Meat to be kept in warm weather should be rubbed over with salad oil, every crevice filled with ginger; meat that is for roasting or frying is much better preserved in this way than with salt; take care that every part of the surface has a coat of oil. Steaks or chops cut off, which always keep badly, should be dipped into warm butter or even dripping, if oil is not handy (the object being to exclude the air), and then hung up till wanted.

Mutton in cold weather should be hung four or five weeks in a place not subject to changes of temperature, and before it is so hung, every crevice filled with ginger and thoroughly dredged with flour, which must be then rubbed in with the hand till the surface is quite dry. This is the English fashion of keeping venison.

It may be useful for those who burn kerosene to know that when their lamps smell, give a bad light, and smoke, it is not necessary to buy new burners. Put the old ones in an old saucepan with water and a tablespoonful of soda, let them boil half an hour, wipe them, and your trouble will be over.

Meat that has become slightly tainted may be quite restored by washing it in water in which is a teaspoonful of borax, cutting away every part in the least discolored.

In summer when meat comes from the butcher's, if it is not going to be used the same day, it should be washed over with vinegar.

Poultry in summer should always have a piece of charcoal tied in a rag placed in the stomach, to be removed before cooking. Pieces of charcoal should also be put in the refrigerator and changed often.

Oyster shells put one at a time in a stove that is "clinkered" will clean the bricks entirely. They should be put in when the fire is burning brightly.

Salt and soapstone powder (to be bought at the druggist's) mend fire brick; use equal quantities, make into a paste with water, and cement the brick; they will be as strong as new ones.

Ink spilled on carpets may be entirely removed by rubbing while wet with blotting paper, using fresh as it soils.



CHAPTER XVI.

ON SOME TABLE PREJUDICES.

MANY people have strong prejudices against certain things which they have never even tasted, or which they do frequently take and like as a part of something else, without knowing it. How common it is to hear and see untraveled people declare that they dislike garlic, and could not touch anything with it in. Yet those very people will take Worcestershire sauce, in which garlic is actually predominant, with everything they eat; and think none but English pickles eatable, which owe much of their excellence to the introduction of a soupcon of garlic. Therefore I beg those who actually only know garlic from hearsay abuse of it, or from its presence on the breath of some inveterate garlic eater, to give it a fair trial when it appears in a recipe. It is just one of those things that require the most delicate handling, for which the French term a "suspicion" is most appreciated; it should only be a suspicion, its presence should never be pronounced. As Blot once begged his readers, "Give garlic a fair trial in a remolade sauce." (Montpellier butter beaten into mayonnaise is a good remolade for cold meat or fish.)

Curry is one of those things against which many are strongly prejudiced, and I am inclined to think it is quite an acquired taste, but a taste which is an enviable one to its possessors; for them there is endless variety in all they eat. The capabilities of curry are very little known in this country, and, as the taste for it is so limited, I will not do more in its defense than indicate a pleasant use to which it may be put, and in which form it would be a welcome condiment to many to whom "a curry," pure and simple, would be obnoxious. I once knew an Anglo-Indian who used curry as most people use cayenne; it was put in a pepper-box, and with it he would at times pepper his fish or kidneys, even his eggs. Used in this way, it imparts a delightful piquancy to food, and is neither hot nor "spicy."

Few people are so prejudiced as the English generally, and the stay-at-home Americans; but the latter are to be taught by travel, the Englishman rarely.

The average Briton leaves his island shores with the conviction that he will get nothing fit to eat till he gets back, and that he will have to be uncommonly careful once across the channel, or he will be having fricasseed frogs palmed on him for chicken. Poor man! in his horror of frogs, he does not know that the Paris restaurateur who should give the costly frog for chicken, would soon end in the bankruptcy court.

"If I could only get a decent dinner, a good roast and plain potato, I would like Paris much better," said an old Englishman to me once in that gay city.

"But surely you can."

"No; I have been to restaurants of every class, and called for beefsteak and roast beef, but have never got the real article, although it's my belief," said he, leaning forward solemnly, "that I have eaten horse three times this week." Of course the Englishman of rank, who has spent half his life on the continent, is not at all the average Englishman.

Americans think the hare and rabbits, of which the English make such good use, very mean food indeed, and if they are unprejudiced enough to try them, from the fact that they are never well cooked, they dislike them, which prejudice the English reciprocate by looking on squirrels as being as little fit for food as a rat. And a familiar instance of prejudice from ignorance carried even to insanity, is that of the Irish in 1848, starving rather than eat the "yaller male," sent them by generous American sympathizers; yet they come here and soon get over that dislike. Not so the French, who look on oatmeal and Indian meal as most unwholesome food. "Ca pese sur l'estomac, ca creuse l'estomac," I heard an old Frenchwoman say, trying to dissuade a mother from giving her children mush.

The moral of all of which is, that for our comfort's sake, and the general good we should avoid unreasonable prejudices against unfamiliar food. We of course have a right to our honest dislikes; but to condemn things because we have heard them despised, is prejudice.



CHAPTER XVII.

A CHAPTER OF ODDS AND ENDS—VALEDICTORY.

I HAVE alluded, in an earlier chapter, to the fact that many inexperienced cooks are afraid of altering recipes; a few words on this subject may not be out of place. As a rule, a recipe should be faithfully followed in all important points; for instance, in making soup you cannot because you are short of the given quantity of meat, put the same amount of water as directed for the full quantity, without damaging your soup; but you may easily reduce water and every other ingredient in the same proportion; and, in mere matters of flavoring, you may vary to suit circumstances. If you are told to use cloves, and have none, a bit of mace may be substituted.

If you read a recipe, and it calls for something you have not, consider whether that something has anything to do with the substance of the dish, or whether it is merely an accessory for which something else can be substituted. For instance, if you are ordered to use cream in a sauce, milk with a larger amount of well-washed butter may take its place; but if you are told to use cream for charlotte russe or trifles, there is no way in which you could make milk serve, since it is not an accessory but the chief part of those dishes. For a cake in which cream is used, butter whipped to a cream may take its place. Wine is usually optional in savory dishes; it gives richness only.

Again, in cakes be very careful the exact proportions of flour, eggs, and milk are observed; of butter you can generally use more or less, having a more or less rich cake in proportion. In any but plain cup cakes (which greatly depend on soda and acid for their lightness) never lessen the allowance of eggs; never add milk if a cake is too stiff (but an extra egg may always be used), unless milk is ordered in the recipe, when more or less may be used as needed. Flavoring may be always varied.

In reducing a recipe always reduce every ingredient, and it can make no difference in the results. Sometimes, in cookery books, you are told to use articles not frequently found in ordinary kitchens; for instance, a larding-needle (although that can be bought for twenty-five cents at any house-furnishing store, and should always be in a kitchen); but, in case you have not one for meat, you may manage by making small cuts and inserting slips of bacon.

Another article that is very useful, but seldom, if ever, to be found in small kitchens, is a salamander; but when you wish to brown the top of a dish, and putting it in the oven would not do, or the oven is not quick enough to serve, an iron shovel, made nearly red, and a few red cinders in it, is a very good salamander. It must be held over the article that requires browning near enough to color it, yet not to burn.

In the recipes I have given nothing is required that cannot be obtained, with more or less ease, in New York. For syrups, fruit juices, etc., apply to your druggist; if he has not them he will tell you where to obtain them. We often make up our minds that because a thing is not commonly used in this country, it is impossible to get it. Really there are very few things not to be got in New York City to the intelligent seeker. You need an article of French or Italian or may be English grocery, that your grocer, a first-class one, perhaps, has not, and you make up your mind you cannot get it. But go into the quarters where French people live, and you can get everything belonging to the French cuisine. So prejudiced are the French in favor of the productions of la belle France, that they do not believe in our parsley or our chives or garlic or shallots; for I know at least one French grocer who imports them for his customers. On being asked why he brought them from France to a country where those very things were plentiful, he answered:

"Oh, French herbs are much finer."

Needless to say tarragon is one of the herbs so imported, and can thus be bought; but, as several New Jersey truck gardeners grow all kinds of French herbs, they can be got in Washington Market, and most druggists keep them dried; but for salads, Montpellier butter, and some other uses, the dried herb would not do, although for flavoring it would serve; but the far better way is to grow them for yourself, as I have done. Any large seedsman will supply you with burnet, tarragon, and borage (very useful for salads, punch, etc.) seeds, and if you live in the country, have an herb bed; if in town, there are few houses where there is not ground enough to serve for the purpose; but even in these few houses one can have a box of earth in the kitchen window, in which your seeds will flourish.

Parsley is a thing in almost daily request in winter, yet it is very expensive to buy it constantly for the sake of using the small spray that often suffices. It is a good plan, therefore, in fall, to get a few roots, plant them in a pot or box, and they will flourish all winter, if kept where they will not freeze, and be ready for garnishing at any minute.

Always, as far as your means allow, have every convenience for cooking. By having utensils proper for every purpose you save a great deal of work and much vexation of spirit. Yet it should be no excuse for bad work that such utensils are not at hand. A willing and intelligent cook will make the best of what she has. Apropos of this very thing Gouffe relates that a friend of his, an "artist" of renown, was sent for to the chateau of a Baron Argenteuil, who had taken a large company with him, unexpectedly crowding the chateau in every part. He was shown into a dark passage in which a plank was suspended from the ceiling, and told this was to be his kitchen. He had to fashion his own utensils, for there was nothing provided, and his pastry he had to bake in a frying-pan—besides building two monumental plats on that board—and prepare a cold entree. But he cheerfully set to work to overcome difficulties, achieved his task, and was rewarded by the plaudits of the diners. Such difficulties as these our servants never have to encounter, and a cheerful endeavor to make the best of everything should be the rule. Yet, let us spare them all the labor we can, or rather make it as easy and pleasant as possible; they will be more proud of their well-furnished kitchen, more cheerful in it, than they will of one where everything for their convenience is grudged, and such pride and cheerfulness will be your gain.

There is always a great deal of talk about servants in America, how bad and inefficient they are, how badly they contrast with those of England. Certainly, they are not so efficient as those of the older country; how could they be? There, girls who are intended for servants have ever held before their eyes what they may or may not do in the future calling, and how it is to be done. But take one of these orderly, efficient girls, put her in an American family as general servant or as cook, where two are kept, washing and ironing to do, and a variety of other work, and see how your English servant would stare at your requirements. She has been accustomed to her own line of work at home; if housemaid, she has been dressed for the day at noon; if cook, she has never done even her own washing.

She may, and will no doubt, fall into the way of the country, after a while, and on account of her early habits of respect, will make a good servant perhaps. But many of them would be quite indignant at being asked to do the average servant's work here. I am speaking now of the trained servants; but, comparing the London "maid-of-all-work" or "slavey" with our own general servants, and considering how much more is expected of the latter, the comparison seems to me vastly in the favor of our own Bridgets. We may rest assured, however smoothly the wheels of household management glide along in wealthy families across the water, people who can only keep one or two have all our troubles with servants and a few added, and their faults are just as general a subject of conversation among ladies.

France (out of Paris, from Parisian servants deliver me!) and Germany seem the favored lands where one servant does the work of three or four. Yet even they, are, they say, degenerating. Let us, then, be contented and make the best of what we have, assured that even Biddy is not so hopeless as she is painted. Kindness (not weakness), firmness, and patience work wonders, even with the roughest Emerald that ever crossed the sea.

I have said somewhere else that you must beware of attempting too much at once; perfect yourself in one thing before you attempt another. Take breaded chops or fried oysters, make opportunities for having them rather often, and do not rest satisfied until you have them as well fried as you have ever seen them anywhere; "practice makes perfect," and you certainly will achieve perfection if you are not discouraged by one failure. But above all things never make experiments for company; let them be made when it really matters little whether you succeed or not, and let your experiments be on a small scale; don't attempt to fry a large dish of oysters or chops until it is a very easy task, or make more than half a pound of puff paste at first; for if you fail with a large task before you, you will be tired and disheartened, hate the sight of what you are doing, and, as a consequence, not be likely to return to it very soon. The same may be said of cooks; some of them are very fond of experiments, which taste I should always encourage; but do not let them jump from one experiment to the other; if they try a dish and fail, they often make up their minds that the fault is not theirs, that it is not worth while to "bother" with it. Here your knowledge will be of service; you will show them that it can be done, how it should be done, and order the dish cook failed in, frequently, giving it sufficient surveillance to prevent your family suffering from her inexperience; for, as a witty Frenchman said of Mme. du Deffaud's cook, "Between her and Brinvilliers there is only the difference of intention."

Few things add more to a man or woman's social reputation than the fact that they keep a good table. It need not be one where

"The strong table groans Beneath the smoking sirloin stretched immense;"

but a table where whatever you do have will be good, be it pork and beans, or salmi; the pork and beans would satisfy a Bostonian, the salmi Grimod de la Reyniere himself. I do not admit with Di Walcott that

"The turnpike road to people's hearts I find Lies through their mouths, or I mistake mankind."

But it is a fact that good living—by this I do not mean extravagant living—presupposes good breeding. Well-bred people sometimes live badly; but ill-bred people seldom or ever live well, in the right sense of the term.

Now, by way of valedictory, let me repeat that I do not think a lady's best or proper place is the kitchen; but it is quite possible to have a perfectly served table, yet spend very little time there. Only that one little hour a day that Talleyrand, the busy man full of intrigue and statecraft, found time to spend with his cook, would insure your table being well served. For, after devoting say a few winter months to perfecting yourself in a few things, you will be able to teach your cook, who is often ambitious to excel if put in the right way. A word here about cooks.

The knowledge that if they fail to do a thing well you will do it yourself, will often put them on their mettle to do their best; while the feeling that you don't know, will make them careless.

Servants have a great deal more amour propre than people imagine; therefore, stimulate it by judicious praise and appreciation; let them think that to send in a dish perfect, is a glory to themselves as well as a pleasure to you. While careful to remark when alone with them upon any fault that results from carelessness, be equally careful to give all the praise you can, and repeat to them complimentary remarks that may have been made on their skill. Servants are usually—such is the weakness of feminine nature, whether in the drawing-room or the kitchen—very sensitive to the praise or blame of the gentlemen of the family. Indulge poor humanity a little when you honestly can.



INDEX

PAGE Almond creams, 93

Altering recipes, 111, 112

Asparagus, to boil, 66

Baba, 86 Small, 87 Syrup for, 87

Batter for frying a la Careme, 59 " " " " Provencale, 60

Beef, B[oe]uf a la jardiniere, 74 " au Gratin, 75 Filet de b[oe]uf Chateaubriand, 49 Fritadella, 81 Little breakfast dish of, 78 Miroton of, 76 Olives of, 79 Pseudo-beefsteak, 75 Ragout of cold, 78 Salmi of cold, 73 Simplest way to warm a joint, 77 To warm over a large piece, 78 Sirloin, to make two dishes, 49

Biscuit glace, a la Charles Dickens, 85 " " " Thackeray, 85

Blanc for white sauce, 31

Boiling, asparagus, 66 Cabbage, 65 Potatoes, 66 Peas, 65 Rules for meat, 65

Bouchees de dames, 88 To ice, 89

Bread, 12 Baking, 14 Cause of failure, 15 " of thick crust, 14 Compressed yeast, 15 Kneading, 14 Oven heating, 14 Remarks, 12 Rules of time for rising, 14 To set sponge, 13

Bread-crumbs for frying, 56

Bread dough, to keep a day or two, 106 " " for pie crust, 97 Soufflee, 20

Brioche, 18 Jockey Club, recipe for, 19 for summer pastry, 19, 20

Broiling, 60 Chickens and birds, 61

Brown flour, 34 Sauce, 71

Butter, maitre d'hotel, 32 Montpellier, 33 Ravigotte, 33

Cabbage, to boil, 65

Cakes, Baba, 86 Bouchees de dames, 83 Savarins, 88

Candies, 92 Chocolate creams, 94 Cream almonds, 93 Cream walnuts, 93 Fondant, 92 Fondant panache, 93 Punch drops, 94 Simple French, 92 Tutti frutti, 92 Vanilla almond cream, 92 Walnut cream, 92

Celeraic, or turnip-rooted celery, 54

Celery seed for soup, 106

Celery cream soup, 68

Chateaubriand, filet de b[oe]uf, 49

Chicken, 48 Broiling, 60 Cold, 49 Pie, 38 Potted, 44 Roasting, 48 Use of the feet, 48

Clinkered fire-bricks, 107

Cold meat salmi, 73 Various ways of warming, 72-81

Coloring for candy and icing, 95

Company to lunch, and nothing in the house, 44

Cromesquis of cold lamb, 75

Crumbs for frying, 56

Cucumber and onion ragout, 102

Curacoa, to make, 89

Curry, 108

Deviled meats, 80

Dishes made without meat, 102

Dripping, to clarify, 59

Feuilletonage, 23

Fire-bricks, to remove clinkers from, 107 To mend, 107

Flavoring, 70

Flounders, to bone, 56 As filet de sole, 56

Forequarter of mutton, 101

Frangipane tartlets, 26

French herbs, 113

Friandises, 84

Fritadella of cold meat, twenty recipes in one, 81

Frying, 55 Batter a la Careme, 59 " " Provencale, 60 Crumbing, 56 Filet de sole, 56 Flounders, 56 Oil for, 58 Oysters, 57 Remarks on, 55 To clarify dripping for, 59 To test the heat of fat for, 57

Galantine, 39

Garlic, 108

Glaze, 30 To glaze ham, tongue, etc., 32

Gouffe's pot-au-feu, 68 Rules for ovens, 27

Gravy, 29-63

Grating nutmegs, 105

Ham, to boil, 65 To glaze, 32 To pot, 43

Hash, 97

Heart, beef, 100 Sheep's, 99

Iced soufflee, 85 A la Byron, 84

Icing, 89

Ink, to remove from carpets, 107

Jellied fish or oysters, 41

Jelly for cold chicken, 47

Jelly from pork, 31

Kerosene lamps, 107

Keeping meat, 106 Poultry, 107 Dough, 106

Kitchen conveniences, 114

Kreuznach horns, 16

Kringles, 17

Lamb, cromesquis of, 75

Lamps, 107

Larding needle, 112

Leg of mutton, 52 A la Soubise, 52 Boiled, 52

Lemons, to keep, 105 Peels, 106

Little dinners, 50

Liver, sheep's, 98

Luncheons, 35

Maitre d'hotel butter, 32

Management in small families, 47

Maraschino, to make, 90

Marrow from soup bone, 98

Mayonnaise, new, 42

Meat, to keep, 106 Salad, 52

Mephistophelian sauce, 81

Miroton of beef, 76

Montpellier butter, 33

Mushroom powder, 29

Mutton broth, 52 Forequarter, 101 Leg, 52

Neck of mutton, 101

Noyeau, 90

Nutmegs, best way to grate, 105

Omelet, new, 45

Onion soup, maigre, 103

Ornamenting meat pies, 37

Ovens, 14 Gouffe's rules for heating, 27

Oysters, to fry, 57 In jelly, 41

Ox cheek, 100

Panache fondant, 93

Parsley seed for soup, 106

Parsley in winter, 113

Paste, puff, 22 To handle, 24

Pastry tablets, 26

Pate a la Careme for frying, 59 " " Provencale, 60

Peas, to boil, 66

Pease soup, maigre, 103

Pie, bread dough for crust, 97 Chicken, to eat cold, 38 Fruit, 24 English raised, 38 To "raise" a, 39 Veal and ham, 38 Windsor, 36

Pork for jelly, 31

Potato salad, 54 Snow, 45 Soup, maigre, 103 To warm over, 46

Pot-au-feu, 68

Pot roasts, 99

Potted meats, 43

Punch drops, 94

Ragout of cold meat, 78 Of cucumber and onion, 102

Ravigotte, 33

Remarks, preliminary, 1-12 On boiling, 65 On bread-making, 12 On frying, 54 On kitchen and servants, 114 On little dinners, 50 On luncheons, 35 On maigre dishes, 104 On management in small families, 47 On sauces and flavoring, 70

Remarks on soups, 67 On table prejudices, 108 On true economy in buying meat, 99 On roasting, 62

Rissolettes, 25

Rolls, 15

Roux, 34

Rusks, 16

Salad, Celeraic, 54 Potato, 54 Cold meat, 52

Salamander, substitute for, 112

Sauces, 70 Flavoring, 70 Brown or espagnole, 71 Mephistophelian, 81 White, 71 Mayonnaise, 42

Savarin (cake), 88

Soufflee bread, 20 Iced, 85 A la Byron, 84

Soup bone, 96

Soup, celery cream, 68 Consomme, 68 Pot-au-feu, 68 Onion, 103 Pease, 103 Potato, 103 To color, 67 To clear stock, 66

Sugar boiling for candy, 91

Tainted meat, to restore, 107

To make strong vegetables milder, 106

Tutti frutti candy, 92

Vanilla almond cream, 92

Veal, 53

Warming over, 72

What to do with scraps, 45

Where to buy articles not in general use, 112

Why meat does not brown in cooking, 62

Windsor pie, 36

THE END