarified butter over it, and keep it close covered.
Pick the meat out of a couple of lobsters, let one of them be a hen, on account of the live spawn, mince and pound it in a mortar, with two boned, washed, beheaded and betailed anchovies, F8 half an ounce of butter, the yolks of three eggs, a teacupful of finely-grated stale bread, and a little beaten mace. Line a preserving-pot with sheets of fat bacon, put in the mixture, cover it with bacon, and bake it for an hour and a half. Let it remain till cold. When you wish to get it out, put the mould in warm water a few minutes, and it will come out. Take away the bacon. Send up the cake garnished with green parsley, &c.
Pick all the meat out of a hen lobster, and pound it in a mortar with a handful of bread crumbs, two yolks of eggs, and two ounces of butter, pepper, salt, and nutmeg, to your taste, beat the whole well together, put it in a basin or mould to boil an hour.
Obs.—The sauce for the above is the spawn of the lobster pounded in a mortar, with a little butter and half a tablespoonful of water. Mix it with melted butter, and pour it over the pudding. It should look quite red, and cover the bottom of the dish.
The common* Colchester and Feversham oysters are brought to market on the 5th of August; the Milton, or as they are commonly called, the F8v melting natives†, do not come till the beginning of October, continue in season till the 12th of May, and reach the meridian of their perfection about Christmas.
Some of the amateurs of oysters think they are not best when quite fresh from the sea; the flavour they have is too brackish and harsh, which is much ameliorated by giving them a feed, by covering them with clean water, with a pint of salt to about two gallons; (nothing else, no oatmeal, nor any other trumpery;) this will cleanse them from the mud and sand, &c. of the bed; after they have lain in it twelve hours, change it for fresh salt and water, and in twelve hours more, they will be in prime order for the mouth, and remain so two or three days: at the time of high water, you may see them open their shells, in expectation of receiving their usual food. This process of feeding oysters, is only employed when a great many come up together in their dirt, &c. The real Colchester, or Pyfleet barrelled oysters, that are packed at the beds, are better without being put in water; they are carefully and tightly packed, and must not be disturbed till wanted for table: these, in moderate weather, will keep good for a week, or ten days.
Obs.—Nothing appears to common people more indifferent than the manner of opening oysters, or the time of eating them after they are F9 opened; nothing, however, is more important, in the enlightened eyes of the experienced oyster eater.
Those who wish to enjoy this delicious restorative in its utmost perfection, must eat it the moment it is opened, with its own gravy in the under shell: if not eaten while absolutely alive, its flavour and spirit is lost. The true lover of an oyster will have more regard for the feelings of his little favourite, than to abandon it to the mercy of a bungling operator, but will always open it himself, and contrive to detach the fish from the shell so dexterously, that the oyster is hardly conscious he has been ejected from his lodging, till he feels the teeth of the gourmand tickling him to death.
* Those are called common oysters which are picked up on the French coast, and laid in the Colchester beds. These are never so fat and fine as the natives.
† Those oysters are thus called which are born as well as bred in this country, and are mostly spit in the Burnham and Mersey rivers, and do not come to their finest condition till they are near four years old.
Parboil twenty-four oysters in as much water as will just cover them, strain the liquor, and add to it about an ounce of fresh butter, a tablespoonful of flour, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, a roll of the rind of a lemon, and a little grated nutmeg.
Beard and wash the oysters, and let them stew slowly for a few minutes in the above liquor, put them into scallop shells, with a little of the liquor in each, and cover them with some fine bread crumbs, put little bits of butter on the top, and bake and brown them in a Dutch oven.
Large oysters will do for stewing, and by some are preferred for this purpose; but we rather love F9v the plump, juicy, and delicious Milton; stew a couple of dozen of these, and put them into a saucepan with their own liquor. When they are coming to a boil, take them up and strain the liquor through a tammis sieve, and lay the oysters on a cloth to dry. Put a bit of butter, as big as an egg, into a stewpan; when it is melted, put to it as much flour as will dry it up, the liquor of the oysters, and three tablespoonsful of boiling water, one of mushroom or walnut catsup, and one of white wine, a blade of bruised mace, a little white pepper and salt; let it boil up for a couple of minutes, then put in the oysters, and let them get warm; (they must not be boiled, or they will become hard:) line the bottom and sides of a hash dish with bread sippets, and pour your oysters and sauce into it.
For the following observations on fish, the public are indebted to Mr. William Tucker, Fishmonger, Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury.
“Oct. 18, 1816.”
“Sir,”
“In speaking of the different seasons of fish, I do not mean to say that you cannot get good or bad, except at the times I have mentioned, as they frequently will vary; for instance, there may be a good cod in the midst of summer, or a good turbot in the midst of winter; and I have only pointed out the time when they are generally so.
“There is no article so fluctuating in price as fish, the London market being supplied principally by water carriage, from all parts of the coast, the wind cannot be fair for all; the consequence then is, frequently a great abundance of some sorts, and none, or little, of many others. A F10 great many persons send their servants to market to get, perhaps, a turbot, or cod’s head and shoulders; it very likely happens those articles are scarce and extravagant: the servants have no other order, or perhaps will not take the trouble to get other orders, but order a turbot at 30s. or 40s., whereas they might have as good a dish of any other sort for half the money. In this case the tradesman is frequently condemned as an extravagant fellow, when, perhaps, he gets nothing by selling it. I am therefore convinced that it is people’s own fault that they have fish at such an extravagant price: if masters or mistresses were to go to market themselves, if one sort was dear, they could have another; or, if not convenient to go themselves, desire their fishmonger to send them a handsome dish, the most seasonable and reasonable, for so many persons; and if that tradesman did not use them well, he is not deserving of their custom.”
“Cod generally comes into good season in October, when, if the weather is cold, it eats as fine as at any time in the year: towards the latter end of January, and February, and part of March, they are mostly poor, but the latter end of March, April, and May, they are generally particularly fine, having shot their spawn, they come in fine order. The Dogger-Bank cod are the most esteemed, as they generally cut in large fine flakes; the north country cod, that is caught off the Orkney isles, are generally very stringy, or what is commonly called woolley, and sell at a very F10v inferior price, but are caught in much greater abundance than the Dogger cod. The cod are all caught with hook, and brought alive in well boats to the London markets. The cod cured on the Dogger Bank is remarkably fine, and seldom cured above two or three weeks before brought to market; the barrel cod is commonly cured on the coast of Scotland and Yorkshire. There is a great deal of inferior cured salt fish brought from Newfoundland and Ireland. The skull of a Dogger Bank cod is a famous dish for an epicure, it being the richest and most luscious part of the fish; one of them is a good dish for three or four persons, and eats well either baked or boiled: the tail of a cod should always be cut in fillets or slices, and fried, which makes a good dish, and generally to be bought at a very reasonable rate; if boiled, it is always soft and watery. The skull and tail of a cod makes an excellent Scotch dish, stewed and served up together, with anchovies, or oyster sauce, with the liquor it is boiled in, in the tureen.
“Ling is brought to the London market in the same manner as cod, but is very inferior to it either fresh or salt.
“Turbots. The finest turbots that are brought to the London market, are caught off the Dutch coast, or German ocean, and are brought in well boats alive. The commencement of the season is generally about March and April, and continues all the summer season. Turbots, like other fish, do not spawn all at the same time; therefore there is always good and bad nearly all the year round. For this year or two past, there has been an immense quantity brought to London, from all parts, and of all qualities; a great many from a F11 new fishery off Hartlepool, which are a very handsome looking turbot, but by no means equal to what are caught off the Dutch coast. A great many excellent turbots are caught off Dover and Dungeness; and a large quantity brought from Scotland, packed in ice, which are of a very inferior quality, and are generally to be bought for about one fourth the price of good turbots.
“Brills are generally caught at the same place as turbots, and are generally of the same quality as the turbot, from the different parts. Some brills are very good, but not equal to turbot.
“Salmon. The earliest that comes in season to the London market, is brought from the Severn, and begins to come into season the beginning of November, but very few so early, perhaps not above one in fifty, as many of them will not shoot their spawn till January, or after, and then continue in season till October, when they begin to get very thin and poor. The principal supply of salmon is from different parts of Scotland, packed in ice, and brought by water: if the vessels have a fair wind, they will be in London in three days; but it frequently happens they are at sea perhaps a fortnight, when the greater part of the fish is perished, some tolerable good, and some of all qualities, and has, for a year or two past, sold as low as two pence per pound, and up to as much as eighteen pence per pound at the same time, owing to its different degrees of goodness.
“Salmon Gwilts, or Salmon Peel, are the small salmon which come from about 5 or 6 pounds to ten pounds, are very good fish, and make handsome dishes of fish, and sent to table crooked in the form of an S.
F11v“Berwick Trout are a distinct fish from the gwilts, and are caught in the River Tweed, and dressed in the same manner as the gwilt.
“Calvered Salmon is the salmon caught in the Thames, and cut into slices alive; and some few salmon are brought from Oxford to London alive, and cut. A few slices makes a handsome, genteel dish, but is generally very expensive.
“Mackarel generally make their appearance off the Land’s End about the beginning of April, and as the weather gets warm they gradually come round the coast, and generally arrive off Brighton about May, and continue for some months, until they begin to shoot their spawn, when for above two months they are missing, until about Michaelmas, when there is a few very fat small mackarel of excellent flavour at this time make their appearance again.
“Dutch Plaice, when in season, and what are caught off the Dutch coast, are good fish either fried or boiled: they are frequently condemned as a bad fish, because they do not eat so firm as a turbot or brills, which is not their nature; but they are very rich nutritious fish, more so than turbot; but what are caught on our own coast are nothing equal to the others.
“Soles are a fish that are generally to be procured good from some part of the coast, as some are going out of season, and some coming in, both at the same time; a great many are brought in well-boats, alive, that are caught off Dover, and Folkstone, and some are brought from the same places by land carriage. The soles that are caught on that part of the coast are rather small, but exceeding good fish. The finest soles that F12 are caught any where, are those that are off Plymouth, near the Eddistone, and all the way up the Channel, and to Torbay; it being very deep water, and the ground a fine gravelly bottom, they feed very solid, and are caught frequently very large, eight or ten pounds per pair: they are generally brought by water to Portsmouth, and thence by land; but the greatest quantity are caught off Yarmouth and the Knole, and a great many are caught off the Forelands.
“Red Mullets are a very delicious fish, commonly called the sea woodcock, they being dressed with their entrails in, there being no gut, only like a string, which is like marrow itself; they only require scraping; washed tenderly with a cloth, and broiled in a buttered paper: they are so rich, they require scarcely any sauce. The best are caught off Plymouth, and all the way up the channel to Portland, and some few off Brighton.
“Gray Mullets, when in season, are very rich, good fish, but not equal to the red: those generally keep in the season near the fresh water. The best way of dressing those, is by baking them in a pye, or roasting, or baking them, with a pudding in their belly, and put in a tureen with some good gravy, and they eat very fine.
“John Doreys are a very good fish, cutting very white and firm, equal to a turbot in firmness, but not in richness: those caught off Plymouth and Torbay are the best. Lobster is requisite for sauce.
“Whitings are a very delicate fish, and require to be eaten very fresh; those caught off Dover and F12v Folkstone are the best; some are brought alive, and some by land carriage.
“Skate is a very good fish when in good season, but no fish so bad when it is otherwise: those persons that like it firm and dry, should have it crimped: but those that like it tender, should have it plain, and eat not earlier than the second day. and if cold weather, three or four days old it is better: it cannot be kept too long, if perfectly sweet. Skate, if young, eats very fine, crimped and fried.
“Haddock are a firm, good fish; they are dressed many different ways. Large haddocks boiled, and oyster sauce. Haddocks salted a day or two, and eaten with egg sauce, are a very good article. Haddocks cut in fillets, and fried, eat very fine. Or if small, very well broiled, or baked with a pudding in their belly, and some good gravy.
“Fresh Sturgeon is esteemed a good fish by many; but, I believe, only because it does not come plentiful enough to be common; and to the eater of fish it makes a change: as many gentlemen cannot dine without fish, it makes a variety, or becomes useful, where people want to give a course of fish entirely: a piece stewed with some good gravy is the best way of dressing: or cut in slices, and fried, as you would a veal cutlet, eats very well. Sturgeon pickled, makes a handsome winter dish for the second course.
“Smelts are allowed to be caught in the Thames on the first of November, and continue till May. The Thames smelts are the best and sweetest, for two reasons: they are fresher, and richer, than any other you can get: G they catch them much more plentiful and larger in Lancashire and Norfolk, but not so good: a great many are brought to town from Norfolk, but barely come good, as they are a fish should always be eaten fresh; indeed all river fish should be eaten fresh, except salmon, which, unless crimpt, eats better the second or third day: but all Thames fish particularly should be eaten very fresh; no fish eats so bad kept.
“Lobsters are, in general, to be procured at all times: but the best time is from April to August. After that time they begin to spawn, and seldom open solid. Crabs nearly the same. Prawns are best from March to August. Crayfish are generally to be procured good at all times; the sea crayfish are very indifferent fish, and of bad digestion; the only thing they are good for, is to make currie. Lobsters are dressed in many ways for dishes; as lobster sall’d, or Italian sall’d, or plain, or currie.
“Crab picked out of the shell, and divided in three parts, and decorated with a little lobster spawn, makes a very handsome dish for the second course, or a supper dish: some cooks and fishmongers dress them very handsome.
“Pipers are a very good fish; the best that are caught are in the mid channel, from off Torbay to Plymouth; they are a very handsome fish when first caught, having many beautiful colours, but soon fade; they eat a great deal like a firm, fine cod: eat good with a pudding in their bellies, baked or roasted, and some good gravy: or plain, boiled as you would a haddock.
“Gurnetts. There are many different sorts of this fish; the red gurnett is a good deal like Gv a piper; it is dressed the same as a piper or haddock.
“Eels are a good, and frequently very useful fish, as you can generally get them when you cannot get other fish, and make a good dish, either stewed or spitchcocked.
“Brawn is sold by fishmongers, and is a good thing for side dishes, or the second course: the brawn makers generally commence making in November, and will continue in season till March.”
skip to Broths, Gravies and Soups
if you like to send it to table in full dress
text has in full dressed
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
Batter will occasionally supply the place of egg; and biscuit powder, of bread crumbs
text has biscuit, powder of with misplaced comma
[The second edition expands to “and Oatmeal, or Flour, or Biscuit powder, of bread crumbs”.]
cut notches in your fish
text has noches
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
and as brisk as an eel
[The second edition puts “as brisk as an eel” in quotation marks, forestalling snarky questions on the theme of “Well, what else would an eel be as brisk as?”]
The asterisks are not footnote markers; they represent a hiccup in numbering. There will also be duplicates at 182* and 463*.
a broader tail than the male, and less claws
[We are near the end of the period when “less” meant smaller, not fewer.]
The common Colchester and Feversham oysters
text has oyster
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
It is not clear why he had to duplicate the number, since there is no 183. Or, for that matter, 184. The second edition adds a recipe for “Oysters fried”, numbering it 183*.
For linking purposes I’ve called this No. 184, since the number is otherwise unused.
until about Michaelmas, when there is a few very fat small mackarel of excellent flavour at this time make their appearance again
[Blame it on Mr. William Tucker, fishmonger; the second edition has the same wording.]
it makes a variety, or becomes useful, where people want to give a course of fish entirely
[This was written before service à la Russe became a thing. Meals had a first course and a second course, each with multiple dishes of various kinds.]
G2
It is hardly necessary to give any more cautions to the cook to pay continual attention to the condition of her stewpans, which should be examined every time they are used; so many mischiefs arise from their getting out of repair: if they are not kept nicely tinned, all your good work will be in vain; the broths and soups will look green and dirty, and taste bitter and poisonous, and will be spoiled both for the eye and palate, and your credit will be lost; and as the health, and even life of the family depends upon this, the cook may be sure her employers had rather pay the tinman’s bill than the doctor’s; therefore, attention to this cannot fail to engage the regard of the mistress, between whom and the cook, it will be my utmost endeavour throughout this book to promote perfect harmony.
If the servant has the misfortune to scorch or blister the tinning of her saucepan, which will G2v happen sometimes to the most careful cook, I advise her, by all means, immediately to acquaint her employers, who will thank her for so candidly mentioning the accident; and only censure her if she conceals it. Make it a rule without an exception, never to use any sieves or tammy cloths, spoons or ladles, till they are well cleaned, and thoroughly dried, nor any stewpans &c., without first washing them out with boiling water, and rubbing them well with a dry cloth and a little bran, to clean them from every kind of grease and sand, &c. that may have been left in them, or any bad smell they may have got since they were last used: never neglect this. Though we do not suppose our cook such a naughty slut, as to think of putting by her broth pots, &c., till she has thoroughly cleaned* them; wash them immediately, G3 and be sure they are quite dry before they are put by; and keep them in a dry place, for damp will rust and destroy them very soon: attend to this the first moment you can spare after the dinner is sent up; and never put by any soup, gravy, &c., in a metal utensil; stone or earthen vessels should be used for this purpose. Cultivate regular habits of cleanliness, &c., in all your business, which you will then get through easily and comfortably. I do not mean that restless spirit of “the tidy one,” who is always frisking about in a whirlpool of bustle and confusion; and is always dirty, under pretence of being always cleaning.
* Stewpans and soup-pots with round bottoms, such as saucepans are made with, will wear twice as long, and are cleaned with half the trouble, as those whose sides are soldered to the bottom; for the sand and grease, &c. will get into the joined part, and it is a difficulty, almost amounting to an impossibility, to dislodge the dirt completely. Take care also, that the lids fit as close as possible, that the broth, soup, &c., that you are making, may not waste by evaporation. They are good for nothing, unless they fit tight enough to keep the steam in, and the smoke out.
Broths differ from soups, as they are inferior in strength, and composed with fewer ingredients; they are more easy to make, and lead to the art of making gravies, soups, and sauces.
Lean, juicy beef, mutton, or veal, form the basis of these: you must procure those pieces which afford the most and richest succulence, and as fresh killed as possible*. Stale meat will make your broth thick and bad tasted, and fat meat is G3v not only wasted, but occasions the broth very soon to turn sour: this only applies to those broths which are required to be perfectly clean: we shall show hereafter, that fat and drippings may be so combined with vegetable mucilage, as to afford, at the small cost of 10d. per gallon, a very nourishing, palatable, and balsamic soup.
* In general, it has been considered the best economy to use the cheapest and most inferior meats for soup, &c., and to boil it down to rags. I think this a false frugality; and advise you to buy good pieces of meat, and only stew them till they are done enough to eat.
The following broth herbs, soup roots, and seasonings, Scotch barley, pearl barley, flour, bread raspings, oatmeal, peas, beans, rice, vermicelli, maccaroni, potatoe mucilage, mushrooms, champignons, parsnips, carrots, beet roots, turnips, garlick, shallots, onions*, cucumber, celery, celery seed†, parsley, leeks, common thyme, lemon-thyme, orange-thyme, knotted marjoram, sage, mint, winter savoury, sweet basil, bay leaves, tarragon, chervil, burnet, allspice, cinnamon, ginger, G4 nutmeg, clove, mace, black pepper, white pepper, lemon-peel, lemon-juice*, Seville orange juice†, and salt, used separately, or combined in fifty different proportions, will make an endless variety‡ of excellent broths and soups, quite as agreeable to the appetite, and incalculably more advantageous to the stomach, than consuming pheasants and partridges, and the long list of piquante, inflammatory, rare and costly articles, recommended in some former books on this subject, whose elaborately compounded soups are like their made dishes; in which, though variety is aimed at, every thing has the same tastes, and nothing its own. The great fault of our English soups, seems to be the employment of an excess of spices, and too small a proportion of roots and herbs.
All cooks agree in this opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion.
Sliced onions fried quite brown, with some butter and flour, are excellent to heighten the colour and flavour of brown sauces and soups.
† The concentration of flavour in celery seed is such, that half a drachm of it will impregnate a gallon of soup with more relish than two or three heads of the fresh vegetable. This valuable acquisition to the soup-pot deserves to be more universally known.
* If you have not orange or lemon juice, a little French wine vinegar is the best substitute for it.
† The juice of the Seville orange is to be preferred to lemon-juice, the flavour is finer, and the acid milder.
‡ The erudite editor of the “Almanach des Gourmands,” vol. ii. p. 30, tells us, that ten folio volumes would not contain the receipts of all the soups that have been invented in that grand school of good eating, the Parisian kitchen.
To the ingredients I have enumerated, many G4v culinary scribes indiscriminately cram into almost every dish, anchovies*, garlick†, bay leaves, and that hot, fiery spice, Cayenne pepper. We leave those who love these things, to use them as they like; their flavour can be very extemporaneously produced by spirit of Cayenne, garlick vinegar, and essence of anchovy ‡. We again caution the cook always to avoid these predominant flavours, which, however agreeable they may be to some, are extremely disagreeable to others.
* Soy, cavice-coratch, anchovies, curry powder, browning, catsup, pickle liquor, beer, and wine, are occasionally very convenient auxiliaries to soups, &c.: the proportion of wine should not exceed a large wineglassful to a quart of soup, though much larger quantities are ordered in many books: this is as much as can be admitted, without the vinous flavour becoming remarkably predominant.
† Many a good dish is spoiled, by the cook not knowing the proper use of this, which is to give a flavour, and not to be predominant to the other ingredients: a morsel mashed with the point of a knife, and stirred in, is enough.
‡ For preparing these, you will find the best receipts in the chapter of sauces, &c.
Truffles and morels are also set down as a part of most receipts. These have a very rich, high flavour, and are delicious additions to some dishes, or sent up as a stew by themselves, when they are G5 fresh and fine; but in this state they are not served up half a dozen times in a year at the first nobleman’s table in the kingdom: when they are dried, they generally lose their flavour, and serve only to soak up good gravy, from which they take more taste than they give. The great art of composing a rich soup is, so to proportion the several ingredients one to another, that no particular taste be stronger than the rest; but to produce such a fine, harmonious, and delicious relish, that the whole is delightful: this requires a very judicious combination of the materials, and constitutes the “chef-d’œuvre” of culinary science.
In the first place, take care that the roots and herbs be perfectly well cleaned, and proportion the water not only to the quantity of meat*, and other ingredients, but to the sort of fire you intend to use. If you have a brisk fire, a great deal more water must be put in than you intend to have broth; but if it be to stew gently, then little more water need be put in at first than is expected at the end; for when the saucepan is covered close, and the fire gentle, very little is wasted. In most cases, this gentle way of stewing is incomparably G5v the best, and both the meat and the soup eat the better for it.
* Generally a pound of meat to a quart of water, for soups; and double that quantity for gravies.
Always dish up your soups the last thing. If it be gravy soup, it will skin over if you let it stand; if it be peas-soup, it often settles, and the top looks thin.
By quick and strong boiling, not only all the volatile and finest parts of the ingredients are evaporated, and fly off with the steam, but the coarser parts are rendered soluble; so you lose the good, and get the bad. The slower they boil the better. Soups will generally take from three to six hours.
If possible, always prepare your broths and soups the evening before you want them. This will give you more time to attend to the rest of your dinner next day; and when the soup is cold, fat may be much more easily and completely removed from the surface of it: when you decant it, take care not to disturb the settlings at the bottom of the vessel, which are so fine, they will escape through your tammis, or sieve, and are only to be got rid of in this manner. The full flavour of the ingredients can only be extracted by very long and slow simmering; during which, take care to prevent the evaporation of the steam, by covering your pot closely: perhaps the best stew pots are the cast G6 iron digesters*, made by Jackson and Moser, in Greek Street, Soho: in these, all the nutritive qualities of the meat are preserved, the steam being prevented escaping by the lids fitting exactly into a screw groove.
* The water in the digester is never made to boil, so there is no exhalation of volatile parts; and although the solution is made with great success, and may be to any degree required, yet if that is not carried very far, the meat may be rendered very tender, while it retains its most sapid parts, and still remain eatable, and useful in the family.
Bread raspings, bread crumbs*, biscuit powder, isinglass, potatoe mucilage, fat skimmings and flour, or flour and butter, or flour and water rubbed well together, are the materials commonly used† to thicken‡, and give a body to our soups. To their very rich gravies, &c., the French add the breasts of partridges and fowls, beaten to a pulp in a marble mortar, a piece of the beef you have G6v boiled to make your broth or gravy, pounded in the like manner, with a bit of butter and flour, and gradually well incorporated with the gravy or soup, will be found an excellent substitute for these more expensive articles. Meat from which broth has been made, and all the juice has been extracted, is then excellently well prepared for frothing, and quite as good as that which has been baked till it is dry§, and pounded, &c., seasoned in the usual manner, will be an elegant and savoury luncheon or supper dish, and extremely useful, as we have before observed, to thicken soups, sauces, &c., and costs nothing but the trouble of preparing it, which is very little, and you get a delicious relish for sandwiches, &c., of what heretofore has been by the poorest housekeeper considered the perquisite of the cat.
* To thicken with bread: take the crumb of a French roll, boil it in a little of the soup, beat it in a mortar, and rub it through a sieve, or coarse cloth, pour this into your soup, and give it a boil up afterwards.
† In the proportion of a teacupful to a quart of soup.
‡ Whatever materials are used for this purpose, must be gradually mixed with the soup, till they are thoroughly incorporated with it; if it is at all lumpy, pass it through a fine hair sieve.
§ If the gravy is not completely drained from it, the article potted will turn sour in a couple of days.
It is a good plan always to keep some spare broth, lest your soup liquor waste in boiling, and get too thick. If it is too thin, or too weak, take off the cover of your soup-pot, and let it boil till some of the watery part of it has evaporated, or add some of the thickening materials we have before mentioned; and always have at hand some G7 browning. This simple preparation is much better than any of the compounds bearing that name, as it merely colours your sauce or soup, without interfering with its flavour. When soups and gravies are kept from day to day, in hot weather, they should be warmed up every day, and put into fresh scalded tureens, or pans; in temperate weather, every other day may be enough. We hope enough has now been said, to put the common cook into possession of the whole arcana of soupmaking, without much trouble to herself, or expense to her employers; and that it will not be said, in future, that an Englishman only knows how to make soup in his stomach, by swilling down a large quantity of ale, or porter, to quench the thirst occasioned by the meat he eats: like the ingenious foreigners he may now make his soup in a pot, and thus save his principal viscera a great deal of trouble.
In the following Receipts we have directed the spices and flavouring to be added at the usual time; but it would greatly improve the soups, if the spices, &c., as well as wine, which is used to finish them, were not put in above ten or fifteen minutes before they are done, especially if the spices are pounded; whole spice may have twenty or thirty minutes. A continued heat soon dissipates the spirit of wine, and evaporates the aroma and flavour of the spices and herbs.
G7vSince writing the above, the following corroboration of my opinion was given me by that scientific culinary amateur, Apicius Cœlius, junr.
“The great fault of ancient and of modern cookery has consisted in the employment of the various articles of seasoning or condiment, which, on the application of heat, have been evaporated, and, from the volatization of their more subtle parts, the true flavour of these substances have been destroyed. Wine, spices, anchovy, and many ingredients, when stewed for a considerable time, lose the best part of their flavour.”
“A. C. junr.”
G8
Wash a shin of beef very clean, crack the bone in two or three places, add thereto any trimmings you have of meat, game, or poultry, and put them into two gallons of cold water, in an open pot, on a quick fire; watch it, and the moment it begins to simmer, skim it carefully, or you will lose the beauty of your broth, which must be perfectly clear and limpid; on this depends the goodness of the soups, sauces, and gravies, of which it is the basis: then add a quart of cold water, to make more scum rise, and skim it again, and when the scum has quite done rising, put in one moderate-sized carrot, a head of celery, two turnips, two onions, in one of which stick three cloves, and a teaspoonful of salt: cover it close, and set it by the side of the fire, and let it boil very gently for four or five hours, according to the weight of your meat: when it is reduced to about six quarts, strain it through a silk or tammis sieve: skim† it carefully, and set it in the coldest place you have. The quicker it cools the better.
G8vObs.—This is the universal foundation for all sorts of soups and sauces, brown or white. I have ordered it to stew no longer than the meat is thoroughly done to eat, and you obtain excellent broth, without depriving the meat of its nutritious succulence: to boil it to rags, as is the common practice, will not enrich your broths, but only make them thick and grouty, and destroy the meat, which when thus gently stewed for only four or five hours, will afford a relishing and wholesome meal for half a dozen people. If it is not to be eaten till cold, cut the meat from the bones, and put it into a mould, and as it grows cold it will take a shape, and will make a very nice dish for luncheon or supper.
* In culinary technicals, is first stock.
† If the grease is left on the top, it keeps the broth from cooling, and it often turns sour.
Cover the bottom of a stewpan, that is well tinned and quite clean, with half a pound of ham or lean bacon cut into slices, a shin of beef, or six pounds of the sticking-piece cut into half pound pieces, with a carrot, an onion with two cloves stuck in it, and a head of celery; put a pint of broth or water to it, cover it close, and set it over a moderate fire till the water is reduced to as little as will just save the ingredients from burning; then put in four quarts of boiling water*; when it boils up, skim it carefully, and wipe off with a clean cloth what sticks round the edge G9 and inside of the stewpan, that your gravy may be delicately clean and clear. Set it by the side of a fire where it will stew very gently for four hours: if it has not boiled too fast, there should be about three quarts of gravy; strain through a silk or tammis sieve; take very particular care to skim it well, and set it in a cold place†.
* A great deal of care is to be taken to watch the time of putting in the water, for if it is poured in too soon, the gravy will not have its true flavour and colour, and if let alone till the meat sticks too much to the pan, it will get a burnt taste.
† Called in some cookery books, second stock.
Put a large quantity of beef trimmings, or lean beef, into a broth-kettle; cover them with cold water, and set it over a quick fire, till it boils; skim it well, and add a quart of cold water, to throw up the scum; skim it again, and set it to simmer gently four or five hours, then strain it through a napkin that has been wetted and wrung, or through a silk sieve, or tammis, into a clean stone or china pan, and let it remain till next day; take off the fat, and pour the broth gently (so as to leave the settling at the bottom of the pan) into a clean stewpan, set it over a very clear hot stove, and let it boil away as quick as possible, till it is reduced to a strong glue†; you must take G9v great care it does not burn. It should be of a fine yellow colour, and transparent: pour it into little jars, and keep it in a cool, but dry place.
Obs.—This is an indispensable preparation, giving a body to your soups, sauces, and ragouts, or to glaze your meat with. When reduced to this state, it will keep for several months. If it is for present use, it need not be boiled away so much, and is then called consommé, or essence of meat.
† The French use three different names to signify much the same thing; viz. consommé, coulis, and restaurant. The first is the weakest and clearest, and is often made with a little flour, butter, and broth, and used to give thickness to sauces and soups: the second is stronger, of meat, and is for the purpose of adding goodness and strength to whatever it is mixed with; the last is for the same purpose, and made as rich in taste and flavour, as meat, game, poultry, and proper seasoning can make it.
Take a stewpan that will hold four quarts, lay a slice or two of bacon (about a quarter of an inch thick) at the bottom, a couple of ounces of ham, (undressed if you have it,) and two pounds of beef, a carrot, a large onion, with four cloves stuck in it, (that the end of the cloves may not tear the tammis when the sauce is strained,) one head of celery, a bundle of parsley, lemon-thyme, marjoram, and savoury, about as big round as your little finger when tied close, a few leaves of sweet basil, (one bay leaf if you like it,) a piece of lemon-peel, and a dozen corns of allspice: pour on this half a pint of water, cover it close, and let it simmer gently on a slow fire for half an hour, in which time it will be almost dry; watch it very carefully, and let it catch a nice brown colour, turn your meat, let it brown on the other side, then add two quarts of boiling water*, and boil very gently for an hour and a half. It is now rich gravy: to convert it into
* The general rule is to put in as many quarts of water as there are pounds of meat.
G10Take a tablespoonful of the thickening, No. 257, of sauces, end put it into a basin, with a ladleful of the gravy; stir it quick; then add the rest by degrees, till it is all well mixed, then pour it back into the stewpan, where the meat, &c. is; see the sauce is of a proper thickness, and leave it by the side of the fire to simmer for half an hour, that the thickening may thoroughly incorporate with the gravy, the stewpan being only half covered, stirring it every now and then; a sort of scum will gather on the top, which it is best not to take off till you are ready to strain it through a tammis*. Take care it is neither too pale nor too dark a colour; if it is not thick enough, put it into a clean stewpan; and if you wish it stronger, let it stew longer, till it is reduced to the desired thickness: if it is too thick, you can easily thin it with a spoonful or two of warm broth, or water. When your sauce is done, stir it in the basin you put it into once or twice, while it is cooling.
* A tammis is a worsted cloth, sold at the oil shops, made on purpose for straining sauces; the best way of using it is for two people to twist it contrary ways: this is a much better way of straining sauce than through a sieve, and refines it much more completely.
Put on eight or ten pounds of brisket of beef in a G10v gallon of water; let this come very gently to a simmer, bordering on boiling; skim it carefully; when it has simmered in the gentlest manner for four or five hours, according to the size of the meat, put in some carrots and turnips cut into small shapes, and two heads of celery cut small; stew about an hour and a half longer, and the soup is ready to be served up.
Some are fond of small suet dumplings, as big as nutmegs, sent up in the tureen with the soup.
Obs.—This will be found a most excellent family soup, nourishing, and delicious to most palates. If the meat be simmered for three hours the evening before the soup is wanted, and suffered to stand till it is cold, much fat* may be removed from the surface of the soup, which is extremely delicate, and far superior for all the purposes that drippings are applied to. The beef will be a most excellent and tender bouilli; and if some of the gravy be thickened, see Receipt No. 257, and some minced ghirkins, and capers, added to it, and poured into the dish, and over the meat, it will make it still more relishing; carrots and turnips cut, as for harricot mutton, may be added.
* See “L’Art de Cuisinier,” par A. Beauvillier, Paris, 1814, page 68. “I have learned by experience, that of all the fats that are used for frying, that which is taken from the surface of the broth and stock-pot is by far the best.”
A knuckle of veal is best, and a quarter of a pound of undressed ham; manage these as directed in the receipt for beef broth, only take care G11 not to let it catch any colour, as this and the following and richer preparation of veal, are chiefly used for white soups, sauces, &c.
About four pounds of the nut of the leg of veal, cut into half pound slices, with a quarter of a pound of ham in small dice, prepared like the beef gravy, but a great deal of care must be taken to watch the time of putting in the water; if it is poured in too soon, the gravy will not have its true flavour, and if it be let alone till the meat sticks too much to the pan, it, will catch too much colour.
A knuckle of veal of nine pounds weight, will make two tureens of excellent soup, and is thus easily prepared: cut a pound of bacon into slices about half an inch thick, lay it at the bottom of a soup kettle, or deep stewpan, on this the knuckle of veal, having first chopped the bone in two or three places, furnish it with a carrot, a turnip, a head of celery, a large onion, with two or three cloves stuck in it, a dozen corns of black, and the same of Jamaica pepper, and a good bundle of lemon-thyme, winter savoury, and parsley. Cover the meat with cold water, set it over a quick fire till it boils, and you have skimmed it well, then remove your soup-kettle to the side of the fire, where it will stew very gently for four hours, till it is quite tender, then take out the G11v bacon and veal, and set it by till it is cold, and strain the soup, and set it by in a cool place till you want it, when you must take off the fat you will find on the surface of your liquor, and decant it (keeping back the settlings at the bottom,) into a clean stew pan; put three tablespoonsful of the fat you have taken off the soup, into a small stewpan, and mix it with three tablespoonsful of flour, pour a ladleful of soup to it, and mix it with the rest by degrees, and boil it up till it is smooth. Cut the meat and gristle of the knuckle, and the bacon into mouthfuls, and put them into the soup, and let them get warm.
Obs.—You may make this more savoury by adding catsup, or thyme, &c. Shin of beef may be dressed the same way.
Take two pounds of scrag of mutton, let it lay in some cold water for an hour, to take the blood out, then put it in a saucepan, with three quarts of water, a teaspoonful of salt, and three of the best grits, a large onion, some thyme and knotted marjoram; then set it on a slow fire, and mind you skim it well: when you have taken all the scum off, then put in three turnips, and let it simmer for a couple of hours, and strain through a clean and sweet sieve.
Obs.—You may thicken broth, by boiling with it a little oatmeal, rice, Scotch or pearl barley.
G12Boil two teaspoonsful of mushroom catsup in three quarters of a pint of very thin gruel. Season with a little salt.
Sir Kenelm Digby, in his closet of cookery, page 150, London, 1669, informs us was made in the following manner:
A hen, a handful of parsley, a sprig of thyme, three of spearmint, a little balm, half a great onion, a little pepper and salt, and a clove, as much water as will cover them; and this boiled to less than a pint, for one good porrengerful.
Take a pound of rump steaks, the same quantity of veal cutlets and mutton chops, and an ox-heel, cut them into pieces about an inch square, put the whole into a soup-pot, with an ounce of butter, let it stew softly, and turn it about, that it may get browned all over, then pour in five pints of water, with two ounces of barley, an onion, a small bundle of sweet herbs, or three drachms of soup herb powder, No. 459, enclosed in a bag, three heads of celery, a couple of turnips pared and cut in two, a large carrot scraped clean and split, three blades of bruised mace, two or three cloves, and half a dozen berries of black pepper; cover the G12v soup-pot very close, so that no steam can evaporate: if the lid does not fit tight, put a piece of paper over the pot, and then put the lid on; let it stew very gently for three hours; take out the spice, sweet herbs, and soup roots, pour the rest into a tureen, or soup dish, and season it with a little salt.
The proportion of water to each heel is about a quart; keep it simmering gently for three or four hours, it will make a pint of strong jelly, which is frequently used to add to mock turtle, and the calf’s feet will do as well.
When you dress a large dinner, you may make good broth, at very small cost, by taking care of all the trimmings and parings of the meat, game, and poultry you are going to use; wash them well, and put them into a stewpan, with as much cold water as will cover them; set your stewpan on a hot fire; when it boils, take off all the scum, and set it to boil gently: put in two carrots, two turnips, a large onion, three blades of pounded mace, and a head of celery; some mushroom parings will be a great addition. Let it boil gently three or four hours, strain it through a silk sieve into a clean basin, and season it with salt.
HCut half a pound of lean ham into thin slices and lay them at the bottom of a large stewpan or stockpot, with three pounds of lean beef, and a knuckle of veal; break the bones and lay them on the meat, take off the outer skin of two large onions, stick three cloves in one of them, and cut the other into slices, and two turnips; wash and clean a couple of large carrots, two heads of celery cut in pieces, and a large blade of mace, pour over these half a pint of cold water, cover the stewpan close, and set it over a smart fire, to boil quick, till the water is reduced, and the meat begins to stick to the bottom of the stewpan; turn your meat, &c., and when there is a nice brown glaze at the bottom of the stewpan, add four quarts of clean boiling water: watch it, and when it is coming to a boil, put in half a pint of cold water, and take off the scum, put in half a pint more cold water, skim it again, and continue to do so till no more scum rises, then set it on one side of the fire, to boil gently for four hours, strain it through a clean napkin, or a silk sieve, into a clean China or stone pan, let it remain till it is cold, and then remove all the grease: when you decant it, be careful not to disturb the settlings at the bottom of the pan: the liquor should be of a fine amber colour, and as clear as rock water: if it is not quite so bright as you wish it, put it into a stewpan, and break two whites and shells of eggs into a basin, beat them well together, put them into the soup, set it on a quick fire, and stir it with a whisk till it boils, then set it on one side of Hv the fire to settle for ten minutes, strain it through a fine napkin into a basin, and it is ready. However, if your broth is carefully skimmed, it will be clear enough, without clarifying, which impairs the flavour of the broth much more than it improves its appearance.
Obs.—This is the basis of almost all the gravy soups, which are called after the various vegetables that are put into them. Carrots, turnips, onions, celery, and a few leaves of chervil, make what is commonly called “soup santé;” a pint of asparagus peas, and a cabbage lettuce, when they can be had, are an improvement; with rice, or Scotch barley, with Italian paste, or maccaroni, or vermicelli, or celery cut into lengths; it will be the soup usually called by those names, or turnips scooped round and fried in butter, or young onions prepared in the same way, will give you a clear turnip, or onion soup. Whatever roots and vegetables you use, must be parboiled first, or they will impregnate the soup with too strong a flavour. The seasoning for all these soups is the same, salt, a little sugar, and a very little Cayenne pepper.
Put a large shin of beef (after having sawed the bone into several pieces,) into a stewpan, with six quarts of water, two teaspoonsful of salt, to throw up the scum, which must be carefully and completely removed as soon as it appears; then put in three whole onions, three carrots, and a couple of turnips, cut in pieces, a teaspoonful H2 of whole allspice, and the same of black pepper: let it stew very gently for five or six hours, and strain it off into a pan, and let it remain till next day. When the meat is cold, pick out all the gristles and sinews from the meat, cut them into pieces as big as a small walnut, and lay them by to put into the soup; the rest of the meat (after the skins, &c. are picked out,) pound in a mortar, with a little beaten spice, salt, and a very little butter, and make it into potted beef. Next morning take off the fat from the soup, cut three large onions into slices, and fry them a fine brown (but do not let them get burned) in some of the fat you have taken off the surface of your soup liquor; put these into a clean stewpan, with your soup, and the gristles, and let them simmer together for half an hour, then rub down four tablespoonsful of flour in a teacupful of soup, add two tablespoonsful of mushroom catsup, and one of browning; give it a boil up for five minutes, and put it through a sieve. It is ready for table.
Divide a large neck of mutton into two parts, put the scrag end into a stewpan, with four large turnips, and two carrots, a large onion cut in two, and a gallon of water; let it stew gently over a slow fire for two hours, till the mutton is done enough, but not till it is boiled to rags: then bruise two of the turnips, and one of the carrots through a cullender, and put them into the soup, to thicken it: cut the other part of the mutton into chops, fry them just to brown them, put them to the soup, and stew them very gently till H2v the chops are tender, but take care not to do them to rags: cut the other turnips and carrot into shapes, and put them in the soup just before you take it up. Send it up in a soup-tureen or dish.
Cut six or eight handsome cutlets off the best end of a neck of mutton, trim off some of the fat, and lay the cutlets on a plate; take the scrag and trimmings, and put them into a large stewpan, with a gallon of water, one head of celery, and a small bundle of parsley and thyme; set it on the fire, and when it boils skim it well, and let it simmer very slowly by the side of the fire for two hours; strain it into a clean stewpan, or broth pot, and have ready turnips, carrots, celery, and button onions, of each a small teacupful, cut into dice, or scooped with a turnip-scoop. Put the cutlets and the roots into the broth, season it with salt, and let it stew very slowly till they are just tender.
Chop a shin of beef into four or five pieces, put it into a soup-pot, with two gallons of cold water, and set it over a brisk fire till it boils; skim it well, and put in a large carrot, a turnip, a head of celery, and a small bundle of parsley and thyme; let it stew gently for three hours, then strain it into a clean stewpan, or soup-pot, take off the fat, and put in three quarters of a pound of barley, well washed and picked, another head of celery, two turnips, a carrot, and an onion, cut into small H3 dice, and let it boil very gently till the barley is soft, which will take about two hours more, then season it with a teaspoonful of salt.
Obs.—Instead of a shin of beef, this is sometimes made with a neck, or breast of mutton, or a couple of sheep’s heads, chopped to pieces.
You may make this soup to most advantage the day after a joint of mutton has been boiled; put the liquor the mutton has been boiled in, into a soup-pot, with four large leeks cut into pieces an inch long, season with pepper and salt, and let it boil slowly for an hour, then mix a quarter of a pound of oatmeal with half a pint of cold water, till it is quite smooth; pour this into the soup, let it simmer gently half an hour longer, and send it up hot.
Wash and pick a quarter of a pound of rice, put it into a quart stewpan with a pint of cold water, put it on the fire, and when it has boiled two minutes, put it on a hair sieve to drain; put it into a large stewpan, with three quarts of beef or veal broth; (see Receipts, No 185 and 191;) let it boil an hour, taking off the scum as it rises, and season it with a little salt.
Peel and slice a dozen potatoes, half a dozen H3v onions, and three or four heads of celery, put them into a stewpan, with a quarter of a pound of butter and a pint of water, let them simmer very slowly for about an hour, then add five pints of warm water; let it stew on, till the vegetables are all well softened, so as they may be rubbed through a sieve. Season it with ground black pepper and salt.
Make a gallon of clear veal or beef broth; if it is not perfectly clear, it must be clarified*: with a turnip-scoop, cut eight or ten turnips that are not spongy, into round balls, about as big as a nutmeg, do not wash them, but put them into a stewpan, with two ounces of butter, and fry them of a fine gold colour, dry them on a hair sieve, or a sheet of paper, put them into the soup; set it by the stove to boil gently for a quarter of an hour, skim it carefully, and season it with a little salt and sugar; cut some crusts of bread into bits about as big as a nutmeg, dry them on a plate before the fire, put some into the soup, and send up the rest on a plate.
Peel and wash a dozen large turnips, (taking care they are not spongy,) cut them into thin slices, and put them into a clean gallon stewpan, with three quarts of veal broth, or the liquor that mutton, or beef, or veal has been boiled in, (or H4 warm water,) with a head of celery, a large onion, and a blade of beaten mace; cover the stew pan close, and set it over a slow fire till the vegetables are soft enough to rub through a tammis, which will be in about half an hour, if the turnips are good. While the soup is boiling, cut a large turnip into small dice, and boil them till they are tender. When your soup is done enough, rub it through a tammis into a clean stew pan, season it with a teaspoonful of salt, put the turnip that you have cut into dice into it; set it on the fire again for ten minutes, and serve it up. Cut a slice of bread into dice, and fry it as we have directed in the receipt for pease soup, No. 218, or the crust of a French roll cut into small squares, and dried before the fire and sent up on a plate.
In the game season, it is very seldom that pheasants and partridges are all eaten upon a gentleman’s table, consequently it will be easy for a cook to give her master a very good soup at a very little expense, by taking all the meat off the breasts, and pounding it in a mortar; and beating to pieces the legs and bones, and boiling them in some broth for an hour. Boil six turnips, mash them, and strain them through a tammis cloth with the meat that has been pounded in a mortar, strain your broth, and put a little of it at a time into the tammis to help you to strain all of it through. Put your soup-kettle near the fire, but do not let it boil; when ready to dish your dinner, have six yolks of eggs mixed with half a pint of cream, strain through a silk sieve, put your H4v soup on the fire, and as it is coming to a boil, put in the eggs, and stir well with a wooden spoon; do not let it boil, as it would curdle; look if it is salt enough.
Obs.—I received the above from the same artist who wrote the receipt to dress Turtle, No. 250.
Put three ounces of fresh butter into a three quart stewpan; when it is melted, fill it about one third full with carrots and turnips cut into small squares; shake these over the fire for ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour; then add as much water as will nearly fill the saucepan, and after letting it stew gently for an hour, slice in a couple of onions, stew for two hours longer; a quarter of an hour before you serve up, stir in a teacupful of bread raspings, some salt, and either some Cayenne, or common pepper.
Scrape and wash a dozen large carrots, and peel off the red outsides, which is the only part that should be used for this soup; put them into a gallon stewpan, with one head of celery, two large onions, and two turnips cut into thin pieces, the same as the carrots; take two quarts of common beef, veal, or mutton broth, or if you have any cold roast beef bones, they will make very good broth for this soup; when you have put the broth to the roots, cover the stewpan close, and set it on a slow stove for two hours and a half, H5 when the carrots will be soft enough to rub through a tammis, or hair sieve, with a wooden spoon; then add as much broth as will make it a proper thickness, i.e. almost as thick as pease soup, put it into a clean stew pan, make it hot, season with a little salt, and send it up with some toasted bread cut into pieces, half an inch square; some put it into the soup, but the best way is to send it up on a plate, as a side dish.
Obs.—This is a very elegant soup, and neither expensive nor troublesome to prepare: in the kitchen of some opulent epicures, the roots are fried in butter, before they are put on to stew: if this is not done very carefully, and with very nicely clarified fat, all the sweet flavour of the vegetables will be overpowered by the rank empyreumatic savour of the fryingpan.
This is made in the same manner as the carrot soup; it is unnecessary to recapitulate the foregoing receipt.
Split half a dozen heads of the whitest celery you can get into slips about two inches long, wash them well, and lay them on a hair sieve to drain, and put them into three quarts of veal gravy (see Receipt, No. 192) in a gallon soup-pot; set it by the side of the fire, to stew very gently till the celery is tender; (this will take about an hour). If any scum rises, take it off, H5v season with a little salt, and send it up with the same accompaniments as in the last receipt.
Obs. When celery cannot be procured, half a drachm of the seed, which may be considered as the essence of celery, and can be had at any season, will give the full flavour of the fresh vegetable to a gallon of soup.
To make three quarts of this soup, wash and thoroughly cleanse a quart of white harrico beans in lukewarm water; let them boil very gently for a couple of hours in three quarts and a pint of water, till the beans are tender; work them through a cullender into a clean stewpan, put in a large bunch of parsley, a quarter of a pound of butter, and the inside of a three-penny loaf crumbled to pieces, season with white pepper and salt, and keep it simmering slow for an hour and a half longer, and pass it through a sieve.
Take two quarts of full-grown (but not old) green peas, put a large saucepan on the fire half full of water; when it boils, put the peas in, with a handful of salt; let them boil till they are done enough to eat, drain them in a cullender, then put them into a clean gallon stewpan, with a large onion, a cabbage lettuce, two ounces of lean ham, and three quarts of beef broth, or gravy, made as in the receipts, No. 185, and 186; cover the stewpan close, and set over a slow fire, to stew gently for an hour; then rub it through a tammis into another H6 stewpan, stir it with a wooden spoon, and if it is not thin enough, add a little more broth; have ready boiled, as for eating, a pint of young peas, and put them into the soup; season with a little salt and sugar.
Obs.—If the soup is not green enough, pound a handful of spinnage in a marble mortar, and squeeze the juice through a cloth into the soup; some leaves of mint may be added, if approved.
Take three pints of young green peas, put them on in a small quantity of water, give them a boil or two, and then pour away the water, and put the peas into a marble mortar, and pound them to a mash. Set on a saucepan, with a quarter of a pound of butter, two onions cut small, a sprig of thyme, marjoram, and savory, a bunch of parsley, and four cloves bruised; add to these the crust of a French roll; set the pan on a moderate fire, dredge in two or three tablespoonsful of flour, and stir all carefully about till the bread is crisp, and the whole is well done; then pour in three quarts of water, let it boil up, and when you have skimmed it clean, put in the pounded peas, stir all well together, let it again boil up, and then strain it through a hair sieve; it should be very thick and fine. If it does not appear sufficiently green, pound a handful of spinnage, and put the juice, when properly strained, into the soup; it must not boil after.
H6vTo one quart of split peas (whole peas are often difficult to burst,) put one gallon of soft water, and a pound of bacon, (not very fat,) or roast beef bones, or four anchovies, or instead of the gallon of water, a gallon of the liquor in which meat has been boiled, tasting it first, to make sure it is not too salt. Wash two heads of celery, cut it, and put it in, with two large onions peeled, a sprig of savory, and sweet marjoram; set it on the trivet, and let it boil gently over a slow fire, stirring it every quarter of an hour (to keep the peas from sticking to the bottom,) till the peas are tender, which will be in about three hours; then work it through a coarse hair sieve, and then through a fine one with the back of a wooden spoon; put it into a clean stewpan, with half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper*, let it boil again for ten minutes, and if any fat arises, skim it off. You may put in a head of celery cut into pieces an inch long, or a score of young button onions. Cut a slice of bread, that has been baked two or three days, into dice about half an inch square; put a tablespoonful of clean drippings into an iron fryingpan, and when it is melted, put in the bread, and fry it a light brown colour; take it up with a fish slice, and lay it on a sheet of paper to drain the grease; be careful this is done nicely: send these up in one side H7 dish, and dried and powdered mint in another. Those who are for a high relish, may have some bacon cut into small squares like the bread, and fried till it is crisp, and sent up in another little dish.
Obs.—The most economical method of making pease soup, is to save the bones of a joint of roast beef, and put them into the liquor a leg of mutton has been boiled in, and proceed as in the above receipt. A hock, or shank bone of ham, or a ham bone, or the root of a tongue, or a red herring, are favourite additions with some cooks; others send up rice or vermicelli with pease soup†.
* Some put in dried mint rubbed to a fine powder; but as every body does not like mint, it is best to send it up on a plate.
† My witty predecessor, Dr. Hunter, (see Culina, page 97,) says, “If a proper quantity of curry powder be added to pease soup, a good soup might be made, under the title of curry peas soup. Heliogabalus offered rewards for the discovery of a new dish, and the British Parliament have given notoriety to inventions of much less importance than ‘curry peas soup.’”
A pease soup may be made savoury, full to the palate, and most excellent and agreeable, without any meat, by incorporating two ounces of fresh beef, mutton, or pork drippings, with two ounces of oatmeal, and mixing this well into the gallon of soup, made as in the first receipt.
A couple of pound of the belly part of pickled pork will make very good pease soup, if the pork H7v be not too salt, i.e. if it has been in salt more than two days, it must be laid in water the night before it is used, and put it on in a gallon of water, with the ingredients mentioned in the first receipt; let it boil gently for two hours, then put in the pork, and boil very gently for an hour longer; when done, wash the pork clean in hot water, and send it up in a dish, and the soup in a tureen, with the accompaniments ordered in the first receipt for pease soup.
Obs.—The meat is boiled no longer than to be done enough to eat; thus you get the soup without any expense of meat destroyed.
To a quart of split peas, and two heads of celery, put a gallon of soft water; let them simmer gently over a slow fire for three hours; when they are well softened, work them through a coarse hair sieve, and then through a fine one, into a clean stewpan, with two teaspoonsful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper. Prepare fried bread and dried mint as in the first receipt for pease soup, and send them up with it in two side dishes.
Obs.—This is an excellent family soup, produced with very little trouble or expense; most of the receipts for pease soup, like those preceding this, are crowded with ingredients that completely overpower the flavour of the pea.
H8This is a soup made with the heads of asparagus, in the same manner as the green pease soup is with pease, except that only half the asparagus is rubbed through a sieve, the other is to be cut in pieces about half an inch long, and boiled till tender, and sent up in the soup; to make two quarts of good soup, there must be half a pint of heads to thicken it, and another half pint cut in. This soup is sometimes made, by adding the asparagus heads to common pease soup.
Clean four carrots, four onions, two parsnips, and two heads of celery, three or four turnips, a small cabbage, half a pint of split peas, a leek, and a teacupful of bread crumbs; put them into a saucepan with five pints of cold water, place it over a slow fire, and let it boil gently for three hours; work your ingredients through a cullender into a clean stewpan, and season it with pepper and salt; send it up hot, with fried bread cut into dice, the same as directed with pease soup.
Peel and wash six large onions, two carrots, two turnips, and two parsnips, and a head of celery; cut them into thin slices, and put them into a large stewpan, with a quarter of a pound of butter; set the stewpan over a quick fire, stir in some flour, and let them fry till they have got H8v well browned; pour to them a gallon of boiling water, a pint of split peas, some bread raspings, or stale crusts, and two blades of bruised mace, or three cloves, a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, and salt enough to season it; let it stew very gently for two hours, and strain through a tammis: by this method your soup will be as well coloured, and the flavour as good, as if it were made with gravy. The last thing, put in either small onions, turnips, or celery, which you will have ready boiled for the purpose; send up toasted bread cut into dice, in a dish, and any dried herbs you please in another dish.
Obs.—The French sometimes add to this, (which much improves it,) a couple of the sea ducks called Macreuse, which feed upon muscles, and being of a fishy nature, may be eaten on fast days.
You may make this with a cod’s skull, or three pounds of eels, or three pounds of skate, or half a dozen flounders; cut them to pieces, put them on to stew in three quarts of water, season it with four blades of bruised mace, an onion with four cloves stuck in it, a head of celery, some pepper and salt, and a bunch of sweet herbs, or three drachms of soup herb powder: cover them down close, and after they have simmered gently for a couple of hours, pass the liquor through a hair sieve into a clean stewpan; while this is doing, beard a pint of oysters, and pound them in a mortar with the yolks of three hard eggs, and a little pepper and salt; let all boil up together till it is H9 the thickness of cream, pour it into your tureen, and send it to table.
Take half a dozen large onions*, two carrots, two heads of celery, and one turnip; slice those very thin, and put a quarter of a pound of butter into a stewpan; when it boils, which you will know by its leaving off scolding, put in the above ingredients, and fry them till they are brown, but take care not to burn them; then add, by degrees, either three quarts of thin pease soup, or boiling water, two anchovies, four blades of mace, and some whole black pepper, and two penny rolls; boil up together till the bread is reduced to a pulp; work it through a coarse hair sieve, and set it again upon the fire; skim it well, thicken it with the yolks of four eggs, and pass it through a sieve again; send up with it fried bread cut into the form of dice, or a French roll cut into small bits and dried before the fire.
* Two or three dozen very small onions are sometimes used for a change, fried in the same manner, whole.
Put a gallon of water into a soup-pot, with three quarters of a pint of bread-raspings to thicken it; throw in two or three onions sliced, two or three cloves, a teaspoonful of whole black pepper, the same of salt; boil up together for about half an hour, and rub it through a sieve. Take some carrots, and a head of celery cut into H9v bits, and fry them in butter; put them to the soup, let it go on simmering till these are tender: if not brown enough, colour it with a little burnt sugar, for which you have a receipt, No. 322.
To make a quart, put an ounce of butter into a two quart stewpan, with a middling sized onion chopped small, fry it till it is a little brown, then add two large tablespoonsful of flour, and two teaspoonsful of soup-herb powder, No. 459, or one of dried parsley, one of savory, and one of lemon-thyme, or basil, six berries of black, and the same quantity of Jamaica pepper pounded, and half a bay-leaf; stir them together, and pour to them by degrees a quart of boiling water; when it is well mixed, let it boil, for ten minutes; add a wineglass of table beer, and a large spoonful of catsup or browning, season with salt, and rub it through a tammis, or fine hair sieve; toast a slice of bread, cut it into pieces three quarters of an inch square, and send up on a plate.
Obs.—This has the advantage of being very quickly prepared at a very moderate expense.
Put four ounces of oatmeal into a basin, and mix it well with three ounces of clean drippings of pork, beef, or mutton; mix this by degrees with a gallon of soft water, add to it a tablespoonful H10 of the soup-herb powder*, No. 459, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, and same of allspice; let it simmer, and stir it together for a couple of minutes, and it is ready.
Obs.—Those who have not tasted this, will not easily imagine what a delicious meal is produced by the combination of these cheap and homely ingredients.
* If you have no soup-herb powder, use two teaspoonsful of dried and pounded parsley, one of winter savory, one of lemon-thyme, and a quarter of a drachm of celery seed.
Wash five ounces of barley, and put it on to boil on a slow fire in six quarts of water; skim it carefully, and when it is reduced to about five quarts, put on a head of celery, or half a drachm of celery seed, and a large onion, and let it boil another hour, till it is reduced to a gallon; put four ounces of oatmeal into a basin, mix it well with three ounces of clean drippings, and these by degrees with the above liquor, adding to it a tablespoonful of the soup-herb savoury powder, and a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, and two teaspoonsful of salt; let all boil up together for a few minutes till it is well incorporated.
Dripping intended for soup, should be taken out of the pan almost as soon as it has dropped from the meat; if it is not quite clean and nice, clarify it. See Receipt, No. 83.
For various receipts for economical cookery, see Mrs. Melroe’s book, a work of great ingenuity and originality.
H10vObs.—If the generally received opinion be true, that animal and vegetable foods afford nourishment in proportion to the quantity of oil, jelly, mucilage, and sugar that can be extracted from them; these soups have strong claims to the attention of the rational economist.
Put a quarter of a pound of vermicelli into a quart stewpan, with a pint of cold water; when it boils, take it out, and put it on a hair sieve to drain; then put it into cold water for a few minutes, and drain it on a hair sieve again; have ready two quarts of veal gravy, made as in receipt, No. 192, put this into a clean gallon stewpan, put the vermicelli to it, let it boil a few minutes, season it with salt, and send it up hot, with the crust of a French roll, cut into pieces the size of a sixpence, on a side dish.
Put two quarts of veal broth, made as in receipt No. 191, into a clean gallon stewpan; put it on the stove, and when it boils, mix the yolk of three eggs with half a pint of cream, and a little salt; strain it through a hair sieve into the soup; stir it quick, but do not let it boil, or it will curdle; send it up as quick as possible.
Boil six ounces of maccaroni in water for four minutes, lay it on a hair sieve that all the water H11 may drain from it; put into a stewpan again, with a quarter of a pound of fresh butter, a bay leaf, an onion, with two cloves stuck in it, and half a pint of broth or water; let it simmer in the corner of the stove till done.
To make your soup, you must have one pound of good lean ham, a knuckle of veal, and an old fowl; cut your ham in slices, and lay them at the bottom of a large stewpan, cut your veal to pieces and your fowl, and put them to the ham, with a ladleful of broth, or water; set your stewpan on the fire, and let it reduce till it begins to stick to the stewpan, then cover your meat with broth, or water, skim it well, put in some salt, with two carrots, one onion, two cloves, a head of celery, two turnips, and one parsnip; let it simmer four or five hours, then strain the liquor through a hair sieve; three quarts is all you must expect, if you like to have good soup; then have three quarters of a pound of parmesan cheese grated; when ready to dish, take away the onion and bay leaf from the maccaroni, put at the bottom of your tureen, a bed of maccaroni, then a bed of parmesan cheese, and so on, till all is in; pour your soup over, and send it up as hot as possible.
Every article employed in this soup must be of the very best quality; it is seldom well made in this country.
This is called in the French kitchen, “Potage à la Camerani,” the erudite gourmand who invented it.
Prepare your maccaroni and broth as in the last receipt, mince fine all the vegetables that have H11v been boiled in the broth, with two dozen of fowls’ livers that have been parboiled, chop these, and mix with the vegetables, and lay a bed of these ingredients between the maccaroni and the cheese, of which you will want a pound.
This is one of the last productions, and the reigning favourite of the French kitchen, where the desire for novelty is insatiable, and folios might be filled with their innumerable receipts for soups.
This soup is sometimes made with beef broth, and sometimes with fish, in the following manner.
Take two or three flounders, eels, gudgeons, &c. and set them on to boil in a gallon of cold water; when it is pretty nigh upon boiling, scum it well, and put in a couple of onions, and as many carrots cut to pieces, and some parsley, a dozen berries of black and Jamaica pepper, and about half a hundred cray-fish; take off the small claws, and shells of the tails, and pound them fine, and boil them with your broth about an hour; strain off, and break in some crusts of bread to thicken it, and if you can get it, the spawn of a lobster, (the inside spawn gives the most colour,) pound it and put to your soup, and let it simmer very gently for a couple of minutes, put in your cray-fish, make hot, and send up.
Obs.—One of my predecessors recommends “cray-fish pounded alive, as an ingredient in his broth,” to sweeten the sharpness of the blood.—Vide Clermont’s Cookery, page 5, 8vo. London, 1776.
H12Prawns, or shrimps, make an excellent soup done just in the same manner; but there is a small bag in the carcass full of gravel, which must be taken out before you pound them for stock. You use only the tails of the prawn, but the cray-fish, body and all, except the legs and shells.
To make a most elegant, nutritious, and delicious lobster soup, take four large live young hen lobsters, pick out all the eggs, or outside live spawn, then boil the lobsters in salt and water for twenty or thirty minutes, according to their size; when cold, split the tails, take out the fish, crack the claws, and cut the meat into mouthfuls: take out the coral and soft part of the body, bruise part of the coral in a mortar, pick out the fish from the chines, beat part of it with the coral, and with this make force-meat balls finely seasoned with mace, nutmeg, and a little grated lemon-peel, and boil them in a little of your veal broth. Make a gallon of veal broth as per receipt No. 191, season it with mace, nutmegs, and a little sweet basil; take the live spawn and bruise it in a marble mortar with a little of your veal broth, rub it through a sieve, and add it to your soup with the meat of the lobsters, and the remaining coral; let it simmer very gently for ten minutes; have ready the yolks of six fresh eggs, beat them up well with a little of the soup, and just give it a warm, H12v keep stirring it all the while, and mind not to let it boil; turn it into your tureen, and add the juice of a good lemon.
The best parts for this purpose, are either the shin, or a piece of the middle of brisket of beef, about seven or eight pounds weight; bind it round with a fillet of tape, to prevent its coming to pieces when you take it up: to do this, put a slice under it, which will enable you to put it on the dish entire; put it into a soup-pot or deep stewpan with cold water enough to cover it, and a quart over, set it on a quick fire to get the scum up, which remove as it rises; then put in two carrots, two turnips, two leeks, two heads of celery, a large onion with two cloves sticking in it, and a faggot of parsley and thyme, and then set your pot by the side of the fire to simmer gently, till the meat is just tender enough to eat; this will require about four hours, during which, the meat must be turned twice or thrice. Put a large carrot, a turnip, a large onion, and a head or two of celery into the soup whole, but take them out as soon as they are done enough, lay them on a dish till they are cold, then cut them into small squares; when the beef is done, take it out carefully, and strain the soup through a hair sieve into a clean stewpan, take off all the fat, put the vegetables that are cut into the soup, the flavour of which you may heighten, if you like it, by adding a wineglassful of mushroom catsup, and a tablespoonful of browning. If a thickened soup is preferred, take four large tablespoonsful I of the clear pot skimmings, and four spoonsful of flour; mix it smooth together, then by degrees stir it well into the soup, pass it through a tammis sieve, and add the vegetables and seasoning the same as directed in the clear soup. Keep the beef hot, and send it up to remove the soup, with some carrots, turnips, and button onions boiled tender in a pint of the soup, thickened with two tablespoonsful of flour, and two of skimmings mixed quite smooth; season it with a little pepper and salt, or send up Wow Wow Sauce, No. 328, in a boat. See also No. 5, “Beef Bouilli.”
This should be prepared the day before it is to be eaten, as you cannot cut the meat of the head into neat mouthfuls unless it is cold; therefore, the day before you want your soup, put half an ox cheek into a large tub of cold water, soak it for a couple of hours, then break all the bones that have not been broken at the butcher’s, and wash it very well in several waters; put it into a brazing-kettle or soup-pot, just large enough to hold it with six quarts of cold water, two heads of celery, a couple of carrots, a turnip, a leek, two large onions, with four cloves stuck in one of them, two blades of mace, a dozen berries of black pepper, same of allspice, and a bundle of sweet herbs, such as marjoram, lemon-thyme, savory, and parsley; cover the soup-pot close, and set it on a quick fire; take off the scum, which will rise when it is coming to a boil, and set it by the fireside to stew gently for five hours; take out the Iv head, lay it on a dish, pour the soup through a fine sieve into a stone-ware pan, and set them by in a cool place till the next day;—then set the soup on to boil away, till it is reduced to three quarts; put two ounces of butter* into a gallon stewpan; when it is melted, throw into it two large tablespoonsful of flour; when they are well mixed together, and browned by degrees, pour to this your soup, and stir it well together for half an hour, strain it through a hair sieve into a clean stewpan, and put to it the meat of the head (which, while your soup has been going on, you have cut into pieces about an inch and a half square); let it stew half an hour longer, and season it with Cayenne pepper, salt, and a glass of good white wine, or a tablespoonful of brandy.
* Or thicken with fat skimmings, as in the next receipt.
Two tails will make a tureen of soup; cut them in pieces at the joints, and lay them to soak in warm water, while you get ready your gravy and vegetables. If you wish it to be very rich, cut into slices half a pound of bacon, and a pound of gravy beef, put them into a two gallon stewpan, with a quarter pint of cold water, a head of celery, two onions, with four cloves stuck in one of them, a dozen berries of allspice, the same of black pepper, two carrots, two turnips, and a bundle of savory, lemon-thyme, and parsley; put your stewpan over a slow fire till the meat looks brown, turn it about, and let it get a little colour; then put in the tails, with three quarts of I2 boiling water, make it boil quick, and skim it carefully, as long as you see any scum rise; then cover your pot as close as possible, and set it on the side of the fire to keep simmering till the meat becomes tender; this will require two or three hours; mind it is not done too much: when perfectly tender, take out the meat, skim the fat off your broth, and strain it through a sieve; to thicken it, put four tablespoonsful of the fat you have taken off the broth into a clean stewpan, with four tablespoonsful of flour, set them over the fire, and stir them well together for five minutes, pour in the broth by degrees, stirring it and mixing it with the thickening; let it boil twenty minutes till it is quite smooth, strain it through a tammis into a clean stewpan, put in the tails, with a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and one of browning, or Ball’s cavice, and the same of wine, and season it with salt.
Is one of the best ways of dressing an old hare, which, when it is so tough as to defy the teeth in any other form, will make excellent soup.
Cut off the legs and shoulders, and divide the body crossways, stew it very gently in a gallon of water, with two ounces of lean ham or bacon, four carrots, two onions, with four cloves stuck in them, two blades of pounded mace, and a bundle of sweet herbs, till the whole is tender: the time this will take, depends very much upon the age of the hare, and how long it has been kept before it is dressed; as a general rule, say three hours: when it is quite tender, take the meat off the back, I2v cut it into small pieces, and lay it aside; cut the rest of the meat off the legs and shoulders, mince it, pound it in a mortar, and rub it through a hair sieve, to make thickening for the soup; put in the meat of the back, season with a little nutmeg and salt, a glass of port wine, and a few grains of Cayenne pepper.
Obs.—Cold roast hare will make excellent soup. Chop it in pieces, and stew it in three quarts of water for about an hour, and manage it as in the above receipt; the stuffing of the hare will be a very agreeable substitute for sweet herbs and seasoning.
If you have two or three birds that are too old to send up as roasts, pick and draw them, cut them into three or four pieces, and put them into a large stewpan with a quarter of a pound of lean ham, a large carrot, a turnip, two onions, two heads of celery, a dozen corns of allspice, and the same of black pepper, two blades of mace, and two or three cloves finely pounded: pour in a pint of cold water, set the stewpan over a quick fire, and watch it till the water has all boiled away; take care it does not burn: when the partridges and ham have taken a good browning, add two quarts of boiling water, or beef or veal broth is better, if you have it; let it stew slowly for two hours, then strain it through a sieve into a clean stewpan. Take three whites and shells of eggs, beat them well with a pint of cold water, and pour it into the soup, set it on the fire, and just when it is going to boil take it off, and set it on one I3 side of the fire for ten minutes, strain through a tammis, or very fine napkin, season it with Cayenne pepper and salt, make it hot, and send it up (in a side dish) with the crusts of two French rolls cut into bits as big as a sixpence.
Cut into thin slices six pounds of lean beef, and the same of veal, put them into a stone jar with a dozen large turnips, peeled, washed, and cut in slices, two onions, and a little salt; cover the jar very close, so that no steam can evaporate, and set it on some hay (to keep the jar steady) in a large saucepan half full of boiling water, keep a kettle of water boiling, to fill this up as it wastes, set it over a slow fire to boil gently for five hours; strain your soup through a silk sieve into a clean stewpan; have ready boiled a carrot, a turnip, and an onion, cut neatly into small dice; put them into the soup, let them get warm in it, and send up hot, with toasted bread cut into little pieces on a plate.
Obs.—This is certainly the very quintessence of meat, and “ne plus ultra” of rapidly restorative and immediately assimilating nourishment, but it can only be served at those tables where the mistress of the mansion never looks at the butcher’s bill.
Scald and clean three sets of goose, or five sets of duck giblets, (leaving out the livers,) wash I3v them well in warm water, in two or three waters; divide the gizzards and necks into mouthfuls, and crack the bones of the legs; put them into a stewpan with a gallon of cold water: when they boil, take off the scum as it rises, set them to stew very gently, till the gizzards are quite tender; this will take about two hours, according to the size of the giblets: take them up carefully with a skimmer, or large spoon full of holes, put them into cold water, and wash them well. Put the liquor they were boiled in on the fire again, with a bundle of common, or lemon-thyme, knotted or sweet marjoram, and winter savory, an onion with four cloves stuck in it, six berries of allspice, the same of black pepper, three blades of mace beaten to fine powder, a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, a teaspoonful of salt, and a glass of white wine. Melt an ounce of butter in a quart stewpan, stir in as much flour as will make it into a paste; then pour to it a ladleful of your giblet liquor, mix it thoroughly together, and pour it into the stewpan that has the giblet liquor in it; stir it well together, and let it boil gently for half an hour longer: strain your soup through a tammis into the tureen, and add the giblets to it, and serve up. There should be three quarts of soup.
Obs.—Thus managed, a set of goose giblets will make a quart of healthful, nourishing, and agreeable soup: if you think the giblets alone will not make the soup strong enough, you may add a pound of gravy beef, a few leaves of sweet basil, the juice of half a Seville orange or lemon, and half a glass of white wine, to each quart of soup. Those who are fond of forcemeat, may slip the skin off the neck, tie up the end, and fill it with I4 the following stuffing: mince fine some sage, and a couple of eggs boiled hard, a teacupful of bread crumbs moistened with a little milk, a little grated nutmeg, and some pepper and salt well incorporated together with a little melted butter, tie up the other end tight, put them into the soup about half an hour before you take it up.
Line the bottom of a stewpan that will hold five pints, with, an ounce of nice bacon, or ham, a pound and a half of lean gravy beef, a cow heel, the inner rind of a quarter of a carrot, a sprig of lemon-thyme, winter savory, three times the quantity of parsley, two green leaves of sweet basil*, and two shallots; make a bundle of these, and tie up in it a couple of blades of mace: put in a large onion, with four cloves† stuck in it, twelve corns of allspice, the same of black pepper; pour on these a quarter pint of cold water, cover your stewpan, and set it on a slow fire to boil gently for a quarter of an hour; then, for fear your meat should catch, take off the cover, and I4v watch it; and when it has got a good brown colour, fill up your stewpan with boiling water, and let it simmer very gently for two hours: if you wish to have the full benefit of your meat, only stew it till it is just tender, and cut it into mouthfuls, and put it into your soup. Put a tablespoonful of the thickening, No. 257, of sauces, into a two quart stewpan, pour to it a ladleful of your gravy, and stir it quick till it is well mixed, pour it back into the stewpan where your gravy is, and let it simmer gently for half an hour longer, then strain it through a tammis into a gallon stewpan; cut the cow-heel into pieces about an inch square, squeeze through a sieve the juice of a lemon, a tablespoonful of plain browning, the same of mushroom catsup, a teaspoonful of salt, half a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, and as much grated nutmeg as will lay on a sixpence, with a glass of Madeira or sherry wine; let it all simmer together for about half an hour.
Forcemeat and egg balls may be added if you please; you will find a receipt for these under the article forcemeat, Nos. 380, &c.
A pound of veal cutlets cut into pieces about an inch square, and fried and stewed till they are tender, will be a great addition. The above excellent soup costs only sixteen pence a quart.
s. | d. | |
---|---|---|
One pound and a half of gravy beef | 1 | 0 |
Cow Heel | 0 | 5 |
Herbs | 0 | 2 |
Butter and flour | 0 | 4 |
Wine | 0 | 6 |
Half a lemon | 0 | 1 |
Bacon | 0 | 2 |
Two quarts cost only | 2 | 8 |
* To this fine aromatic herb, the turtle is much indebted for the spicy flavour it imparts to the soup, and the high esteem it is held in by all good citizens of London, who, I believe, are pretty generally of the same opinion as Dr. Salmon. See his “Household Dictionary, and Essay on Cookery,” London, 8vo. 1710, page 34, article ‘basil,’ “This comforts the heart, expels melancholy, and cleanses the lungs.”
† Stick the cloves into the onion, to save your tammis or sieve from being torn by the sharp points of the cloves, when you strain your sauce.
Take two pounds of gravy-beef, with a small knuckle of veal, about 3lbs; chop the bone, and cut the beef in thin slices; put it into a gallon stewpan, with half a pint of water, a slice of lean ham or bacon, one turnip, one carrot, three onions, with four cloves stuck in one, a teaspoonful of black pepper, the same of allspice, a bundle of sweet herbs; put it over a slow fire till it is of a light brown, but be very careful it does not burn; then put to it two quarts of boiling water, let it simmer for two hours, then strain it off, and put two quarts more; simmer it for three hours longer, strain it off, and set it by till next day: boil half a calf’s head with the skin on, three quarters of an hour; when cold, cut the meat off in small square pieces. To thicken your soup, put an ounce of butter into a stewpan; as soon as it is melted, mix two tablespoonsful of flour with it, stirring it over the fire a few minutes; then mix the gravy with it by degrees: as soon as it boils, mix three tablespoonsful of oatmeal with cold water, and put to the soup; let it boil for ten minutes, strain it, and put it into the stewpan again with the meat, and a roll of lemon-peel; simmer it for an hour and a half, or two hours, till quite tender, and finish your soup with seasoning it with wine, catsup, lemon-juice, &c.
Obs.—The above is most excellent, and was eaten with unanimous and perfect approbation, by the “Committee of Taste,” (vide Preface,) who ordered it to be printed, as well as the following receipt, which is rather more economical.
This is the dish, says “le grand Cuisinier Imperial I5v de France,” which the English cooks prepare when they wish to rival the French cookery.
Take a calf’s head with the skin on, take out the brains, wash the head well several times in cold water, put it on in hot water, and let it boil an hour. While the head is doing, cut ½lb of ham into slices, chop a knuckle of veal, or shin of beef, into ½lb pieces, lay them in a two gallon stewpan, with two large carrots, two turnips, two heads of celery, and four large onions, with eight cloves stuck in one of them, a ¼oz. of thin cut lemon-peel, half as much eshallots; a bundle as thick as your wrist of winter-savory, pot-marjoram, sweet-marjoram, and lemon-thyme, equal parts, half the quantity of basil, (or ¾oz. of dried soup-herb powder, No. 459, tied up in a bag,) and three times the quantity of parsley: put in 6 blades of mace, two drachms of allspice, and the same of black pepper, all finely pounded: then put in a pint of the liquor the calf’s head is boiling in, cover the stewpan, and set it over a quick fire till all the liquor is boiled away, and the meat begins to stick to the bottom of the pan; now fill it up with the liquor in which the calf’s head was boiled, cover it close, and let it stew gently for three hours longer; (there should be five quarts of soup when it is finished;) then to thicken it put in 2oz. of butter into a quart stewpan; when it is melted, gradually stir in five tablespoonsful of flour, and rub it up well till you make it a stiff paste, mix some of the broth with this, adding it by degrees, stirring it all the while till thoroughly incorporated; if it is at all lumpy, pass it through a sieve; let it stew slowly half an hour longer, and strain it through a tammis into a clean stewpan, cut the head and tongue into mouthfuls, and season the soup with two tablespoonsful of brownings, same of lemon-juice, three of mushroom catsup, and three wineglasses I6 of wine; let it simmer gently for half an hour longer, till the meat is quite tender, taking care it is not overdone: while the soup is doing, prepare for each tureen a dozen and a half of mock turtle forcemeat balls, (to make these, see No. 375, or No. 390, to No. 396,) and a dozen egg balls; put these into the tureen, and squeeze in the juice of a lemon. Brain balls are a very elegant addition, and are made by boiling the brains for ten minutes, then put them in cold water, and cut them into pieces about as big as a large nutmeg; take savory, or sweet marjoram and lemon-thyme dried and finely powdered, nutmeg grated, and pepper and salt, and pound them all together; roll the brains in this mixture, and make as much of this powder as possible stick to them, dip them in an egg well beat up, and then in finely grated and sifted bread crumbs, fry them in hot fat, and put them into the soup the last thing.
A veal sweetbread, with or without a pound of salted neat’s tongue, cut into mouthfuls, is a favourite addition with some cooks. We order the meat to be cut into mouthfuls, that it may be eaten with a spoon; the knife and fork have no business in a soup plate.
Some of our culinary cotemporaries order the Hâut-gout of this (as above directed, sufficiently relishing) soup to be augmented by the addition of anchovies, mushrooms, truffles, morells, curry-powder, artichoke bottoms, salmon’s head and livers, or lobsters and soles cut into mouthfuls, a bottle of Madeira, &c., and to complete their surfeiting and burn-gullet olio, they put in such a tremendous quantity of Cayenne pepper, that no palate, that has not been educated in the Indies, can endure it.
Obs.—This is a most delicious and nutritious soup, and within reach of those who “eat to live;” but if it had been composed expressly for those who only “live to eat,” I do not know how it could have been made more agreeable: as it is, the lover of good eating will “wish his throat a mile long, and every inch of it palate.”
I6vSee No. 502. “Alamode Beef.”
Take two quarts of water, and boil a nice fowl or chicken, then put in the following ingredients, a large white onion, a large chilly*, two teaspoonsful of ginger pounded, the same of curry stuff, one teaspoonful of turmeric, and half a teaspoonful of black pepper: boil all these for half an hour, and then fry some small onions, and put them in. Season it with salt, and serve it up in a tureen.
* The pod of which Cayenne pepper is made.
The following recipe for dressing this richest and most delicious dish, is the present practice of an experienced French cook, a consummate master of the art, in his own words.
“The best size for taste, is from 60 to 80 pounds; this will make 6 or 8 tureens of fine soup. Kill the turtle the evening before you wish to dress it; tie a cord to the hind fins of the turtle, and hang it up with the head downwards; tie the fore fins by way of pinioning them, it would otherwise beat itself, and be troublesome to the executioner; take the head with your left hand, and with a sharp knife cut off the neck as near the head as possible; there is a joint where the knife will pop through without any force. Have one or two large tubs of water ready, and when you dissect your turtle, put it on a block on the back shell, slip your knife between the calliopee and the calliopash; I mean between the breast and the edge of the back shell: when the knife has been round, and the breast is detached from the back shell, pass your fingers underneath, and with your knife detach the I7 breast from the fins, always keeping the edge of your knife on the side of the breast, otherwise it may happen you may break the gall, which is very large, and if broken, your turtle is spoiled. Cut your breast into four pieces, next take away the guts, beginning by the liver, and cut away the gall, to be out of danger at once. The guts are to be thrown away: I have seen some cooks have them cleaned and cut in pieces, and put into the soup, but generally they are left on the gentlemen’s plates: a basin of turtle is considered a treat, consequently it should be so dressed that none be left on the plate or basin. When your turtle is emptied, throw the heart, liver, kidneys, and lights, into water, cut away the fins to the root, I mean as near to the back shell as possible, next cut the fins in the second joint, that the white meat may be separated from the green: scrape the fat that sticks against the back shell, or calliopash, take it like as if you was skimming any thing, and put it aside. Cut the calliopash into four pieces. Set a large turbot pan on the fire, and when it boils dip a fin into it for a minute, then take it out and peel it very clean; when that is done, take another, and so on till all are done; then the head, next the shell and breast, piece by piece. Be careful to have the peel and shell entirely cleaned off, then put in the same pan some clean water, with the breast and back, the four fins, and the head; let it boil till the bones will leave the meat; put with it a large faggot of turtle herbs as big as your two fists, four bay leaves, and some thyme. If you mean to make two dishes of the fins, you must take them away when they have been boiled one hour.
I7vPut in a small stewpan, the liver, lights, heart, and kidneys, and the fat you have put aside; take some of the liquor that the other part has been boiled in; cover your stewpan close, and let it boil gently for three hours. Clean the bones, and breast, and back, from the green fat, and cut it into pieces an inch long, and half an inch wide; do not lose any, as the little bits are as good as the large ones; besides, it would be very difficult all of the same size. Put all these pieces on a dish in your larder till your broth is ready. To make your broth, put on a large stock-pot, and line the bottom of it with a pound and a half of lean ham, cut into slices. Cut into pieces a leg of veal of sixteen or twenty pounds weight, except a pound of the fillet that you save for the forcemeat, put the rest upon the ham, with all the white meat of the turtle, and a couple of old fowls; put it on a smart fire, with two ladlesful of broth or consommé; let it reduce to a glaze; when it begins to stick to the bottom, pour the liquor into the pot where the other part of the turtle has been boiled, add to it a little more sweet herbs, twenty-four grains of allspice, six blades of mace, two large onions, four carrots, half an ounce of whole pepper, and some salt, let it simmer for four hours, and then strain the broth through a cloth sieve.
Put the green part of the turtle that has been cut in pieces, and nicely cleaned, with two bottles of Madeira in the same; when it has boiled a few minutes with your turtle, add to it the broth, then put in a stewpan half a pound of butter, when it is melted, add to it four wooden spoonsful of flour, stir it on the fire till the flour is a fine brown I8 colour, then pour some of your broth with it, mix it well, and strain it in your soup through a hair sieve: cut your liver, lights, heart, kidneys, and fat into small square pieces, and put them into your soup, with half a teaspoonful of Cayenne, two of curry powder, and four tablespoonsful of essence of anchovies; let it boil for an hour and a half, carefully skimming off the fat.
Pound your veal in a marble mortar for the forcemeat, and rub it through a hair sieve with as much of the udder of your leg of veal as you have meat, put some bread crumbs into a stewpan, with milk enough to wet it, with a little chopped parsley and shallot, dry it on the fire, rub it through the wire sieve, and when cold, mix all together, that every part may be equally blended. Boil six eggs hard, take the yolks and pound them with the other ingredients, season it with salt, pepper, Cayenne, and a little curry powder, add to it three raw eggs, and mix all well together; make small balls of your forcemeat the bigness of a pigeon’s egg. Ten minutes before your soup is ready put your forceballs in, and continue to scum your soup till you take it off the fire. If your turtle weighs eighty pounds, it requires very near three bottles of Madeira. When you dish your turtle, squeeze two lemons in each tureen; many persons like to have some eggs boiled hard, and a dozen of the yolks put in each tureen, which I think is very good.
If you have some brown sauce, you put in a stewpan five large spoonsful of it, with a bottle of I8v Port wine, and a pottle of mushrooms; when your sauce boils, put your four fins in; after having taken away all the small bones that are seen breaking through the skin, put with it a faggot of a few sprigs of parsley, a bit of thyme, one bay leaf, and four cloves, and let it simmer one hour: ten minutes before you dish, put five dozen of button onions that you have ready peeled: when you dish, put in each dish a hind fin and a fore one, and look if it is salt enough.
If you have no brown sauce, put in a stewpan a quarter of a pound of butter; when it is melted, put to it two wooden spoonsful of flour, stir it on the fire till it gets a hazel colour, pour a bottle of Port wine in it, a ladleful of broth, and, when it boils, do as before mentioned, and scum it well.
This receipt is from the same source as the preceding one, and is an excellent and highly finished soup.
Have a calf’s head scalded with the skin on, cut it in two, take out the brain, and wash your head well; when well cleaned, tie it up in a cloth, and let it boil four hours, then take it out, and let it cool till you want it. Have a pound of lean ham cut in slices, range them to the bottom of a stockpot, or braising kettle; cut two knuckles of veal into pieces, put them over your ham, put a ladleful of broth or water in your stock-pot, and set it over a brisk fire; when the meat begins to stick to the bottom, cover your meat with water; when it has been skimmed well, put two carrots, two onions, three bay leaves, four cloves, three blades of mace, a large faggot of turtle herbs, and I9 some salt; let it boil four hours; your broth must be reduced to six or seven quarts; strain your broth through a tammis sieve, then put in a stewpan three ounces of butter, let it melt, then put to it two wooden spoonsful of flour, stir it till it is the colour of a hazel nut, then pour in a bottle of Madeira wine, mix it well, then pour in your broth, and stir it till it boils, put in three tablespoonsful of essence of anchovies, a teaspoonful of curry powder, and half a teaspoonful of Cayenne pepper: skim it well.
Now cut your calf’s head, take only the skin, the ears, the eyes, and the tongue, all about an inch long, and half an inch wide; do not put any other meat but what is mentioned, as any other part of the head, if put with this, would go to pieces, and spoil the look of your soup; make some forcemeat balls, as mentioned in the preceding receipt for turtle; let them simmer ten minutes. When ready to dish, squeeze two lemons in each tureen; send it up as hot as possible.
Break the bones of a shin of beef, a small knuckle of veal, and a couple of cow heels, put them into a soup-pot that will hold four gallons of water, just cover your meat with water and set it on the fire to heat gradually till it nearly boils; watch it, and skim it attentively while any scum rises, pour in a quart of cold water, to make it throw up all the scum that may remain, let it come to a boil again, and again skim it carefully: when no more scum rises, and the broth I9v appears clear, put in what herbs or spice you please, but no salt; let it boil very gently for eight hours, strain it through a hair sieve into a large brown stone-pan; skim off all the grease before you put it by, and set it where it will cool quickly; next day pour it as quietly as possible into a three gallon stewpan, (taking care not to let any of the settlings at the bottom of the stone-pan go into the stewpan; this answers better than straining it;) let it boil as fast as possible, in the uncovered stewpan, on a quick fire: pour it into a three quart stewpan; if any scum rises, take it off with a skimmer; now watch it all the time till it is reduced to the thickness of a very thick syrup; take the utmost care that it does not burn; a moment’s inattention now will lose you all your labour, and the soup will be spoiled: take a little of it out in a spoon and let it cool; if it sets into strong jelly, it is done enough; if it does not, boil it a little longer, and try it again till it does; have ready some little preserving pots, let them be quite dry, pour the soup into them*, and let it stand till the next day. Set a large flat bottommed stewpan, one third part filled with boiling water, over a very slow fire, place the pots of soup in this, taking care that the water does not reach the rims of them within a couple of inches; let the pots stand (uncovered) in this hot water (without boiling) for six or seven hours. This is the only way of bringing the soup to a proper thickness; it was before boiled up as high as it could be, over the naked fire, without burning; I10 but that was not enough, without the aid of this water-bath it could not be reduced to the thickness of a stiff glue, whilst hot, which is the only way to be sure of its being perfectly firm when cold. It will now be of the consistence of a thick hard glue, and will keep good for many months, if it is put in a cool dry place.
Obs.—The uses of this concentrated essence of meat are numerous. As a general keeping stock, it is the most convenient basis for making extempore broths, soups, gravies, and sauces. To make a pint of broth, pour a pint of boiling water on a piece of the soup, about as big as a small walnut, stir it till it is melted, add a little salt, and the broth is ready: if you have time and opportunity, as there is no seasoning in the soup, either of herbs or spice, it will be a great improvement to boil a bit of parsley and thyme, and half a dozen corns of black pepper, in the water you melt the soup in: this will produce you as good a broth as need be.
An ounce of soup, melted in a quart of gravy, is just the same as the quart of gravy was before it was so boiled away.
* You will get a pint of excellent broth by washing out the stewpan with a pint of boiling water.
Put on the broth in a clean stewpan, break the white and shell of an egg, beat them together, put them into the broth when it is coming to a boil, stir it very quick with a whisk; when it has boiled a few minutes, strain it through a tammis or a clean napkin.
skip to Sauces and Gravies
if they are not kept nicely tinned, all your good work will be in vain
[Enameled saucepans were a few decades in the future.]
will wear twice as long, and are cleaned with half the trouble, as those whose sides are soldered to the bottom
[Besides, the solder is probably lead-based.]
sweet basil, bay leaves
, missing
by the lids fitting exactly into a screw groove
text has grove
[Footnote] a morsel mashed with the point of a knife, and stirred in, is enough
text has stired
[Footnote] A tammis is a worsted cloth . . . made on purpose for straining sauces
[This is, by actual count, the tenth time the word “tammis” has been used—eleventh if you count “tammy”—and the first time the author sees fit to explain it.]
the surface of the soup, which is extremely delicate
[Missing word “which” supplied from 2nd edition. There, the entire Obs. paragraph comes several pages later, after No. 201 (Shin of Beef Soup). It opens “These will be”—referring apparently to all the soups up to that point.]
[Footnote] See Receipt, No. 252.
[He means *252, which is functionally 253.]
fry it as we have directed in the receipt for pease soup, No. 218
[Which is to say, as we will direct et cetera. The following recipe will similarly reference No. 250 as if it has already passed.]
a large onion, a cabbage lettuce, two ounces of lean ham
[By the time the second edition came out, he had decided a quarter-pound (twice as much) of lean ham was warranted.]
six berries of black, and the same quantity of Jamaica pepper pounded
text has Jamacia
take away the onion and bay leaf from the maccaroni
text has bayleaf
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
and just give it a warm,
, missing
[Comma supplied from 2nd edition.]
simmer gently . . . this will require about four hours, during which, the meat must be turned twice or thrice
[The second edition modifies this to “simmer very gently” and “about five or six hours”—and omits the directive about turning the meat.]
as made by E. Stevenson, Cook to Sir Simon Clark, Bt., East Barnet, Middlesex.
[The second edition, a year later, has the same recipe. But it is now attributed to “E. Lister, Cook, No. 106, High Street, Mary-le-bone, whom the Editor, wishes to recommend, to those who occasionally hire an assistant Cook. It is possible Elizabeth, or Emily, or Eleanor Stevenson (re)married to become E. Lister, but ordinarily that would come through as “Mrs. Stevenson” and so on. I looked it up in hopes that the directions would be less incoherent: line a stewpan with items A through I, and then “make a bundle of these” (i.e. the items you have just lined a stewpan with?). But no luck; the wording is identical.]
⁂ Some of our culinary cotemporaries order the Hâut-gout of this
spelling unchanged
[It’s not where I would put the circumflex accent.]
Malaga Tawney Soup.
[A spelling of “mulligatawney” I had not previously encountered.]
The “calliopee” and “calliopash” are, respectively, the plastron and carapace of a turtle.
“The best size for taste
[Do not hold your breath waiting for a close-quote.]
it would be very difficult all of the same size
[The second edition helpfully expands to “it would be very difficult to cut it all of the same size”.]
a pottle of mushrooms
[A liquid measure equivalent to half a gallon.]
But why? There’s no 253; the next numbered recipe will be 254.
The spirit of each dish and zest of all,
Is what ingenious cooks the relish call;
For though the market sends in loads of food,
They all are tasteless, till that makes them good.
“King’s Art of Cookery.”
It is of as much importance that the cook should know how to make a boat of good gravy for her roast poultry, &c., as that should be sent up of proper complexion, and nicely frothed: in this chapter we hope to introduce to her all the materials which give flavour, to eat with as additions in sauce, and such as supply the place of it, and the artificial methods of making substitutes for those ingredients that are always expensive, and often not to be had at all. This is the most difficult part of the business of the kitchen, and most interesting, in as much as a great deal of the I11 elegance of cookery depends upon the accompaniments to each dish being appropriate, and well adapted to it. I can assure my readers no attention has been wanting on my part, to render this department of the work worthy their perusal: each receipt is the faithful narrative of actual and repeated experiments, and has received the most deliberate consideration before it was here presented to them. It is given in the most circumstantial manner, and not with the affected, technical, and mysterious abridgments former writers on these subjects seem to have preferred, by which their directions are unintelligible to all who have not regularly served an apprenticeship at the stove. Instead of minutely enumerating the quantities, explaining the process of each composition, they order a ladleful of stock, a pint of consommé, and a spoonful of cullis; just as if a private family cook had always at hand a soup-kettle full of stock, a store of consommé, and the larder of a London tavern.
It will be to very little purpose I have taken so much pains to teach how to manage the roasts and boils, if the Cook cannot, or will not make the several sauces that are usually sent up with them. The most homely fare may be made relishing, and the most excellent and independent improved by a well I11v made sauce*; I shall therefore endeavour to give the plainest directions how to produce, with the least trouble and expense† possible, all the various compositions the English kitchen affords for the amusement of John Bull, and hope to present sufficient variety to suit all palates, and all pockets: so that the cook may give satisfaction in all families: the more combinations of this sort she is acquainted with, the better she will comprehend the management of every one of them.
* It is the duty of a good sauce, (says the editor of the “Almanach des Gourmands,” vol. v. page 6,) to insinuate itself all round and about the maxillary glands, and imperceptibly awaken into activity each ramification of the organs of taste: if not sufficiently savoury, it cannot produce this effect, and if too piquante, it will paralyze, instead of exciting those exquisitely delicious titillations of tongue, and voluptuous gustatory orgasmas, that only the most accomplished philosophers of the mouth can produce on the highly educated palates of thrice happy grand gourmands.
† To save time and trouble is the most valuable frugality; and if the mistress of a family will condescend to devote a little time to the profitable and pleasant employment of preparing some of the concentrated essences, the manner of making which I have so plainly described in the following chapter, many dishes may be dressed with half the usual time and trouble.
I have only rejected some outlandish farragoes; I12 from a conviction they were by no means adapted to an English palate, though they have been received into some English books, for the sake of swelling the volume: I believe they will never be received by an Englishman’s stomach, unless for the reason they were admitted into the cookery book; i.e. because he has nothing else to put in it. I could have made this the biggest book* with half the trouble it has taken me to make it the best. I have taken as much pains in describing, in the fullest manner, how to make in the easiest, most agreeable, and most economical way, those common sauces that daily contribute to the comfort of the middle ranks of society; as I have, in directing the preparation of those extravagant and elaborate double relishes, the most ingenious and accomplished “officers of the mouth” have invented for the amusement of thorough bred grand gourmands: these I have so reduced the trouble and expense of making, as to bring them within the reach of moderate fortunes, still preserving all that is valuable of their taste and I12v qualities; and yet so ordering them, that they may delight the palate, without disordering the stomach; leaving out those inflammatory ingredients which are only fit for an “iron throat, and adamantine bowels,” and those costly materials, which any rational being would refuse to destroy, for the wanton purpose of merely giving a fine name to the compositions they enter into, to whose excellence they contribute nothing else: for instance, consuming two partridges to make sauce for one, when half a pint of my game gravy, No. 329, would be infinitely more acceptable to unsophisticated English appetites, for whose proper and rational recreation I sat down to compose these receipts: if I gain their patronage, which I have done my utmost to deserve, by devoting so much time to the business of the kitchen, and repeating every experiment that appeared the least doubtful, or I thought admitted of the smallest improvement: I shall be fully gratified, if my book is not bought up with quite so much avidity by those high bred epicures who are unhappily so much more nice than wise, they cannot eat any thing dressed by an Englishman, and consider it barbarously unrefined, and intolerably ungenteel, to endure the sight of the best bill of fare that can be contrived, if written K in the vulgar tongue†. Let your sauces each display a decided character; send up your simple sauces as pure as possible; they should only taste of the material they take their name from.
* I intend here to offer to all such as please to peruse it, “a plain book, which is all and every part of it Book, and nothing but solid book from beginning to end.”—Vide preface to Dr. Fuller’s “Introductio ad Prudentiam.” London, 12mo. 1721.
† Though some of these people have at last found out, that an Englishman’s head is as full of gravy as a Frenchman’s, and willing to give the preference to native talent, retain an Englishman or woman as prime minister of their kitchen; still they seem ashamed to confess it, as they commonly insist, as a “sine qua non,” that these English domestics should understand the “parlez vous;” and notwithstanding they are perfectly initiated in all the minutiæ of culinary concerns, they consider them ineligible, if they cannot scribble a bill of fare in French.
The imagination of most cooks is so incessantly on the hunt for a relish, they seem to think they can never make sauce savoury, without putting into it every thing that ever was eaten; and too fond of supposing every addition must be an improvement, frequently destroy the natural flavour of their plain sauces, by overloading them with salt and spices*: but, remember, these will be deteriorated by any addition, save only just salt Kv enough to awaken the palate. On the contrary, of your compound sauces the ingredients should be so nicely proportioned, that no one be predominant; but, from the equal union of the combined flavours, a fine mellow mixture is produced, whose very novelty cannot fail of being sufficient excitement to the persevering gourmand, if it has not pretensions to a permanent place at his table. An ingenious cook will form an endless variety of these compositions; and no part of her business offers so fair an opportunity for her to display her abilities.
* Spices are often very injudiciously jumbled together. We would never have clove and allspice, or mace and nutmeg in the same sauce: one will very well supply the place of the other, and the frugal cook may save something considerable by attending to this, to the advantage of her employers, and her own time and trouble. In many of our receipts, we have fallen in with the fashion of ordering a mixture of spices, which the above hint will enable the culinary student to correct.
To be a complete mistress of the art of cleverly extracting and combining flavours*, besides the gift of a good taste, requires all the experience, all the genius, and all the dexterity and skill of the most accomplished and exquisite professor, and an intimate acquaintance and an attentive consideration of the palates of those she is working for.
* If your palate becomes dull by repeatedly tasting, the best way to refresh it, is to wash your mouth well with milk.
Take especial care to have your sauces sent to table as hot as possible: nothing need be more K2 unsightly, than the surface of a sauce in a frozen state, or garnished with grease on the top; to remove every particle of which, draw a piece of filtering paper over it: the same may be said of all made dishes, of whose paraphernalia the sauce forms a conspicuous part: remember to let your sauces boil up, after you have put in any wine, anchovy, or thickening, that their flavours may be well blended with the other ingredients*.
* Before you put eggs or cream into a sauce, have all your other ingredients well boiled, and your sauce or soup of proper thickness, as neither eggs nor cream will contribute much to thicken it. After you have put them in, do not set the stewpan on the stove again, but hold it over the fire, and shake it round one way till the sauce is ready.
K2vAppears to be so simple and easy to prepare, it is certainly very surprising it is not uniformly well done, and is a matter of general astonishment, that what is done so often in every kitchen, should so seldom be done right.
It is spoiled nine times out often, more from idleness than from ignorance, and rather because the cook won’t do it, than because she can’t do it. As it is the foundation of almost all our sauces*, I have tried every way of making it, and hope, at last, I have written two receipts, which if the reader carefully observes, she will constantly succeed in giving satisfaction. In the quantities of the various sauces I have ordered, I have had in view the providing for a moderate family of half a dozen people. I recommend the cook never to pour the sauce over the meat, or even put it into the dish; for, however well made, some of the company may have an antipathy to it: moreover, if it is sent up separate in a boat, it will keep hot longer, and what is left of it may be put by for another time, or used for another purpose.
Lastly, it is to be observed, that in ordering the; proportions of meat, butter, wine, spice, &c. in the following receipts, the proper quantity is set down, and that a less quantity will not do; and in some instances, those who are fond of the extreme of piquance perhaps will require an addition. If we have erred, it has been on the right side, from an anxious wish to combine elegance with K3 economy, and the toothsome with the wholesome. The following we recommend as an elegant relish to finish soups and sauces.
* As gravy is those of the French kitchen.
ZEST,
For Chops, Sauces,
AND
Made Dishes.
(No. 255.)
A few atoms of this exquisitely piquante and savoury quintessence of Ragout, imparts to whatever it touches the most delicious and highly finished double relish ever imagined, to awaken the palate with delight, refresh appetite, and instantly excite the good humour of (every man’s master) the stomach.
Invented by the Editor: sold by the Publisher of this Work, and at Butler’s herb shop, opposite Henrietta Street, Covent Garden; and by Ball, 81, New Bond Street, and may be tasted every day at Dolly’s Chop House in Paternoster Row, which has for centuries retained an undiminished reputation.
Keep a pint stewpan for this purpose only.
Cut two ounces of butter into little bits, that it may melt more easily, and mix more readily; put it into the stewpan with a teaspoonful of flour, and a tablespoonful of milk. When these are well mixed, add three tablespoonsful of water; hold it over the fire, and shake it, (all the while the same way,) till it just boils up. It should be of the thickness of good cream.
Obs.—This, we think, is incomparably the best way of preparing melted butter. The milk mixes with the butter much more easily, and more intimately than water alone can be made to do, and it looks smooth and fine like cream. If it is to be mixed at table with savoury essences, catsup, or cavice, &c., it should be made thicker than if made merely to pour over vegetables.
Clarified butter is best for this purpose; but if you have none ready, put some fresh butter into a stewpan over a slow clear fire; when it is melted, add fine flour sufficient to make it the thickness of paste; stir it well together with a wooden spoon for twenty minutes, till it is quite smooth, and the colour of a guinea: pour it into an earthen pan, and keep it for use. It will keep good a fortnight in summer, and a month in winter. The bigness of a walnut will generally be enough to thicken a quart of gravy.
Obs.—This in the French kitchen is called roux. Be particularly attentive to the making of K4 it; if it gets any burnt smell or taste, it will spoil every thing it is put into. When cold, it should be thick enough to cut out with a knife, like a solid paste. It is a very essential article in the kitchen, and is the basis of consistency in most made dishes, soups, sauces, and ragouts: if the gravies, &c. are too thin, add this thickening, more or less, according to the consistence you would wish them to have. In making thickening, the less butter, and the more flour you use, the better; they should be thoroughly worked together, and the broth, or soup, &c. you put them to, added by degrees, and take especial care to incorporate them well together, or your sauces, &c. will have a disgusting, greasy appearance; therefore, after you have thickened your sauce, add to it some broth, or warm water, in the proportion of two tablespoonsful to a pint, and set it by the side of the fire, to raise any fat, &c. that is not thoroughly incorporated with the gravy, which you must carefully remove as it comes to the top. This is called cleansing, or finishing the sauce.
Half an ounce of butter, and a tablespoonful of flour, are about the proportions for a pint of sauce, to make it as thick as good cream.
Put a quarter of a pound of butter into a stewpan with the meat of half a dozen anchovies, three eshallots, and four large blades of pounded mace; stir together, and by degrees add as much flour as will make it a stiff paste; put it into a pot, for the purpose of heightening the flavour of your brown sauces.
K4vObs.—The cook will vary the spices, &c. according to the taste of those she works for.
Put the butter in a nice clean stewpan, over a very clear slow fire, watch it, and when it is melted, carefully remove the buttermilk, &c. which will swim on the top; let it stand a minute or two for the impurities to sink to the bottom, and then lay a tammis in a sieve, and pour the clear butter through it, into a clean basin, leaving the sediment at the bottom of the stewpan.
Obs.—Butter thus purified, will be as sweet as any marrow, and is a very useful covering for all potted meats and fish, and equal to the finest Lucca oil for frying fish, and many other culinary purposes.
Put two ounces of fresh butter into a small fryingpan, and when it becomes a dark brown colour, add to it a tablespoonful and a half of good vinegar, and a little pepper and salt.
Obs.—This is used as sauce for boiled fish, or poached eggs.
Wash some parsley very clean, put a teaspoonful of salt into a pint of boiling water, and boil the parsley two or three minutes, drain it on a sieve, and mince it quite fine. The delicacy and excellence of this sauce depends upon the parsley being minced very very fine; put it into K5 a sauce boat, and mix with it by degrees about half a pint of good melted butter.
Obs.—Be careful to pick the parsley off the stalks before you boil it.
If you cannot get any parsley, you may easily communicate the exact flavour of it to your sauce, by tying up a quarter of a drachm of parsley seed in a piece of clean muslin, and boiling it for ten minutes in five tablespoonsful of water; use this water to melt your butter with.
Boil half a pint of green gooseberries for five minutes, drain them on a hair sieve, and put them into half a pint of melted butter. Some add grated ginger.
This is the first time this very delicious herb, which has so long been a favourite with the sagacious French cook, has been introduced into an English book. Its flavour is a strong concentration of the combined taste of parsley and fennel, but inimitably more aromatic and agreeable than either. I cannot account for its being so little known in the English kitchen. You may make most exquisite sauce with it by preparing it, &c. as we have directed for parsley and butter. You may enrich it with the juice of half a lemon, and a tablespoonful of white wine.
Obs.—Drs. Lewis and Aitken are most K5v respectable and well-accredited writers on chemistry, &c. and I trust all men who feel “l’esprit du corps,” will forgive me for saying they have written also like men of taste on culinary subjects, as the following quotation from their Materia Medica, 8vo. London, 1791, vol. i. page 319, will testify. See cherefolium or chervil. “It is a salubrious culinary herb, sufficiently nutritive to the palate and stomach.”
Is prepared in the same manner as we have just described the parsley and butter.
Obs.—For mackarel sauce, some people take equal parts of fennel and parsley.
Boil the roes of mackarel, (soft roes are best,) bruise them with a spoon with the yolk of an egg, beat up with a very little nutmeg, pepper, and salt, and some fennel and parsley boiled and chopped very fine, mixed with almost half a pint of thin melted butter.
Mushroom catsup, walnut pickle, or soy, may be added at table by those who like them.
This agreeable accompaniment to roast poultry, or salt fish, is made by putting two eggs into boiling water, and boiling them for eight minutes, when they will be hard; first cut the whites, then the yolks, but neither very fine, put them into a K6 sauce-boat, pour to them half a pint of melted butter, and stir together.
Obs.—The melted butter for egg sauce must not be made quite so thick as plain melted butter.
Bruise a stick of cinnamon, (cassia will not do,) set it over the fire in a saucepan, with just as much water as will cover it, give it a boil, and then put in a couple of tablespoonsful of fine lump sugar, powdered, a quarter of a pint of white wine, and one bay leaf; boil all up together; strain it through a sieve, and send it up hot in a sauce-boat.
A glass of sherry, half a glass of brandy, and two teaspoonsful of pounded lump sugar, in a quarter of a pint of melted butter: grate nutmeg on the top.
Take off the meat of two or three anchovies, pound them in a mortar with a little bit of butter, rub them through a double hair sieve, with the back of a wooden spoon, and stir them into half a pint of melted butter; add the juice of half a lemon.
Two well beaten yolks of eggs are an improvement.
Foreigners are very fond of this, and make it as K6v in the foregoing receipt, only substituting beef or veal gravy instead of melted butter, and a teaspoonful of vinegar instead of the lemon juice, frequently using some of their flavoured vinegars, tarragon, &c.
Pound two cloves of garlick in a marble mortar, with a piece of fresh butter about as big as a nutmeg; rub it through a double hair sieve, and stir it into half a pint of melted butter, or beef gravy.
Pare a lemon, and cut it into slices twice as thick as a three shilling piece; divide these into dice, and put them into a quarter of a pint of melted butter.
A tablespoonful of capers, and two teaspoonsful of vinegar; mince one third of the capers very fine, and divide the others in half; put them into a quarter of a pint of melted butter. Remember to stir them the same way as you did the melted butter, or it will oil.
Obs.—Some boil and chop a few leaves of parsley, and add these to the sauce; others squeeze in a quarter of a Seville orange, or half a lemon; take care that nothing but the clear juice goes in.
Keep your caper bottle very closely corked; and K7 do not use any of the caper liquor; if the capers are not well covered with it, they will soon spoil, and it is an excellent ingredient in hashes, &c. The Dutch use it as a fish sauce, mixing it with melted butter.
Cut some pickled gherkins into small bits, rather less than capers; put them into half a pint of melted butter, with two teaspoonsful of lemon juice, or nice vinegar, and flavour it with a few drops of essence of shallots or garlick.
Beat up the yolks of two eggs, and put them into a stewpan with two ounces of butter, two blades of mace, and a tablespoonful of elder vinegar, or the same quantity of lemon juice; melt over a gentle fire, stirring the ingredients together all the while the same way, and strain it through a tammis cloth.
Put the meat of two anchovies pounded with a bit of butter, and rubbed through a sieve, a teaspoonful of soy, and two teaspoonsful of mushroom catsup, into half a pint of good cream, add a bit of butter as big as a nutmeg, rolled in flour to thicken it, and give it a boil up.
Obs.—This is a very delicate and delicious white sauce, and where good cream can be easily procured, much preferable to the butter sauces.
K7vChoose small natives for this purpose; don’t open them till you want them.
Save their liquor, shave them, and put them into a stewpan over the fire with the beards and liquor; as soon as they begin to look plump and white, take them out one at a time with a fork, then put to the liquor a spoonful of veal gravy or milk; some add six berries of black pepper, a piece of lemon peel, a blade of mace, and a tablespoonful of sherry: let this simmer for ten minutes, then strain it through a fine sieve, let it stand till cold, then put two ounces of butter into a stewpan with a teaspoonful of fine flour, mix your liquor by degrees with it, put milk or cream, to make the quantity you wish, give it a boil up, and put in your oysters; set them by the side of the fire to keep hot, but take care they do not boil, or they will become hard.
Open a hundred fine large oysters into a pan with all their liquor with them; wash them clean with their liquor, one by one; put the liquor into a stewpan, give it a boil, then strain it through a sieve, and let it stand half an hour to settle; pour it from the settlings into a stewpan, and put in half a pint of white wine, the like quantity of vinegar, a teaspoonful of salt, half an ounce of cloves and mace, and a quarter of an ounce of allspice and black pepper bruised; boil up for five minutes; then put in your oysters, and give K8 them a boil up for a minute, put them into small jars, and tie them down as close as possible with a wet bladder and leather; keep them in a cool dry place.
When you want oyster sauce, put some of the oysters, with a spoonful of the pickle, into good melted butter.
To make half a pint of sauce, put two ounces of butter into a stewpan, with three drachms of oysters, two drachms of flour, and half a pint of new milk; set it on a slow fire, stir it till it boils, and season it with salt.
Milton oysters, prepared by a peculiar process, which preserves the flavour of the fish in as delicate perfection as when just opened. If closely corked, and kept in a dry place, they will remain good for years.
Made by E. Stevenson, Cook to Sir Simon Clark, Bart., near East Barnet, Middlesex; and sold by the Publisher of this Work, and by Messrs. Balls, 81, New Bond Street.
Obs.—This is a most incomparable succedaneum while oysters are out of season, and in such inland parts as seldom have any, is an invaluable addition to the list of fish sauces: it is also equally good with boiled fowl or rump steak. It is especially worthy the notice of country housekeepers.
Wash a quart of cockles very clean, put them into a saucepan without any water, cover them close, and stew gently till they open; take the K8v fish out of the shells, wash them in the liquor, strain it, let it stand to settle, and pour the clean liquor from the settlings into a clean stewpan with two ounces of butter, mixed with a tablespoonful of flour; you may put in half a tablespoonful of anchovy liquor, or mushroom catsup, and season it with salt, boil up together till your sauce is thick and smooth.
Is prepared exactly in the same manner as the preceding cockle sauce.
Shell a quarter pint of shrimps, pick them clean, wash them, and put them into half a pint of good melted butter.
Obs.—Some stew the heads and shells of the shrimps, with or without two blades of bruised mace, for a quarter of an hour in four tablespoonsful of water, and strain off the liquor to melt the butter with, or add two teaspoonsful of essence of anchovy to it.
Choose a good hen lobster, be sure it is fresh, so get a live one if you can, and boil it as in No. 176, pick out the spawn into a mortar, add to it a quarter of an ounce of butter*, pound it fine, K9 and rub it through a hair sieve with the back of a wooden spoon; cut the meat of the lobster into small squares, or pull it to pieces with a fork: break the chine in pieces, and put it into a stewpan with the inside of the fish and a pint of water; let it simmer till it is reduced to about half, (this will take near an hour,) strain it through a sieve into another stewpan; when it is cold, add to it the spawn you have bruised, an ounce of butter, and two teaspoonsful of flour; mix it well together till it boils, then put to it the meat of the lobster; warm it on the fire again, but do not let it boil, or you will lose the red colour. Some who are fond of making this sauce very rich, use strong beef gravy instead of melted butter, adding catsup, cavice, lemon pickle, or wine to it.
Obs.—Save a little of the inside red coral spawn, and rub it through a sieve (without butter), it is very ornamental to garnish your fish with, by sprinkling it over it; and if the skin of the breast of your fish is broken, it will be useful to hide that blemish, which will sometimes happen to the most careful cook, when there is a large dinner to go up, and many other things to attend to.
* Two or three anchovies are sometimes pounded with the spawn.
Bruise the yolks of two hard boiled eggs with the back of a wooden spoon, add a teaspoonful of water to them, and rub them quite smooth, mix them with a teaspoonful of made mustard, two tablespoonsful of salad oil, and five of vinegar, and season it with a very little Cayenne pepper and some salt.
K9vObs.—To this, elder vinegar, catsup, or cavice, or anchovy paste, is occasionally added.
This is prepared in the same way as the former sauce, but is very seldom sent to table in this country, lobster sauce being almost universally preferred, and will be, until John Bull is so raving mad for variety as to fancy every change must be charming.
Wash the liver of a fowl or rabbit, and boil it five minutes in five tablespoonsful of water; chop it fine, and bruise it in a small quantity of the liquor it has boiled in, and with a spoon rub it through a sieve; wash about one-third the bulk of parsley leaves, put them on to boil in a little boiling water, with a teaspoonful of salt in it; lay it on a hair sieve to drain, and mince it very fine; mix it with the liver, and put it into a quarter pint of melted butter, and warm it up: do not let it boil.
Obs.—You may add the juice of half a lemon, or a teaspoonful of vinegar, a tablespoonful of white wine, and a little beaten mace or nutmeg, or allspice.
Pare off the rind of a lemon; or, what is preferable when it can be had, the peel of a Seville orange, as thin as possible, so as not to cut any of K10 the white with it; then cut off all the white, and cut the lemon into slices about as thick as two three shilling pieces; pick out the peps, and divide the slices into small dice; boil the liver of a fowl or rabbit, pound it, and rub it through a sieve with a spoon, and mix it, by degrees, with three or four tablespoonsful of melted butter; put in the lemon, a little of the lemon peel minced very fine, and give them a boil up.
Obs.—This is sometimes made more relishing by pounding half a shallot, and two or three leaves of tarragon or basil with the liver, and moistening it with a little red wine.
Pick and wash four heads of nice white celery; cut it into pieces about an inch long; put it in a saucepan with a pint of water, a dozen berries of allspice, a bay leaf, and half a teaspoonful of salt: let them stew till the celery is tender*; roll an ounce of butter with a tablespoonful of flour; add this to the sauce, and stir it till it boils.
* So much depends upon the age of the celery, we cannot give any precise time for this. Young celery will be enough in three-quarters of an hour; old celery will sometimes take an hour and a half.
Pick and wash the celery very clean, and cut it into very thin slices; let it boil gently in a little water till it is perfectly tender, then add a couple of blades of pounded mace, the same quantity of nutmeg, and a little pepper and salt; let K10v these simmer together for a few minutes, and add a piece of butter rolled in flour, and two tablespoonsful of port wine; boil up together, and put in a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and half a pint of beef gravy.
Obs.—This is much more in the French style of cookery than the former sauce; some think it more agreeable. The other is simple and elegant; this is very fine and high flavoured.
If you wish for celery sauce when no celery is to be procured, a quarter of a drachm of celery-seed will impregnate the sauce with all the flavour of the vegetable.
Pound sorrel leaves sufficient to get from them two tablespoonsful of juice; pass it through a sieve, and add it to some good melted butter, with the yolk of two eggs, and a little salt, pepper, and nutmeg; warm it together without boiling.
Have 12 or 15 tomatas very ripe and very red; take off the stalk; cut them in half; squeeze them just enough to get all the water and seeds out; put them in a quart stewpan, with two or three tablespoonsful of beef gravy; set them on a slow stove for an hour, or till properly melted; then rub them through a tammis into a clean stewpan with a little white pepper and salt, and let them simmer together a few minutes.
To preserve tomatas.—Choose them quite ripe; K11 put them into an earthen jar, and bake them till they are tender, which will take about two hours; pulp them through a hair sieve, and to each pound add a quarter ounce of ground white pepper, the same of mace, an ounce of minced shallots, half an ounce of garlic, and an ounce of glaze, or portable soup; boil the whole together till every ingredient is tender; rub it through a hair sieve, and to each pound add the juice of three lemons; boil the whole together again till it is the thickness of good cream; put it into half-pint preserving pots or bottles; take care they are closely corked; when once opened, the air soon spoils it: it should be kept in a cool dry place.
Take any quantity of sharp tasted apples, and reduce them into a pulp as in making apple sauce; put them into a mortar with as much turmeric as will give them the colour of tomatas, and as much chili vinegar as will give it the same degree of acid flavour that the tomata has; add to each quart a quarter of an ounce of garlic, and half an ounce of shallots, shred fine; put all into a well-tinned saucepan, and mix them well together, and give them a gentle boil; when cold, take out the garlic and shallot, and put the sauce into small stone bottles: your sauce should be of the consistence of a thick syrup, which may be regulated by the chili vinegar.
Obs.—The only difference between this and the genuine love-apple sauce, is the substituting the pulp of apple for the pulp of tomata, and giving the colouring with turmeric.
K11vMince four shallots very fine; put them into a stewpan with a quarter pint of water, two tablespoonsful of vinegar, and one of white wine, one quarter teaspoonful of pepper, and a little salt: stew for a quarter of an hour.
Or,
You may make this sauce more extemporaneously, by putting two teaspoonsful of shallot vinegar, a tablespoonful of white wine, and a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, into half a pint of melted butter.
Obs.—This is an excellent sauce with rump-steaks, and many are very fond of it with roasted fowls, chickens, or capons.
Cut four shallots very fine, and put them into a small saucepan with two tablespoonsful of the liquor the mutton has boiled in; let them boil up for five minutes; then put a tablespoonful of vinegar, one-quarter teaspoonful of pepper, and a little salt, and a bit of butter, as big as a small walnut, well rolled in flour; shake all together; give it a boil up.
Clean and peel some young onions, cut them into thin slices, and put them into a stewpan with a K12 slice of bacon, one-quarter teaspoonful of pepper, and one-half teaspoonful of salt; set them over the fire; when they begin to heat, moisten them with four tablespoonsful of water; let them stew for ten minutes; take out the bacon, squeeze in half a lemon, and send it up hot.
Those who like the full flavour of onions, only cut off the strings and tops, without peeling off any of the skins; put them into salt and water, and let them lie an hour; wash them, and put them into a kettle with plenty of water, and boil them till they are tender; then take off as many skins as you please; pass them through a cullender, and mix a little melted butter with them.
The following is a more delicate preparation:—Take eight of the largest and whitest onions, (the Spanish are the whitest and mildest, but these can only be had from August to December,) peel them, and cut them into thin slices, and boil them in a pint of milk, and three pints of water; when they are boiled tender, which will sometimes take an hour (the quicker they are boiled, the whiter they will be), drain them well on a hair sieve, and pass them through a cullender with a wooden spoon; put them into a clean saucepan, with an ounce of butter, a teaspoonful of flour, half a teaspoonful of salt, and two tablespoonsful of cream, or good milk; mix well, and simmer five minutes.
K12vObs.—This is the common sauce for boiled rabbits or ducks: they are laid dry in the dish, and this sauce is poured over them. There must be plenty of it; the usual expression signifies as much, for we say, smother them.
Slice a couple of large onions, and fry them in butter, turning them often, till they take a good brown colour; then pour in a teacupful of broth or water, with a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and same of table-beer, a few pepper-corns, a little salt, and a tablespoonful of flour; cover the saucepan close, and let it simmer half an hour, till it is reduced to the thickness you wish; press it through a hair sieve, and put a teaspoonful of made mustard to it, and stir well together.
Obs.—Half a pint of young onions, about as big as nutmegs, peeled and put in whole, and fried with them, will be an elegant addition to the above.
Cut a large onion into small dice, mince an ounce of sage leaves very fine; put them into a stewpan with half an ounce of butter; fry them a little, but do not let them get any colour; make half a pint of thin melted butter, and mix it with the sage and onions; then put a teacupful of bread crumbs to the melted butter and herbs; season with ground black pepper and salt; mix it well, and let it boil five minutes.
Obs.—This is, in fact, goose stuffing, and a L very relishing sauce for green peas on maigre days.
Roast a couple of fine large onions in a cheese-toaster or Dutch oven till they are somewhat more than half done; peel them, and take off the first coat; put them into a stewpan, with half a pint of good broth (or that quantity of water, with a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup), and a tablespoonful of flour; season it with salt and a few grains of Cayenne pepper, a glass of port wine, and the juice of half a lemon; let all simmer together till tender enough; rub them through a cullender, and mix a little bit of butter with them, and you will have a most admirable sauce.
My ingenious predecessor, Dr. King, in his letter to Dr. Lister (vide “King’s Art of Cookery”) says: “The following is the true receipt for making ‘The Carrier Sauce,’ which I have from an ancient manuscript, remaining at the Bull Inn, in Bishopsgate Street:—Take seven spoonsful of spring water, slice two onions, of moderate size, into a large saucer, and put in as much salt as you can hold at thrice betwixt your forefinger and thumb, if large, and serve it up. Probatum est, Hobson, carrier to the University of Cambridge.”
Wash half a handful of mint, pick the leaves from the stalks, and mince them very fine; Lv put it into a sauceboat, with a teaspoonful of moist sugar, and four tablespoonsful of vinegar; mix well together.
Obs.—This is an inseparable companion to hot lamb; we wish to see it also as constantly coming to table with cold lamb. If green mint cannot be procured, this sauce may be made with mint vinegar. See No. 398.
Pare, core, and slice three good sized baking apples, put them into a pint saucepan, (cover it close, because the steam helps to do them,) with one clove, a bit of cinnamon about as big as a clove, a roll of lemon-peel carefully pared thin, without any of the white, one tablespoonful of cold water, and a teaspoonful of moist sugar; set the saucepan near (but not on) a slow fire; be sure to put them on a couple of hours before dinner, for some apples will take an hour’s stewing, and others will be ready to press in a quarter of an hour: when the apples are done enough, take out the spice and lemon-peel, and mash the apples with a wooden spoon.
Pick a pint of mushrooms (the smaller the better) very clean, wash them, and put them into a saucepan with one blade of mace, half a dozen corns of allspice bruised, and half a bay leaf, a pint of milk, an ounce of butter, and a tablespoonful of flour; set them over a gentle fire, and stir L2 them frequently till they boil; let them boil ten minutes, and leave them near the fire, to keep hot, till wanted.
Clean half a pint of small mushrooms, put them into half a pint of beef gravy, No. 186; thicken with flour and butter; set them by the fire to stew gently for half an hour; take off the scum as it rises; squeeze in the juice of a lemon, and send it up.
Cut off the stalks, peel off the skin, scrape away the gills, and wash very clean two tablespoonsful of small white mushrooms; chop them fine, and throw them into a little lemon juice to keep them white; chop your mushrooms very fine, and as quick as possible, or they will turn black, and spoil the colour of your sauce; to prevent which, we recommend the lemon juice; put them into a clean saucepan, with half a pint of sauce tournay, a teaspoonful of eschallots minced fine (and washed and dried in the corner of a clean towel); season with nutmeg, pepper, and salt; reduce the sauce a little, and send it up.
This is a cold sauce, made without any heating, and is very fashionable in Italy, for fish which are to be eat cold, or any other cold dish.—Squeeze a large lemon, and half a China orange; add to L2v this half a teaspoonful of basket salt, a little pepper, and as much oil as there is of the other liquor; shred some parsley very fine, wash and bone a couple of anchovies; mix these together, and put them into the liquor; then cut very small two teaspoonsful of capers, put them in, stir all well together, and send it to table.
Obs.—We want a cold sauce of this kind, and this is an exceeding good one for many things—with cold fowl, turkey, or lamb—these are dry and insipid with salt alone, and our English cookery does not afford any method of eating them otherwise, without heating them up, by which they lose a great deal of their sweetness. This sauce is not too sharp, for the oil softens the vinegar; and it is very finely relished with a mixed flavour by the other ingredients.
Chop parsley very fine, an equal quantity of capers, shred a couple of anchovies, peel and shave very thin two shallots, and a clove of garlick; all these (being cut and prepared separately); must be mixed together: set on a stewpan with a quarter pint of gravy, add to it two tablespoonsful of oil, a spoonful of mustard, and the juice of a large lemon; when all this is hot together, put in the ingredients, with some pepper, and a very little salt, and some leaves of sweet herbs, picked from the stalks, and minced fine; stir all well together, and five minutes over a good fire will do it.
Obs.—This is copied from the same school as the L3 last sauce; it is sent up in a sauce-boat, with boiled fowls, veal, and many dishes of the boiled kind.
Pick a handful of parsley leaves from the stalks, mince them very fine, strew over a little salt, shred fine half a dozen young onions; add these to the parsley, and put them into a sauce-boat, with three tablespoonsful of oil, and five of vinegar; add some ground black pepper; stir all together, and send it up.
Obs.—This sauce is in much esteem in France, where the people of taste, weary of so many rich dishes, to obtain the charm of variety, occasionally order the fare of the peasant.
“The rich, tir’d with continual feasts,
“For change become their next poor tenant’s guests;
“Drink hearty draughts of ale from plain brown bowls,
“And snatch the homely rasher from the coals.”
Dryden’s Prologue to “All for Love.”
Slice a pound and a half of veal or beef, pepper and salt it, and lay it in a stewpan with a couple of carrots split, and three turnips, and four cloves of garlick sliced, and a large spoonful of water; set the stewpan over a gentle fire in a stove, and watch when the meat begins to stick to the pan; when it does so, turn it, and let it be all very well browned, but take care it is not at all burnt; pour in a pint and a half of gravy, and put in a bunch of sweet herbs, four blades of mace, and a couple L3v of cloves bruised, and slice in a lemon; set it on again, and let it simmer very gently for half an hour longer; throw in a little flour from time to time, till the gravy is as thick as you wish; then take off the fat, strain the gravy from the ingredients by pouring it through a napkin, straining and pressing it very hard.
Obs.—This was the secret of the old Spaniard who kept the house of that name on Hampstead-heath, and with this he acquired his fame for flavouring his olios and ragouts, &c.: for those who love garlick, this is an extremely rich and fine flavoured sauce.
Garlick vinegar a tablespoonful, of mustard, brown sugar, white pepper, a teaspoonful each; stirred into half a pint of oiled melted butter.
* Composer and Director of the Music at the Theatre Royal, Drury-Jane.
Pound a tablespoonful of capers, and one of minced parsley, as fine as possible; then add the yolks of three hard eggs, rub them well together with a tablespoonful of mustard, bone six anchovies, and pound them; rub through a hair sieve, and mix with two tablespoonsful of oil, one of vinegar, one of shallot ditto; rub all these well together in a mortar, till thoroughly incorporated, and then stir them into half a pint of good gravy or melted butter.
L4Pick from the stalks and shred very fine, some tarragon and chervil, or some parsley, balm, and thyme; cut two large onions into thin slices, chop these fine, and put all into a marble mortar, and pound it thoroughly; add some pepper and salt, some rocambole, and two blades of pounded mace; beat all these well together, and mix some gravy with them by degrees, till the whole is a mash about the thickness of batter; put it into a stew pan and boil it up, and after that strain it off, squeezing it well in the tammy: add to it half a glass of white wine, and a tablespoonful of oil; beat it well up, and serve up in a sauceboat. It is eaten with roast veal, and most other roasts.
Throw some fresh and tender leaves of Burnet into boiling water; put into the same water some mint, parsley, and half a dozen young onions: boil all together for a couple of minutes; then throw them into a pan of cold water, drain them dry, by squeezing them in a cloth, and then mince them as fine as possible. Set on a stewpan, with half a pint of veal gravy, put in a rocambole, and shred in an anchovy, squeeze in half a lemon, add pepper and salt, and two large spoonsful of fine oil: when it is all heated together, throw in the chopped herbs, let it boil up two or three times, and serve it up hot with any thing roasted.
L4vObs.—This is another of the sauces the Italians call rairgottes, and one of the best of that sort, the Burnet giving it a very agreeable flavour.
Pick and wash a handful of tarragon leaves, put them into a saucepan with half a pint of water; let them stew till they are tender; rub them through a sieve; take three tablespoonsful of the water they boiled in, an ounce of butter, and two teaspoonsful of flour; warm these together, and add two tablespoonsful of sherry, or Madeira, one of tarragon vinegar, or the juice of half a lemon, and a teaspoonful of sugar.
Mince a thin slice of a clove of garlick with some parsley, tarragon, chervil, burnet, and basil, each in proportion to their flavours: when well washed and squeezed dry, let it simmer in a little water, without boiling; press through a sieve, add a bit of butter, flour, pepper, and salt; boil it to a good consistence, and add lemon juice to make it relishing and smart tasted.
Make a quart of beef gravy, No. 186, wash and peel a dozen truffles, put the peels into the gravy, let it boil half an hour; then strain it into a clean saucepan; then put in your truffles, let them boil half an hour longer, and serve up.
L5Truffles may almost always be procured at the respectable oil shops in London, either preserved in fat, or dried.
Obs.—This is a sauce the French eat frequently with butcher’s meat; they make sauces of mushrooms and morells in the same manner, and they are very fine. In this respect, they proceed upon much better principles than we in our cookery, who generally have butter for the foundation of our sauces.
Let it be well picked and washed, put it into a cloth, and swing it backwards and forwards till it is perfectly dry; put it into a pan of hot fat, fry it quick, and have a slice ready to take it out the moment it is crisp, (if you let it stay too long, it will look black,) put it on a sieve or coarse cloth before the fire to drain.
Pick and wash a handful of young parsley, and shake it in a dry cloth to drain the water from it; spread it on a sheet of clean paper, and lay it in the Dutch oven before the fire, and lay some very little bits of butter on it; turn it frequently until it is quite crisp. This is a much more easy and elegant way of preparing it, than the usual way of frying it, which is not seldom ill done.
Obs.—It is a very pretty garnish for lamb chops, &c.
L5vCut a slice rather more than a quarter of an inch thick, divide it with a sharp kitchen knife into pieces two inches square; shape these into triangles, or crosses: put a tablespoonful of clean dripping into an iron fryingpan; when it is melted, put in the sippets, and fry them a light brown; take them up with a fish-slice, and drain them on a hair sieve, that they may not be greasy.
Obs.—These are a pretty garnish, and very relishing accompaniment, and will be an improvement to the flavour of the finest made dishes: they may also be sent up with peas and other soups; but when intended for soups, they should be cut in bits from half to three quarters of an inch square.
Rub a pint of crumbs of bread (that has been baked three days) through a wire sieve, or fine cullender; or you may rub them in a cloth till they are as small and fine as if they had been grated; put them into a stewpan with half an ounce of butter, place it over a moderate fire, and stir them about with a wooden spoon till they are the colour of a guinea; pour them into a sieve, and let them stand ten minutes to drain.
Obs.—These crumbs are sent up with roasted sweetbreads, or larks, pheasants, partridges, woodcocks, and grouse, or moor game, especially if they have been kept long enough.
L6Take half a pint of milk, put it on to boil, with an onion in it, and two blades of mace, and a dozen corns of black pepper tied up in a muslin bag; when it has boiled a quarter of an hour, strain the milk, put it into a saucepan with two tablespoonsful of fine bread crumbs, (stale bread is best,) that have been rubbed through a cullender, or wire sieve, boil ten minutes in an open saucepan, taking care they do not burn.
Obs.—You may rub the bread in a clean cloth, till the crumbs are as fine as if they had been grated, or rubbed through a cullender.
Is a very convenient article in the kitchen, to add to those soups or sauces where it is supposed the deep brown of its complexion denotes the strength and savouriness of the composition, and is a very good substitute for what is called “India, or Japan soy.” Put half a pound of moist sugar and a tablespoonful of water into a clean iron saucepan, set it over a slow fire, and keep stirring it with a wooden spoon till the sugar is burnt to a dark brown colour; then add a quarter of a pint more water, let it boil up, take off the scum, and strain the liquor into bottles, which must be well stopped: if you have not any of this by you, and you wish to darken the colour of your sauces, pound a teaspoonful of lump sugar, and put into a large iron spoon, with as much water as L6v will dissolve it; hold it over a quick fire till it becomes a very dark brown; mix it with your soup, &c., while it is hot.
Obs.—The above are merely colouring matters; most of the preparations under this title are a medley of burnt butter, spices, catsup, wine, &c., but we recommend the rational epicure to be content with the natural colour of soups and sauces, which to a well educated palate are much more agreeable without any of these empyreumatic additions.
Pound a handful of spinnage in a mortar, and squeeze the juice from it.
With the juice of beet root or cochineal; for
The yolks of eggs, or saffron steeped and squeezed.
Most joints will afford sufficient trimmings, &c. to make half a pint of plain gravy, for those that do not.
When your meat is in the dish you intend to send it up on, pierce the interior part of the joint with a sharp skewer, and mix half a teaspoonful L7 of salt with a quarter pint of boiling water; pour part of it on the under side of the meat, and the rest through the hole the spit came out of: be sure not to pour it over the top, or any part of the meat that will be seen, as it washes off the froth, and will spoil the look of the meat. If any gravy comes down in the dish, the cook will take care of it for the hash, if she is a good housewife.
Obs.—Some culinary professors, who think nothing can be excellent that is not extravagant, call this “Scots gravy,” not, I believe, intending it, as it certainly is, a compliment to the laudable and rational frugality of that intelligent and sober-minded people.
May be made from some parings and trimmings as for the roast meat, or pour from a quarter to half a pint of the liquor the meat was boiled in, into the dish with it, and pierce the inferior part of the joint with a sharp skewer.
Chop some parsley leaves very finely, quarter two or three pickled cucumbers, and divide them into small squares; put them into a saucepan with a bit of butter as big as an egg, a tablespoonful of flour, and almost half a pint of the broth the beef was boiled in; add a tablespoonful of vinegar, and the like quantity of mushroom catsup, two of good table beer, and a teaspoonful of made L7v mustard; let it simmer together till it is as thick as you wish it; pour it over the bouilli, or send it up in a sauce-tureen.
Obs.—If you like it more relishing, add to the above two teaspoonsful of capers, or a minced shallot, or one or two teaspoonsful of shallot vinegar, or basil or elder vinegar; or strew over the meat minced capers, walnuts, red cabbage, or pickled cucumbers.
As the object in making gravy is to completely extract the nutritious succulence of the meat, it is necessary that the meat should be well beaten, to comminute the containing vessels; and scored, to augment the surface to the action of the water.
Take a pound of lean beef, beat it well with a rolling pin, score it in all directions, add pepper and salt, some scraped carrot, sliced onion or shallot, and allspice; put a small piece of butter at the bottom of the saucepan, and keep it over a very gentle fire for half an hour, when about a quarter pint of rich and intrinsic gravy will be obtained; add to the remaining meat as much water as will cover it, a small quantity of isinglass, and a piece of bread gradually toasted very brown; let this gently simmer for an hour, or till more than half is evaporated; strain it, and add it to the former. A. C. Junr.
Cut a pound of nice juicy gravy beef into thin L8 slices, and about an ounce of bacon, or ham, or fresh butter; lay them at the bottom of a two quart stewpan, with one blade of mace tied up in a nosegay of a small sprig of sweet marjoram, the same of winter savory or lemon-thyme and parsley, a roll of lemon-peel, two cloves stuck into a middling sized onion, a dozen berries of allspice, and half a dozen of black pepper; put to this three tablespoonsful of water, cover it, and set it on a slow fire till the liquor is all boiled away, and the meat has got very well browned, but take care it is not at all burnt: the time this will take depends so much on the state of the fire, the best way to make sure of your sauce is, when it has been boiling a few minutes, take off the cover and watch it; when the meat has got a nice brown, pour in a quart of boiling water; when it boils, catch the scum, and put in a crust of bread toasted very brown, and let it stew very gently for an hour and a half: take a spoonful of thickening, made as per receipt, No. 257, stir it into it by degrees, and let it simmer gently for a quarter of an hour longer, strain it through a fine hair sieve, or tammis cloth, put in a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, a saltspoonful of salt, and half a one of pepper. This will be a rich, high brown sauce for fish, fowl, or ragout.
Obs.—If you wish to make it still more relishing, especially if it is to be eaten with game, or wild water-fowl; you may add a tablespoonful of port wine, the juice of half a lemon, and a roll of the rind cut thin, and if you think it not strong enough, use double the quantity of meat and bacon.
L8vChoose a dozen very large flaps, the biggest full opened mushrooms that you can get, cut out the stalks, peel off the skin, and scrape away the gills, then strew over them a little pepper and salt. Cut three pounds of steaks, half an inch thick, from a good part of the beef, where there is little fat; the leg of mutton, or neck piece, is very proper for this purpose. Beat the steaks well, and season them moderately with a little salt. Cover the bottom of a gallon stewpan with a couple of slices of fat bacon; upon these lay four or five of the mushrooms, then lay in some of the beef steaks, upon these the rest of the mushrooms, and the rest of the beef steaks over them. Cut to pieces two onions and four carrots, half a dozen cloves, four blades of mace, a dozen and a half berries of black pepper, and a dozen of allspice, as much grated nutmeg as will lay on a sixpence, and a faggot of thyme, knotted marjoram, winter savory, and parsley, whose stems when tied up will be as big as two fingers: cover the stewpan, and set it over a gentle fire, and watch how the gravy comes; when there is a good deal, set it on a better fire, and let it boil away till the meat is nearly dry, and it begins to stick to the pan; then uncover it, stir all about, and put the vegetables and herbs undermost, that they may get brown, but take care they are not burned: then pour in three pints of boiling water, and put it on a slow fire to simmer gently for an hour and a half. L9 Take a large tablespoonful of thickening, made as per receipt, No. 257, and stir it into it by degrees, and let it simmer gently a quarter of an hour longer; strain through a tammis sieve or cloth.
Obs.—This is the very “ne plus ultra” of rich gravy for sauces, ragouts, and made dishes, and far exceeds the most costly gravies of the French, into which they put partridges, woodcocks, &c. This quintessence of mushrooms and beef is incomparably more savoury and delicious.
Peel and slice two or three large onions, put them into a quart stewpan, with a bit of butter about as big as a walnut, or a couple of tablespoonsful of water; set it on a slow fire, and turn the onions about till they are browned; then add half a pint of good broth, and boil them till they are quite tender; strain the broth from them, and mince them very fine; thicken your sauce with flour and butter, and season it with pepper and salt; put the onion into it, and simmer all together for five minutes.
Obs.—If you have no broth, put in half a pint of water, and just before you give it the last boil up, add to it a large tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and, if you like, the same quantity of port wine, or good ale.
Put a quarter of a pound of butter into a large stewpan, set it over a brisk fire; when it has done L9v talking, dredge in some flour, stir it about till it is a fine yellow colour, and then put in three or four onions, two parsnips, or three carrots cut into thin slices; turn them with a wooden spoon till they take a good brown colour; put in a teaspoonful of flour, stir well together, and add a pint and a half of boiling water, and a crust of bread toasted brown; season it with a shallot minced fine, three blades of pounded mace, two drachms of soup-herb powder, and some pepper and salt; let it stew two hours over a slow fire, and press it through a tammis sieve: you may add port wine, mushroom and oyster catsup, or lemon pickle.
Skin and clean a pound of good eels or four flounders, cut them to pieces, and put them into a saucepan with a pint and a half of water; let them boil a little; put in two blades of mace, ten corns of whole pepper, a bundle of sweet herbs, a piece of bread toasted brown, and a roll of lemon-peel; boil all together till it is very rich; then put into another saucepan a piece of butter about as big as an egg; melt it, dredge in some flour, toss it about till it is brown, strain the gravy to it, and mix all well together.
Take the neck, legs, liver and gizzard, cut them small, and boil them in a pint of water, with a small piece of bread toasted brown, twelve berries L10 of black, and the same of Jamaica pepper, a sprig of lemon-thyme and sweet marjoram, or savory, and two leaves of basil, or half a bay leaf; (the bones of any kind of roast meat broken to pieces, and stewed with it, are a great improvement; as will also be the cuttings or trimmings of any joint you may have in the house;) boil slowly till your gravy is reduced nearly half; then strain it into a clean stewpan, bruise the liver well, and rub it through a sieve with a wooden spoon, thicken it with a little bit of butter rolled in flour, and add a teaspoonful of browning, and a tablespoonful of red wine, and the same of any kind of catsup you think proper.
Obs.—If you have no cuttings or trimmings of meat, an anchovy will sometimes be a good substitute.
Half a pint of water, and half as much good small beer, or two tablespoonsful of ale that is neither bitter nor stale, and a bundle of sweet herbs; slice an onion, a small piece of thin lemon-peel, two cloves, a blade of mace, six berries of allspice, and the same of black pepper bruised, and a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and the same quantity of port wine. Put a bit of butter about as big as a walnut into a saucepan; when it is melted, put in a sliced onion, shake in a little flour, stir it well with a wooden spoon till the froth sinks, and it has caught a little brown; then by degrees stir in the above ingredients, and let it stew for half an hour, and strain it well, and when cold take off the fat.
L10vObs.—Mushroom catsup supplies the place of meat better than any thing: if you have not this, beer, wine, spices, and the aromatic roots and herbs variously combined, and thickened with flour and butter, are the usual substitutes for meat; but those families who are frequently in want of gravy sauces, (without plenty of which, no cook can support the credit of her kitchen,) should keep by them a stock of portable soup or glaze: by the help of this, and a portion of the above materials, or a tablespoonful of “double relish,” or “sauce superlative,” No. 429, a boat of the best gravy may be produced in a few minutes.
Put a quarter of an ounce of butter into a stewpan; as soon as it is warm, mix with it half an ounce of flour, and half a drachm of zest: stir thoroughly together for a few minutes, and pour in by degrees almost half a pint of boiling water, and a large spoonful of port wine; let it boil up for five minutes, stirring it all the time; season it with salt, and strain it through a fine sieve, and you will have a charming relish for either roast or boiled poultry or game, chops, steaks, &c.
⁂ Zest is sold by the publisher of this work, and by Messrs. Ball, No. 81, New Bond Street; and at Mr. Butler’s herb shop, opposite Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.
Add two teaspoonsful of port wine, and the L12 juice of half a lemon to half a pint of the gravy sauce for poultry, No 329.
Set on a saucepan with half a pint of veal gravy, No. 192, half a dozen leaves of basil, and an onion; let it boil up two or three times, and strain it off. Put to the clear gravy the juice of a very fine Seville orange, or two lemons, half a teaspoonful of salt, the same of pepper, and a glass of red wine; send it up hot.
Obs.—This is an excellent sauce for widgeon, teal, and all kinds of wild water-fowl. The common way of gashing the breast, and squeezing in an orange, cools and hardens the flesh, and compels every one to eat duck that way: those who have the true taste for wild-fowl eat them very little done, and without any sauce. Gravies should always be sent up in a boat; they keep hot longer, and it leaves it to the choice of the company to partake of it or not, as they like; and for those who choose it, there is no way of having the flavour of the pepper and orange so well, and with so little hurt to the flesh of the fowl.
When the woodcocks are roasted take out the guts and livers, bruise them to a mash with a spoon, press it through your sieve, and sprinkle on them a little pepper and salt, add two large L12v spoonsful of good gravy, and a small piece of butter rolled in flour; boil up together.
Pour it into a hot dish, cut up the woodcocks in it, and send them to table.
The snipe in a great measure owes its sauce to itself, and there is a way of making it very fine,
It is usual to roast these birds without drawing; when they are done enough take them off the spit, and take out the entrails and the liver, chop them upon a trencher: set on a small saucepan, with some veal gravy and red wine, seasoned with a little pepper and salt; put in the entrails and the liver, mash them well together, and squeeze in the juice of an orange; thicken your sauce with a little flour.
Obs.—There are two ways of using this sauce; either pour it into a dish, and lay in the snipes over it, or make it into a dish with them in the following manner; cut the birds to pieces, put them into the sauce when it is well thickened, pour the whole into a dish, and squeeze in the juice of half a lemon.
Mix two teaspoonsful of made mustard, a saltspoonful of salt, and a few grains of Cayenne, in two tablespoonsful of port wine; pour it into the goose by a slit in the apron, just before serving L13 up*; or, as all the company may not like it, send it up in a boat, with a quarter of a pint of melted butter, and a tablespoonful of catsup or cavice.
* Thus far the above is from Dr. Hunter’s “Culina,” who says it is a secret worth knowing: we agree with him, and so tell it here, with a little addition, which we think renders it a still more gratifying communication.
Mince a large onion very fine, put half an ounce of butter into a pint stewpan, fry it, turning it often with a wooden spoon, till it takes a light brown colour, then add two tablespoonsful of thickening, No. 257, a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, the same of port wine, and half a pint of warm water, a quarter of a teaspoonful of pepper, the same of salt; let them boil half an hour, then add a small teaspoonful of mustard, and the juice of half a lemon, or one or two teaspoonsful of vinegar.
Obs.—The French call this sauce “Robert,” (the name of the cook who invented it,) and are very fond of it with many things.
Put into your stewpan a pint of beef or veal cullis, No. 189, or No. 192, add a wineglass of Madeira, the juice of half a lemon, and the peel of a quarter of a lemon, a few leaves of basil, half a bay leaf, and a few grains of Cayenne pepper; L13v let them simmer together for ten minutes: you may introduce a dozen turtle forcemeat balls; see Receipt, No. 380, &c.
Obs.—This is a delicious sauce for stewed veal, or veal cutlets, or any dish you dress turtle fashion, which itself owes all its estimation to the sauce that is made for it; without which, it would be as insipid as any other fish is without sauce.
A quarter of a pint of claret, or port wine, half the quantity of water, and two tablespoonsful of sugar; let it once boil up for the sugar to melt, and send up in a sauce boat.
Obs.—This will do equally well for a hare.
Put into a silver, or very clean and well tinned saucepan, half a pint of the best white-wine vinegar, and a quarter of a pound of the finest loaf-sugar; set it over the fire, and let it simmer gently; skim it carefully, and pour it through a flannel jelly bag, and send it up in a basin.
Obs.—Some people like this better than the sweet wine sauces.
Put some currant jelly into a stewpan; when it is melted, pour it into a sauce-boat.
Obs.—Many add port wine.
MThe best gravy for venison, is that made of the trimmings of the joint: if this is all used, and you have not trimmings enough, cut a scrag of mutton in pieces, and fry it a little brown in an iron fryingpan; put it into a clean stewpan, with a quart of boiling water, cover it close, and let it simmer gently for an hour, then uncover your stewpan, let it reduce to a pint, drain it through a hair sieve, take the fat off, and send it up in a boat. It is only to be seasoned with salt, that it may not overpower the natural flavour of the meat.
Is made by stirring a sufficient quantity of curry powder into gravy, or melted butter. The composition of curry powder varies so much, we cannot give any specific receipt as to the quantity. The cook must add it by degrees, tasting as she proceeds, and taking care not to put in too much.
Is made in the same way with the powder, No. 385.
Chop the legs and feet of a roast or boiled fowl, and cut three or four thin slices of ham or bacon, Mv bruise them to break the fibres, and make them part with their juice; put them into a stewpan, and let them sweat over a slow fire, strew over them some flour, and keep stirring them, moisten them with half a pint of water and a tablespoonful of good small beer; season it with twelve berries of Jamaica, and the same of black pepper, and some sweet herbs; let it simmer gently: if not thick enough, add a bit of butter and some flour: let it warm together, and strain it.
Boil a ham in the usual way; when it is done enough, run an iron skewer through it in several places; the gravy that comes from it is the “true essence of ham:” put it, while hot, into jelly glasses; the fat that runs out with the gravy will cover the top, and preserve it for six months. The ham will still do for a cold relish, or for potting.
Obs.—This is certainly the very quintessence of ham, but so expensive, it is only attainable by gourmands of the first magnitude. The following preparation will supply its place at a moderate cost.
You must have a fine and well flavoured ham, or the sauce will be good for nothing. Take care to preserve the gravy that runs from the ham when it is cut at table; and when the ham is pretty well eaten down, so that it cannot appear again at table, nor any handsome M2 slices be cut from it, pick all the meat clear from the bone, (do not put in any of the rusty or decayed parts,) beat it well with a rolling pin, that it may be broken in every part; put this mash into a saucepan, with a slice of fat bacon at the bottom, and some carrot and an onion cut into slices, and pour in two or three tablespoonsful of water; set it over a slow fire for about ten minutes; stir it about till it sticks to the bottom of the stewpan; then dredge in a little flour, and keep stirring it about for some time, for it will more and more stick to the bottom; after some time, add to it its own gravy that you have saved, and pour in half a pint of gravy, (or water and a tablespoonful of catsup, if you have no gravy,) and add a small sprig of lemon-thyme, sweet marjoram, and winter-savory, two leaves of sweet basil, and a dozen corns of black pepper; cover up, and let it stew very gently, over a very slow fire, for about forty minutes; strain off the gravy through a fine sieve; skim it well; clear it with the white of an eggy give it a boil up, strain through a tammis, and when cold bottle it for use.
Obs.—This ham sauce is made with very moderate expense, and is equal to the most extravagant essences of ham: though thus easily and cheaply obtained, it is a very rich article of the sauce kind, and will be found very convenient to heighten the flavour of ragouts, gravies, &c., and for veal, capons, &c.
Two or three slices of boiled ham, minced very M2v fine, with a gherkin, and a morsel of onion, a little parsley, pepper, and nutmeg; stew all together for a quarter of an hour: when it is time to send it up, let your sauce be half boiling, and pour it over the eggs or peas.
When you have fried the cutlets, take them out, and put into the pan four tablespoonsful of water, a few sweet herbs, a little onion, or nutmeg, and a little lemon-peel shred fine; thicken it with a bit of butter, (as big as a walnut,) rolled in flour, add a tablespoonful of Ball’s cavice, or lemon pickle, and pour it into the dish of cutlets.
To half a pint of gravy add half an ounce of fresh butter, and a tablespoonful of flour, a large tablespoonful of mushroom or walnut catsup, two teaspoonsful of lemon juice, the same of made mustard, one of salt, half a one of black pepper, a small bit of the rind of a lemon cut very thin, a teaspoonful of the essence of anchovies, and one of shalot vinegar, or a very small piece of minced shalot; simmer together for ten minutes, and strain it; pour a little of it over the grill, and send up the rest in a sauce tureen.
Obs.—This is a most delicious relish for devilled chicken, broiled fowl, pigeon, &c.
Take the meat out of the fryingpan, and for a M3 pound of meat put in a quarter of a pint of boiling water, two teaspoonsful of flour, and a tablespoonful of mushroom or walnut catsup, let it boil together a few minutes, and pour it to the steaks.
Obs.—To the above is sometimes added a sliced onion, or a minced eshallot, with a tablespoonful of port wine; to these some add a pickled cucumber or walnut, sliced thin.
Spread some slices of lean veal and ham at the bottom of a stewpan, with a carrot, a bundle of sweet herbs, and a couple of onions; cover it, and let it sweat on a slow fire till it is as deep a brown as you would have it, then pour in a quart of broth or water; if it is water, it must be more reduced than if it is broth; set it on to boil; skim it well, and put in half a dozen corns of black pepper, two blades of mace, two drachms of isinglass, and a quarter of a teaspoonful of salt; let it simmer slowly on a gentle fire for two hours; skim the fat off, and strain it through a tammis cloth; when it is got cool, put to it the whites or shells of two eggs beat well together; put it in a stewpan, and with a whisk stir it quick till it boils; let it simmer on the side of the fire for ten minutes, and then run it several times through a tammis cloth, or jelly bag, as you do other jellies, till it is perfectly clear and bright; pour it over your meat or fowls in the dish you send them up on: it is a very prepossessing varnish; or cut it in bits, and garnish them with it.
M3vObs.—This may be flavoured with elder or tarragon vinegar.
Two tablespoonsful of grated horseradish, two teaspoonsful of made mustard, one teaspoonful of salt, one teaspoonful of powdered lump sugar, distilled vinegar as much as will cover the ingredients.
Obs.—A most excellent sauce for cold meat, and, added to melted butter, makes a very good fish sauce. Grate or scrape the horseradish as fine as possible.
Wash, bone, and pound an anchovy in a marble or wedgewood mortar, with the yolks of two eggs that have been boiled hard; add to it by degrees three tablespoonsful of vinegar, one teaspoonful of made mustard, two of shallot wine, or basil vinegar; when these ingredients are thoroughly mixed, add two tablespoonsful of salad oil; rub it up well till it is incorporated with the mixture, and strain it through a sieve.
Chop the bones and fragments of the joint, &c., and put them into a two quart stewpan, with a quart of boiling water, six berries of black pepper, M4 and the same of allspice, a small bundle of parsley, and half a head of celery cut in pieces, lemon-thyme and sweet marjoram, a very little bit of each; cover up, and let it boil quick for half an hour. Cut a small onion very fine, put it in a stewpan with an ounce of butter, fry it over a sharp fire for two minutes, then stir in as much flour as will make it a stiff paste, and mix it in some of the gravy you have made from the bones, &c.; pour it into a two quart stewpan, and let it boil for a quarter of an hour longer; strain it through a tammis into a basin; put it back into the stewpan, season it with pepper and salt, cut in a few pickled onions, or walnuts, a couple of gherkins cut in thin slices, and two tablespoonsful of mushroom catsup, or walnut pickle, or some capers and caper liquor, or two tablespoonsful of table beer, and two tablespoonsful of vinegar; cover the bottom of the dish with sippets of bread, toasted, and cut into triangles.
Obs.—If any of the gravy that was sent up with the joint when it was roasted be left, it will be a great improvement to the hash. If you wish it to eat like venison, instead of the onion put in two cloves, a tablespoonful of currant jelly, and the same quantity of port wine.
Take the bones of cold roast or boiled veal, dust half a tablespoonful of flour on them, and put them into a stewpan, with a pint and a half of water, a small onion, a little grated lemon-peel, or the peel of the quarter of a small lemon M4v pared as thin as possible, half a teaspoonful of salt, and a couple of blades of pounded mace. Set it on a quick fire, and let it boil half an hour, strain through a sieve, and it is ready to put to the veal to warm up. Squeeze in half a lemon, cover the bottom of the dish with toasted bread sippets cut into triangles.
To a pound of lean juicy gravy beef, or veal, notched and floured, put a quart of water. Let it stew very gently for an hour, i.e. till the goodness is extracted from the meat, without drawing it to the dregs: about a quarter of an hour before it is done, put to it a piece of crust of bread, and a bit of lemon peel. When done, strain it carefully, skim off the fat, put a tablespoonful of thickening, No. 2. to it. Season with black pepper and salt, and the juice of half a lemon.
An onion, or some sweet herbs, may he added.
To a pint of beef gravy add a wineglass of vinegar, the juice of a lemon, a teaspoonful of ground black pepper, four cloves bruised, an onion sliced, a sprig of thyme, and some salt; let these simmer together for half an hour, and strain through a fine sieve.
Obs.—This is called marinade; and when any thing is soaked for three or four hours in such a mixture, it is said to be marinated.
M5Cut a quarter of a pound of lean ham and a pound of veal into small dice, put it into a two quart stewpan, with three ounces of butter, two small young onions tied up with a sprig of parsley and a couple of cloves, (and half a dozen mushrooms if you have them,) set the stewpan over a clear slow stove to reduce; stir up the ingredients with a wooden spoon, but take care it does not catch colour, shake in two tablespoonsful of fine sifted flour, and turn it about and incorporate it with the sauce; when it is well mixed, moisten it by degrees with a pint and a half of new milk, taking care to keep your stewpan moving, that the ingredients may not catch; let it boil over a brisk fire for an hour; if it gets too thick, add some more milk. Do not put in any salt, as the ham will make it salt enough; strain through a tammis. In fact, if common veal broth be boiled, scummed, thickened with flour and butter, and thinned again with some more veal broth, boiled a quarter of an hour longer, till it is reduced to the same quantity it was before you added the veal broth, passed through a fine sieve, or tammis, and have a sufficient quantity of cream to make it white, and just simmered together for five minutes, (but not suffered to boil,) you will have a genuine Béchamel.
Obs.—Béchamel implies a thick white sauce, approaching to a batter, and takes its name from a wealthy French marquess, maitre d’hotel de Louis XIV, and famous for his patronage of les officiers de bouche, who have immortalized him by calling by his name this delicate M5v composition. Most of the French sauces take their name from the person whose palate they first pleased, as “à la Maintenon;” or from some famous cook who invented them, as “Sauce Robart,” “à la Montizeur,” &c. By my ZEST, Nos. 255 and 386, I also put in my claim to immortality of fame.
Mince fine a small onion, put it into a quart stewpan, with a little butter, and a shallot shred fine, or a very little bit of garlick, cloves, sweet herbs, and basil, if you like their flavour; when it has fried a few minutes, add half a pint of beef or veal gravy, or warm water, and a tablespoonful of vinegar; skim it and strain it well; thicken it with a little flour and butter, and squeeze in the juice of half a lemon.
Obs.—This sauce is very much used among foreigners: whoever has looked into any of their books of cookery, will remember they order many of their dishes to be sent up with “poivrade;” by which may generally be understood, a sauce, in the composition of which, pepper and vinegar are predominant.
Behead and bone two anchovies, pound them in a marble mortar, with two tablespoonsful of salad oil, and a teaspoonful of made mustard, some parsley leaves, and a shallot minced fine; when well mixed, add vinegar to your taste, and pass it through a hair sieve, and season it with pepper and salt.
Obs.—A very good sauce for cold meat.
M6Have ready a pint of beef or veal broth in a quart stewpan; put into another stewpan an ounce of butter; when it is melted, shake in as much flour as will make it a stiff paste; stir till it is well mixed, but be careful not to let it catch colour: mix this with the broth, and stir till it is smooth; season it with a small bundle of young onions and parsley, six berries of allspice, and six mushrooms if you have them; cover your stewpan closely, and set it on the corner of the stove to simmer gently for an hour, and strain your sauce through a tammis.
Pour four tablespoonsful of sauce tournée into a pint stewpan; when the sauce is hot, put in two tablespoonsful of good thick cream; season with a little salt; strain through a tammis, and send it up hot.
Obs.—This is also from the French kitchen, and is, in fact, only a richer preparation of sauce tournée.
Mix very gradually together, in a marble or wedgewood mortar, an ounce of flour of mustard, with three tablespoonsful of milk, and half a teaspoonful of salt, and the same of sugar.
Obs.—Mustard made in this manner is not at M6v all bitter, and may therefore be instantly brought to table.
Mix by degrees, by rubbing together in a mortar, the best Durham flour of mustard with cold water in which scraped horseradish has been boiled, rub it well together till it is quite smooth: keep it in a stone jar, closely stopped: only put as much into the mustard pot as will be used in a day or two. The ready made keeping mustard, that is prepared at the oil shops, is mixed with one fourth part salt: this is useful to preserve it, if it is to be kept long; otherwise, by all means omit it. The best way of eating salt is in substance.
See also Recipe, No. 427.
Obs.—Some opulent epicures mix their mustard with sherry or Madeira wine, or distilled vinegar, instead of horseradish water.
The French flavour their mustard with Champaigne, and other wines, capers, anchovies, tarragon or elder vinegar, garlick, shallot, celery, and fine herbs, truffles, &c. &c.
Common salt is more relishing than basket salt; it should be prepared for the table by drying it in a plate before the fire, and then putting it on clean paper; roll it with a rolling pin; or, what is still better, pound it in a mortar till it is quite fine, it will look as well as basket salt.
Select for table use, the lumps of salt.
M7Boil a couple of eggs for ten minutes, put them into a basin of cold water for half an hour, as the yolks must be quite hard and cold, or they will not incorporate well with the oil. Rub them through a sieve with a wooden spoon, and mix them with a teaspoonful of water, the same quantity of made mustard, and four tablespoonsful of vinegar; when well mixed together, add three tablespoonsful of oil, and rub it with the other ingredients till thoroughly incorporated with them; cut up the white of the egg and garnish the top of the salad with it. Let the sauce remain at the bottom of the salad bowl, and do not stir up with the salad till it is to be eaten.
Obs.—This mixture is sometimes made with cream instead of oil, and flavoured with basil, tarragon, or elder vinegar, essence of celery, lemon pickle, or an anchovy: of these we prefer the basil vinegar, see No. 397.
Forcemeat is now considered an indispensable accompaniment to most made dishes, and when composed with good taste, gives additional spirit and relish to even that “essence of savouriness,” turtle soup. It is also sent up in patties, and for stuffing of veal, game, poultry, &c. The ingredients should be so proportioned that no one flavour predominates, and instead of giving the same stuffing for veal, for hare, &c. with a little contrivance M7v you may make as great a variety of forcemeats as you have dishes. I have given receipts for a dozen of the most favourite compositions, and a table, a glance at which will enable the ingenious cook to make an infinite variety of combinations: the first column containing the spirit, the second the substance of them. The poignancy of forcemeat should be proportioned to the savouriness of the viands it is intended to give an additional zest to. What would be piquante in a turkey, would be insipid in a turtle. Tastes are so different, and the praise the cook receives will depend so much on her pleasing the palate of those she works for, that all her sagacity must be exercised to discover the flavours her employers are partial to. Most people have an acquired and peculiar taste in stuffings, &c., and what exactly pleases one seldom is precisely what another considers the most agreeable: and after all,
“The very dish one likes the best,
“Is acid, or insipid to the rest.”
The consistency of forcemeat balls is the most difficult thing the cook has to manage; they are almost always either too light, or too heavy; this is generally owing to a predominance of either the yolk or the white of the eggs that the ingredients are mixed with, the former being the basis of firmness, the latter of lightness. Take also special care to mix all the ingredients thoroughly together till they are completely incorporated.
Forcemeat balls must not be larger than a small nutmeg.
M8Spirit. | Substance. |
---|---|
Common thyme. Lemon thyme. Sweet marjoram. Savory. Sage. Onion. Eshallot-garlick. Chervil. Basil. Bay leaf. Truffles and morells. Mushroom powder. Lemon peel. Shrimps. Oysters. Anchovy. Dressed tongue. Ham. Bacon. Black or white pepper. Allspice. Mace. Cinnamon. Ginger. Nutmegs. Cloves. Curry powder. Cayenne. Zest. See No. 255. |
Flour. Crumbs of bread. Parsley. Spinach. Boiled onion. Yolks of hard eggs. Mutton. Beef. Veal suet*, or marrow. Calf’s udder. Parboiled sweetbread. Veal minced and pounded. |
For liquids, you have lemon juice, mushroom or walnut catsup, and the whites and yolks of eggs.
* If you have no suet, the best substitute for it is about one third part the quantity of butter.
M8vMince a quarter of a pound of beef suet, (beef marrow is better,) the same weight of bread crumbs, a drachm of parsley, a drachm and a half of sweet marjoram, or winter savory, or lemon-thyme, and a roll of lemon peel chopped as fine as possible, a little grated nutmeg, pepper and salt; mix thoroughly together with the yolk and white of an egg, and secure it in the veal with a skewer, or sew it in with a bit of twine.
Make up some of it into balls, and send up in a side dish.
Obs.—Good stuffing has always been considered a chef-d’œuvre in cookery, and has given immortality to one artist.
“Poor Roger Fowler had a generous mind,
Nor would submit to have his hand confin’d,
But aimed at all, yet never could excel
In any thing but stuffing of his veal.”
King’s Art of Cookery, p. 113.
Two ounces of undressed lean veal, after you have scraped it quite fine, and free from skin and sinews, the same quantity of beef or veal suet, the same of bread crumbs, chop fine three drachms of parsley, one of lemon-peel, one of sweet herbs chopped fine, or in powder, and one of onion minced small, and half a drachm of allspice, same of cloves, beaten to fine powder; pound all together in a mortar, and break into it the yolk and white M9 of an egg; rub it all up well together, and season it with a little pepper and salt.
For the above, the Editor is indebted to M. Birch, Cook to Dr. Kitchiner.
Obs.—This is sometimes made more savoury by the addition of anchovies and Cayenne pepper.
Chop fine a quarter of a pound of beef or veal suet, the same quantity of fine bread crumbs, half an ounce of fat ham or bacon, half a drachm of lemon thyme, same of parsley, a drachm of lemon-peel chopped fine, or grated, a small shallot, a little grated nutmeg, pepper and salt to palate: mix thoroughly together with the yolk and white of an egg to bind it.
Either take the above composition for the roast turkey, or add the soft part of a dozen oysters to it, and an anchovy if you like it still more relishing.
Pork sausage meat is used also for turkies and fowls.
Chop fine two large onions, and a handful of green sage, (both unboiled,) a little pepper and salt; some add to this a minced apple.
For another, see Roast Goose, and Duck.
M9vTwo ounces of beef suet chopped fine, three ounces of fine bread crumbs, parsley a drachm, shallot half a drachm, or a small anchovy, a drachm of marjoram or lemon-thyme, or winter-savory, half a drachm of grated lemon-peel, half a drachm of nutmeg, pepper and salt; mix with the white and yolk of an egg, put it in the hare, and sew it up.
If the liver is quite sound, you may add that to the above.
Take a large breakfastcupful of bread crumbs, rubbed through a cullender, put them into a pint stewpan with a tablespoonful of the soup, as much parsley chopped fine, and stir them over till it is quite a hard paste; mix with the yolk of an egg; take it out of the stewpan, and put it on a plate to get cold: mince very fine an ounce of suet, half a dozen leaves of common or lemon-thyme, the same of savory, and the like number of little nobs or knots of sweet marjoram; beat them together in a mortar, and season them with as much pepper as will lay on a sixpence, and the same quantity of nutmeg and salt; roll up a ball as big as a nutmeg, and try it in a little boiling water; if it is too light, add to it another egg, and a little more flour, and mix it well together again.
Roll your forcemeat into a sausage about as big as your ring finger, and divide it into equal portions M10 of about half an inch long, round these into little balls, and if you wish them a lighter colour, throw them into boiling water for a couple of minutes; take them out with a fish slice, and lay them on a hair sieve to dry. If you like them brown, fry them.
From E. Stevenson, Cook to Sir Simon Clark, Bart.
Or,
Pound some veal in a marble mortar, rub it through a sieve with as much of the udder as you have veal, or about a third as much butter; put some bread crumbs into a stewpan, with milk enough to wet it, a little chopped parsley and shallot, rub them well together till they form a paste; rub it through a sieve, and when cold, pound and mix them all together, with the yolks of three eggs boiled hard; season it with salt, pepper, and curry powder, add to it the yolks of two raw eggs, rub it well together, and make small balls: ten minutes before your soup is ready put them in.
By the French artist who wrote the receipt to dress a Turtle, &c. See No. 250.
Boil four eggs for ten minutes, and put them into cold water, put the yolks into a mortar with the yolk of a raw egg, and as much salt as will lay on a shilling, and a little pepper, rub well together, roll them into small balls, (as they swell in boiling,) and boil them a couple of minutes.
The yolk of an egg boiled hard, and a bit of M10v fresh butter about half as big; beat together in a mortar, and season it with curry powder; make small balls as in the last receipt.
See No. 467.
See No. 465.
See No. 468.
See No. 255. Are all made in the same way.
Peel a Seville orange or lemon very thin, taking off only the fine yellow rind, without any of the white, pound it in a marble mortar, add to it a spoonful of pounded lump sugar, and rub it well with the peel, by degrees add a little of the mixture, and when it is well ground and blended with this, take it out of the mortar, and mix it with the whole: there is no other way of incorporating it so well. Many forcemeats, &c. are spoiled by the unequal mixing of the ingredients.
Mix half a tablespoonful of flour with a quart M11 of new milk; let it simmer five minutes, to take off the rawness of the flour; then beat up the yolk of an egg, stir it into the milk while boiling, and strain it through a fine sieve.
Put your raspberries into a stone jar, tie them down, and set them in a slack oven for four hours; press out the juice, and add to each quart three pounds of fine loaf sugar; boil and skim till it comes to a syrup. Boil a drachm of bruised cochineal in a pint of white wine vinegar for fifteen minutes; when cold, add to it the quart of syrup, a quart of cold vinegar, and a quarter of a pint of rectified spirit of wine.
Take fine fresh gathered red raspberries well picked: put them into a wooden or china bowl, with as much good distilled wine vinegar as will cover them: bruise and stir them frequently for four days; strain them; and to every pint of the liquor add a pound of lump sugar: boil for a quarter of an hour, taking off the scum as it rises; add to each pint a glass of brandy, and bottle it: when used, it may be mixed in about eight parts of water, and is a most excellent cooling beverage to assuage thirst in fevers and colds, &c., and is agreeable to most palates.
M11vA pint of fresh lemon juice, a pound and a half of lump sugar; dissolve it in a gentle heat, scum it, and add an ounce of thin cut lemon-peel; let them all simmer together for a few minutes. When cold, bottle it and cork it closely, and keep it in a cool place.
Or,
Dissolve an ounce of crystallized lemon-acid in a pint of clarified syrup.
Squeeze the oranges, and strain the juice from the pulp into a large pot, and boil it up, with a pound of fine sugar to each pint of juice; skim it well: let it stand till cold, and then bottle it, and cork it well.
Fresh outer rind of Seville orange or lemon-peel, three ounces, apothecaries’ weight: boiling water, a pint and a half: infuse them for a night in a close vessel; then strain the liquor; let it stand to settle; and having poured it off clear from the sediment, dissolve in it two pounds of double refined and finely pounded loaf sugar, and make it into a syrup with a gentle heat.
Obs.—In making this syrup, the sugar must be dissolved in the infusion with as gentle a heat M12 as possible, to prevent the exhalation of the volatile parts of the peel. This syrup possesses a great share of the fine flavour of the orange, or lemon-peel.
Nutmegs grated, two ounces; boiling water, a pint; digest in a close vessel for twenty-four hours; strain, and add to it a pound of double refined and powdered loaf sugar, and an egg beat up with a little cold water: boil up together, skim it perfectly clean, and reduce it to a syrup: when cold, add a quarter pint of brandy to it.
Obs.—This syrup is strongly impregnated with the nutmeg, and is a most agreeable and convenient ingredient in puddings, &c., and all sweet dishes in which nutmegs are used. Cloves, cinnamon, and mace, may be prepared in the same manner.
Let two pints and a half of the best distilled wine vinegar be boiled with three pounds and a half of lump sugar, till a syrup is formed: this solution is a very pleasant and cheap substitute for the syrup of lemons.
The juice of mulberries, raspberries, and black currants, may be incorporated with syrup in a similar way; and are cooling, pleasant drinks, which may be advantageously employed for mitigating thirst in bilious and inflammatory disorders.
M12vIs a very agreeable addition to soup and salad sauce, and is thus made. Put a quarter pound of fresh gathered tarragon leaves (which should be gathered just before it flowers.) into a jar, with a quart of the best distilled wine vinegar, for the space of fourteen days, in a warm situation, when it should be strained through a flannel bag: add a drachm of isinglass, and put it into a dry jar; let it stand four-and-twenty hours, till it is fine; pour it into half pint bottles; cork them carefully, and keep them in a dry place.
Obs.—You may prepare elder-flower and other vinegars in the same manner: elder and tarragon are those in most general use in this country. Our neighbours, the French, prepare vinegars flavoured with celery, cucumbers, capsicums, garlick, onion, capers, burnet, truffles, Seville orange-peel, ginger; in short, they make them of almost every herb, fruit, flower and spice separately, and in innumerable combinations.
Steep an ounce of dried and sifted sweet basil in a pint of the best white wine vinegar for fourteen days.
Obs.—This is a very agreeable addition to many sauces, soups, and made dishes; and the mixture usually made for salads.
It is the basis of the “salad sauce” sold in the oil shops.
NThis is made precisely in the same manner, and with the same proportions, as the preceding receipt. It is a favourite relish with lamb.
During the intense frosts of winter put some vinegar into shallow dishes, and the watery parts will be converted into ice; but the spirituous, or acetous basis, remains in a fluid state; so that by repeating this process, one pint of strong vinegar may, in very cold seasons, be reduced to a few tablespoonsful of the essence.
Chop two ounces of garlick very fine, put them into a quart of boiling hot white wine vinegar, stop the jar very close, and let it steep ten days, shaking it well every day; then pour off the clear liquor into small bottles.
Obs.—The cook must be careful not to use too much of this: a few drops of it will impregnate a pint of gravy with a sufficient taste of the garlick; the flavour of which, when slight and well blended, is one of the finest ingredients we have; when used in excess, the most offensive: the best way to use garlick, is to send up some of this vinegar in a cruet, and let the company flavour their own sauce as they like.
NvIs made in the same manner, and the cook should never be without it; it costs scarcely any thing, and will save her an immense deal of trouble in flavouring all soups and sauces that she wishes to give a taste of onion.
Infuse an ounce and a half of eshallots, minced fine, in a pint of port wine for ten days.
Obs.—This is rather the most expensive, but infinitely the most elegant preparation of eshallot, and gives the onion flavour to soups and sauces more agreeably than any other way: it also does not at all leave an unpleasant taste in the mouth and to the breath, which all the other preparations of garlick, onion, &c. do.
Cayenne pepper, a quarter of an ounce.
Cochineal, half a drachm.
Soy, two tablespoonsful.
Walnut catsup, ditto.
Two anchovies chopped.
A small clove of garlick minced fine.
Steep all for a month in a pint of best vinegar, frequently shaking the bottle: strain through a tammis, and keep it in small bottles corked as well as possible.
N2Six shallots, minced fine.
Two tablespoonsful of made mustard.
Six anchovies pounded.
Half a pint of vinegar.
Four tablespoonsful of sweet oil.
Two teaspoonsful of ground black pepper.
One teaspoonful of salt, and the rind of a lemon.
Bottle it.
Put an ounce of Cayenne pepper into half a pint of strong proof spirit; let it steep for a fortnight, and then pour off the clear liquor.
This is nearly equal to fresh Chili juice.
Obs.—A few drops will be found extremely convenient for the extempore seasoning and finishing of soup, sauces, &c., its flavour being instantly and equally diffused.
In the following manner you may prepare and preserve the juice of lemons, limes, or oranges, for punch, lemonade, iced creams, &c.
Pare very thin, or rasp off the outside rinds of the fruit with a bread grater, till you have got about a quarter pint of them; put them into a wide mouthed bottle, pour in half a pint of good brandy, and set the bottle in a warm situation for three days, frequently shaking it up. Then squeeze as much fruit as will yield a quart of N2v juice: let it settle, and run it through a flannel bag: squeeze the brandy from the rinds, and add it to the juice of the fruits; bottle it, and cork it well.
Obs.—This will keep for years, and improve in flavour; and make the finest punch, &c., by only adding sugar, spirits, water, &c. to the palate.
Wash and clean the lemons; let them get perfectly dry; take a lump of loaf sugar, and rub them till all the yellow rind is taken up by the sugar; scrape off the surface of the sugar into a preserving pot, and press it hard down; cover it very close, and it will keep for twelve months. In the same way you may get the essence of Seville orange-peel.
Obs.—This method of procuring and preserving the flavour of lemon-peel is far superior to the common practice of paring off the rind, or grating it, and pounding or mixing that with sugar: in this process, you obtain the whole of the fine, fragrant, essential oil, in which is contained the flavour.
Best oil of lemon, one drachm.
Strongest spirit of wine, two ounces,
such as will burn dry in a silver spoon, introduced by degrees, till the spirit kills or overpowers, and completely mixes with the oil. This N3 is a most elegant and useful preparation, possessing all the delightful fragrance and flavour of the freshest lemon-peel.
Obs.—A few drops on the sugar you make punch with, will instantly impregnate it with a much finer flavour than the troublesome and tedious method of grating the rind, or rubbing the sugar on it. It will be found a superlative substitute for fresh lemon-peel, for every purpose that it is used for; blanc mange, jellies, custards, ice, negus, lemonade, and pies, puddings, stuffings, soups, sauces, and ragouts, to which it immediately gives a most delicious zest,
Strong spirit of wine, two ounces.
Celery seed, three drachms.
Let it steep for a fortnight: set the bottle, for the first two or three days, where it will receive a heat of one hundred degrees, Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
Obs.—A few drops will flavour a pint of broth and are an excellent addition to pease and other soups, and the salad mixture of oil, vinegar, &c.
Raspberries, strawberries, mulberries, elderberries, black, red, and white currants. When full ripe, gather them perfectly dry: pick and clean them from stalks and leaves, and put them into a preserving-pan N3v over a slow charcoal fire: mash them to a pulp, and turn them into a stone pan; cover down with a cloth till they are cool; press out all the juice, and run it through a jelly bag; and to each quart add a quarter pint of brandy, or half that quantity of strong spirits of wine: cork down in clean, dry bottles: kept in a good cellar, it will be good for two years, for all the purposes of iced creams, jellies, and cooling beverage, by adding the juice of lemons, sugar, &c. &c.
Four ounces of powdered ginger in a quart of rectified spirit, apothecaries’ measure: let it stand for ten days, shaking it up each day.
Obs.—This would be more properly called “tincture of ginger:” however, as it has obtained the name of “essence,” so let it be called.
Oil of pimento, half a drachm, apothecaries’ measure.
Strong spirit of wine, two ounces,
mixed by degrees: a few drops will give the flavour of allspice to a pint of gravy.
Of allspice bruised, three ounces.
Brandy, a quart, apothecaries’ measure.
Let it steep a fortnight, occasionally shaking it up; then pour off the clear liquor: it is a most grateful addition in all cases where allspice is N4 used, for making mulled wine extempore, or in gravies, &c.
Rectified spirit of wine, two ounces, apothecaries’ measure.
Oil of nutmeg, or clove, or mace, half a drachm, apothecaries’ measure.
Cloves bruised, three ounces.
Rectified spirit of wine, two pints, apothecaries’ measure.
Let it steep ten days: strain it through a flannel sleeve.
Strongest rectified spirit of wine, two ounces.
Oil of cinnamon, one drachm, apothecaries’ measure.
Strong rectified spirit, two ounces.
Oil of origanum, one drachm, apothecaries’ measure.
Boil a drachm of alum in a pint of water till it is reduced to half a pint: ten drops, made as N4v warm as new milk, are sufficient for a quart of liquor: shake the bottle well two or three times a day, for three or four days, carefully giving it vent each time.
Rectified spirit of wine, two ounces.
Oil of origanum, a drachm.
Lemon-thyme,
Sweet marjoram, and
Winter-savory,
dried and rubbed through a sieve, a drachm of each.
Celery seed, and
Minced eshallots, half a drachm; all the above ingredients apothecaries’ measure.
Let it have fourteen days to digest.
Of common thyme,
Lemon-thyme,
Winter-savory,
Sweet marjoram,
Fresh lemon-peel,
Sweet basil, each three drachms.
Bay leaves,
Mint, and
Sage, half a drachm each.
Celery seed, a quarter drachm; all the above avoirdupoise weight.
To be dried and rubbed through a sieve, and infused in a pint and a quarter of brandy or N5 proof spirit for ten days; this may also be infused in wine or vinegar; but neither extract the flavour of the ingredients half so well as the spirit.
Black pepper and allspice pounded fine, three quarters of an ounce each.
Nutmeg grated, a quarter of an ounce.
Infuse in a pint and a quarter of proof spirit for ten days.
Mix half a pint of soup-herb spirit with a quarter pint of spirit of savoury spice.
Obs.—These preparations are most invaluable auxiliaries to immediately heighten the flavour, and finish soups, sauces, ragouts, &c., and all made dishes, and will keep for twenty years.
Pound fine half an ounce of black pepper, same of allspice, an ounce of salt; mince fine half an ounce of eshallots, put them into a pint of mushroom catsup, set the bottle for twenty-four hours where it will receive a heat of about ninety degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer; let it steep a week, and then strain it.
Obs.—A teaspoonful or two of this are generally a very acceptable addition, mixed with the gravy usually sent up for chops and steaks; see No. 356.
N5vA pint and a half of strong old walnut liquor.
A pound and a half of Gorgona anchovies.
A quarter of an ounce each of
Mace,
Cloves,
And fine Jamaica pepper.
Half a teaspoonful of Cayenne.
Twenty-four eshallots.
Half an ounce of garlick.
Two ounces of scraped horseradish.
To be boiled together, and the liquor strained therefrom.
Obs.—The above is copied from this celebrated epicure’s original receipt now lying before me, for which I am indebted to Wm. Blachford, Esq., of Gray’s Inn: its authenticity may be fully relied on.
This sauce is prepared, as here described, by Messrs. Ball, 81, New Bond Street, London.
Two wineglasses of port, and two of walnut pickle; double that quantity of mushroom catsup; four anchovies pounded, with two eshallots, a tablespoonful of soy, and a small saltspoonful of Cayenne pepper: boil all together: when cold, put it into half pint bottles, well corked and sealed over; it will keep for a couple of years.
Obs.—This is commonly called Quin’s-Sauce, and was given me by a very sagacious saucemaker.
N6Take six anchovies, two eshallots, two blades of mace, a tablespoonful of scraped horseradish, six cloves, six berries of allspice, half a pint of white wine, a quarter of a pint of water, and the rind pared thin, and the juice of a large lemon; boil all together till reduced to half a pint, strain it, and add a tablespoonful of catsup, or soy.
Boil three ounces of salt in a quart of water, and pour it boiling hot upon an ounce of scraped horseradish; cover down the jar, and let it stand twenty-four hours: strain it, and mix it by degrees with the best Durham flour of mustard, beat well together for a long time till of the proper thickness: put it into a jar, or wide mouthed bottle stopped closely: it will keep good for months.
Take a dozen good hard white cabbages, trim and divide them into quarters, take out all the stalks from the heart of the cabbage, cut it with a knife or chaff-cutter into very small slips. Mix six pounds of salt with four ounces of juniper N6v berries and an ounce of carraway seed; put the cabbage into a cask, first strewing the bottom of it with some of the mixture, then a layer of cabbage; take care that the head of the cask fits very closely; cover down, and lay a large stone on it. Set the cask in a shed or outhouse for three months; it will then be coming ready for use. When you use it, take off the stone and cover, scrape aside some of the top, take out what you want, and replace what you scraped off the top, and cover down your cask closely as before. Put the crout into a stewpan with cold water, simmer it for half an hour, drain in a cullender; when done, put the meat you intend to dress into the stewpan, and cover it over with the crout; put just water enough to stew the meat, and to give gravy to serve up with it: when you dish up, put the crout and gravy first into the dish, and lay the meat on them.
* This as commonly appears on the table in Germany, as potatoes in England, and takes its name from soeur, salt, and kraut, cabbage, which has been corrupted into sour crout.
N7
Port wine and mushroom catsup, a pint of each.
Vinegar, a quarter pint.
Or, what is better,
Half a pint of walnut or other pickle liquor.
But to make sauce most superlative, instead of either of the above,
Six drachms avoirdupois of crystallized acid of lemon.
Pounded anchovy, an ounce.
Dried and pounded parsley, an ounce.
Dried winter-savory, two ounces.
Fresh lemon-peel pared very thin, an ounce.
Peeled and sliced eshallots, half an ounce.
Allspice and
Black pepper powdered, a quarter ounce each.
Ginger and
Mace powdered, two drachms each.
Cayenne, a drachm.
Celery-seed bruised, a drachm. All avoirdupoise weight.
Put all into a wide mouth bottle, stop it close, shake it up every day for a fortnight, and strain it, (when some think it improved by the addition of a quarter pint of thick browning, see No. 322, or 436,) and you will have a most incomparably elegant and “DELICIOUS DOUBLE RELISH AND SAUCE SUPERLATIVE,” extremely acceptable and refreshing to the lingual nerves.
The above receipt I received from William Kitchiner, M. D., who considers this composition as the “chef-d’œuvre” of many experiments he has made, for the purpose of enabling the good housewives of Great Britain to prepare N7v their own sauces: it is equally agreeable with fish, poultry, or ragouts; and as a fair lady may make it herself, she may also be certain all the ingredients are sweet and wholesome.
Obs.—Under an infinity of circumstances, a cook may be in want of the substances necessary to make sauce; the above composition of proper proportions of the several articles from which the various gravies derive their flavour, will be found a very superlative substitute for gravy sauce, by mixing two tablespoonsful with half a pint of melted butter: five minutes will finish a boat of very relishing sauce.
Take half a peck of fresh sprats, do not wash them, only draw them at the gills, and put them into stone jars with the following mixture. Two pounds of common salt, a pound of saltpetre, two ounces of white pepper, and the same quantity of lump sugar, half an ounce of lemon-peel, and four or five bay-leaves; pound these all well together; put a layer of this at the bottom of the jar, then a layer of sprats, and so alternately till the jar is full; tie them down close with a bladder, and keep them in a cold dry place, and they will be ready for use in six months: if you turn the jar upside down twice a week, they will be ready in half that time.
Obs.—Smelts are prepared in the same manner.
When the preceding preparation has been N8 kept a year or more, it may be made into essence by pounding the fish in a marble mortar till they are quite fine, and adding to them the liquor they were pickled in; if there is not sufficient of this, to make it thinner you may dilute it with cold spring water; when well mixed, strain through a hair sieve, and bottle it for use.
Boil a quart of stale ale for a quarter of an hour, let it stand till it is cold; take five Dutch pickled herrings with their liquor, (take off the heads and roes,) mince them fine, put them into the beer, with a stick of horseradish scraped fine; let it boil twenty minutes; strain it; hold a clean fryingpan, over the fire that it may be quite dry, put a quarter of a pound of flour in it; keep stirring it with a wooden spoon, till it is the colour of essence of anchovies; put the liquor to it, and stir it together till it boils; let it boil a quarter of an hour; when cold, bottle it; if not of sufficient colour, put a little bole armeniac to it.
Obs.—These three preparations are among the best of the imitations of anchovy, and are frequently sold for it, and for common palates may do very well; but to impart to artificial anchovies the delicious flavour of the Gorgona fish, so as to impose upon a gourmand of good taste, we fear will still remain in the catalogue of the saucemaker’s desiderata.
N8vThe goodness of this preparation depends almost entirely on having fine mellow fish, that have been in pickle long enough (i.e. about twelve months) to dissolve easily, yet are not at all rusty. It has been said that some shops have a trick of putting anchovy liquor on pickled sprats: you will easily discover this by washing one of them, and tasting the flesh of it, which in the finest anchovies is mellow, red, and high flavoured, and the bone moist and oily.
Put into a marble mortar a pound of anchovies, beat them to a pulp, and put them into a saucepan with a quart and half a pint of water, let them simmer very gently by the side of a slow fire for an hour and a half, frequently stirring them together. (This is the proper way to perfectly dissolve the fish, and completely incorporate it with the water, so that it may continue suspended, and not separate. To prevent the separation of essence of anchovy, various other expedients have been tried, such as the addition of mucilage, flour, oatmeal, or gum; but where any of these things are added, it does not keep half so well as it does without them.) Skim it well, and add to it an ounce of salt, and a drachm of Cayenne pepper; let it simmer together ten minutes longer, and strain it. If this is properly made, a tablespoonful will be about equal to an anchovy.
Obs.—It must be kept in a very close stopped bottle; for if the air gets to it, the fish takes the rust, and it is spoiled directly. Some of the oil-shops N9 colour this with bole armeniac, rose pink, Venice-red, &c.; but all these additions deteriorate the flavour of the anchovy, and the palate and stomach suffer for the gratification of the eye, which, in culinary concerns, will never be indulged by the sagacious gourmand, at the expense of these two primum mobiles of his pursuits.
If essence of anchovy be made for the use of private families, it should be with good sherry or Madeira wine, (instead of water, as directed above,) not merely to enrich the flavour of the sauce, but it will keep infinitely better.
Wash your anchovies, rub off the scales, and take away the head, bones, and fins; pound the meat in a marble mortar, with a very little fresh butter, till it becomes a smooth paste, then rub it through a fine sieve, and pot it; cover it very closely, and keep it in a cool place.
Obs.—This is sometimes made into a stiffer paste by using a little spice, or Cayenne, and a very little brandy, instead of butter. The former preparation is very convenient for sauces, the latter makes a most savoury sandwich. It is an excellent garnish for fish, put in pats round the edge of the dish.
Bone the fish, pound them in a mortar, and make them into a paste with fine flour, roll it N9v into thin cakes, and dry them in a Dutch oven before a slow fire, and then they will pound to a fine powder, which, in a well-stopped bottle, will keep for years. It is a very savoury relish sprinkled on bread and butter for a sandwich.
To a small teacupful of water add half a pound of treacle, or moist or lump sugar; set it on the fire in an iron pot till it boils to a dark brown colour, keep stirring it, and take great care, or it will burn: when it is become quite thick, add to it a quarter ounce of salt, and gradually as much water as will reduce it to the consistence of soy; mix well together, and boil up for five minutes. The addition of a quarter of a pint of good strong beef glaze* to three quarters of a pint of the burnt sugar will very much improve it: those who like a goût of acid may add vinegar.
Obs.—This will hardly be told from what is commonly called “ genuine India soy,” and will answer every purpose that is used for. Burnet treacle, or sugar, and Chili vinegar, garlick, and pickled fish, appear to be the bases of almost all the sauces that are now sold in the oil-shops. Although indefatigable research and experiment has put us in possession of all these compositions, it would not be quite fair to enrich the cook at the expense of the oilman, &c.
* See No. 187. Beef glaze is nothing more than strong beef gravy reduced to the consistence of a syrup that will hang about the spoon.
N10Take walnuts of the size for pickling, cut and pound them in a marble mortar, sprinkle a little salt over them, and stir them up, and let them stand to settle for twenty-four hours; press off the juice, and to each quart add half a pound of anchovies, and the like quantity of peeled and sliced eshallots, and a quarter of a pint of the best wine vinegar; give them a simmer for half an hour, till the anchovies are melted, and then strain the liquor upon two ounces of soup-herb powder, half an ounce of bruised black pepper, the same quantity of flour of mustard, a quarter of an ounce of nutmeg grated, a drachm of Cayenne pepper, half a dozen bay leaves, and half a pint of port wine; let all simmer together for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then run it through a flannel bag till it is fine.
Take two hundred walnuts when quite tender, put them into a gallon of salt and water for a week: drain and dry them, mash them to a pulp in a marble mortar, with a pound of salt; let it rest three or four days, and press all the juice from it; to each gallon of liquor put a quarter of a pound of minced shallots, half an ounce of bruised cloves, same of mace and black pepper, one teaspoonful of Cayenne, and a quarter of a pound of salt; give it a boil up, and strain it through a flannel bag.
By adding a glass of brandy to each quart, it will keep much better.
N10vOr,
Mash the rinds of walnuts with salt, and prepare as above.
We have not tried either of the above catsups, but have them from so good a cook, that we dare say they are properly made.
When properly prepared, according to the following directions, is the most delicious addition to made dishes, ragouts, soups, sauces or hashes. Mushroom gravy approaches the nature and flavour of meat gravy more than any vegetable juice, and is the best substitute for it in meagre soups, and extempore gravies, the chemistry of the kitchen has yet produced, to agreeably awaken the palate and encourage appetite.
I believe the following is the best way of extracting and preparing the essence of mushrooms, so as to procure and preserve all their fine flavour for a considerable length of time. Fine full grown flap mushrooms are to be preferred: put a layer of these at the bottom of a deep earthen pan, and sprinkle them with salt, then another layer of mushrooms, and some more salt on them, and so on alternately, salt and mushrooms; let them remain two or three hours, by which time the salt will have penetrated into the mushrooms, and rendered them easy to break; mash them well with your hands, and let them remain in salt for forty-eight hours, stirring them up and mashing them well each day; then pour them into a stone jar, and to each quart add a quarter of an ounce N11 of whole black pepper; stop the jar very close, and set it in a stewpan of boiling water, keeping it boiling for two hours. Take out the jar, and when the contents are cold, pour the juice clear from the settlings into a clean stewpan; let it just boil up, skim it, and pour it into a clean dry jar or jug; let it stand till next day, then pour it off as gently as possible, (so as not to disturb the settlings at the bottom of the jug,) through a tammis, or thick flannel bag. Bottle it in pints or half pints; (for it is best to keep it in such quantities as are soon used:) in each pint put a dozen berries of black pepper, the same of allspice, and a tablespoonful of brandy*. Take especial care that it is closely corked and sealed down. If kept in a cool, dry place, it will be good for two years; but if it is but badly corked, and kept in a damp place, it will soon spoil. Examine it every three months, and if any pellicle appears about the neck of the bottle, boil it up again with a few peppercorns.
Obs.—You have here the Quintessence of mushrooms, and a tablespoonful of it will impregnate half a pint of sauce with the full flavour of them, in much greater perfection than can be obtained either from pickled or dried powder of mushrooms.
N11vWhat is sold for mushroom catsup, is generally an injudicious composition of so many different tastes, that the flavour of the mushroom is overpowered by a farrago of garlic, anchovy, mustard, shallot, beer, wine, spices, &c.
Ready made catsup is little better than a decoction of spice and water, with the grosser parts of the mushrooms all beaten up to a pulp.
Excellent mushroom catsup may be had at Butler’s herb and seed shop, opposite Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.
* We have added no more spice, &c. than is absolutely necessary to feed the catsup, and keep it from fermenting. Brandy is an excellent preservative to all preparations of this sort, pickles, &c. &c. The less the natural flavour of the mushrooms is overpowered the better, and we believe Brandy to deteriorate it so little, it can hardly be perceived by the finest palate.
To every pint of mushrooms that remain after you have strained the liquor from them, as in the preceding receipt, add an ounce of salt, and a quarter of an ounce of ground black pepper; stir well together, and put them into small jars for enriching hashes, gravies, soups, or any brown made dishes, in which the flavour of the mushroom is agreeable. Close stopped they will keep the year round.
Take fifty fine Milton oysters; wash them in their own liquor, which must be boiled and well skimmed; beard them, and pound the oysters in a marble mortar, and boil them in their liquor, with a pint and a half of white wine, for half an hour; strain through muslin, and add the juice of a lemon, and half the peel, a drachm of mace, nutmeg, and ginger grated; boil for ten minutes longer, add half an ounce of shallots, and, when cold, bottle it with the shallots and spice in it.
N12Obs.—This composition very agreeably heightens the flavour of all white sauces, and white made dishes, and if you add a wine glass of brandy to each pint, it will keep good for a couple of years.
May be made in the same way as the oyster catsup.
Gather a gallon of fine, red, and full ripe tomatas; mash them with one pound of salt; let them rest for three days, press off the juice, and to each quart add a quarter of a pound of anchovies, two ounces of shallots, and an ounce of ground black pepper; boil up together for half an hour, strain through a sieve, and put to it the following spices; a quarter of an ounce of mace, the same of allspice and ginger, half an ounce of nutmeg, a drachm of coriander seed, and half a drachm of cochineal; pound all together; let them simmer gently for twenty minutes, and strain through a bag: when cold, bottle it, adding to each bottle a wineglass of brandy. It will keep for seven years.
To a pint of white wine vinegar put a dozen anchovies; let them simmer on a trivet by the side of the fire till they are dissolved, then strain them; when they are cold, add a pint of sherry N12v wine, the peel of a large lemon pared very thin, half a dozen bay leaves, an ounce of scraped horseradish, two drachms of grated nutmeg, one of bruised cloves, the same of white pepper and ginger, and a dozen eshallots cut in quarters; stop your jar very close; keep it in a warm situation for ten days, shaking it up every day, and then decant it for use.
Peel and slice two dozen large cucumbers, add one third part of onions sliced, and throw a handful of salt over them; let them stand for a day and a half, occasionally stirring them up; strain them through a hair sieve, and put to each quart of liquor a handful of scraped horseradish, the peel of a lemon, quarter of an ounce of black pepper, two drachms of mace bruised; boil together for a quarter of an hour in a close covered vessel, and strain it: when cold, bottle it, and put to each pint a large tablespoonful of good brandy, to preserve it from fermentation, decomposition, &c.
Obs.—Either of the preceding combinations will be found a very agreeable zest to most white dishes.
Half a pint of brandy, a pint of sherry,
An ounce of mace,
And half an ounce of cloves.
Let them steep for fourteen days, and then strain it, and add half a pint of capillaire. This will O keep for years, and added to melted butter, is a most delicious relish to puddings, and many sweet dishes.
Peel and wash a pound of full grown potatoes, grate them on a bread grater into a deep dish containing half a gallon of clear water; strain this through a hair sieve, and pour half a gallon more water through the sieve; save the water, and leave it ten minutes to settle; pour off the water, and fill up the dish again with fresh water, let it settle, and repeat this every ten minutes, as long as the water is stained reddish: you must change the water, and stir it up again*: you will at last find a fine white powder at the bottom of the vessel; lay this on a sheet of paper in a hair sieve to dry, either in the sun, or before the fire, and it is ready for use. A large teaspoonful of this, mixed with a tablespoonful of cold water, will be sufficient to thicken a quart of gravy, into which it must be stirred just before you take it up, and will go as far as a tablespoonful of flour and butter.
Obs.—This preparation requires some patience and perseverance, and this is the great secret of making it: it is worth knowing, for it gives a richness and fine fulness on the palate to gravies and sauces at hardly any expense, which Ov by the usual mode of producing an equal degree of consistency, would cost an extravagant sum, and not be better. As it is perfectly tasteless, it will not alter the flavour of the most delicate broth, &c.
* The criterion whereby any one making potatoe farina may judge of its being completed, is by the purity of the water that comes from it after stirring it up.
Beat to powder four ounces of fine lump sugar; put it into a clean iron fryingpan with one ounce of butter; set it over a clear fire, and mix it very well together: when it begins to be frothy, the sugar is dissolving; then hold it higher over the fire, and have ready a pint of red wine; when the sugar and butter are of a deep brown, pour in a little of the wine, stir it thoroughly together, and gradually add the rest of the wine, and keep stirring it all the time; put in half an ounce of allspice, six cloves, four shallots peeled, and two or three blades of mace, three tablespoonsful of mushroom catsup, a little salt, and the rind of a lemon peeled as thin as possible; boil up slowly for ten minutes; pour it into a basin; when cold, take off the scum very clean, and bottle it for use.
Obs.—The above is a pleasant sauce; but the cook must remember it will alter the flavour as well as colour of whatever it is added to.
Take a dozen lemons, grate off the out rinds very thin, cut them in four quarters, but leave the bottoms whole; rub on them equally a quarter of a pound of bay salt, spread them in a large O2 pewter dish, and let them dry gradually by the fire till all the juice is dried into the peels; then put them into a stone jar, with half an ounce of mace, quarter of an ounce of cloves beat fine, half an ounce of nutmeg cut in thin slices, two ounces of garlick peeled, quarter of a pound of mustard-seed bruised a little, and tied in a muslin bag; pour a quart of boiling white wine vinegar upon them, close the pitcher or jar well up, and let it stand five or six days by the fire: shake it well every day, then tie it up as close as possible, and let it stand for three months. When you bottle it, put the pickle and lemon into a hair sieve, press them well, to get out the liquor; let it stand till next day; then pour off the fine and bottle it; let the rest stand three or four days and it will settle; pour off the fine again, and let it again settle till you have poured off all you can get fine. It may be put into any white sauce, and will not hurt the colour; is very good for fish sauce and made dishes, especially of veal; a teaspoonful is enough for white, and two for brown sauce for a fowl: it is a most useful pickle, and, gives a pleasant flavour: be sure you put it in before you thicken the sauce, or put any cream in, lest the sharpness make it curdle.
Obs.—“I have given no directions for cullis, as I have found by experience that lemon-pickle and browning answer both for beauty and taste, (at a trifling expense,) better than the most extravagant cullisses. Had I known the use and value of these two receipts when I first took upon me the part and duty of a housekeeper, they would have saved me a great deal of trouble O2v in making gravy, and those I served a great deal of expense.” See the preface to Raffald’s Cookery, London, 8vo. 1806. We suppose Mrs R.’s praise of these two sauces to be well deserved, as they have been copied into almost every cookery book that has gone to press since.
Mushroom catsup, three ounces.
Eshallot wine, half an ounce.
Walnut pickle, one ounce.
Browning, one ounce.
Mix. If you wish it to keep for a great length of time, add half an ounce of soup-herb spirit to it.
Obs.—This is not only a most convenient relish for hashes, but being composed of proper proportions of the ingredients usually employed to flavour and make sauce for hashes, it will save much time and trouble, and is thus easily made. Take a piece of butter about as big as a walnut, put it into a stewpan, and set it on the fire; when it looks brown, put to it a tablespoonful of flour; stir it thoroughly together, and add to it twelve berries of black pepper, and the same of allspice, a teaspoonful of soup-herb powder, and a teaspoonful of salt, and three tablespoonsful of hash sauce; put to it a pint of boiling water, and let it boil gently over a slow fire for a quarter of an hour, then strain it through a sieve, and it is ready to receive the meat that is to be warmed in it.
Horseradish scraped fine, two ounces.
O3Sweet basil dried and pounded, half an ounce.
Flour of mustard, an ounce.
Salt, and black pepper, of each half an ounce.
Celery seed, half a drachm.
Best white wine vinegar, a quart;
and half a pint poured hot over these ingredients: it will be ready for use in about a fortnight.
Take white wine vinegar, one quart.
Salt, two ounces.
Boil them up together, and scum it well: then beat up the yolks of half a dozen eggs, strain through a sieve: add to these,
Three tablespoonsful of made mustard, and
Half a pint of olive oil, or oil of sweet almonds.
Mix this thoroughly together in a mortar, and put it to your vinegar in the stewpan; set it over a very slow fire, and keep stirring it with a wooden spoon till it is simmered to the consistence of cream. When cold, bottle it, and cork it carefully.
Take of the best Durham flour of mustard four ounces.
Put the following ingredients in a cool oven all night, the next morning pound them in a marble mortar, and rub them through a silk sieve.
Coriander seed, four ounces.
Turmeric, four ounces.
Black pepper, three ounces.
Cayenne pepper, half an ounce.
O3vGinger, one ounce.
Cinnamon, a quarter of an ounce.
Lesser cardamoms,
Cloves,
Mace, each half an ounce.
Mix all well together, and put them into a wide mouthed bottle.
Obs.—Fennel and Cummin seed are sometimes added to the above; a few bay leaves are also occasionally used.
Dry and reduce the following spices to a fine powder, in the same way as in the foregoing receipt.
Coriander seed, four ounces.
Turmeric, three ounces.
Black pepper, one ounce.
Ginger, one ounce.
Cayenne pepper, quarter of an ounce.
Lesser cardamoms, one ounce.
Cinnamon, quarter of an ounce.
Mix together, and keep them in a wide mouth bottle.
Obs.—These two receipts were given me by a friend: as I have not tried them, I cannot vouch for their being the actual ingredients of what is sold as the Indian composition.
Messrs. Ball, 81, New Bond Street sell very good curry powder.
Coriander seed, one ounce.
Cinnamon, one ounce.
O4Clove, one ounce.
Fennel seed, half an ounce.
Anniseed, half an ounce.
Beaten into powder, used in the same way as the curry powder.
Mustard,
Allspice, and
Black pepper ground and sifted fine, half an ounce each.
Ginger,
Nutmeg grated, and
Salt, a quarter of an ounce each.
Mace, two drachms.
Cayenne pepper, one drachm.
Pound them in a mortar, and pass them through a fine hair sieve: bottle them for use. The above articles will pound much easier and finer if they are dried first in a Dutch oven before a very gentle fire, at a good distance from it: if you give them much heat, all the finest flavour of them will be evaporated, and they will soon get a strong rank taste.
Obs.—The spices in a ragout are indispensable to give it a flavour, but not a predominant one; their presence should be rather supposed than perceived; they are the invisible spirit of good cookery, and that happy mixture of them, and proportion to each other of the other ingredients which produces an exquisitely delicious, yet indefinable flavour, is the “chef-d’œuvre” of a first rate cook. But this grand art of mixing and combining O4v spices, &c., no one hitherto has attempted to teach: this is the first practical work on the subject, wherein the receipts are given accurately by weight and measure.
Rub together in a marble mortar equal parts of dried mint and sage; put them through a fine sieve, and send it up on a small plate, with green pease, or pease-soup.
Obs.—A twelfth part of celery seed powdered may be added, if the flavour of celery is approved.
Of dried parsley, two ounces.
Winter-savory, one ounce.
Sweet marjoram, one ounce.
Lemon-thyme, one ounce.
Lemon-peel, cut very thin and dried, one ounce.
Sweet basil, half an ounce.
Some add to the above, bay leaves and celery seed, a drachm each.
Dry them in a warm, but not too hot Dutch oven: when quite dried, pound them in a mortar, and pass them through a double hair sieve: put in a bottle closely stopped, and it will retain its fragrance and flavour for a twelvemonth.
Obs.—This composition of the fine aromatic herbs, is a most invaluable acquisition to the cook: it is much preferable to the spice powder, as it impregnates sauce, soup, &c. with as much relish, and renders it equally agreeable to the O5 palate, refreshing the gustatory nerves, without offending the stomach, &c.
Take three parts of soup-herb powder to one part of savoury powder.
Obs.—These powders should be kept ready prepared; they will save a great deal of time in cooking ragouts, stuffings, forcemeat-balls, soups, sauces, &c.; kept dry and tightly corked down, their fragrance and strength may be preserved undiminished for several years.
For the following accurate and valuable information, the reader is indebted to Mr. Butler, Herbalist and Seedsman, opposite Henrietta Street, Covent Garden Market, where the several articles may be obtained of the best quality, at the fair market price.
It is very important to those who are not in the constant habit of attending the markets, to know when the various seasons commence for purchasing sweet herbs, &c., so necessary to be preserved when in the highest state of perfection: these are fullest of flavour just before they begin to flower: the first and last crop have neither the fine flavour nor the perfume of those which are gathered in the height of the season; that is, when the greater part of the crop of each species is ripe at the same period; take care they are gathered on a O5v dry day, by which means they will have a better colour when dry. Cleanse your herbs well from dirt and dust, cut off the roots, separate the bunches into smaller ones, and hang them across a line in the kitchen, where there is a moderate heat, which will dry them in an excellent manner: when perfectly dry, put them in bags, and lay them by on a shelf in the kitchen, they will keep good for twelve months, and be ready in the moment when wanted; or rub them off the stalks and put them through a hair sieve, and put the powder into well stopped bottles: by this means their flavour is still better preserved. I would recommend parsley and fennel to be dried rather quicker than the other herbs, and rubbed clean from the stalks before they are bagged: these are not generally dried, but those who have experienced the goodness of them in this state, will not willingly omit preserving them.
Basil is in the best state for drying from the middle of August, and three weeks after.
Knotted Marjoram, from the beginning of July, and during the same.
Winter Savory, the latter end of July and throughout August.
Summer Savory, the latter end of July, and throughout August.
Thyme,
Lemon-Thyme,
Orange Thyme*, during June and July.
Mint, latter part of June, and during July.
Sage, August and September.
Tarragon, June, July, August.
O6Chervil, May, June, July.
Burnet, June, July, August.
Parsley, May, June, July.
Fennel, May, June, July.
Elder Flowers, May, June, July.
Orange Flowers, May, June, July.
* A very delicious herb, that deserves to be better known.
Commencing this list with walnuts, I must take this opportunity of impressing the necessity of being strictly particular in watching the time, for of all the variety of articles required in this department, to furnish the well regulated store-room, nothing is so precarious,—for frequently after the first week that walnuts come in season they become hard and shelled, particularly if the season is a very hot one, therefore let the prudent housekeeper consider it indispensably necessary they should be purchased as soon as they first appear at market; should they cost a trifle more, that is nothing compared to the disappointment of finding six months hence, when you go to your pickle jar expecting a fine relish for your chops, &c., to find nuts incased in a shell, that defies both teeth and steel: I therefore recommend looking for them from the twelfth of July; that being, I may say, the earliest possible time.
Nasturtiums are to be had by the middle of July.
Onions, the various kinds for pickling, are to be had by the middle of July, and for a month after.
Gherkins are to be had by the middle of July, and for a month after.
O6vCucumbers are to be had by the middle of July, and for a month after.
Melons for Mangoes are to be had by the middle of July, and for a month after.
Capsicums, green, red, and yellow, the end of July, and following month.
Chillies, the end of July, and following month.
Love Apples, or Tomatas, end of July, and throughout August.
Cauliflower, for pickling, July and August.
Artichokes, for pickling, July and August.
Jerusalem Artichokes, for pickling, July and August, and for three months after.
Radish Pods, for pickling, July.
French Beans, for pickling, July.
Mushrooms, for pickling and catsup, September.
Red Cabbage, August.
White Cabbage, September and October.
Samphire, August.
This incomparable auxiliary to the cook we have several times made mention of in the course of our work. The following sketch will enable any one to fit up an assortment of flavouring materials according to their own fancy and palate, and, we presume, will furnish sufficient variety for the thorough-bred gourmand, and consists of a mahogany “sauce box,” with four eight ounce bottles, sixteen four ounce bottles, and O7 eight two ounce bottles, containing the following ingredients
1 Pickles.
2 Brandy.
3 Curaçao.
4 Syrup.
6 Pudding catsup, 446.
7 Double relish.
8 Walnut pickle.
9 Mushroom catsup.
10 Vinegar.
11 Oil.
12 Mustard.
13 Salt.
14 Curry powder, 455.
15 Soy, 436.
16 Lemon juice.
17 Cavice.
38 Pepper.
19 Cayenne.
20 Soup-herb powder, 459.
21 Ragout powder, 457.
22 Pea powder, 458.
23 Zest, 255.
24 Essence of celery, 409.
25 Sweet herbs, 419.
26 Lemon-peel, 408.
27 Eshallot, 402.
28 Powdered mint.
In a drawer under,
Half a dozen one ounce bottles.
Weights and scales.
Measures.
Corkscrew.
Nutmeg grater.
Table and teaspoon.
Knife and fork, and
Small mortar.
1 | 5 | 13 | 21 |
6 | 14 | 22 | |
2 | 7 | 15 | 23 |
8 | 16 | 24 | |
3 | 9 | 17 | 25 |
10 | 18 | 26 | |
4 | 11 | 19 | 27 |
12 | 20 | 28 |
O7v
Take a slice of a stale loaf, about the thickness toast is usually cut; toast it carefully until it be completely browned all over, but not at all blackened or burnt: put this in a jug, and pour upon it as much clean boiling water as you wish to make into drink, cover the jug with a saucer or plate, and let it stand till it is quite cold: the fresher it is made the better, and more agreeable.
Or,
To make it more expeditiously, lay a slice of bread, a quarter of an inch thick, in a cheese-toaster before the fire, till it is brown through; put it into a mug, and just cover it with boiling water; let it stand till cold, then fill it up with cold spring water, and strain it through a fine sieve.
Obs.—The above will be found a pleasant, light, and excellent beverage at meals.
A quart of mild ale, two glasses of white wine, one glass of brandy, one of capillaire, the juice of a lemon, and nutmeg grated on the top, and a sprig of borrage* or balm.
* “Borrage is one of the four cordial flowers;” it comforts the heart, cheers melancholy, and revives the fainting spirits, says Salmon in the 45th page of his “Household Companion,” London, 1710. Combined with the other ingredients in the above receipt, we have frequently observed it produce all the cardiac and exhilarating effects ascribed to it by Dr. S.
O8Is the same, only substituting the cider for the beer.
Beat two eggs for about ten minutes, mix half a tablespoonful of moist sugar, and as much grated nutmeg as will lie on a shilling. Put a pint of ale into a saucepan; when it is hot, pour it into a basin to the eggs, &c., and back again into the saucepan, and back again three or four times, till it is quite smooth.
A pint of table beer, a tablespoonful of brandy, two teaspoonsful of brown sugar, or clarified syrup; a little grated nutmeg or ginger may be added, and a roll of lemon-peel.
Obs.—Before our readers make any remarks on this composition, we beg of them to taste it; and if their palate does not differ very much from that of its inventor, they will find it one of the most delicious beverages they ever put to their lips.
When the briskness and liveliness of malt liquors in the cask fail, and they begin to turn dead and vapid, let them be bottled; be careful to use clean and dried bottles; leave them unstopped O8v for twelve hours, and then cork them as closely as possible with good and sound new corks; put a bit of lump sugar as big as a nutmeg into each bottle: it will be ripe, i.e. fine and sparkling, in about six weeks, if the weather is cold: to put it up, the day before it is to be drank place it in a room where there is a fire.
If the beer becomes too hard or stale, a few grains of salt of wormwood added to it at the time it is drank, will very much recover it to its original state.
Bruise the finest ripe raspberries with the back of a spoon, strain them through a flannel bag into a stone jar, allowing a pound of fine powdered loaf sugar to each quart of juice; stir well together, and cover it down; let it stand for three days, stirring it up each day; pour off the clear, and put two quarts of sherry or Cogniac brandy to each quart of juice; bottle it off: it will be fit for the glass in a fortnight.
The grand secret, or rather art, of making genuine British punch, consists in the preparation of a rich and delicate sherbet: this being accomplished, with the addition of the best Jamaica rum, or French brandy, and pure hot or cold water; the mixture may be too strong or too weak, but cannot possibly prove bad punch.
In preparing sherbet for punch, the acids of cream of tartar, tamarinds, and various other prepared O9 vegetable acids, as well as that particularly denominated citric acid, are occasionally employed; but, perhaps, after all, the juices of limes, lemons, and Seville oranges, expressed from the fresh fruits, when attainable, make the sort of sherbet which seems most congenial with the nature of good British punch.
Procure a couple of ripe, sound, and fresh lemons, or limes, and a Seville orange; rub off the yellow rind of one of the lemons with lumps of fine loaf sugar, putting each lump into the bowl as soon as it is saturated or clogged with the essence or grated rind; then thinly pare the other lemon and Seville orange, and put these rinds also into the bowl, to which add plenty of sugar; pour a very small quantity of boiling water, and immediately squeeze the juice of the fruit, followed by a little more hot water. Incorporate the whole well together with a punch ladle; and putting a little of the sherbet thus composed, try its richness and flavour by the palate. If the fruit be good, a practised punch maker will find little which requires to be regulated, and that little can soon be adjusted by supplying the aqueous, saccharine, or acid deficiencies, so as to produce a luscious and rich bodied sherbet, fit for the reception of the spirit which is to give it animation. If straining should be found necessary, this is the period for using a lawn sieve, through which a little more hot water may afterwards be passed; and a few parings of the orange or lemon rind are generally considered as having an agreeable appearance floating in the bowl. The sherbet being thus prepared, to make it into genuine British O9v punch, spirit should be added in the proportions of a bottle of the best Jamaica rum to every pint of the finest Cogniac brandy: the entire strength or weakness may be suited to the general inclination of the company for which it is prepared. The above quantity of fruit, with about three quarters of a pound of sugar, will make sufficient sherbet for three quarts of punch.
Pine apple rum, and capillaire syrup instead of part of the sugar, may be used, if convenient, with considerable advantage to the flavour; though it will prove excellent punch without either of these auxiliaries, or even Seville orange. The same sort of sherbet may, of course, be used for brandy punch, or rum punch singly; but punch is seldom so made in England: most persons indeed mix equal parts of rum and brandy. Arrack punch, however, is always made with that spirit alone, and usually with a simple sherbet of lime or lemon juice, with sugar, as the flavour of the Seville orange interferes too much with the peculiar flavour of the arrack, which proves so grateful to most tastes, though to many very unpleasant. When with the richest sherbet, sometimes rendered still richer by fruit jellies, and even nutmeg, wine is mingled with the rum and brandy instead of water, the liquor is called punch royal.
The mixture of a small quantity of ale or porter, highly recommended by some in making punch, seems only advisable when it is rum punch, made without any brandy, and must, even then, be very sparingly introduced. This article, whatever may appear its value, is furnished, with regard to its principles, by one of the first practical O10 punch makers in Europe; who could easily, by dwelling on minute circumstances, have supplied matter for a small volume; the essence of which is, however, he freely confesses, here sufficiently concentrated for every useful purpose.
With regard to the salubrity of punch, when drank in moderation, hot in winter, or cold, and even iced in summer, it affords a most grateful beverage; admirably allaying thirst, promoting the secretions, and conveying animation to the spirits. If, however, amid the hilarity excited by the tempting fragrance, and luscious taste, which the balmy bowl seldom fails to inspire, it be too freely and too habitually drank, its powerful combination of spirit and acid, instead of proving favourable to the constitution, will infallibly tend to bring on the gout, even sooner than most wines or strong cider, unless happily prevented by using a considerable deal of exercise.
Punch, like all the prime blessings of life, is excellent, and even salutary, when prudently enjoyed at proper seasons. We must not charge on them our own want of discretion, by which alone they are ever converted to evils.
The apparently whimsical English name of punch, like the liquor itself, is of West India origin, the word in the aboriginal language signifying simply five, being the number of ingredients there used: viz. 1, acid, or lime, or lemon juice; 2, sweetness or sugar; 3, spirit or rum, &c.; 4, water; and 5, spicy flavour, or nutmeg, &c. It is singular, too, that punch, the word for five, consists of just five letters.
From the opposite natures of the several ingredients, O10v punch has also been sometimes called the liquor of contradictions.
For this very elaborate receipt I am indebted to that excellent work, “The Family Receipt Book,” 4to. London, printed for Oddy and Co., Oxford Street, London, which is certainly the best collection I have seen, and deserves a place in every steward’s room, as should also “Appert’s Art of Preserving Animal and Vegetable Substances.”
Mash together in a tub or pan, three pounds of black cherries, two of ripe red gooseberries, and one of raspberries, or mulberries; mix with these a quarter of an ounce of cinnamon, and twenty-four cherry kernels, previously well pounded in a mortar, with a pint of syrup: put all into a jar, stop it close, and keep it for ten days in a heat of about ninety degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer: then press it through a clean napkin, let it stand twenty-four hours, and add to each quart of juice a pint of good brandy; next day strain it through a flannel bag, that it may be quite clear.
Obs.—The French liqueurs are in general very badly imitated here, from our substituting bitter almonds for peach and apricot kernels, and common proof spirit for their fine Cogniac brandy.
To a pound of ripe Morella cherries mashed well with your hands, add a quart of brandy; let them steep for three days, then press the liquor through a napkin; sweeten it with good lump sugar, let it stand a week in a covered vessel, O11 and then bottle it. This is also the best way of making
Pour half a pint of boiling water on three ounces of fine thin cut Seville orange-peel that has been dried and pounded in a marble mortar; stop it close; when it is cold, add to it a quart of brandy; let it steep fourteen days: decant it clear, and add to it a quarter pint of clarified sugar; to prepare which, see the next receipt.
Obs.—This is the best way of making this best of liqueurs, which is not merely an agreeable cordial, but an essential friend to the stomach.
Put a pound and three quarters (avoirdupois) of fine lump sugar into a clean stewpan, that is well tinned, with one pint of cold spring water, and set it over a moderate fire: beat about the sixth part of the white of an egg with a tablespoonful of cold water; put it to the sugar before it gets warm, and stir it well together. Watch it, and when it boils take off the scum; and keep it boiling till no scum rises: when it is perfectly clear, run it through a silk sieve, or a clean napkin: put it into a close stopped bottle; it will keep for months, and is an elegant article on the sideboard for sweetenings.
O11vTo a pint of clarified syrup add a wineglass of Curaçao.
Dissolve three quarters of an ounce (avoirdupois) of pulverized crystallized lemon acid (with a few drops of quintessence of lemon-peel, No. 408,) in a pint of clarified syrup. Two tablespoonsful of this in a pint of water will immediately produce the most agreeable sherbet; the addition of rum or brandy will convert this into
A quart of brandy, diluted with the expressed filtered juice of two Seville oranges, and the peel of half a one steeped for three days, and half a pound of lump sugar then added to it, and then strained through flannel, produces this very palatable but seductive liquor, incomparably more tempting and insinuating than any of the simple spirits, because, in combination with sweet ingredients, it imperceptibly stimulates, and gradually impairs the digestive organs.
Dissolve two scruples of flowers of benjamin in O12 a quart of good rum, and it will give it the flavour of the finest arrack.
Pour a quarter pint of water on three ounces, avoirdupois weight, of fine young hyson; let it stand an hour, and add to it a pint of brandy, or proof spirit; let it steep for ten days, shaking it up every day; strain it, and sweeten it with strong clarified syrup.
Obs.—A teaspoonful or two of this in a tumbler of water, is a very refreshing beverage in summer.
skip to Made Dishes
a store of consommé, and the larder of a London tavern
[The second edition wraps up with “and the spoons and pennyworths were the same in all ages”.]
Though Kitchiner, or his printer, forgot to give it a number, the Table of Contents indicates this is No. 254.
rather because the cook won’t do it, than because she can’t do it
text has wont
[Apostrophe supplied from 2nd edition. Surprisingly, this is the only occurrence of “won’t”—with or without apostrophe—in the entire book.]
As it is the foundation of almost all our sauces
[Il y a en Angleterre soixante sectes religieuses différentes, et une seule sauce: le melted butter! quel pays! (“In England there are sixty different religious sects, and only one sauce: melted butter! What a country!”) Predictably attributed to Voltaire, but actually said by Domenico Caracciolo (1715–89), Marchese di Villamaina, Neapolitan ambassador in London from 1764 to 1771.]
Made by E. Stevenson, Cook to Sir Simon Clark, Bart.
[This is the second time we meet a plug for E. Stevenson. This time around, he—or she—morphs in the second edition into “E. Lister, late Cook to Dr. Kitchiner”.]
Pick and wash four heads of nice white celery
text has cellery
[With 79 occurrences of “celery” as against just one “cellery”, it seems safe to call it an error—especially when the 2nd edition has the expected spelling.]
The rich, tir’d with continual feasts
[Quoting from memory, William? The full line is But, as the rich, when tired with daily feasts.]
This is another of the sauces the Italians call rairgottes
text unchanged: error for ravigottes?
[The 2nd edition omits Nos. 312 and 313—with no change in numbering—so there was no way to cross-check.]
Commercial food colorings originated with one William Henry Perkin in 1856. But his first discovery, mauve, must have been of limited utility for food.
put a tablespoonful of thickening, No. 2. to it
text unchanged
[The second edition has the same wording. I think he means No. 257.]
if common veal broth be boiled, scummed, thickened . . . you will have a genuine Béchamel
[In Kitchiner’s time, and presumably in the time of Louis XIV, sauce béchamel really was based on veal. But that was two centuries ago.]
The French flavour their mustard with Champaigne
spelling unchanged
Veal minced and pounded.
. missing
a spoonful of pounded lump sugar
text has spooonful
[Footnote] This . . . takes its name from soeur, salt
[Where on earth did he get this idea? The word is sauer, meaning sour.]
The above receipt I received from William Kitchiner, M.D.
[Now wait a minute. If William Kitchiner, M.D., isn’t the author (“I”), who is? Did some other cookbook crib from Kitchiner, and then he swiped it right back, without appropriate editing?]
When the preceding preparation
text has preceeding
Muscle
spelling unchanged
[Later in the century, this spelling of “mussel” will fall out of use.]
We suppose Mrs R.’s praise of these two sauces
text has R’s.
[Corrected from 2nd edition.]
and add to it twelve berries of black pepper
text has aud add
Melons for Mangoes
[Beeton’s Book of Household Management has a recipe for “Mango Chetney” [sic] that is notable for containing no mangoes of any kind whatsover. Eliza Acton offers “English Guava”, in which guavas are similarly conspicuous by their absence.]
says Salmon in the 45th page of his “Household Companion,”
[He’s got a nerve citing page numbers in books published over a century earlier, when he can’t be bothered to include page numbers in his own nineteenth-century book.]
The apparently whimsical English name of punch, like the liquor itself, is of West India origin, the word in the aboriginal language signifying simply five
[What an amazing coincidence that an (unnamed) indigenous Caribbean language should have the same word for “five”, panch (पांच्), as the languages of northern India. For more on the subject, see Edward Spencer, Cakes and Ale.]
O12v
Under this general head we range our receipts for hashes, stews, fricasees, and ragouts*: of these there are a great multitude, affording the ingenious cook an inexhaustible store of very rich and pleasing variety: we have very few general observations to make, after what we have already said in the chapter of gravies, sauces, soups, &c., which apply to the present chapter, as they form the principal part of the accompaniment of most of these dishes. We have given receipts for the most easy and simple way to make hashes, &c.; for only those who are well skilled in culinary arts know how good things may be dressed up in this way, so as to be P as agreeable and nutritious as they were the first time they were cooked; the main business of my book being to increase the comforts of moderate families and moderate fortunes. I have also given directions for preparing the more composite and elaborate made dishes, still keeping constantly in mind, not to make either the stomach or the purse suffer for the pleasure of the palate; endeavouring to hold the balance even, between the agreeable and the wholesome, and the epicure and the economist. This is by no means so difficult a task as some gloomy philosophers (uninitiated in culinary science,) have tried to make the world believe, whose leading doctrines are, that every thing that is nice must be noxious, and every thing that is nasty must be wholesome. But as Shakspeare could never find a philosopher who could endure the tooth-ach patiently, so I have never met with a philosopher who did not love a feast.
* Gravy for ragouts, &c., should be thickened till it is of the consistence of good rich cream. When you have a large dinner to dress, always keep ready mixed some fine sifted flour and water well rubbed together till quite smooth and about as thick as batter.
I promise those who do me the honour to put my receipts into practice, they will find that the most agreeable and truly elegant dishes are not always the most difficult to dress, the most expensive, or the most indigestible: be it known to all whom it may concern, that in these compositions knowledge will go farther than expense; and if Pv some of my receipts appear to differ a little from preceding or co-temporary cookery-book-makers, let it be remembered; I have advanced nothing in this work that I have not tried, and had frequent experience of its success.
While we are contriving to give every gratification in the utmost perfection to the lover of good eating, we have not put any temptations in the way of the valetudinarian that he may not occasionally partake of, not only with impunity, but with advantage: the infirm stomachs of invalids sometimes require a little indulgence, and like other bad instruments want oiling, and screwing, and winding up, and adjusting with the utmost care, to keep them in tolerable order; they will receive the most salutary stimulus from now and then making a full meal of a favourite dish. I believe this is not a singular notion of my own, (or a good word for my fellow spit-mates,) though it may not exactly agree with the present fastidious fancy of some of the faculty, that starvation is the sovereign remedy for all disorders. As abundance of eating and drinking is perhaps one of the most frequent causes of the disorders of the rich, so privation is the common source of complaints among the poor; and the cause of the one is the cure of the other: still I hold it lawful P2 to excite the blunted palate, when enfeebled by age, or indisposition, luxurious living, or intemperance; and an healthful impetus may be given to the system by the help of a favourite soup or ragout*, at less expense to the machinery of life than by the use of those spirituous stimuli†, P2v that merely fan a feverish fire by inflaming the circulation for a few minutes, without, at the same time, contributing any fuel to feed the lamp of life, which, if its construction be organically defective, or is impaired by the wear and tear of time or disease, will sometimes not burn brightly, unless it is supplied with the best oil, and trimmed in the most skilful manner. None but the most obstinately ignorant visionary would dream P3 of laying down rules for governing the caprice and whims of the infirm stomachs of crazy invalids. Here all the codes of dietetics fail, and the suggestions of reason are commonly in direct opposition to the desires of appetite. In all matters of importance regarding the adjustment of this most supreme organ of existence, honest instinct comes a volunteer, and nine times out of ten makes out a fair title to be called “unerring‡.” P3v A little respect to the suggestions of instinct, every invalid will find of infinite advantage: those who are poor in health, must live as they can: certainly the less stimuli any of us use, the P4 better; and those combinations which excite the circulation at the least expense of nervous and muscular irritation, and afford the greatest portion of nourishment, must be most friendly to the stomach, when it demands restorative diet.
* Good Mock Turtle, (see No. 246, or 246*,) will agree with weak stomachs surprisingly well. This excellent soup is frequently ordered for dyspeptic patients by the senior physician to one of the largest hospitals in this metropolis: as a man of science and talent, certainly in as high estimation as any of his medical cotemporaries.
† The following observations are extracted from Dr. “Reece’s Gazette of Health.”
All wines naturally possess a proportion of alcohol (ardent spirit); but to the foreign wines a quantity is added, to prevent their running into the acetous fermentation during the voyage to this country, and this is proportioned to the quality of the wine. In order, therefore, to ascertain the quantity which the different wines contain on an average, the experiments have been made on wines from different vendors. Brandy and rum are sold at different degrees of strength; indeed, some termed white brandy and white rum, are highly rectified. The brandy and rum employed in the following experiments were obtained from a respectable wine merchant, who was desired to send samples of the articles as generally sold to the public.
A bottle of port wine, containing twenty-six ounces, which had been in bottle seven years, produced two ounces and seven drachms of alcohol (ardent spirit).
A bottle of port wine, containing twenty-five ounces and a half, (one year in bottle, and two years in wood,) two ounces and six drachms.
A bottle of pale sherry, three years old, containing twenty-five ounces, produced three ounces.
A bottle of Madeira, two years old, containing twenty-five ounces and a half, two ounces and five drachms.
A bottle of Cape Madeira, one year old, containing twenty-five ounces, two ounces and a half.
A bottle of old hoc, containing twenty-one ounces, nearly an ounce.
A bottle of brandy, containing twenty-four ounces, ten ounces.
A bottle of rum, containing twenty-four and a half ounces, nine ounces and a half.
A quart of public-house ale (not bottled), from the brewery of Mr. Wyatt, one ounce.
From a quart of common draught porter, from the brewery of Messrs. Elliot and Co., five and a half drachms.
From the foregoing results, it appears that four bottles,
either of port, sherry, or Madeira, contain more ardent spirit than a bottle of brandy.
Three bottles of sherry are nearly equal to one bottle of rum.
That ten bottles of hock, or ten quarts of ale, or about fourteen and a half quarts of porter, are equal to a bottle of brandy.
‡ “As to the quality of food, though whatever is easy of digestion, singly considered, deserves the preference; yet, regard must be had to the palate and appetite, because it is frequently found, that what the stomach earnestly covets, though of difficult digestion, does nevertheless digest better, than what is esteemed of easier digestion if the stomach nauseates it: I am of opinion the patient ought to eat only of one dish at a meal.” Vide Sydenham’s Treatise on Gout.
“My appetite is in several things of itself happily enough accommodated to the health of my stomach: whatever I take against my liking does me harm; but nothing hurts me that I eat with appetite and delight.” Vide honest Montaigne’s Essay on Experience, book iii. chap. 13.
“The taste, considered superficially, would seem to be a sensation peculiar to the mouth, and distinct from that of hunger or thirst. But, if we trace its origin, we shall be convinced that this organ, which in the mouth makes us sensible of the fitness and delicacy of meats and drinks, is the selfsame principle, that in the mouth, gullet, and stomach, is craving for food, and incites us to a longing after it. These three parts, properly speaking, are but one continued organ, and have but one and the same object. If the mouth creates in us an aversion to any particular food, does not the gullet recoil at the approach of it? and does not the stomach immediately discharge its disagreeable contents? Hunger, thirst, and taste, are therefore three effects of the same organ. Hunger and thirst are the motions of the organ desirous of its object. The taste is the motion of the organ, in the enjoyment of this object. This unity of the organ, in regard of hunger, thirst, and taste, is the cause of these three effects being almost always in the same proportion in the same persons. The more violent the appetite for food is, the greater is the enjoyment in eating; and the more the taste is gratified, the more easily the organs defray the expense of this gratification, by digestion. This rule is general, in regard of all the sensations and all the passions. Genuine desire constitutes the proportion of the pleasure, and of the power without this mutual consent, founded on the sympathy of these organs, our sensations would destroy that being, for whose benefit they are established. It is very natural that the mouth, which first receives the aliment, and of course becomes the taster, as it were, in respect of the gullet and stomach, should be endued with a discerning property beyond them; as it is the part of a good clerk of the kitchen to distinguish himself by an elegant choice of provisions, to prevent his incurring the displeasure of his employers.” Vide the ingenious Le Cas’s Essay on the Senses.
If strong spices and savoury herbs awaken the appetite, they in an increased ratio accelerate the action of the bowels, and prematurely hurry the food through the alimentary canal, too rapidly to allow the absorbents to do their work properly. We advise those whose stomachs stand in need of such artificial stimulants, if they value either intensive or extensive life, rather to abstain from dishes requiring a vigorous stomach, than resort to such pernicious means of forcing the action of a feeble one: moreover, by the too frequent use of piquante sauces, &c., the papillary nerves of the palate become so blunted, that in a little time they lose all sensibility and relish for plain nourishing P4v food, and the sensualist is punished with all the sufferings of incessant and incurable indigestion, perturbed sleep, and the horrors of the night mare, &c. &c.: however, enough has been written a thousand times over, by a thousand cautionists, to convince any rational creature of the advantages resulting to both body and mind from a simple and frugal fare: the great secret of health and longevity is to keep up the sensibility of the stomach.
It is highly gratifying to me, to find my sentiments so frequently in unison with these of the editor of the “Almanach des Gourmands,” indisputably the best written book on the savoir vivre, and which I had not met with till my own work was nearly ready to go to press. In the 5th volume, page 195, speaking of the immoderate use of spices, &c. he says: “The stomach, the bowels, the liver, and the other viscera, soon become afflicted with many unmanageable maladies, against which all the skill of Esculapius will avail nothing. Seek appetite, then, from air and exercise, rather than from the excessive use of exotic stimulants, especially the inflammatory spices, which are burning as the sun which produces them; and however medicinal or alimentary they may be to the inhabitants of the tropics, to us are absolute poisons.”
P5Cut the meat you intend to hash into large handsome slices, about a quarter of an inch thick, (not more,) lay them on a plate, ready; make your sauce as receipt, No. 360; put in the meat, and let it simmer gently about twenty minutes; do not let it boil, as that will make your meat grow tough and hard*.
* All hashes and meats dressed a second time, should only simmer till just warm through: it is supposed they have been done very nearly, if not quite enough, already: though you will, of course, select those parts of the joint that have been least done. In making a hash from a leg of mutton, do not destroy the marrow-bone to help the gravy of your hash, to which it will make no perceptible addition; but saw it in two, twist writing paper round the ends, and send it up on a plate as a side dish, garnished with sprigs of parsley; if it is a roast leg, preserve the END BONE, and send it up between the marrow bones. This is a very pretty luncheon or supper dish.
Stews, ragouts, soups, &c. If you have any left, put it into a deep hash dish, or tureen: when you want it, set this in a stewpan of boiling water; let it stand till the contents are quite hot; it will eat as well as when first made.
P5vIs prepared and warmed in the same sauce as hashed mutton.
Cut some slices of mutton, or beef, and broil them carefully: when done, lay them in a dish before the fire to keep hot, while you poach your eggs.
This makes an excellent luncheon or supper.
Mushroom catsup and melted butter for sauce, with a few drops of shallot wine or vinegar in it.
Cut a neck or breast of mutton into chops; slice a pound of potatoes to each pound of meat, and put in very little water, because the potatoes will supply enough; put in no herbs, but a bunch of thyme; cover it close, so that no steam can evaporate, and let it just simmer for an hour and a half.
Obs.—Two onions may be added to each pound of meat.
* In all stews and made dishes, take care the meat does not go to rags, by doing too fast.
P6Cut the best end of a neck of mutton into chops, one rib to each; trim off part of the fat, and the lower end of the chine bone; lay them in an iron fryingpan over a very smart fire, and fry them for a couple of minutes: if your fire is not sharp, the chops will be done before they are coloured: the intention of frying them is merely to give them a browning. Take them out of the fryingpan and lay them in a clean stewpan, (lined with thin slices of bacon,) just big enough to hold them without laying them one on another; put a tablespoonful of oatmeal and one of flour to the gravy the chops were fried in, with a pint and a half of boiling water: when it has boiled up for two minutes, pour it into the stewpan to the chops, with a large onion, half a carrot, and a couple of turnips, all cut into pieces, with half a teaspoonful of salt, and a quarter of a teaspoonful of ground black pepper; cover them close down, and let them simmer very gently on a slow fire till the chops are thoroughly tender*: this may take an hour and a half, or two hours: be very careful they are not stewed too much, so take one of the chops up with your fish slice and try it: when done, take them out and lay them round a dish big enough to hold them without laying them over each other, and leave a space in the middle to receive the carrots, turnips, &c. Have ready boiled two dozen round young onions, P6v about as big as nutmegs, five ounces of carrots cut into slices, or shaped into balls as you please, and twelve ounces of turnips divided into pieces about as big as a nutmeg; have them drained dry, put them into a clean stewpan, and strain to them the gravy the cutlets were stewed in: when your carrots and turnips are hot, put them in the middle of the dish of chops, and serve up.
Obs.—Rump steaks, veal cutlets, and beef tails, make excellent dishes dressed in the like manner.
* If they are stewed too much they are spoiled, and no more fit to eat than meat that has been boiled down for gravy.
Put them into a stewpan with water enough to cover them well, an onion cut in quarters, three corns of black pepper, and a little salt; cover the pan close, and set it over a very slow fire for half an hour: lay them in a dish, and pour over them the liquor they were stewed in. Send up turnips with them, and caper sauce.
Roast it till almost done, then score it in checquers about an inch square, rub it over with the yolk of egg, pepper and salt it, strew it with bread crumbs and dried parsley, and broil it over a clear fire till it is nicely browned; make a sauce for it of flour and water well mixed together with an ounce of fresh butter, a tablespoonful of mushroom or walnut catsup, and the juice of half a lemon.
P7Parboil it, wash, and wipe it dry, dip it in an egg well beaten on a plate, and strew some fine stale bread crumbs over it; fry it in boiling lard, and garnish with fried or crisp parsley.
Or,
Instead of egging and bread crumbing it, flour it, and fry it in butter, and powder it with a little pepper and salt.
Crack the bone in two or three places, put it into a stewpan with three quarts of water, a bundle of sweet herbs, a large onion with four cloves stuck in it, three carrots, a head of celery, a dozen berries of black pepper, and the same of allspice: stew very gently over a slow fire for five hours: when the carrots are done, take them out and cut them into small squares; peel and cut ready a couple of turnips, and a couple of dozen of small young onions; boil them till tender in a pint of the liquor the beef was stewed in: when the beef is quite tender take it out carefully with a slice, and put it on a dish while you thicken your gravy:—to do this, mix three tablespoonsful of flour with a teacupful of the beef liquor; stir this thoroughly into the rest of the beef liquor, let it boil up for ten minutes, scum off the fat, strain it through a sieve, put your vegetables in to warm; season P7v with pepper, salt, and a wineglass of mushroom catsup, and pour it over the beef.
Send up Wow Wow sauce, No. 328, in a boat.
This is prepared in exactly the same way as “soup and bouilli.” See No. 5.
A stewed brisket cut in slices, and sent up with the same sauce of roots, &c., as we have directed for harricot of mutton, is a most excellent dish, of very moderate expense.
A round of beef that weighs twenty-five pounds should hang two or three days; then take three ounces of saltpetre, one ounce of coarse sugar, half an ounce of cloves pounded small, half a pound of common salt; incorporate these ingredients by rubbing them together in a marble mortar; then take the bone out, and rub the meat well with the above mixture, turning it and rubbing it every day for a fortnight.
When you dress it, dip it into cold water to take off the loose spice; bind it up tight with tape to preserve its form, and put it into a pan with one teacupful of water, and two of red port wine; cover the meat with plenty of fine chopped suet, and an onion or two minced small; cover the whole with a flour crust to the top or brim of the P8 pan, and let it be baked in six hours. If the beef weighs more, put a proportionate addition of all the ingredients. The gravy you will find a strong consommé, and will make excellent sauce or soup, and being impregnated with salt, will keep several days. The meat must be cut with a very sharp knife to prevent waste, and keep it even and comely to the eye. It is a most excellent standing dish, and for sandwiches: eaten with good vinegar and mustard it is equal to the best brawn, and is one of the economical, yet elegant articles of ready dressed keeping provisions.
Beef for ragooing must be without bone; the rump is excellent: a piece of the thick flank is frequently used for this purpose, or any other that is all meat, and has some fat to it; it should be a thick short piece.
When the beef is ready, make some gravy in the following manner; take a pound and a half of some ordinary piece of beef, and a quarter of a pound of bacon cut into thin slices, and lay the bacon in some vinegar till the following ingredients are ready: cut an onion and a shallot into thin slices, pick off the leaves of a sprig of thyme and of winter-savory; to these put a carrot split, &c., three blades of mace, a teaspoonful of bay salt, four cloves, and a little pepper: put in all these, with the sliced beef and bacon, into a quart of water, and let them boil very slowly till it comes to a pint; toward the end put in a good toast, brown and hard, but not burnt; give it a boil up, P8v and strain off the gravy. Now flour the piece of beef, and putting it into a stewpan with a piece of butter, fry it brown all over: when it is well browned, pour in a quart of water; stew* it slowly till it is almost enough, then put in your pint of gravy; thicken it if necessary, and add to it a large spoonful or two of mushroom catsup, or port wine, or both; let it have a boil up, and then serve it up. You may add a little elder or basil vinegar, and for a change send up with it stewed cucumbers or celery.
* Slow stewing requires from twenty to thirty minutes the pound of meat.
Provide one of the prime ribs, trim it neatly, and lay it in a stewpan of nearly its own bigness, putting a slice or two of bacon at the bottom: lay in your beef, and cover it with another slice of bacon: for seasoning, put in an onion, two carrots split and cut in pieces, a little sweet basil, thyme and parsley, a couple of blades of bruised mace, and some pepper and salt; let it stew gently till it is very tender: take it out upon a plate, clean it well from fat; strain the liquor into a clean stewpan, and put to it a teacupful of water, and a large teaspoonful of flour; let it boil away till it is thickened, then lay your meat in a dish, and pour the gravy over and round it. Send up spinach with it, or parsnips and beet root.
Obs.—This is a very savoury, nourishing, and economical dish, and a valuable variety at a moderate table.
P9Take six pounds of the ramp of beef; let it hang three days to make it tender; rub it well with an ounce of saltpetre, and a pound of salt; let it lay four or five days, putting half a pint of water into the salting pan, that your jelly may not be too salt. Put all these into a pot as nigh its size as possible; cover it with water, and season it with a full sized carrot and a large onion, a sprig of sweet marjoram, three times the quantity of parsley, a dozen corns of whole pepper, same of allspice; take care to skim it well, and let it simmer very gently till it is quite tender, which it ought to be in about four hours. Take the beef out, carefully strain the broth into a larger stewpan, and take the grease off it; set it on a quick fire, and let it boil away till it is reduced to a very strong jelly: beat the whites and shells of two eggs with a little cold water, and put them to the jelly: take it off the stove, let it settle for a few minutes; but while it is hot, strain it through a very fine napkin; with a paste brush rub a little of it over the meat; (this, in culinary technicals, is termed glazing it;) put the remainder of the jelly into a flat dish about an inch deep: when it is thoroughly cold, cut it out into any shapes you please, and garnish the beef with it.
Obs.—Few things are cheaper than this, and I never saw it brought to table where every one was not pleased with it. It is a very delicious dish for luncheon or supper, and will keep four or five days. Something cold of this sort is very convenient P9v in small families; and let the cook who would make herself most agreeable in such, always remember that it is her own interest to study that of her employers; let her make it her business to get out of the common tract, and learn how to make some of those things that add to the variety of the table, without increasing the expense. The most moderate table may, under proper management, afford sufficient variety; there need not be a perpetual, dull repetition of the same joints, plainly one after another, unless it be the fault of the provider or the cook, for there are plenty of very pretty things that may be dressed as cheap as a plain joint.
Two pounds of rump steak, (if you fear they will not eat tender, beat them well,) line the bottom of a three quart stewpan with slices of good bacon, and on this lay the steaks, with a pint and a half of cold water, a dozen corns of allspice, the same of black pepper, the red part of a quarter of a carrot, a little bundle of savory, sweet marjoram, and parsley, a large onion with two cloves stuck in it, and half a head of celery; cover them up closely, and let them simmer gently an hour and a half; if they are thin steaks, an hour wilt be enough; take care the meat does not go to rags by doing too fast or too much. When the steaks are tender take them up, flour them, and fry them just to brown them in an ounce of butter; make some thickening with an ounce of butter and two tablespoonsful of flour; put it into your sauce; stir it well together with a wooden spoon, adding P10 thereto a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, the same of browning, half a teaspoonful of salt, and a quarter of a teaspoonful of ground black pepper: dish your steaks, and strain your sauce to them. Veal cutlets or mutton chops may be done the same way.
Obs.—Rump steaks are in best condition from Michaelmas to Lady-day. To ensure their being tender, give the butcher three or four days’ notice of your wish for them.
Peel and slice two large onions; put them into a quart stewpan with two tablespoonsful of water; cover the stewpan close, and set it on a slow fire till the water has boiled away, and the onions have got a little browned, then add half a pint of good broth*, and boil the onions till they are quite tender; strain the broth from them, and chop them very fine; thicken the broth with flour and butter, and season it with mushroom catsup, and pepper and salt; put the onion into it, and let it boil gently for five minutes, and pour it over a broiled rump steak. If instead of broth you use good beef gravy it will be superlative.
Stewed cucumbers, No. 135, is another agreeable variety in the dressing of rump steaks.
* If you have no broth, put in half a pint of water, and just before you give it the last boil up, add to it a large spoonful of mushroom catsup, and, if you like, the same quantity of port wine.
P10vIn the hundred and fifteen volumes on cookery we digested before we begun to compose this work, we could not find one receipt that approached any thing like to an accurate description of the way in which this excellent dish is actually dressed in the best alamode beef shops; from whence, of course, it was impossible to obtain any information: however, after all, the whole of the secret seems to be the thickening the gravy (of beef that has been very slowly stewed) with bread raspings, and flavouring it with bay leaves.
Take about six pounds of the clod of beef, or the sticking piece; cut it into pieces of two or three pounds each; put two ounces of beef drippings into a large deep stewpan; as soon as it is quite hot, flour your meat, put it into the stewpan, turn it often till it is a light brown, then cover it with boiling water, and put a quart over; skim it when it boils, and then put in a large onion, and half a pint of bread raspings, and let it stew very slowly for three hours, then just crack twelve berries of black pepper, same of allspice, and four cloves, put them into a linen bag, with half a dozen bay leaves, and a bunch of sweet herbs, and let them stew an hour longer: if you find the meat sufficiently tender, take it up with a slice, cut it into quarter of a pound pieces, and put it into a tureen, and pour the soup to it.
To the above many cooks add an ounce of champignons; but as these are almost always so decayed, and sometimes of deleterious quality, they are better left out.
P11Take three pounds of lean gravy beef, salt it twelve hours with half a pound of common salt and half an ounce of saltpetre; cut off all the skin and fat; cut the lean into pound pieces, and put it into an earthen pan, or stone jar that will just hold it, put two ounces of butter on the top, then cover it with the skin and fat that you cut off, and pour in half a pint of water; cover it close with white paper, and tie over that, strong brown paper, and set it in a slow oven for four hours; when it comes from the oven, pour the gravy from it into a basin, throw away the skins and fat, shred it fine, moisten it with the gravy you poured from the meat, and pound it in a marble mortar with a little clarified butter, or, what is better, some beef marrow, till it is as fine a paste as possible, seasoning it (by degrees as you are beating it,) with black pepper and allspice, or cloves pounded, and grated nutmeg; put it in pots close as possible; set it in an oven for a few minutes, to make it set smooth in the pot; take it out, and when it is quite cold, cover it a quarter of an inch thick with clarified butter; to prepare which, see receipt, No. 259.
Obs.—You may mince half a pound of ham or bacon, or a few anchovies, and pound it with the meat, with a glass of sherry, or some forcemeat, if you wish to have it very savoury.
Or,
It is a very agreeable and economical way of P11v using the remains of a large joint of either roasted or boiled beef, veal, or ham, to mince it, and beat it in a mortar with the seasoning, &c., as in the former receipt.
Obs.—Meat that has been boiled down for gravies, &c. till it is completely drained of all its succulence, beaten in a mortar with salt and spice, will make as good potted beef as if it is baked till its moisture is quite evaporated, which it must be, or it will not keep two days.
If you have any cold roast beef that is underdone, mince it fine, and then pound it in a marble mortar with a little fat bacon or ham; season it with a little pepper and salt; mix them well, and make it into small cakes three inches long, half as wide, and half an inch thick: fry these a light brown, and serve them with good gravy.
For this, as for a hash, select those parts of the joint that have been least done; cut slices of cold boiled salted beef, sprinkle them with a little pepper, and just give them a brown with a bit of butter in a fryingpan: if it is fried too much it will be hard. Boil a cabbage, squeeze it quite dry, and chop it small; take the beef out of the fryingpan, and lay the cabbage in it; sprinkle a little pepper and salt over it; keep the pan moving over the fire for a few minutes; lay the meat in the middle of a dish, and the cabbage round it.
P12To hash beef, see Receipt to Hash mutton.
The best part to hash is the fillet or inside of the sirloin, and the good housewife will always endeavour to preserve this entire for this purpose.
Roast beef bones furnish a very relishing luncheon, prepared in the following manner.
Divide the bones, leaving good picking of meat on each; score them in squares, pour some melted butter on them, and pepper and salt; put them in a dish, and set them in a Dutch oven, and give them a brown on the gridiron.
If convenient, prepare this the day before it is to be eaten; cleanse it, and put it to soak all night in salt and water; next day wipe it clean, and put it into a stewpan with two quarts of water and a pint of table-beer that is neither bitter nor stale; skim it well when it is coming to a boil, and let it simmer for two hours: slice a couple of onions, fry them brown in a little butter and flour, and put them into the soup, with two whole onions with a clove in each, three turnips quartered, a couple of carrots sliced, a bay leaf, a head of celery, and a bundle of sweet herbs, pepper and salt; let it stew till perfectly tender, take out the cheek, divide it into handsome pieces; skim and strain the gravy, and add to it a tablespoonful of basil or elder vinegar, the like quantity of mushroom or walnut catsup, and the same of browning.
Serve up in a soup or ragout dish.
Obs.—This is a very economical, nourishing, and savoury meal.
P12vHaving cut them into joints, wash them, parboil them, and set them on to stew in just water enough to cover them, and dress them in the same manner as we have directed, in No. 531, Stewed Giblets, for which they are an excellent substitute.
Cut a pound of the lean of cold boiled ham; cut it small and pound it in a mortar with a little fresh butter, in the proportion of an ounce to a pound, till it is a very fine paste, seasoning it by degrees with a little pounded mace or grated nutmeg; put it close down in pots for that purpose, and cover it with clarified butter a quarter of an inch thick; let it stand one night in a cool place. Send it up in the pot, or cut out in thin slices.
A couple of ounces of the fat of the ham are quite as good as butter to mix with it, in pounding.
Boil a neat’s tongue till it is tender, trim off all the fat and bones, and cut the tongue into small pieces, and pound it in a mortar with a quarter of a pound of butter, till it is very fine; pound the like quantity of dressed veal in the same way with black pepper and salt, and a little grated nutmeg; when the veal is pounded very fine, lay part of it in the bottom of an earthen pan, stick the tongue Q in lumps upon the veal, not in any shapes, the more careless the belter, as it will look better when it is cut out; then put another layer of the veal on the tongue, and press it down close; cover it with clarified butter; send it to table cut into thin slices, and garnished with sprigs of curled parsley.
Mince ready dressed veal as fine as possible, but do not chop it; put it into a stewpan with a few spoonsful of veal or mutton broth, a little lemon-peel minced fine, a spoonful of milk or cream: thicken with butter and flour, and season it with salt, a tablespoonful of lemon pickle, or catsup.
If you have no cream, heat up the yolks of a couple of eggs with a little water; garnish with sippets.
Either a neck, loin, or fillet of veal will furnish an excellent ragout with very little expense or trouble.
Cut your veal into handsome cutlets; put a piece of butter or clean dripping into a fryingpan; as soon as it is hot flour and fry your veal of a light brown; take it out, and if you have no gravy ready, put a pint of boiling water into the fryingpan, give it a boil up for a minute, and strain it into a basin while you make some Qv thickening in the following manner: put about an ounce of butter into a stewpan, as soon as it looks a little brown mix with it as much flour as will dry it up; stir it over the fire for a few minutes, and gradually add to it the gravy you made in the fryingpan; let them simmer together for ten minutes till thoroughly incorporated; season it with pepper, salt, and a little mace, and a wine glass of mushroom catsup; strain it through a tammis to the meat: when the meat is thoroughly warmed it is enough.
Parboil it for ten minutes in a little more water than will just cover it, with some salt, white pepper, and a blade of pounded mace; then cut it into slices about three quarters of an inch thick, and add to the liquor an ounce of butter, and two teaspoonsful of flour: keep this over the fire, shaking it well till these ingredients are well mixed; put in the sweetbread again, let it stew very gently till it is done enough, and the sauce is properly thickened, then beat up a couple of yolks of eggs with a glass of white wine; add this to your sauce, stir it together, but do not let it boil. Garnish with slices of lemon.
Fry the sweetbreads brown in a little butter, then put them on to stew, and finish them as above, leaving out the eggs; if you wish it to Q2 be more savoury, add an onion, or eshallot, with a tablespoonful of browning, and one of catsup, cavice, or lemon pickle.
For three other receipts to dress sweetbreads, see No. 88, &c. chapter on frying.
A breast of veal stewed till quite tender, and smothered with onion sauce, is an excellent dish.
Have a piece of fillet of veal of four or five pounds; put it into a stewpan with a pound and a half of bacon, a pint of water, two carrots, a faggot of sweet herbs, with half a dozen spring onions, some sprigs of parsley, and three cloves; when it boils, skim it, and put it on a very slow fire to simmer gently for four hours: thicken it with some flour, and take out the bundle of herbs when you dish it.
Take off the under bone, and cut the breast in half, lengthways; divide it into pieces four inches long by two inches wide, so that they may be in handsome pieces, but not too large to help at once: put about two ounces of butter into a fryingpan, and fry the veal till it is a fine brown; then put it into a stewpan with veal broth, if you have it, or else as much boiling water as will cover it, a small bundle of sweet marjoram, common or lemon-thyme, and parsley, with a couple of Q2v cloves, and a couple of blades of pounded mace, three young onions, or one old one as big as a walnut, a roll of lemon-peel, half a dozen corns of allspice bruised, and a teaspoonful of salt; cover it close, and let it all simmer very gently for two hours and a half; then take out the meat with a slice; and to thicken the gravy, put an ounce of butter into a stewpan, with two tablespoonsful of flour; stir well together for five minutes, and mix the gravy with it; boil ten minutes, skim it well, and put in the meat to warm up: season it with two tablespoonsful of white wine, and one of mushroom catsup: cover the pan close, to confine the steam, and let it stew gently half an hour longer, till there is just sufficient gravy to cover the meat when put in the dish: lay the veal in a ragout dish, and squeeze half a lemon into the sauce.
Obs.—Forcemeat-balls, truffles, &c., are sometimes added.
Cut half a dozen slices off a fillet of veal, half an inch thick, and as long and square as you can; flat them with a chopper, and rub them over with an egg that has been beat on a plate; cut some fat bacon as thin as possible, the same size as the veal; lay it on the veal, and rub it with a little of the egg: make a little veal forcemeat, (see receipt, No. 375,) and spread it very thin over the bacon; roll up the olives tight, and tie them with a bit of twine; rub them with the egg, and then roll them in fine bread crumbs: put them on a lark spit, and roast them at a brisk fire: they will take three quarters of an hour.
Q3Mushroom sauce brown, or truffle sauce, or beef gravy. Vide chapter on sauces, &c.
See Obs. to boil calf’s head, No. 10.
Wash a calf’s head that has been skinned, and boil the half you intend to hash for fifteen minutes; the other half an hour, or, if it is large, give it fifteen or twenty minutes longer: when quite tender, take out all the brains you can: beat up an egg on a plate, and put this all over it with a paste brush, and strew over it thyme and parsley in fine powder, then bread crumbs, and put it in the Dutch oven to brown. Cut the other half head into slices, and put it into a stewpan with a quart of gravy, No. 329, and let it simmer for three quarters of an hour: take up the meat with a slice, and strain the gravy into a clean stewpan with forcemeat-balls, No. 376, 380, egg-balls, and a wineglass of white wine; put in the meat, and let it warm up together, and skim off the fat.
Beat up the brains in a basin with a spoonful of flour, two eggs, lemon peel, thyme, parsley, and a few leaves of sage; chop all fine, and mix well together with pepper, salt, and a scrape of nutmeg: fry them in little cakes, of a very light brown; dish up your hash, with the half head you browned in the middle, and garnish with crisp curled rashers of bacon, and the brain cakes.
Truffles and morels are frequently added to this.
Q3vDivide the best end of a neck of veal into cutlets, one rib to each; make a few fine bread crumbs, mince a little parsley and a very little shallot as small as possible; put it into a clean stewpan with two ounces of butter; fry it for a minute, then put it on a plate to cool: when cold, mix the yolks of two eggs with it, and season it with pepper and salt: dip the cutlets into this mixture, and then into the bread; lay them on a gridiron over a clear slow fire; they will take a quarter of an hour: send up with them a few slices of bacon fried, or done in the Dutch oven.
Cut a knuckle of veal into slices about half an inch thick; pepper, salt, and flour them; fry them a light brown; put the trimmings into a stew pan, with the bone broke in several places; an onion sliced; a head of celery; a bunch of sweet herbs, and three blades of bruised mace: pour in warm water enough to cover it about an inch: cover your pot close, and let it stew very gently for a couple of hours: thicken it with flour and butter; put in a spoonful of catsup, a glass of wine, and juice of half a lemon; give it a boil up, and strain into a clean stewpan: put in the meat and make it hot, and serve up.
Obs.—If celery is not to be had, use a carrot instead.
Q4As boiled knuckle of veal cold is not a very favourite relish with the generality, cut off some steaks from it, which you may dress as in the foregoing receipt, and leave the knuckle no larger than will be eaten the day it is dressed. Break the shank bone, wash it clean, and put it in a large stewpan with two quarts of water, one onion, two blades of mace, and a teaspoonful of salt: set it on a quick fire; when it boils, take off all the scum: wash and pick a pound of rice, and put it into the stewpan with the meat, and let it stew very gently for two hours: put the meat, &c. in a deep dish, and the rice round it.
Send up bacon with it, parsnips, or greens, and finely minced parsley and butter.
Take a knuckle of veal;
You may buy it, or steal;
In a few pieces cut it,
In a stewingpan put it;
Salt, pepper, and mace,
Must season this knuckle;
Then, what’s join’d to a place*
With other herbs muckle;
That which kill’d King Will†,
And what never stands still‡;
Q4vSome sprigs of that bed§
Where children are bred,
Which much you will mend, if
Both spinage and endive,
And lettuce and beet,
With marygold meet.
Put no water at all,
For it maketh things small,
Which, lest it should happen,
A close cover clap on:
Put this pot of Wood’s metal¶
In a boiling hot kettle;
And there let it be,
(Mark the doctrine I teach,)
About, let me see,
Thrice as long as you preach‖.
So skimming the fat off,
Say grace with your hat off,
O! then with what rapture
Will it fill Dean and Chapter!
* Vulgo, salary.
† Supposed sorrel.
‡ This is, by Dr. Bentley, thought to be time, or thyme.
§ Parsley. Vide Chamberlayne.
¶ Of this composition, see the works of the copper farthing dean.
‖ Which we suppose to be near four hours.
Clean and wash a lamb’s head well, and boil it an hour and a half: take it up, and rub it over with a paste brush dipped in egg well beaten; strew over it a little pepper and salt, and some fine bread crumbs: lay it in a dish before the fire, or in a Dutch oven to brown: when it begins to get dry, put some melted butter on it with a paste brush: mince the heart, liver, and the tongue very fine; put them into a stewpan with a little of the liquor the head was boiled in, and an ounce of butter, well mixed with half a Q5 tablespoonful of flour, a little pepper and salt: set it on a slow fire for ten minutes. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into a dish, lay in the mince, with the head upon it, and garnish it with relishing rashers of bacon. See receipt, No. 527.
Slices of ham, or bacon, may be broiled on a gridiron over a clear fire, or toasted with a fork: if you wish it curled, cut it thin, curl it, and put it on an iron skewer in a cheese-toaster, or Dutch oven, for fifteen or twenty minutes, turning it as it gets crisp.
If you have any cold bacon in the larder, you may make a very nice dish of it by cutting it into slices rather more than a quarter of an inch thick; grate some crust of bread, and powder them well with it on both sides; lay the rashers in a cheese-toaster: they will be browned on one side in about three minutes; then turn them and do the other.
Obs.—These are a delicious accompaniment to poached or fried eggs: the bacon, from having been boiled* first, eats extremely tender and mellow. They are a very excellent garnish round veal cutlets, or calf’s head hash, or green pease, or beans.
Q5vIf you have enough of its own gravy left, it is preferable to any to warm it up in: if not, take a pint of mutton gravy. No. 347, or the bones and trimmings of the joint, (after you have cut off all the handsome slices you can, to make the hash;) put these into a pint of water, and stew them gently for an hour: put a bit of butter in another stewpan, about as big as a walnut: when melted, put to it as much flour as will dry up the butter, and stir it well together; add to it, by degrees, the gravy you have been making of the trimmings, give it a boil up, skim it, and strain it through a sieve, and it is ready to receive the venison: put it in, and let it just get warm: do not let it boil, or it will make the meat hard.
Wash it very nicely, cut it up into such pieces as you would help at table, and put it into a stone jar*, sufficiently large to well hold it, lining the bottom of the jar with a couple of ounces of bacon: put in some sweet herbs, a roll or two of rind of lemon, or Seville orange, and a fine large onion with five cloves stuck in it, a quarter Q6 pint of red wine, and the juice of a Seville orange or large lemon: tie the jar down closely with a bladder, so that no steam can escape; put a little hay in the bottom of a saucepan, in which place the jar, and pour in water till it reaches within three inches of the top of the jar; let the water boil for four or five hours, according to the age and size of the hare, keeping it boiling all the time, and fill up the pot as it boils away. When quite tender, strain off the gravy, (of which there will be found a good quantity, although no water was put in the jar,) clear it from fat, and thicken it with flour and butter, and give it a boil up: lay your hare in a soup-dish, and pour the gravy to it.
Obs.—You may make a pudding, the same as for roast hare, and boil it in a cloth; and when you dish up your hare, cut your pudding in slices, and lay round it for garnish.
* Meat dressed by the heat of boiling water, without being exposed to it, is a mode of cookery that deserves to be more generally employed: it is deliciously stewed, and the whole of the nourishment and gravy are preserved. This, in chemical technicals, is called a Water Bath: in culinary, Bain Marie: which A. Chappelle, in his “Modern Cook,” 8vo. page 25, London, 1744, translates, “Mary’s Bath.”
Cut an onion into small dice; put it into a stewpan with a little bit of butter; fry it, but do not let it get any colour: put as much boiling water into the stewpan as will make sauce for the hash; thicken it with a little flour and butter; cut up the duck, and put it into the sauce; do not let it boil; season it with pepper and salt.
Clean two sets of giblets, as in the receipt for giblet soup; put them into a saucepan with two Q6v quarts of cold water; set them on the fire; when they boil, take off the scum, and season them with an onion, three cloves, two blades of mace, four berries of black pepper, the same of allspice, and half a teaspoonful of salt: cover the stewpan close, and let it simmer very gently till the giblets are quite tender: this will take about two hours and a half: watch them that they do not get too much done: take them out, and thicken the sauce with flour and butter; let it boil half an hour, or till there is just enough to eat with them; and then strain it through a tammis into a clean stewpan: cut the giblets into mouthfuls, put them into the sauce, with the juice of half a lemon, and a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup: pour the whole into a soup dish, with sippets of bread at the bottom.
Obs.—Ox-tails prepared in the same way are excellent eating.
Cut off the breasts, legs, and wings of ready roasted birds; lay them on the dish you intend sending to table; cover it with another dish, and set it over a saucepan of hot water: pound the bones and inside in a mortar, put them into a stewpan with half a pint of port wine, and a little broth, thickened with half a tablespoonful of flour, a tablespoonful of mushroom catsup, and a bit of shallot chopped fine; season it with Cayenne pepper, and salt: when it has boiled a quarter of an hour, and there only remains liquor enough for sauce, strain it through a hair sieve over the birds in the dish; garnish with fried sippets.
Q7Cut them up as for a fricassee, and lay them at the bottom of a stewpan; into another stewpan put slices of bacon, the trimmings and bones of the fowl, a piece of butter as big as an egg, a tablespoonful of flour, a minced onion or eshallot, a bundle of sweet herbs, a roll of lemon-peel, a blade of bruised mace, and half a dozen pepper corns: cover it close, and let it stew for ten minutes; then add half a pint of warm water, a tablespoonful of browning, one of lemon pickle, and one of catsup, and two teaspoonsful of lemon-juice: give it a boil up for a few minutes, and run it through a fine hair sieve into the stewpan containing the meat of the fowl, &c.; let it simmer till it is warm, and serve it up. Do not let the sauce boil after you have put it to the fowl.
Take off the skin of a cold chicken, fowl, or turkey; take off the fillets from the breasts, and put them into a stewpan with the rest of the white meat and wings, side-bones, and merrythought, with half a pint of water, two tablespoonsful of table-beer, and one of port wine; a large blade of mace pounded, a shallot minced fine, the juice of half a lemon, and peel of a quarter, some salt, and a few grains of Cayenne; thicken it with flour and butter, and let it simmer for two or three minutes, till the meat is warm. In the meantime, score the legs and rump, powder them with pepper Q7v and salt, broil them nicely brown, and lay them on or round your pulled chicken.
Obs.—Three tablespoonsful of good cream will be a great improvement to it.
Cut them in quarters, beat up an egg or two (according to the quantity you dress,) with a little grated nutmeg, and pepper and salt, some parsley minced fine, and a few crumbs of bread; mix these well together, and cover your fowl, &c. with this batter; have ready some dripping hot in a pan, in which fry them a light brown colour; thicken a little gravy with some flour, put a large spoonful of catsup to it, lay the fry in a dish, and pour the sauce round it. You may garnish with slices of lemon.
Singe and clean two young chickens, cut off their legs close to the thigh-bone, cut off the thighs and wings, and divide the breast into two pieces, put them into a two quart stewpan with a pint of boiling water; let them boil gently half an hour with a few of the worst looking mushrooms you have, two or three sprigs of parsley, two young onions, and two blades of mace. While the chickens are boiling, clean half a pint of the smallest and whitest mushrooms you can get with a flannel, and some lemon Q8 juice and water. When the chickens are done, take them out and put them into cold water; thicken the liquor they were stewed in with some flour and butter, boil it ten minutes, and strain it through a tammis into a clean stewpan; put in the mushrooms, trim your chickens neatly, and put them into the sauce with some good cream; make it hot, and add two yolks of eggs mixed with a little cream, and season it with a little salt. Do not let it boil after the eggs are put in.
Obs.—Pigeons, or rabbits, tripe, and sweetbreads, are dressed in the same way.
Cut a chicken in pieces; put two ounces of butter into a stewpan; when melted, put your chicken into it with salt and pepper, a bay leaf, and mushrooms: when your chicken is firm, add two spoonsful of flour, and stir it well together; when well mixed, put in half a pint of broth or water, stir it, and at the first boil take it off the fire; break four eggs, mix the yolks with two spoonsful of cream, put it to your chickens, stir it together on the fire, but do not let it boil, as it will curdle. When you dish, take out the bay leaf.
The gizzard and rump of a dressed turkey, or the rump of a goose, taken from the bird, and scored, and well peppered and salted, and broiled, and sent up for a relish, and being made very hot, has obtained the name of a “devil.”
Q8v“Happy the man that has each fortune tried,
To whom she much has given, and much denied;
With abstinence all delicates he sees,
And can regale himself on toast and cheese,”
King’s Art of Cookery.
Cut a slice of bread about half an inch thick, pare off the crust, and toast it very slightly on both sides, so as just to brown it, without making it hard, or burning it. Cut a slice of cheese (good fat mellow Cheshire cheese, or double Gloster, is much better than poor, thin single Gloster,) a quarter of an inch thick, not so big as the bread by half an inch on each side; pare off the rind, cut out all the specks and rotten parts*, and lay it on the toasted bread in a cheese-toaster; carefully watch it, that it does not burn, and stir it with a spoon, to prevent a pellicle forming on the surface. Have ready good mustard.
Obs.—One would think nothing can be easier than to prepare a Welch rabbit; and yet, not only in private families, but at taverns, it is very seldom sent to table in perfection.
If you observe the directions here given, the cheese will eat mellow and uniformly done, and the bread crisp and soft.
* Rotten cheese toasted, is the ne plus ultra of haut goût, and only eaten by the thorough-bred Gourmand in the most inverted state of his jaded appetite.
We have nothing to add to the directions Q9 given for toasting the cheese in the last receipt, except in sending it up: it will save much time in portioning it out at table, if you have half a dozen small silver or tin pans to fit into the cheese toaster, and do the cheese in these: each person may then be helped to a separate pan, and it will keep the cheese much hotter than the usual way of eating it on a cold plate.
Prepare a round of toast; butter it; grate over it good Cheshire cheese about half the thickness of the toast, and give it a brown,
To a pound and a half of fine rich mellow Cheshire cheese add two ounces, if the cheese is a dry one, three ounces of good fresh butter; pound well together in a marble mortar, and add by degrees half a drachm of beaten mace or nutmeg, and a tablespoonful of well made mustard; beat the ingredients well together till they are thoroughly mixed, and put them into pots pressed down hard, and covered with clarified butter, and tied down with wetted bladder.
Keep it in a cool place.
A quarter of a pound of Gloster or Cheshire cheese pounded in a mortar, with half an ounce of butter, and an egg.
Q9vCut a slice of bread half an inch thick, toast and butter it a little on both sides; spread the composition on it half an inch thick, and bake it four minutes in a Dutch oven; it should rise an inch high.
Saw the bones even, so that they will stand quite steady; put a piece of paste into the ends; set them upright in a saucepan, and boil till they are done enough. Serve toasted bread with them.
Lay some slices of fine streaked bacon (not more than a quarter of an inch thick) in a clean dish, and toast them before the fire in a cheese toaster: first ask those who are to eat the bacon, if they wish it much or little done, i.e. curled and crisp, or mellow and soft; if the latter, parboil it first.
Well cleansed drippings, or lard, are better than butter to fry eggs. Be sure your fryingpan is quite clean: when the fat is hot, break two or three eggs into it; do not turn them, but, while they are frying, keep pouring some of the fat over them with a spoon: when the yolk just begins to look white, which it will in about a couple of minutes, they are enough; the white must not lose its transparency, but the yolk be seen blushing through it: take them up with a tin slice, Q10 drain the fat from them, trim them neatly, and send them up with the bacon round them.
You must have new laid, or very fresh eggs, or it is impossible to poach them nice: don’t put any vinegar in the water, as it will harden the white of the egg, and quite spoil the look of it: the beauty of a poached egg is to have the yolk seen through the white.
Take a flat open stewpan half full of boiling water; you may put in two eggs at the same time, boil them gently for two minutes; trim them, and send them up on a toast*, with or without butter; or without a toast, garnished with streaked bacon nicely fried, slices of broiled beef or mutton, anchovies, or pork sausages.
Obs.—The bread should be a little larger than the egg, and full a quarter of an inch thick: only just give it a fine yellow colour: take care not to toast it brown, or it will get a bitter flavour: if you do not butter it, it is usual to moisten it by pouring a little hot water on it, and some add a few drops of vinegar on it.
* “Two poached eggs, with a few fine dry fried collops of pure bacon, are not bad for breakfast, or to begin a meal,” says Sir Kenelm Digby, M.D. in his Closet of Cookery, London, 1669, page 167.
Put the eggs into boiling water; if you like the white just set, two minutes is enough; if you Q10v wish the yolk to be set, it will take three minutes and a half.
Obs.—A new laid egg will not require boiling so long as a stale one, by half a minute.
Poach the eggs as before directed, and take two or three slices of boiled ham, mince it fine, with a gherkin, a morsel of onion, a little parsley, and pepper and salt; stew all together a quarter of an hour; serve up your sauce about half boiling; put the eggs in a dish, squeeze over them the juice of half a Seville orange, or lemon, and pour the sauce over them.
Choose some very fine bacon, streaked with a good deal of lean; cut this into very thin slices, and afterwards into the smallest square pieces; throw them into a stewpan, and set it over a gentle fire, that they may lose some of their fat. When as much as will freely come is thus melted from them, lay them on a warm dish. Put into a stewpan a ladleful of melted bacon or lard; set it on a stove; put in about a dozen of the small pieces of the bacon, then stoop the stewpan and break in an egg. Manage this carefully, and the egg will presently be done; it will be very round, and the little dice of bacon will stick to it all over, so that it will make a very pretty appearance. Take care the yolks do not harden; and when the egg Q11 is thus done, lay it carefully on a warm dish, and do the others.
They reckon 685 ways of dressing eggs in the French kitchen; we hope we have here given sufficient variety for English palates, in the half dozen preceding receipts.
“The Jesuit that came from China, A.D. 1664, told Mr. Waller, that to a pint of tea they frequently take the yolks of two new laid eggs, and beat them up with as much fine sugar as is sufficient for the tea, and stir all well together. He also informed him that the water must remain upon the tea no longer than while you can say the “Miserere” psalm very leisurely; you have then only the spiritual part of the tea, the proportion of which to the water must be about a drachm to a pint.”—Sir Kenelme Digby’s Cookery, London, 1669, page 167.
Obs.—The addition of the egg makes the tea a more nutritious and substantial meal for a traveller.
Suet, a quarter of a pound; flour, three tablespoonsful; eggs, two, and a little grated ginger; milk, half a pint. Mince the suet as fine as possible, roll it with the rolling pin so as to mix it well with the flour; beat up the eggs, mix them with the milk, and then mix all together; wet your cloth well in boiling water, flour it, and tie it loose: boil an hour and a quarter.
Q11vThis pudding is an especially excellent accompaniment to a sirloin of beef.
Five tablespoonsful of flour, three eggs, a teaspoonful of salt, and a pint and a half of milk: beat it up well, and take care it is not lumpy; put your dish under the meat, and let the drippings drop into it till it is quite hot and well greased; then pour in your batter; when it is brown and set, then turn it, so as both sides may be brown alike: if it is to cut firm, it will take an hour and a half at a good fire.
Suet chopped fine, six ounces; malaga raisins stoned, six ounces; currants nicely washed and picked, eight ounces; bread crumbs, three ounces; flour, three ounces; eggs, three; the rind of half a lemon; sixth of a nutmeg; small blade of mace; same quantity of cinnamon pounded as fine as possible; half a teaspoonful of salt: half a pint of milk, or rather less; sugar, four ounces; to which may be added, candied lemon, two ounces; citron, one ounce. Beat the eggs and spice well together, mix the milk with them by degrees, then the rest of the ingredients; dip a fine close linen cloth into boiling water, and put it in a hair sieve; flour it a little, and tie it up close; put it into a saucepan containing six quarts of boiling water; keep a kettle of boiling water alongside of it, to fill up your pot as it wastes; be sure to keep it boiling six hours at least.
Q12Obs.—If the water ceases to boil, your pudding will become heavy, and be spoiled; but, if properly managed, this will be as fine a pudding of the kind as art can produce. This pudding is best when mixed over night, as the various ingredients by that means amalgamate, and the whole becomes more rich and fuller of flavour. The stiffer it is mixed the better; though the cook who consults her ease will not thank me for this remark, if with it she joins that which is indispensable, that the various ingredients be THOROUGHLY well beat together. A little brandy, say two tablespoonsful, is an improvement to this excellent British Pudding, which is truly a British dish, with roasted sirloin of beef, No. 19. See Pudding Sauce, No. 269, and Pudding Catsup, No. 446.
Break four eggs into a basin, beat them very well, then put in by degrees four tablespoonsful of flour piled as high as the spoon will take; beat the flour and the eggs together till the batter is quite smooth and light; then add four even tablespoonsful of Lisbon sugar, and half a nutmeg grated, and a glass of brandy; beat these in well, and then stir in a pound of suet cut very fine, or suet and marrow mixed, a pound of raisins stoned, some candied lemon or orange-peel sliced. Butter a basin well, and press the pudding close into it.
Obs.—It must boil five hours.
Put a pint of split pease into a clean cloth; do Q12v not tie them up too dose, but leave a little room for them to swell; boil them slowly till they are tender; if they are good pease, they will be boiled enough in about three hours: take them up, and rub them through a hair sieve; beat the pulp in a basin with an egg and an ounce of butter and some pepper and salt; when the ingredients are well incorporated together, tie it up again in the cloth, and boil it half an hour longer. It is as good with boiled beef as it is with boiled pork.
Beat four eggs well, mix them with a pint of milk and four ounces of lump sugar pounded and sifted; raisins stoned, currants washed and picked, apples chopped fine, of each four ounces; a little grated nutmeg, and a very little salt.
Mix all well together: dip a pudding cloth in boiling water, wring it, and flour it; put your pudding in, and boil it three hours and a half; send it up with pudding sauce in a boat: see receipt, No. 268.
Boil a quarter of a pound of maccaroni till it is lender; then stew it in milk, with a little cinnamon, and the rind of half a lemon: when it is perfectly well done, beat together the yolks of three eggs with the whites of two, and a glass of white wine, half a nutmeg, four bitter almonds, and sugar to your taste; line the edge, and half way down the side of your pudding dish, with R puff paste, put in the oven; about half an hour will bake it.
Wash and pick half a pound of rice very clean; boil it in a cloth till it is quite soft; then beat it in a marble mortar, with a quarter of a pound of butter, and the peel of a lemon; add to it the juice of the lemon, or a glass of white wine, three eggs, yolks and whites beat separately; spice and sugar to your taste. An hour and twenty minutes will boil it.
Put five tablespoonsful of ground rice into a stewpan with a pint and a half of cream or milk, four ounces of sugar, same of butter, and a tablespoonful of orange flour water: put on the fire, stir till it boils; let it simmer ten minutes in the corner of the stove; then break six eggs, mix the yolks in your pudding, and beat the whites till they are in snow; mix all together, and put them in a dish, or mould, and put it in the oven; it requires three quarters of an hour to bake it: do not take it out of the oven till it is called for.
Boil a pint of milk; put the peel of a lemon into it, with a bit of cinnamon and three ounces of sugar; when it has boiled, break six eggs, rub them through a silk sieve; when the milk is a little cooled, mix it with your eggs, and strain it three or four times through the sieve; then take a plain mould, put a piece of paper to the bottom just to cover it, that the pudding when done may not stick to the bottom, cover it with paper, and Rv put it in a stewpan with some boiling water; as soon as it boils, put it in the corner of the stove that the water only simmer; it will lake about forty-five minutes: put your dish upon the top of the mould, and overset it in the dish.
Grate the peel of three oranges into a pint of milk, with three ounces of sugar and the crumb of a twopenny roll; let it just boil, strain it through a tammis cloth, add four eggs, and the juice of four oranges: bake it thirty minutes.
Is made, by pouring equal parts of white wine and skimmed milk into a basin; and after they have stood a few minutes, adding a double quantity of boiling water. In a short time the curd will collect and subside at the bottom: the whey is now to be strained into another vessel, and sweetened with sugar: a sprig of balm, or a slice of lemon, will greatly improve its flavour.
Obs.—This is a salubrious beverage taken immediately before retiring to bed, for those who have undergone severe bodily fatigue, or exposure to inclement weather, as it will excite a gentle perspiration, and thus obviate a cold or catarrh.
Beef tea is usually made by cutting a pound of lean beef into very thin slices or shreds, and boiling it with two blades of mace in a quart of water. When the scum rises, carefully remove it while it continues boiling, for about a quarter of an hour.
But on considering the effect of heat on the R2 volatile and spirituous parts of the animal fibre, when immersed in a fluid medium, we venture to suggest a more economical method of preparing beef tea.
Instead of boiling the meat, we would advise it to be minced fine, then to be reduced to a pulp with a wooden pestle, in an iron or marble mortar, and so express all its juice; strain it off, and add a little spice, and an equal or larger proportion of boiling water.
Obs.—Thus the whole essence of the meat will be preserved, part of which would be volatilized by cooking. Nor does it admit of a doubt, that by such a mode of preparing it, half a pound of beef is nearly equal to a whole pound used according to the old method.
Two pounds of mutton or veal cut small, a quarter pound of pearl barley, two quarts of water; let it simmer slowly till it will rub through a hair sieve to the thickness of cream; while preparing, take care to skim it well, and remove the fat.
Take a couple of ounces of pearl barley, wash it clean with cold water, and put it into half a pint of boiling water, and let it boil for five minutes; pour off this water, and add to it two quarts of boiling water: boil it to two pints, and strain it.
The above is simple barley water; to a quart of this is frequently added
Two ounces of figs, sliced.
R2vThe same of raisins, stoned.
Half an ounce of liquorice, sliced and bruised;
And a pint of water.
Boil till it is reduced to a quart, and strain.
Obs.—These drinks are intended to assuage thirst in ardent fevers and other inflammatory disorders, where plenty of mild diluting liquor is one of the principal remedies; and if not suggested by the medical attendant, frequently demanded by honest instinct, in terms too plain to be misunderstood: as the stomach sympathizes with every fibre of (he human frame, no part of it can be distressed, without in some degree offending the stomach; therefore it is of the utmost importance to soothe this grand organ, by rendering every thing we offer to it as elegant and agreeable as the nature of the case will admit of: the barley drink prepared according to the second receipt, will be received with pleasure by the most delicate palate.
Agrimony, and ground ivy, equal quantities; and half as much of the following; sweet marjoram, pennyroyal, lavender, rose, and cowslip flower leaves.
Chop and mix them together, and use them as India tea.
Sal volatile, three parts.
Laudanum, one part.
Mix, and rub the part affected frequently.
R3To humour that desire for the marvellous which is so universal in medical matters, the contrivers of aperient pills have too often selected the most drastic purgatives, which operating considerably in a dose of a few grains, excite much admiration in the patient, and great faith in their powers, in proportion as a small dose produces great effects, not considering how extremely irritating such materials must be, and consequently how injurious to a stomach already in a state of debility, and perhaps deranged by yesterday’s excess*.
The inventor of the “Peristaltic Persuaders,” gave them that name from the peculiar mildness of their operation: one or two of these pills merely give a gentle hint to that grand organ, the stomach, and the other principal viscera, helping them to do their work a little faster, and remove what is offensive into the bowels, accelerating the process of digestion, and almost imperceptibly augmenting the alvine exoneration: if a more speedy and copious evacuation is desired, take three, or four, or five, according to circumstances.
These pills are prepared from a prescription of Dr. Kitchiner’s and sold by G. D. Midgley, No. 49, Strand, near the Adelphi, in boxes, 2s. 9d. each.
* If the body or mind be fatigued, the stomach invariably sympathizes; and the most robust find, when they do any thing too much, the stomach acts retrograde, and does too little.
Cascarilla bark bruised, one ounce.
Orange-peel dried, one ounce.
Brandy, or proof spirit, one pint.
Let the ingredients steep for a fortnight, and decant the clear liquor.
Dose, two or three teaspoonsful in a wineglass of water twice a day.
Obs.—This is a most agreeable aromatic tonic to create appetite and promote digestion; and when the stomach is in a state of great debility, is generally much more acceptable to it than any of the simple or compound tinctures of the Peruvian bark, or other bitters. As the former recipe is excellent to remove indigestion, so is this a sovereign remedy to strengthen the stomach, and prevent it; and in most nervous and languid chronic complaints of that organ, will be taken with the greatest advantage.
A drachm of purified opium.
A drachm of flowers of benjamin.
A drachm of oil of anniseed.
Camphor, two scruples.
Steep all in a pint of brandy, or proof spirit: let it stand ten days, occasionally shaking it up. Strain.
A teaspoonful in half a pint of water gruel, taken the last thing at night, is a most effectual medicine to remove coughs and colds.
It is also excellent for children who have the hooping cough, in doses of from five to twenty drops in a little water.
The following is the most agreeable manner of making water gruel.
R4One ounce of oatmeal is sufficient to make two quarts of water gruel.
Put the oatmeal into three quarts of soft cold water, and set it over the fire. It must be constantly stirred till it boils; then let it boil till a third part of the water is boiled away; then pour it through a linen cloth into a bowl a little larger than sufficient to contain it. In this bowl leave it to cool; when it will be found separated into two parts, one of them a mealy cloud or sediment, and the other a very thin and clear liquor. The latter is to be carefully decanted, or poured off for use.
To render this more agreeable by the addition of sugar, acids, or aromatics, or to impregnate it with medicinal substances, I leave to the judgment of the nurse or physician.
See Cullen’s Mat. Med. vol. i. p. 288. edit. 2 vols. 4to. Edinburgh, 1789.
Mix well together, by degrees, two tablespoonsful of oatmeal, and a teaspoonful of salt, with a quart of cold water; set it on the fire, and let it boil gently for fifteen or twenty minutes, occasionally stirring it to prevent the oatmeal burning at the bottom of the stewpan: skim it and strain it.
Obs.—An ounce of fresh butter, a tablespoonful of brandy, and a teaspoonful of powdered sugar may be added.
In the “Way to save Wealth,” London, 1697, in the 8th page are directions how to live for twopence a day: the author’s observation on water gruel is, that it makes “a noble and exhilarating meal.”
R4vBone and wash the anchovies, and pound them in a mortar with a little fresh butter; rub them through a sieve, and spread them on a toast.
Obs.—You may add, while pounding the anchovies, a little made mustard and curry powder, or a few grains of Cayenne, or a little mace or other spice. It may be made still more savoury, by frying the toast in clarified butter.
Is the above composition spread on a biscuit warmed before the fire in a Dutch oven, with a sufficient quantity of salt and savoury spice, or zest, or curry powder, or cayenne pepper sprinkled over it.
Obs.—This ne plus ultra of high spiced relishes, frequently makes its appearance at the fag end of a tavern dinner, when the votaries of Bacchus are determined to vie with each other in sacrificing to the jolly god, and to celebrate his festive rites, “con furore.”
There have been many contrivances to heat water, &c. immediately, by lamps variously applied: the most expeditious and easy way is, to get a frame made to carry a common tin saucepan over a patent lamp; this will make half a pint of water boil in five minutes, and is a most valuable acquisition to the sick room.
J. MOYES, PRINTER,
Greville Street, Hatton Garden, London.
[Footnote] Good Mock Turtle, (see No. 246, or 246*,)
[The author loses track of his own numbering system; “246*” is simply 247.]
[Footnote] The following observations
[A bottle of 25 or 26 ounces is a fifth (one-fifth gallon, or 128/5 ounces). Ten ounces of alcohol to a twenty-five-ounce bottle is 40% by volume, or 80 proof; two and a half ounces is 10%, or 20 proof.]
three corns of black pepper, and a little salt
text has litte
Beef for ragooing must be without bone
spelling unchanged
[The 2nd edition spells it the same.]
He will spell it this way from here on. The 2nd edition corrects to “Fricassée” with acute accent.
[Footnote] This is, by Dr. Bentley
[Footnote marker ‡ missing or invisible. I changed the next three footnote markers to avoid duplication, as the Receipt is split between two pages.]
Sir Kenelme Digby’s Cookery, London, 1669, page 167
spelling unchanged: error for Kenelm
Here and in the following, note the entire absence of plums. (I prefer not to think that “plumb” refers to the pudding’s leaden weight.)
dip a fine close linen cloth into boiling water, and put it in a hair sieve; flour it a little, and tie it up close; put it into a saucepan containing six quarts of boiling water
[For best results, pour the pudding batter into the cloth before tying it up and setting it to boil.]
skim it well, and remove the fat.
. missing
almost imperceptibly augmenting the alvine exoneration
[Etymologically, “exonerate” means to rid someone of a burden (onus, oneris).]
The original of this text is in the public domain—at least in the U.S.
My notes are copyright, as are all under-the-hood elements.
If in doubt, ask.