Cassell's Vegetarian Cookery
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The London Vegetarian Society,
THE MEMORIAL HALL, FARRINGDON STREET, E.C.
President—A.F. HILLS, Esq.
Treasurer—ERNEST BELL, Esq., M.A.
THE LONDON VEGETARIAN SOCIETY is established for the purpose of
advocating the total disuse of the flesh of animals (fish, flesh, and
fowl) as food, and promoting instead a more extensive use of fruits,
grains, nuts, and other products of the vegetable kingdom; and also to
disseminate information as to the meaning and principles of
Vegetarianism by lectures, pamphlets, letters to the Press, &c.; and by
these means, and through the example and efforts of its Members, to
extend the adoption of a principle tending essentially to true
civilisation, to universal humaneness, and to the increase of human
Members adopt in its entirety the Vegetarian system of diet. Associates
agree to promote the aims of the Society, but do not pledge themselves
to its practice.
SUBSCRIBERS ARE ENTITLED TO THE FOLLOWING ADVANTAGES:
ONE SHILLING PER ANNUM.—Minimum Subscription.
FIVE SHILLINGS PER ANNUM.—Tickets for Four
Monthly Receptions, Four Debates, and Four Conversaziones at
half-price, and be entitled to receive, free by post, copies of all new
literature published by the Society under 6d.
TEN SHILLINGS PER ANNUM.—Tickets for Four
Monthly Receptions, Four Debates, and Four Conversaziones, and to
receive, free by post, copies of all new literature published by the
Society under 1s.
ONE GUINEA PER ANNUM.—Tickets for Four Monthly
Receptions, Four Debates and Four Conversaziones, and to receive, free
by post, all new literature published by the Society under 2s., and
copies of the Vegetarian, The Hygienic
Review, and the Vegetarian Messenger.
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CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, Ludgate Hill, London.
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CASSELL’S Dictionary of Cookery.
CONTAINING ABOUT 9,000 RECIPES.
“CASSELL’S DICTIONARY OF COOKERY is one of the most thorough and
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would demand pages rather than paragraphs.”—The
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culinary art in all its branches. It is a dictionary which should be in
every household, and studied by every woman who recognises her true
mission in the world.”—Christian World.
“CASSELL’S DICTIONARY OF COOKERY is not only full of solid and
valuable information as to the best method of preparing food in an
endless variety of forms, but it will enable a housekeeper to grasp
principles on which food may be cooked to the greatest perfection. It
supplies the reason why one method is right and another wrong. An
estimate of the cost of each recipe is given, which is valuable
information. The recipes themselves are given in terms intelligible to
the meanest capacity.”—Athenæum.
“CASSELL’S DICTIONARY OF COOKERY contains about 9,000 recipes, and is
preceded by a treatise on the Principles of Culinary Art and Table
Management, which will simply be found invaluable not only by cooks, as
those most interested in such instructions, but by every mistress of a
household, large or small.... The woodcuts dispersed through the pages
not only illustrate some of the various species of fish, game, fruit,
vegetables, and herbs to which the recipes refer, but serve to make the
directions for carving more intelligible, while the coloured plates
represent appetising dishes elaborately garnished, or fruit tastefully
arranged, with several less inviting pictures of ‘bad and good joints
of meat’ contrasted with each other side by
“The best Cookery book extant. We know of no equal, either in the
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of its illustrations.”—York Herald.
“Being complete, it tells us how to dress a table for the smallest
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simplest and cheapest of dishes, and gives their cost. There are more
shilling or sixpenny preparations in this book than those of greater
cost.”—Western Morning News.
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CASSELL’S VEGETARIAN COOKERY.
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CASSELL’S VEGETARIAN COOKERY.
A MANUAL OF CHEAP AND WHOLESOME DIET.
BY A.G. PAYNE, B.A.
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Cassell’s Shilling Cookery.
This new and valuable Work contains 364 pages, crown 8vo, bound in
“This is the largest and most comprehensive work
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“Housekeepers will save many shillings if they
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“CASSELL’S SHILLING COOKERY is certainly the cheapest
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of recipes, the book is serviceably bound, and should prove a
treasure to any young wife.”—Weekly Times and
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, Ludgate Hill, London.
The present work, though written upon strictly vegetarian
principles, is by no means addressed to vegetarians only. On
the contrary, we hope that the following pages of recipes will
be read by that enormous class throughout the country who
during the last few years have been gradually changing their
mode of living by eating far less meat, and taking vegetables
and farinaceous food as a substitute.
Where there are thousands who are vegetarians from
choice, there are tens of thousands who are virtually vegetarians
from necessity. Again, there is another large class
who from time to time adopt a vegetarian course of diet on
the ground of health, and as a means of escaping from the
pains attendant on gout, liver complaint, or dyspepsia.
The class we most wish to reach, however, is that one,
increasing we fear, whose whole life is one continual struggle
not merely to live, but to live decently.
It may seem a strong statement, but we believe it to be a
true one, that only those who have tried a strictly vegetarian
course of diet know what real economy means. Should the
present work be the means of enabling even one family to
become not only better in health but richer in pocket, it will
not have been written in vain.
By Royal Letters Patent in Great Britain and Ireland, 1888 Patented
in the Dominion of Canada, 1889. Patented in France, 1889. N. S.
Wales, 1889. Victoria, 1889. Other Foreign Rights reserved.
CHELSEA TABLE JELLIES,
The Inventor and Patentee, in introducing this high-class article
of food, begs to warn the Public that the great success and
enormous demand the CHELSEA TABLE JELLIES have obtained in Great
Britain has brought many imitators on the Market. A few Stores and
Grocers are offering same to the Public, no doubt for the purpose
of wishing to appear cheaper, or for making extra profit. The
favour for the CHELSEA TABLE JELLY has been obtained solely upon
the merits of the article, and it is held to be the greatest
invention of the kind, bringing within the reach of all classes
this hitherto almost unobtainable luxury. This has been fully
endorsed by the unsolicited testimony of high-class British
The article is put up in cardboard boxes, in quantities to make
1/2-pints, pints, and quarts of jelly, and the following are some
of the flavours: Lemon, Orange, Vanilla, Calves’ Feet,
Noyeau, Raspberry, Punch, and Madeira. It should not be confounded
with the ordinary fruit Jelly, which is a totally different
article, this being a pure Calves’ Feet jelly,
superseding the use of gelatine in packets for jelly
purposes—this latter, as will easily be seen, being now a
thing of the past. On each box is printed a public analyst’s
report, also full directions for use.
The following advantages are claimed over all other Calves Feet
- It is less than one-third of the price of bottled jellies, and
superior in quality.
- It never gets mildewed or corky.
- It never fails to set or jellify.
- Its extreme simpleness of preparation, only requiring to be
melted by the addition of hot water, no flavouring or other matter
- It will keep good for any time until made up, when it will keep
good longer than other jellies.
- The largest quantity can be made in a few minutes.
For persons suffering from dyspepsia or any other ailment, it will also be
found to be a great boon, as it can be cut and eaten in the solidified
state with great satisfaction. On sea voyages and excursions of any kind it
will be found invaluable.
BEWARE OF SPURIOUS IMITATIONS, and ask only for the
WALTER ROBERTSON CHELSEA TABLE JELLY.
Articles of merit are often pirated by unprincipled trader.
To be had of all GROCERS, STORES, and CONFECTIONERS.
CERTIFICATE OF ANALYSIS.
Sample of CHELSEA TABLE JELLY. Received 1888.
I certify that the following are the results of the analysis of the
I have examined a sample of Chelsea Table jelly, and find it to be
a mixture of Calves’ Feet jelly and sugar; it is undoubtedly
nutritious and wholesome.
It is superior to other samples that I have analysed, as it in much
firmer and keeps well.
It is clear and bright, and has evidently been carefully manufactured
from pure materials.
It has a pleasant flavour, and is of excellent quality.
(Signed) R. H. HARLAND, F.I,C., F.C.S.
Laboratory, Plough Court, 37, Lombard Street. Public Analyst.
Copy of Testimonial received August 26th, 1891 (unsolicited).
59, Windsor Road, Southport. August 25th, 1891.
GENTLEMEN,—I may inform you that I have tried other makers of
jellies, but have found none to equal yours in excellence of
quality. I have mentioned this fact frequently to Mr. Seymour Mead
and to my friends. I am also deeply indebted to you from the fact
that a little niece of mine was fed almost exclusively on your
Calves’ Feet Jelly for a period of three months, and who,
when she refused to take other things, always took most willingly
to your jellies.
W, ROBERTSON & Co. M. T. HANSON.
This and others may be inspected at the Works, Chelsea, London.
Inventors and Sole Manufacturers (Wholesale only):
WALTER ROBERTSON & CO., CHELSEA, LONDON, S.W., ENGLAND
Flavouring Essences and Domestic Specialities
FOR PIES, PUDDINGS, SOUPS, GRAVIES, ICES, &c.
Prepared direct from Herbs, Fruits, and Spices, gathered in their
bloom and freshness.
Specially awarded Prize Medals, Great International Exhibition,
London, 1851 and 1862.
(Recommended for all the Recipes in this work.)
“E.F. LANGDALE’S” should always
be insisted upon. They are Purest, Best, and Cheapest.
Strong Essence Vanilla.
Purified Essence Almonds
Fruit Pudding, Blancmange, and Custard Powders
MAKE DELICIOUS PUDDINGS, CUSTARDS, & BLANCMANGE.
In 2d. and 6d. Packets. Sold everywhere.
Prepared Dried English Herbs, &c.
Mixed Sweet Herbs.
Celery Seeds. Celery Salt. Herbaceous Mixture.
E.F. LANGDALE’S REFINED JAMAICA LIME JUICE AND PURE
Distilled Tarragon and Chill Vinegar for Salads and
Sole Agent for
J. Delcroix & Cie. Concentrated Parisian Essence,
FOR BROWNING GRAVIES, &c. (See pages 20, 22.)
Which should always be bought with their Name. As used by all Chefs.
J. DELCROIX & CIE. Pure Green Vegetable Coloured Spinach
Extract. Perfectly Harmless.
J. DELCROIX & CIE. Brilliant Extract Cochineal for Tinting
Ices, Pies, &c.
E. F. LANGDALE’S “Essence
72 & 73, HATTON GARDEN, LONDON, E.C. Estab. 1770.
Pamphlets, Recipes, &c., post free. All the above can be obtained of any leading Grocer.
We will send name of nearest Agent on receipt of post card.
We wish it to be distinctly understood at starting, that the
present work is purely a cookery-book, written on the principles
generally adopted by vegetarians; and as, until quite
recently, there seemed to be in the minds of many some doubt
as to the definition of vegetarianism, we will quote the
following explanation from the head of the report of the
London Vegetarian Society:—“The aims of the London Vegetarian
Society are to advocate the total disuse of the flesh of
animals (fish, flesh, and fowl) as food, and to promote a more
extensive use of pulse, grains, fruits, nuts, and other products
of the vegetable kingdom, thus propagating a principle tending
essentially to true civilisation, to universal humaneness, and to
the increase of happiness generally.”
We have no intention of writing a treatise on vegetarianism,
but we consider a few words of explanation necessary. Years
back many persons were under the impression that by vegetarianism
was meant simply an abstention from flesh-meat,
but that fish was allowed. Such, however, is not the case,
according to the rules of most of the Vegetarian Societies of the
day. On the other hand, strictly speaking, real vegetarians
would not be allowed the use of eggs and milk; but it appears
that many use these, though there are a considerable number of
persons who abstain. There is no doubt that the vegetable
kingdom, without either milk or eggs, contains every requisite
for the support of the human body. In speaking on this
subject, Sir Henry Thompson observes:—“The vegetable
kingdom comprehends the cereals, legumes, roots, starches,
sugar, herbs, and fruits. Persons who style themselves vegetarians
often consume milk, eggs, butter, and lard, which are
choice foods from the animal kingdom. There are other
persons, of course, who are strictly vegetarian eaters, and
such alone have any right to the title of vegetarians.”
In the following pages will be found ample recipes for the
benefit of parties who take either view. In questions of
this kind there will always be found conflicting views. We have
no wish or desire to give opinions, but consider it will be
more advisable, and probably render the book far more useful,
if we confine ourselves as much as possible to facts.
The origin of vegetarianism is as old as the history of the
world itself, and probably from time immemorial there have
been sects which have practised vegetarianism, either as a
religious duty, or under the belief that they would render the
body more capable of performing religious duties. In the
year 1098, or two years prior to the date of Henry I., there
was a strictly vegetarian society formed in connection with
the Christian Church, which lived entirely on herbs and roots,
and the society has lasted to the present day. Again, there
have been many sects who, not so strict, have allowed themselves
the use of fish.
Again, there are those who adopt a vegetarian course of
diet on the ground of health. Many maintain that diseases
like gout and dyspepsia would disappear were vegetarian diet
strictly adhered to. On the other hand, we have physicians
who maintain that the great cause of indigestion is not eating
enough. An American physician, some years ago, alleged he
had discovered the cause, his argument being that the more
work the stomach had to do the stronger it would become,
on the same principle that the arm of a blacksmith is more
powerful in consequence of hard work. Of one thing we are
certain, and that is, there will always be rival physicians and
rival sects; but the present work will simply be a guide to those
who require, from whatever cause, a light form of diet. Perhaps
the greatest benefit vegetarians can do their cause—and
there are many who think very strongly on the subject—is to
endeavour to take a dispassionate view. Rome was not built
in a day; and if we look back at the past history of this
country, during the last half-century, in regard to food,
we shall see that there have been many natural changes
at work. Waves of thought take place backwards and
forwards, but still the tide may flow. Some fifty years ago
there was, undoubtedly, a strong impression (with a large
number of right-minded people) that plenty of meat, beer,
and wine were good for all, even for young children. The
medical profession are very apt to run in flocks, and follow
some well-known leader. At the period to which we refer,
numbers of anxious mothers would have regarded the advice
to bring up their children as vegetarians and teetotallers as
positive cruelty. This old-fashioned idea has passed away.
One great motive for adopting a course of vegetarian diet
is economy; and here we feel that we stand on firm ground,
without danger of offending sincere opinions, which are often
wrongly called prejudices. To a great extent, the majority of
the human race are virtually vegetarians from necessity. Nor
do we find feebleness either of mind or body necessarily
ensues. We believe there are tens of thousands of families
who would give vegetarianism a trial were it not for fear.
Persons are too apt to think that bodily strength depends
upon the nature of the food we eat. In India we have a
feeble race, living chiefly on rice. On the other hand, in
China, for bodily strength, few can compare with the Coolies.
For many years in Scotland the majority lived on oatmeal,
while in Ireland they lived on potatoes. We do not wish
to argue anything from these points, but to bring them
forward for consideration. Probably, strength of body and
mind, as a general rule, depends upon breed, and this argument
tells two ways—it does not follow that vegetarians
will be necessarily strong, and will cease to be cruel; nor
does it follow that those who have been accustomed all
their lives to eat meat will cease to be strong should they
become vegetarians. As we have said, the great motive that
induces many to give vegetarianism a trial is economy; and if
persons would once get rid of the idea that they risk their health
by making a trial, much would be done to advance the cause.
Another great reason for persons hesitating to make a trial
is the revolution it would create in their households. Here
again we are beset by difficulties, and these difficulties can
only disappear gradually, after long years of patience. We
believe the progress towards vegetarianism must of necessity be
a very slow one. No large West End tradesman could possibly
insist upon his whole establishment becoming vegetarians
because he becomes one himself. We believe and hope that
the present work will benefit those who are undergoing a slow
but gradual change in their mode of living. This is easiest in
small households, where no servants are kept at all, where
the mistress is both cook and mother. It is in such households
that the change is possible, and very often most desirable.
In many cases trial will be made gradually. The
great difficulty to contend with is prejudice, or, rather, we may
say, habit. There are many housekeepers who feel that their
bill of fare would instantly become extremely limited were
they to adopt vegetarian ideas. There are few better dinners—especially
for children—than a good basin of soup, with
plenty of bread; yet, as a rule, there are few housekeepers who
would know how to make vegetarian soup at all. In our
present work we have given a list of sixty-four soups. At
any rate, here is no lack of variety, as small housekeepers in
this country are not famed for their knowledge of soup
making, even with gravy-beef at their disposal.
On looking down this list it will be observed that in many cases
cream—or, at any rate, milk—is recommended. We can well
imagine the housekeeper exclaiming, “I don’t call this
economy.” This is one point about which we consider a few words
of explanation necessary. We will suppose a family of eight, who have
been accustomed to live in the ordinary way, are going to have a
vegetarian dinner by way of trial. Some soup has to be made, and one or
two vegetables from the garden or the greengrocer’s, as the case
may be, are going to be cooked on a new method, and the housekeeper is
horrified at the amount of butter she finds recommended for the sauce.
People must, however, bear in mind that changes are gradual, and that
often, at first starting, a degree of richness, or what they would
consider extravagance, is advisable if they wish to reconcile
others to the change. In our dinner for eight we would first ask
them how much meat would they have allowed a head? At the very lowest
computation, it could not have been decently done under a quarter of a
pound each, even if the dish of meat took the economical form of an
Irish stew; and had a joint, such as a leg of mutton, been placed upon
the table, it would probably have been considerably more than double.
Supposing, however, instead of the meat, we have three
vegetables—say haricot beans, potatoes, and a cabbage. With the
assistance of some really good butter
sauce, these vegetables, eaten with bread, make an agreeable meal,
which, especially in hot weather, would probably be a pleasant change.
Supposing, for the sake of argument, you use half a pound of butter in
making the butter sauce. This sounds, to
ordinary cooks, very extravagant, even supposing butter to be only one
shilling per pound. Suppose, however, this half a pound of butter is
used as a means of going without a leg of mutton? That is the chief
point to be borne in mind in a variety of recipes to follow. The cream,
butter, and eggs are often recommended in what will appear as wholesale
quantities, but, as a set-off against this, you have no butcher’s
bill at all. We do not maintain that this apparently unlimited use of
butter, eggs, and occasionally cream, is necessary; but we believe that
there are many families who will be only able to make the change by
substituting “nice” dishes, at any rate at first
starting, to make up for the loss of the meat. It is only by
substituting a pleasant kind of food, that many will be induced even to
attempt to change. Gradually the living will become cheaper and
cheaper; but it is unwise to attempt, in a family, to do too much at
There are many soups we have given in which cream is recommended; for
instance, artichoke soup, bean soup, cauliflower soup, and celery soup.
After partaking of a well-made
basin of one of these soups, followed by one or two vegetables and a
fruit pie or stewed fruit, there are many persons who would voluntarily
remark, “I don’t seem to care for any meat.” On the
other hand, were the vegetables served in the old-fashioned style, but
without any meat, there are many who would feel that they were
undergoing a species of privation, even if they did not say so—we
refer to a dish of plain-boiled potatoes and dry bread, or even the
ordinary cabbage served in the usual way. Supposing, however, a nice
little new cabbage is sent to table, with plenty of really good white sauce or butter sauce, over which has been sprinkled
a little bright green parsley, whilst some crisp fried bread surrounds
the dish—the cabbage is converted into a meal; and if we take
into account the absence of the meat, we still save enormously. The
advice we would give, especially to young housekeepers, is,
“Persuasion is better than force.” If you wish to teach a
child to swim, it is far easier to entice him into shallow water on a
hot summer’s day than to throw him in against his will in winter
Another point which we consider of great importance is
appearances. As far as possible, we should endeavour to make
the dishes look pretty. We are appealing to a very large
class throughout the country who at all cost wish to keep up
appearances. It is an important class, and one on which the
slow but gradual march of civilisation depends. We fear that
any attempt to improve the extreme poor, who live surrounded
by dirt and misery, would be hopeless, unless they still have
some lingering feeling of this self-respect. For the poor
woman who snatches a meal off bread-and-dripping, which
she eats without a table-cloth, and then repairs to the gin-shop
to wash it down, nothing can be done. This class will
gradually die out as civilisation advances. This is seen, even
in the present day, in America.
Fortunately, there is plenty of scope in vegetarian cooking
not merely for refinement, but even elegance. Do not
despise the sprinkle of chopped parsley and red specks of
bread-crumbs coloured with cochineal, so often referred to
throughout the following pages. Remember that the cost of
these little accessories to comfort is virtually nil. We must
remember also that one sense works upon another. We can
please the palate through the eye. There is some undoubted
connection between these senses. If you doubt it, suck a
lemon in front of a German band and watch the result. The
sight of meat causes the saliva to run from the mouths of the
carnivorous animals at the Zoo. This is often noticeable in
the case of a dog watching people eat, and it is an old saying,
“It makes one’s mouth water to look at it.” In the case of
endeavouring to induce a change of living in grown-up persons,
such as husband or children, there is perhaps no method we
can pursue so efficacious as that of making dishes look pretty.
A dish of bright red tomatoes, reposing on the white bosom of a
bed of macaroni, relieved here and there by a few specks of green—what
a difference to a similar dish all mashed up together,
and in which the macaroni showed signs of dirty smears!
We have endeavoured throughout this book to give chiefly directions
about those dishes which will replace meat. For instance, the vast
majority of pies and puddings will remain the same, and need no
detailed treatment here. Butter supplies the place of suet or lard, and
any ordinary, cookery-book will be found sufficient for the purpose;
but it is in dealing with soups, sauces, rice, macaroni, and vegetables, sent to table under
new conditions, that we hope this book will be found most useful.
As a rule, English women cooks, especially when their
title to the name depends upon their being the mistress of
the house, will often find that soups and sauces are a weak
point. Do not despise, in cooking, little things. Those who
really understand such matters will know how vast is the
difference in flavour occasioned by the addition of that pinch of
thyme or teaspoonful of savoury herbs, and yet there are tens
of thousands of houses, where meat is eaten every day, who
never had a bottle of thyme at their disposal in their lives.
As we have said, if we are going to make a great saving on
meat, we can well afford a few trifles, so long as they are
trifles. A sixpenny bottle of thyme will last for months; and
if we give up our gravy beef, or piece of pickled pork, or two-pennyworth
of bones, as the case may be, surely we can afford
a little indulgence of this kind.
A few words on the subject of fritters. When
will English housekeepers grasp the idea of frying? They cannot get
beyond a dab of grease or butter in a frying-pan. The bath of boiling
oil seems to be beyond them, or at any rate a degree of civilisation
that has not yet passed beyond the limit of the fried-fish shop. The
oil will do over and over again, and in the end is undoubtedly cheaper
than the dab of grease or butter thrown away. There are hundreds of men
who, in hot weather, would positively prefer a well-cooked vegetable
fritter to meat, but yet they rarely get it at home. Fruit fritters are
also very economical—orange
fritters, apple fritters, &c.,
because the batter helps to make the dish a meal.
Those who have practised vegetarianism for many years
will probably be of opinion that we have not called sufficient
attention to the subject of fruit and nuts. This is not because
we do not believe in their usefulness, but because we think
that those who are changing their mode of living will be far
better enabled to do so without discomfort by making their
chief alterations in diet in the directions we have pointed out.
There is moreover little or no cookery involved in these articles.
Of the wholesomeness of fresh fruit all are agreed; and as
people become more advanced vegetarians, the desire for fruit and
nuts will follow in due course. In future years, as the demand
increases, the supply will increase; but this is a question of time.
Lookers-on often see more of the game than the players.
It is not because the sudden change might not be beneficial,
but because sudden changes are only likely to be effected in
rare instances, that we have taken the view we have. Prejudice
is strong, and it would be very difficult to persuade
persons, unless they had been gradually brought to the change,
to regard nuts in the light of food. To suggest a meal off
Brazil nuts would to many have a tendency to put vegetarianism
in a ridiculous light, and nothing kills so readily as
In conclusion, it will be observed that from time to time
we have used the expression, “if wine be allowed.” There is
no necessary connection between vegetarianism and teetotalism,
but it would be affectation to deny the fact that they are
generally connected. Of the numerous arguments brought
forward by the advocates of vegetarianism, one is that, in the
opinion of many who speak with authority, a vegetarian diet
is best adapted to those—of whom, unfortunately, there are
many—who, from time to time, have a craving for more stimulant
than is beneficial to their health. Many medical men
are of the opinion that large meat-eaters require alcoholic
stimulant, and that they can give up the latter more easily by
abstaining from the former. This is a question for medical
men to decide, as it does not properly come into the province
of the cook.
We have repeatedly mentioned the addition of wine and
liqueurs; but when these are used for flavouring purposes it is
not to be regarded in the same light as if taken alone. There is
a common sense in these matters which should never be overlooked.
The teetotaler who attended the Lord Mayor’s dinner,
and refused his glass of punch with his turtle-soup, would be
consistent; but to refuse the turtle-soup itself on the ground
that a little wine, probably Madeira, might have been added,
would proclaim him to be a faddist. It is to be regretted that
in the present day so many good causes have been injured by
this ostentation of carrying ideas to an extreme. Practically,
where wine is used in cookery, it is added solely for the
peculiar flavour, and the alcohol itself is evaporated. To be
consistent, the vast majority of teetotal drinks, and possibly
even stewed fruit itself, would have to be refused on the same
ground, viz., an almost infinitely small trace of alcohol. We
think it best to explain the reason we have introduced the
expression, “if wine be allowed.” In each case it is used
for flavouring, and flavouring purposes only. We know
that with some persons a very small amount of stimulant
creates a desire for more, and when this is the case the
small quantity should be avoided; but in the case of the
quantity being so infinitely small that it ceases to have this
effect, even if not boiled away as it really is, no harm can
possibly arise. Where wine is added to soups and sauces and
exposed to heat, this would be the case. On the other hand,
in the case of tipsy-cake, and wine added to compote of fruit,
this would probably not be the case. A great distinction
should be drawn between such cases. It will be found, however,
that in every case we have mentioned the addition is
altogether optional, or a substitute like lemon-juice can be
used in its place.
There are very few persons, unless they have made vegetarian
cookery a study, who are aware what a great variety
of soups can be made without the use of meat or fish. As a
rule, ordinary cookery-books have the one exception of what
is called soup maigre. In England it seems to be the impression
that the goodness of the soup depends upon the
amount of nourishment that can be compressed into a small
space. It is, however, a great mistake to think that because
we take a large amount of nourishment we are necessarily
nourished. There is a limit, though what that limit is no
one can say, beyond which soup becomes absolutely injurious.
A quarter of a pound of Liebig’s Extract of Meat dissolved
in half a pint of water is obviously an over-dose of what is
considered nourishment. In France, as a rule, soup is prepared
on an altogether different idea. It is a light, thin
broth, taken at the commencement of the meal to strengthen
the stomach, in order to render it capable of receiving more
substantial food to follow. Vegetarian soups are, of course,
to be considered from this latter point of view.
We think these few preliminary observations necessary
as we have to overcome a very strong English prejudice,
which is too apt to despise everything of which the remark
can be made—“Ah! but there is very little nourishment
in it.” Vegetarian soups, as a rule, and especially the thin
ones, must be regarded as a light and pleasant flavouring which,
with a small piece of white bread enables the most obstinately
delicate stomach to commence a repast that experience has
found best adapted to its requirements.
The basis of all soup is stock, and in making stock
we, of course, have to depend upon vegetables, fruit, or some kind of
farinaceous food. To a certain extent the water in which any kind of
vegetable has been boiled may be regarded as stock, especially water that
has boiled roots, such as potatoes; or grains, such as rice. It will not,
however, be necessary to enter into any general description as to the best
method of obtaining nutriment in a liquid form from vegetables and grain,
as directions will be given in each recipe, but a few words are necessary
on the general subject of flavouring stock. In making ordinary soup we are
very much dependent for flavour, if the soup be good, on the meat, the
vegetables acting only as accessories. In making stock for vegetarian soups
we are chiefly dependent for flavour on the vegetables themselves, and
consequently great care must be taken that these flavourings are properly
blended. The great difficulty in giving directions in
cookery-books, and in understanding them when given, is the insuperable one
of avoiding vague expressions. For instance, suppose we read, “Take
two onions, one carrot, one turnip, and one head of
celery,”—what does this mean? It will be found practically that
these directions vary considerably according to the neighbourhood or part
of the country in which we live. For instance, so much depends upon where
we take our head of celery from. Suppose we bought our head of celery in
Bond Street or the Central Arcade in Covent Garden Market on the one hand,
or off a barrow in the Mile End Road on the other. Again, onions vary so
much in size that we cannot draw any hard-and-fast line between a little
pickling onion no bigger than a marble and a Spanish onion as big as a
baby’s head. It would be possible to be very precise and say,
“Take so many ounces of celery, or so many pounds of carrot,”
but practically we cannot turn the kitchen into a chemist’s shop.
Cooks, whether told to use celery in heads or ounces, would act on
guess-work just the same. What are absolutely essential are two
things—common sense and experience.
Again, practically, we must avoid giving too many ingredients.
Novices in the art of cooking are, of course, unable to
distinguish between those vegetables that are absolutely
essential and those added to give a slight extra flavour, but
which make very little difference to the soup whether they are
added or not. We are often directed to add a few leaves of
tarragon, or chervil, or a handful of sorrel. Of course, in a
large kitchen, presided over by a Francatelli, these are easily
obtainable; but in ordinary private houses, and in most parts of
the country, they are not only unobtainable but have never
even been heard of at the greengrocer’s shop.
In making soups, as a rule, the four vegetables essential are,
onion, celery, carrot and turnip; and we place them in their
order of merit. In making vegetarian soup it is very important
that we should learn how to blend these without making any
one flavour too predominant. This can only be learnt by experience.
If we have too much onion the soup tastes rank; too
much celery will make it bitter; too much carrot often renders
the soup sweet; and the turnip overpowers every other flavour.
Again, these vegetables vary so much in strength that were
we to peel and weigh them the result would not be uniform, in
addition to the fact that not one cook in a thousand would
take the trouble to do it. Perhaps the most dangerous vegetable
with which we have to deal is turnip. These vary so very
much in strength that sometimes even one slice of turnip will
be found too strong. In flavouring soups with these vegetables,
the first care should be to see that they are thoroughly cleansed.
In using celery, too much of the green part should be avoided
if you wish to make first-rate soup. In using the onions, if
they are old and strong, the core can be removed. In using
carrot, if you are going to have any soup where vegetables will
be cut up and served in the soup, you should always peel off
the outside red part of the carrot and reserve it for this purpose,
and only use the inside or yellow part for flavouring purposes
if is going to be thrown away or to lose its identity by
being rubbed through a wire sieve with other vegetables. With
regard to turnip, we can only add one word of caution—not too
much. We may here mention, before leaving the subject of
ingredients, that leeks and garlic are a substitute for onion,
and can also be used in conjunction with it.
As a rule, in vegetarian cookery clear soups are rare, and,
of course, from an economical point of view, they are not to
be compared with thick soups. Some persons, in making stock,
recommend what is termed bran tea. Half a pint of bran is
boiled in about three pints of water, and a certain amount of
nutriment can be extracted from the bran, which also imparts
For the purpose of colouring clear soups, however, there is
nothing in the world to compare with what French cooks call
caramel. Caramel is really burnt sugar. There is a
considerable art in preparing it, as it is necessary that it should
impart colour, and colour only. When prepared in the rough-and-ready
manner of burning sugar in a spoon, as is too often
practised in English kitchens, this desideratum is never attained,
as you are bound to impart sweetness in addition to a burnt
flavour. The simplest and by far the most economical method
of using caramel is to buy it ready-made. It is sold by
all grocers under the name of Parisian Essence. A small
bottle, costing about eightpence, will last a year, and saves an
infinite loss of time, trouble, and temper.
By far the most economical soups are the thick, where all
the ingredients can be rubbed through a wire sieve. Thick
soups can be divided into two classes—ordinary brown soup,
and white soup. The ordinary brown is the most economical,
as in white soups milk is essential, and if the soup is wished
to be very good it is necessary to add a little cream.
Soups owe their thickness to two processes. We can thicken the soup by
adding flour of various kinds, such as ordinary flour, corn-flour, &c.,
and soup can also be thickened by having some of the ingredients of which
it is composed rubbed through a sieve. This class of soups may be called
Purées. For instance, Palestine soup
is really a purée of Jerusalem artichokes; ordinary pea soup is a purée of split peas.
In making our ordinary vegetarian soups of all kinds, as a rule, all the
ingredients should be rubbed through a sieve. The economy of this is
obvious on the face of it. In the case of thickening soup by means of some
kinds of flour, for richness and flavour there is nothing to equal ordinary
flour that has been cooked. This is what Frenchmen call roux.
As white and brown roux are the very backbone of
vegetarian cookery a few words of explanation may not be out of place. On
referring to the recipe for making white and brown roux, it will be seen
that it is simply flour cooked by means of frying it in butter, In white
roux each grain of flour is cooked till it is done. In brown roux each
grain of flour is cooked till it is done brown. We cannot exaggerate the
importance of getting cooks to see the enormous difference between
thickening soups or gravy with white or brown roux and simply thickening
them with plain butter and flour. The taste of the soup in the two cases is
altogether different. The difference is this. Suppose you have just been
making some pastry—some good, rich, puff paste—you have got two
pies, and, as you probably know, this pastry is simply butter and flour.
Place one pie in the oven and bake it till it is a nice rich brown. Now
taste the pie-crust. It is probably delicious. Now taste the piece of the
pie that has not been baked at all. It is nauseous. The difference
is—one is butter and flour that has been cooked, the other is butter
and flour that has not been cooked.
One word of warning in conclusion. Cooks should always
remember the good old saying—that it is quite possible to have
too much of a good thing. They should be particularly warned
to bear this in mind in adding herbs, such as ordinary mixed
flavouring herbs, or, as they are sometimes called, savoury
herbs, and thyme. This is also very important if wine is
added to soup, though, as a rule, vegetarians rarely use wine
in cooking; but the same principle applies to the substitute for
wine— viz., lemon juice. It is equally important to bear this
in mind in using white and brown roux. If we make the soup
too thick we spoil it, and it is necessary to add water to bring
it to its proper consistency, which, of course, diminishes the
flavour. The proper consistency of any soup thickened with
roux should be that of ordinary cream. Beyond this point the
cooked flour will overpower almost every other flavour, and
the great beauty of vegetarian cookery is its simplicity, it
appeals to a taste that is refined and natural, and not to one
that has been depraved.
Stock.—Strictly speaking, in vegetarian cookery,
stock is the goodness and flavouring that can be extracted from vegetables,
the chief ones being onion, celery, carrot, and turnip. In order to make
stock, take these vegetables, cut them up into small pieces, after having
thoroughly cleansed them, place them in a saucepan with sufficient water to
cover them, and let them boil gently for several hours. The liquor, when
strained off, may be called stock. It can be flavoured with a small
quantity of savoury herbs, pepper, and salt, as well as a little mushroom
ketchup. It can be coloured with a few drops of Parisian essence, or burnt
sugar. Its consistency can be improved by the addition of a small quantity
of corn-flour. Sufficient corn-flour must be added not to make it thick but
like very thin gum. In a broader sense, the water in which rice, lentils,
beans and potatoes have been boiled may be called stock. Again, the water
in which macaroni, vermicelli, sparghetti, and all kinds of Italian paste
has been boiled, may be called stock. The use of liquors of this kind must
be left to the common sense of the cook, as, of course, it would only be
obtainable when these materials are required for use.
Brown and White Thickening, or Roux.—It is of great
importance for vegetarians always to have on hand a fairly
good stock of white and brown roux, as it is a great saving
both of time and money. As roux will keep good for weeks,
and even months, there is no fear of waste in making a
quantity at a time. Take a pound of flour, with a spoonful or
two over; see that it is thoroughly dry, and then sift it. Next
take a pound of butter and squeeze it in a cloth so as as much
as possible to extract all the moisture from it. Next take a
stew-pan—an enamelled one is best—and melt the butter till
it runs to oil. It will now be found that, although the bulk
of the butter looks like oil, a certain amount of froth will rise
to the top. This must be carefully skimmed off. Continue
to expose the butter to a gentle heat till the scum ceases to
rise. Now pour off the oiled butter very gently into a basin till
you come to some dregs. These should be thrown away, or,
at any rate, not used in making the roux. Now mix the
pound of dried and sifted flour with the oiled butter, which is
what the French cooks call clarified butter. Place it back in
the stew-pan, put the stew-pan over a tolerably good fire, but
not too fierce, as there is a danger of its burning. With a
wooden spoon keep stirring this mixture, and keep scraping
the bottom of the stew-pan, first in one place and then in
another, being specially careful of the edges, to prevent its
burning. Gradually the mixture will begin to turn colour. As
soon as this turn of colour is perceptible take out half and put it
in a basin. This is the white roux, viz., flour cooked in butter
but not discoloured beyond a very trifling amount. Keep the
stew-pan on the fire, and go on stirring the remainder, which
will get gradually darker and darker in colour. As soon as
the colour is that of light chocolate remove the stew-pan from
the fire altogether, but still continue scraping and stirring
for a few minutes longer, as the enamel retains the heat to
such an extent that it will sometimes burn after it has been
removed from the fire. It is important not to have the
mixture too dark, and it will be found by experience that it
gets darker after the stew-pan has been removed from the fire.
When we say light chocolate we refer to the colour of a cake
of chocolate that has been broken. The inside is the colour, not
the outside. It is advisable sometimes to have by you ready
a large slice of onion, and if you think it is dark enough you
can throw this in and immediately by this means slacken the
heat. Pour the brown roux into a separate basin, and put
them by for use.
In the houses of most vegetarians more white roux will be
used than brown, consequently more than half should be removed
if this is the case when the roux first commences to
turn colour. When the brown roux gets cold it has all the
appearance of chocolate, and when you use it it is best to
scrape off the quantity you require with a spoon, and not add
it to soups or sauces in one lump.
Almond Soup.—Take half a pound of sweet almonds and
blanch them, i.e., throw them into boiling water till the outside
skin can be rubbed off easily with the finger. Then immediately throw the
white almonds into cold water, otherwise they will quickly lose their white
colour like potatoes that have been peeled. Next, slice up an onion and
half a small head of celery, and let these simmer gently in a quart of
milk. In the meantime pound the almonds with four hard-boiled yolks of egg,
strain off the milk and add the pounded almonds and egg to the milk
gradually, and let it boil over the fire. Add sufficient white roux till the soup becomes of the consistency of
cream. Serve some fried or toasted bread with the soup. It is a great
improvement to add half a pint of cream, but this makes the soup much more
expensive. The soup can be flavoured with a little white pepper.
N.B.—The onion and celery that was strained off can be
used again for flavouring purposes.
Apple Soup.—This is a German recipe. Take half a dozen
good-sized apples, peel them and remove the core, and boil them
in a quart of water with two tablespoonfuls of bread-crumbs;
add the juice of a lemon, and flavour it with rather less than
a quarter of an ounce of powdered cinnamon; sweeten the soup
with lump sugar, previously having rubbed six lumps on the
outside of the lemon.
Artichoke Soup.—Take a dozen large Jerusalem artichokes
about as big as the fist, or more to make up a similar quantity.
Peel them, and, like potatoes, throw them into cold water in
order to prevent them turning colour. Boil them in as little
water as possible, as they contain a good deal of water themselves,
till they are tender and become a pulp, taking care that
they do not burn, and therefore it is best to rub the saucepan
at the bottom with a piece of butter. Now rub them through
a wire sieve and add them to a pint of milk in which a couple
of bay-leaves have been boiled. Add also two lumps of sugar
and a little white pepper and salt. Serve the soup with fried
or toasted bread. This soup can be made much richer by the
addition of either a quarter of a pint of cream or a couple of
yolks of eggs. If yolks of eggs are added, beat up the yolks
separately and add the soup gradually, very hot, but not quite
boiling, otherwise the yolks will curdle.
Asparagus Soup.—Take a good-sized bundle (about
fifty large heads) of asparagus, and after a thorough cleansing throw them
into a saucepan of boiling water that has been salted. When the tops become
tender, drain off the asparagus and throw it into cold water, as by this
means we retain the bright green colour; when cold cut off all the best
part of the green into little pieces, about half an inch long, then put the
remainder of the asparagus—the stalk part—into a saucepan, with
a few green onions and a few sprigs of parsley, with about a quart of stock
or water; add a teaspoonful of pounded sugar and a very little grated
nutmeg. Let this boil till the stalks become quite tender, then rub the
whole through a wire sieve and thicken the soup with a little white roux, and colour it a bright green with some spinach extract. Now add the little pieces
cut up, and let the whole simmer gently, and serve fried or toasted bread
with the soup.
Barley Soup.—Take two tablespoonfuls of pearl barley
and wash it in several waters till the water ceases to be discoloured. Put
this in a saucepan with about two quarts of water, two onions sliced up, a
few potatoes sliced very thin, and about a saltspoonful of thyme. Let the
whole boil gently for four or five hours, till the barley is quite soft and
eatable. Thicken the soup very slightly with a little white roux, season it with pepper and salt. Before
serving the soup, add a tablespoonful of chopped blanched parsley.
N.B.—When chopped parsley is added to any soup or
sauce, such as parsley and butter, it is very important that
the parsley be blanched. To blanch parsley means to throw
it for a few seconds into boiling water. By this means a dull
green becomes a bright green. The best method to blanch
parsley is to place it in a strainer and dip the strainer for a
few seconds in a saucepan of boiling water. By comparing
the colour of the parsley that has been so treated with some
that has not been blanched, cooks will at once see the importance
of the operation so far as appearances are concerned.
Beetroot Soup.—This soup is better adapted to the German
palate than the English, as it contains both vinegar and sugar,
which are very characteristic of German cookery. Take two
large beetroots and two good-sized onions, and after peeling
the beetroots boil them and mince them finely, adding them,
of course, to the water in which they were boiled, or still
better, they can be boiled in some sort of stock. Add a very
small quantity of corn-flour, to give a slight consistency to the
soup, as well as a little pinch of thyme. Next add two tablespoonfuls
of vinegar—more or less according to taste—a
spoonful of brown sugar, and a little pepper and salt.
Bean Soup, or Purée of Red Haricot Beans.—Put a quart
of red haricot beans into soak overnight, and put a little
piece of soda in the water to soften it. The next morning put
the beans on to boil in three quarts of water, with some
carrot, celery and onion, or the beans can be boiled in some
stock made from these vegetables. After the beans are tender,
pound them in a mortar, and then rub the whole through a
wire sieve, after first removing the carrot, celery and onion.
Add a teaspoonful of pounded sugar and about two ounces of
butter. Fried or toasted bread should be served with the
soup. If the soup is liked thin, of course more water can
Bean Soup, or Purée of White Haricot Beans.—Proceed
exactly as in the above recipe, only substituting white haricot
beans for red. It is a great improvement to add a little
boiling cream, but of course this makes the soup much more
expensive. Some cooks add a spoonful of blanched, chopped
parsley to this purée, and Frenchmen generally flavour this
soup with garlic.
Bean Soup, Green.—Boil a quart of ordinary
broad-beans in some stock or water with an onion, carrot and celery. Remove
the skins when the beans are tender and rub the beans through a wire sieve.
Colour the soup with a little spinach extract—(vegetable colouring,
sold in bottles)—add a little piece of butter, a little powdered
sugar, pepper and salt. The amount of stock or water must depend upon
whether it is wished to have the purée thick or thin. Some
purées are made as thick as bread
sauce, while some persons prefer them much thinner. This is purely a
matter of taste.
Bean Soup from French Beans.—This is an admirable
method of using up French beans or scarlet runners when
they get too old to be boiled as a vegetable in the ordinary
way. Take any quantity of French beans and boil them in
some stock or water with an onion, carrot, or celery for about
an hour, taking care, at starting, to throw them into boiling
water in order to preserve their colour. It is also a saving of
trouble to chop the beans slightly at starting, i.e., take a bunch
of beans in the left hand and cut them into pieces, say an
eighth of an inch in thickness. Boil them till they are
tender, and then rub the whole through a wire sieve. Add a
little butter, pepper and salt, and colour the soup with spinach
extract—(vegetable colouring, sold in bottles). Serve toasted
or fried bread with the purée, which should be rather thick.
Cabbage Soup.—Take a white cabbage and slice it up, and
throw it into some stock or water, with some leeks and slices of
turnip. Boil the whole till the vegetables are tender, flavour
with pepper and salt. This is sometimes called Cornish broth,
though in Cornwall a piece of meat or bones are generally
boiled with the vegetables. As no meat, of course, is used, too
much water must not be added, but only sufficient liquor must
be served to make the vegetables thoroughly moist. Perhaps
the consistency can best be described by saying that there
should be equal quantities of vegetables and fluid.
Carrot Soup.—If you wish this soup to be of a good colour,
you must only use the outside, or red part, of the carrot, in
which case a dozen large carrots will be required. If economy
is practised, half this quantity will be sufficient. Take, say,
half a dozen carrots, a small head of celery, and one onion, and
throw them into boiling water for a few minutes in order to
preserve the colour. Then drain them off and place them in a
saucepan, with a couple of ounces of butter to prevent them
sticking and burning, and place the saucepan on a very slack
fire and let them stew so that the steam can escape, but take
care they don’t burn or get brown. Now add a quart or two
quarts of stock or water and boil them till they are tender.
Then rub the whole through a wire sieve, add a little butter,
pounded sugar, pepper, and salt. The amount of liquid added
must entirely depend upon the size of the carrots. It is better
to add too little than too much, but the consistency of the
soup should be like ordinary pea soup; it does not do to have
the soup watery. If only the outside parts of carrots are used,
and this red part is thrown, at starting, into boiling water to
preserve its colour, this soup, when made thick, has a very
bright and handsome appearance, and is suitable for occasions
when a little extra hospitality is exercised. The inside part of
the carrot, if not used for making the soup, need not be wasted,
but can be used for making stock, or served in a dish of mixed
vegetables on some other occasion.
Cauliflower Soup.—Take three or four small cauliflowers,
or two large ones, soak them in salt and water, and boil them
in some water till they are nearly tender. Take them out and
break the cauliflower so that you get two or three dozen little
pieces out of the heart of the cauliflower, somewhat resembling
miniature bouquets. Put the rest of the cauliflower back into
the water in which it was boiled, with the exception of the
green part of the leaves, with an onion and some of the white part
of a head of celery. Let all boil till the water has nearly boiled
away. Now rub all this through a wire sieve, onions, celery, cauliflower,
and all; add to it sufficient boiling milk to make the
whole of the consistency of pea soup. Add a little butter,
pepper, and salt; throw in those little pieces of cauliflower that
had been reserved a minute or two before serving the soup. It
is an improvement to boil two or three bay-leaves with the
milk, and also a very great improvement indeed to add a little
boiling cream. Fried or toasted bread should be served with
Celery Soup.—Take half a dozen heads of celery, or a
smaller quantity if the heads of celery are very large; throw
away all the green part and cut up the celery into small pieces,
with one onion sliced, and place them in a frying-pan, or,
better still, in an enamelled stew-pan, and stew them in a little
butter, taking great care that the celery does not turn colour.
Now add sufficient water or stock, and let it all boil till the
celery becomes quite tender. Let it boil till it becomes a pulp,
and then rub the whole through a wire sieve. Next boil
separately from one to two quarts of milk according to the
quantity of celery pulp, and boil a couple of bay-leaves in the
milk. As soon as the milk boils add it to the celery pulp,
flavour the soup with pepper and salt; serve fried or toasted
bread with the soup. It is needless to say that all these white
soups are greatly improved both in appearance and flavour by
the addition of a little cream.
Cheese Soup.—Light-coloured and dry cheese is
necessary for this somewhat peculiar soup, but the best cheese of all is,
undoubtedly, Gruyère. Grate half a pound of cheese and spread a
layer of this at the bottom of the soup-tureen. Cover this layer of cheese
with some very thin slices of stale crumb of bread. Then put another layer
of cheese and another layer of bread till all the cheese is used up. Next
take about two tablespoonfuls of brown roux, melt
this in a small saucepan, and add two tablespoonfuls of chopped onion. Let
the onion cook in the melted roux over the fire, and then add a quart of
water, and stir it all up till it boils, adding pepper and salt and a few
drops of Parisian essence (burnt sugar) to give it a dark brown colour. Now
pour the boiling soup over the contents of the soup-tureen, and let it
stand a few minutes so that the bread has time to soak, and serve.
Cherry Soup.—Like most soups that are either sweet or
sour, this is a German recipe. Put a piece of butter, the size
of a large egg, into a saucepan. Let it melt, then mix it with
a tablespoonful of flour, and stir smoothly until it is lightly
browned. Add gradually two pints of water, a pound of black
cherries, picked and washed, and a few cloves. Let these boil
until the fruit is quite tender, then press the whole through a
sieve. After straining, add a little port, if wine is allowed—but
the soup will be very nice without this addition—half a teaspoonful
of the kernels, blanched and bruised, a tablespoonful
of sugar, and a few whole cherries. Let the soup boil again
until the cherries are tender, and pour all into a tureen over
toasted sippets, sponge-cakes, or macaroons.
Chestnut Soup, or Purée of Chestnuts.—Take
four dozen chestnuts and peel them. This will be a very long process if we
attempt to take off the skins while they are raw; but in order to save time
and trouble, place the chestnuts in a stew-pan with a couple of ounces of
butter. Place them on a slack fire and occasionally give them a stir. Heat
them gradually till the husks come off without any difficulty. Having
removed all the husks, add sufficient stock or water to the chestnuts, and
let them boil gently till they are tender. Then pound them in a mortar and
rub them through a wire sieve. Add a very little brown
roux, if the soup is to be brown, and a few drops of Parisian essence
(burnt sugar), or a little white roux and a little
cream if the soup is to be white. Add also a little pepper and salt,
sufficient butter to make the purée taste soft, and a little
powdered sugar. Fried and toasted bread should be served with the soup.
Cottage Soup.—Fry two onions, a carrot and a turnip, and
a small head of celery cut up into small pieces, in a frying-pan,
with a little butter, till they are lightly browned. Then put
them in a saucepan, with about two quarts of water and a tablespoonful
of mixed savoury herbs. Let this boil till the vegetables
are quite tender, and then thicken the soup with two
ounces of oatmeal or prepared barley. This must be mixed
with cold water and made quite smooth before it is added to
the soup. Wash a quarter of a pound of rice, and boil this in
the soup, and when the rice is quite tender the soup can be
served. Some persons add a little sugar, and dried powdered
mint can be handed round with the soup, like pea soup.
Clear Soup.—Make a very strong stock by cutting up
onion, celery, carrot, and a little turnip, and boiling them in
some water. They should boil for two or three hours. Add
also a teaspoonful of mixed savoury herbs to every quart, and
colour the stock with a few drops of Parisian essence. Strain
it off, and, if it is not bright, clear it with some white of egg
in the ordinary way. Take only sufficient corn-flour to make
the soup less thin or watery, but do not make it thick. A
tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup can be added to every
Cocoanut Soup.—Break open a good-sized cocoanut and
grate sufficient of the white part till it weighs half a pound.
Boil this in some stock, and after it has boiled for about an hour
strain it off. Only a small quantity of stock must be used,
and the cocoanut should be pressed and squeezed, so as to
extract all the goodness. Add a little pepper and salt, and
about half a grated nutmeg. Next boil separately three pints
of milk, and add this to the strained soup. Thicken the soup
with some ground rice, and serve. Of course, a little cream
would be a great improvement. Serve with toasted or fried
Endive Soup, or Purée.—Take half a dozen endives that
are white in the centre, and wash them very thoroughly in salt
and water, as they are apt to contain insects. Next throw.
them into boiling water, and let them boil for a quarter of an
hour. Then take them out and throw them into cold water.
Next take them out of the cold water and squeeze them in a
cloth so as to extract all the moisture. Then cut off the root
of each endive, chop up all the white leaves, and place them
in a stew-pan with about two ounces of butter. Add half a
grated nutmeg, a brimming teaspoonful of powdered white
sugar, and a little pepper and salt. Stir them over the fire
with a wooden spoon, and take care they don’t burn or turn
colour. Next add sufficient milk to moisten them, and let
them simmer gently till they are tender; then rub the whole
through a wire sieve, add a little piece of butter, and serve
with fried or toasted bread.
Fruit Soup.—Fruit soup can be made from rhubarb, vegetable
marrow, cucumber, gourd, or pumpkin. They may be all
mixed with a little cream, milk, or butter, and form a nice
dish that is both healthful and delicate.
Green Pea Soup.—(See PEA.)
Green Pea Soup, Dried.—(See PEA.)
Hare Soup (Imitation).—Take one large carrot, a
small head of celery, one good-sized onion, and half a small turnip, and
boil these in a quart of water till they are tender. Rub the whole through
a wire sieve, and thicken the soup with some brown
roux till it is as thick as good cream. Next add a brimming
saltspoonful of aromatic flavouring herbs. These herbs are sold in bottles
by all grocers under the name of Herbaceous Mixture. Flavour the soup with
cayenne pepper, a glass of port wine (port wine dregs will do), dissolve in
it a small dessertspoonful of red-currant
jelly, and add the juice of half a lemon.
N.B.—Aromatic flavouring herbs are exceedingly useful in
cooking. It is cheaper to buy them ready made, under the
name of Herbaceous Mixture. They can, however, be made
at home as follows:—Take two ounces of white peppercorns,
two ounces of cloves, one ounce of marjoram, one ounce of
sweet basil and one ounce of lemon-thyme, one ounce of powdered
nutmeg, one ounce of powdered mace, and half an ounce
of dried bay-leaves. The herbs must be wrapped up in paper
(one or two little paper bags, one inside the other, is best), and
dried very slowly in the oven till they are brittle. They must
then be pounded in a mortar, and mixed with the spices, and
the whole sifted through a fine hair-sieve and put by in a
stoppered bottle for use.
Hotch-potch.—Cut up some celery, onion, carrot, turnip,
and leeks into small pieces and fry them for a few minutes in
about two ounces of butter in a frying-pan, very gently, taking
care that they do not in the least degree turn colour. Previous
to this, wash and boil about a quarter of a pound of pearl
barley for four or five hours. When the barley is tender, or
nearly tender, add the contents of the frying-pan. Let it all
boil till the vegetables are tender, and about half an hour
before the soup is sent to table throw in, while the soup is
boiling, half a pint of fresh green peas—those known as
marrowfats are best,—and about five minutes before sending
the soup to table throw in a spoonful (in the proportion of a
dessertspoonful to every quart) of chopped, blanched parsley—i.e.,
parsley that has been thrown into boiling water before it
is chopped. Colour the soup green with a little spinach
extract (vegetable colouring sold in bottles by all grocers).
The thinness of the soup can be removed by the addition
of a small quantity of white roux.
Jardinière Soup.—Cut up into thin strips some
carrot, turnip and celery, add a dozen or more small button onions, similar
to those used for pickling, and also a few hearts of lettuces cut up fine,
as well as a few fresh tarragon leaves cut into strips as thin as small
string. Simmer these gently in some clear soup (see CLEAR SOUP) till tender; add a lump of sugar, and
N.B.—The tarragon should not be thrown in till the last
Julienne Soup.—This soup is exactly similar to the
previous one, the only exception being that all the vegetables are first
stewed very gently, till they are tender, in a little butter. Care should
be taken that the vegetables do not turn colour.
Leek Soup.- -Take half a dozen or more fine large leeks,
and after trimming off the green part, throw them into boiling water for
five minutes, then drain them off and dry them. Cut them into pieces about
half an inch long, and stew them gently in a little butter till they are
tender. Add three pints of milk, and let two bay-leaves boil in the milk,
flavour with pepper and salt, and add a suspicion of grated nutmeg. Thicken
the soup with a little white roux and take the crust
of a French roll. Cut this up into small pieces or rings. The rings can be
made by simply scooping out the crumb, and cutting the roll across. When
the leeks have boiled in the milk till they are quite tender, pour the soup
over the crusts placed at the bottom of the soup-tureen. Some cooks add
blanched parsley. Of course, cream would be a great improvement.
Lentil Soup.—Take a breakfastcupful of green lentils and
put them to soak in cold water overnight. In the morning
throw away any floating on the top. Drain the lentils and
put them in a stew-pan or saucepan with some stock or water,
and add two onions, two carrots, a turnip, a bunch of parsley,
a small teaspoonful of savoury herbs and a small head of celery.
If you have no celery add half a teaspoonful of bruised celery
seed. You can also add a crust of stale bread. Let the whole
boil, and it will be found that occasionally a dark film will
rise to the surface. This must be skimmed off. The soup
must boil for about four hours, or at any rate till the lentils
are thoroughly soft. Then strain the soup through a wire
sieve, and rub the whole of the contents through the wire sieve
with the soup. This requires both time and patience. After
the whole has been rubbed through the sieve the soup must be
boiled up, and if made from green lentils it can be coloured
green with some spinach extract—(vegetable colouring,
sold in bottles). If made from Egyptian (red) lentils, the
soup can be coloured with a few drops of Parisian essence
(burnt sugar). In warming up this soup, after the lentils
have been rubbed through a sieve, it should be borne in
mind that the lentil powder has a tendency to settle, and
consequently the saucepan must be constantly stirred to prevent
it burning. In serving the soup at table, the contents
of the soup-tureen should be stirred with the soup-ladle before
Lentil Purée à la Soubise.—This is
really lentil soup, made as above, rather thick, to which has been added a
purée of onions, made as follows:—Slice up, say four large
onions, and fry them brown in a little butter, then boil them in some of
the broth of the soup till they are tender. Rub them through a wire sieve
and add them to the soup.
Macaroni Soup (clear).—Take some macaroni and break
it up into pieces about two inches long. Boil them till they
are tender in some salted water, drain them off and add them
to some clear soup. (See CLEAR SOUP.)
Macaroni Soup (thick).—Take an onion, carrot, a
small head of celery and a very small quantity of turnip; cut them up and
boil them in a very small quantity of water for about an hour. Then rub the
whole through a wire sieve, add a quart or more of boiling milk, throw in
the macaroni, after breaking it up into pieces two inches long, and let the
macaroni simmer in this till it is perfectly tender. The soup should be
thickened with a very little white roux, a bay-leaf
can be boiled in the soup; a small quantity of cream is a great
improvement. Fried or toasted bread should be served with it.
Milk Soup.—Milk soup, as it is sometimes called in Germany,
very much resembles English custard. It is made by
putting a quart of milk on the fire and thickening it with two
yolks of eggs and a little flour, and sweetening it with sugar.
The soup is flavoured with either vanilla, lemon, laurel leaves,
pounded almonds, cinnamon, chocolate, &c. As a soup, however,
it is not suited to the English palate.
Mock Turtle, Imitation.—Take an onion, carrot, small
head of celery, and some turnip, and boil them till they are tender in some
stock. The water in which some rice has been boiled
is very well suited for the purpose. Add also to every quart a brimming
tablespoonful of mixed savoury herbs. Rub the whole through a wire sieve,
thicken it with brown roux till it is as thick as
cream; add a few drops of Parisian essence—(sold in bottles by all
grocers)—to give it a dark colour. Add a wineglassful of sherry or
Madeira, or, if the use of wine be objected to, the juice of a hard lemon.
Flavour the soup with a little cayenne pepper, and serve some egg forcemeat balls in it, about the size of
Mulligatawny Soup.—Take four large onions, cut them
up and fry them brown, with a little butter, in a frying-pan, with a carrot
cut up into small pieces; add to this a quart of stock or water, and boil till the vegetables and
onions are tender; then rub the whole through a wire sieve and add a
brimming teaspoonful of Captain White’s Curry Paste and a
dessertspoonful of curry powder, previously mixed smooth in a little cold
water; thicken the soup with a little brown roux.
Some persons would consider this soup too hot; if so, less curry powder can
be used or more water added. If you have no curry paste, cut up a sour
apple and add it to the vegetables in the frying-pan. If you have no sour
apples, a few green gooseberries are a very good substitute. Boiled rice should be served on a separate dish
with this soup, and should not be boiled in the soup at starting.
Onion Soup.—Cut up half a dozen onions and throw
them for a few minutes into boiling water. This takes off the rankness.
Drain off the onions, and chop them up and boil them till they are tender
in some milk that has been seasoned with pepper and salt and a pinch of
savoury herbs. Take a small quantity of celery, carrot and turnip, or
carrot and turnip and a little bruised celery seed, and boil till they are
tender in a very little water; rub through a wire sieve, and add the pulp
to the soup. The soup can be thickened with white
roux, ground rice, or one or two eggs beaten up. The soup must be added
to the eggs gradually or they will curdle.
Onion Soup, Brown.—Take an onion, carrot, celery,
and turnip, and let them boil till quite tender in some water or stock. In
the meantime slice up half a dozen large onions and fry them brown in a
little butter, in a frying-pan, taking care that the onions are browned and
not burnt black; add the contents of the frying-pan to the vegetables and
stock, and after it has boiled some time, till the onions are tender, rub
the whole through a wire sieve, thicken with a little brown roux, adding, of course, pepper and salt to
Ox-tail Soup, Imitation.—Slice off the outside red
part of two or three large carrots, and cut them up into small dice not
bigger than a quarter of an inch square. Cut up also into similar size a
young turnip, and the white, hard part of a head of celery. Fry these very
gently in a little butter, taking care that the vegetables do not turn
colour. Make some soup exactly in every respect similar to that described
in Imitation Mock Turtle. Throw in these fried vegetables, and let the soup
simmer gently by the side of the fire, in order for it to throw up its
butter, which should be skimmed off. In flavouring the soup, add only half
the quantity of wine or lemon juice that you would use were you making Mock Turtle.
Palestine Soup.—(See ARTICHOKE SOUP.)
Parsnip Soup.—Prepare half a dozen parsnips, and boil
them with an onion and half a head of celery in some stock till
they are quite tender. Then rub the whole through a wire
sieve, boil it up again, and serve. Sufficient parsnips must be
boiled to make the soup as thick as pea soup, so the quantity of
stock must be regulated accordingly. This soup is generally
rather sweet, owing to the parsnips, and an extra quantity of
salt must be added in consequence, as well as pepper. In
Belgium and Germany this sweetness is corrected by the
addition of vinegar. This, of course, is a matter of taste.
Pear Soup.—Pare, core, and slice six or eight large pears.
Put them into a stew-pan with a penny roll cut into thin slices,
half a dozen cloves, and three pints of water. Let them
simmer until they are quite tender, then pass them through
a coarse sieve, and return the purée to the saucepan, with
two ounces of sugar, the strained juice of a fresh lemon, and
half a tumblerful of light wine. Let the soup boil five or
ten minutes, when it will be ready for serving. Send some
sponge-cake to table with this dish.
Pea Soup, from Split Dried Peas.—Take a pint of split
peas and put them in soak overnight in some cold water, and
throw away those that float, as this shows that there is a hole in
them which would be mildewy. Take two onions, a carrot,
a small head of celery, and boil them with the peas in from
three pints to two quarts of water till they are tender. This
will be from four to five hours. When the peas are old and
stale even longer time should be allowed. Then rub the whole
through a wire sieve, put the soup back into the saucepan, and
stir it while you make it hot or it will burn. In ordinary
cookery, pea soup is invariably made from some kind of greasy
stock, more especially the water in which pickled pork has been
boiled. In the present instance we have no kind of fat to
counteract the natural dryness of the pea-flour. We must
therefore add, before sending to table, two or three ounces
of butter. It will be found best to dissolve the butter in
the saucepan before adding the soup to be warmed up, as it is
then much less likely to stick to the bottom of the saucepan
and burn. Fried or toasted bread should be served with the
soup separately, as well as dried and powdered mint. The
general mistake people make is, they do not have sufficient
Pea Soup, from Dried Green Peas.—Proceed as in the
above recipe in every respect, substituting dried green peas for ordinary
yellow split peas. Colour the soup green by adding a large handful of
spinach before it is rubbed through the wire sieve, or add a small quantity
of spinach extract (vegetable colouring
sold by grocers in bottles); dried mint and fried or toasted bread should
be served with the soup, as with the other.
Pea Soup, Green (Fresh).—Take half a peck of young
peas, shell them, and throw the peas into cold water. Put all the shells
into a quart or more of stock or water. Put in also
a handful of spinach if possible, a few sprigs of parsley, a dozen fresh
mint-leaves and half a dozen small, fresh, green onions. Boil these for an
hour, or rather more, and then rub the whole through a wire sieve. You
cannot rub all the shells through; but you will be able to rub a great part
through, that which is left in the sieve being only strings. Now put on the
soup to boil again, and as soon as it boils throw in the peas; as soon as
these are tender—about twenty minutes—the soup is finished and
can be sent to table. If the soup is thin, a little white rouxcan be added to thicken it; if of a bad
colour, or if you could not get any spinach, add some spinach extract (vegetable colouring, sold by
all grocers), only take care not to add too much, and make the soup look
like green paint.
Potato Soup.—Potato soup is a very good method of
using up the remains of cold boiled potatoes. Slice up a large
onion and fry it, without letting it turn colour, with a little
butter. Add a little water or stock to the frying-pan, and let
the onion boil till it is tender. Boil a quart or more of milk
separately with a couple of bay-leaves; rub the onion with the
cold potatoes through a wire sieve and add it to the milk. You
can moisten the potatoes in the sieve with the milk. When
you have rubbed enough to make the soup thick enough, let it
boil up and add to every quart a saltspoonful of thyme and a
brimming teaspoonful of chopped blanched parsley. This soup
should be rather thicker than most thick soups.
When new potatoes first come into season, and especially
when you have new potatoes from your own garden, it will
often be found that mixed with the ordinary ones there are
many potatoes no bigger than a toy marble, and which are too
small to be boiled and sent to table as an ordinary dish of new
potatoes. Reserve all these little dwarf potatoes, wash them,
and throw them for five or ten minutes into boiling water,
drain them off and throw them into the potato soup whole.
Of course they must boil in the soup till they are tender. A
little cream is a great improvement to the soup, and dried mint
can be served with it, but is not absolutely necessary.
Pumpkin Soup.—Take half or a quarter of a moderate-sized
pumpkin, pare it, remove the seeds, and cut the pumpkin
into thin slices. Put these into a stew-pan, with as much
water or milk as will cover them, and boil gently until they are
reduced to a pulp. Rub this through a fine sieve, mix with it
a little salt, and a piece of butter the size of an egg, and
stir it over the fire until it boils. Thin it with some boiling
milk which has been sweetened and flavoured with lemon-rind,
cinnamon, or orange-flower water. It should be of the consistency
of thick cream. Put toasted bread, cut into the size
of dice, at the bottom of the soup-tureen. Moisten the bread-dice
with a small quantity of the liquor, let them soak a little
while, then pour the rest of the soup over them, and serve
very hot. Or whisk two fresh eggs thoroughly in the tureen,
and pour the soup in over them at the last moment. The
liquor ought to have ceased from boiling for a minute or two
before it is poured over the eggs.
Rhubarb Soup.—This is a sweet soup, and is simply juice
from stewed rhubarb sweetened and flavoured with lemon-peel
and added either to cream or beaten-up yolks of eggs and a
little white wine. It is rarely met with in this country.
Rice Soup.—Take a quarter of a pound of rice, and
wash it in several waters till the water ceases to be discoloured. Take an
onion, the white part of a head of celery, and a turnip, and cut them up
and fry them in a little butter. Add a quart of stock, or water, and boil these vegetables until they
are tender, and then rub them through a wire sieve. Boil the rice in this
soup till it is tender, flavour with pepper and salt, add a little milk
boiled separately, and serve grated Parmesan cheese with the soup.
Rice Soup à la Royale.—Take half a pound of
rice and wash it thoroughly in several waters till the water ceases to be
discoloured. Boil this rice in some stock that has
been strongly flavoured with onion, carrot and celery, and strained off.
When the rice is tender rub it through a wire sieve, then add some boiling
milk, in which two or three bay-leaves have been boiled, and half a pint of
cream, till the soup is a proper consistency. Serve some egg forcemeat balls with the soup.
Sorrel Soup.—Take some sorrel and wash it very thoroughly.
Like spinach, it requires a great deal of cleansing. Drain it
off and place the sorrel in a stew-pan, and keep stirring it with
a wooden spoon. When it has dissolved and boiled for two or
three minutes, let it drain on a sieve till the water has run off.
Next cut up a large onion and fry it in a little butter, but do
not brown the onion. Add a tablespoonful of flour to every
two ounces of butter used, also a teaspoonful of sugar, a little
grated nutmeg, also a little pepper and salt; add the sorrel to
this, with a small quantity of stock or water, then rub the
whole through a wire sieve, and serve. In some parts of the
Continent vinegar is added, but it is not adapted to English
Sago Soup.—Take two ounces of sage, and having washed
it very thoroughly, put it on to boil in a quart of stock strongly
flavoured with onion, celery, and carrot, but which has been
strained off. The sage must boil until it becomes quite transparent
and tender. Flavour the soup with a little pepper and
salt, a quarter of a nutmeg, grated, about half a teaspoonful of
powdered sugar, and a teaspoonful of lemon juice from a hard
Sea-kale Soup.—This makes a very delicious soup, but it is
somewhat rare. Take a bundle of sea-kale, the whiter the
better. Threw it into boiling water, and let it boil for a few
minutes, then take it out and drain it; cut it up into small
pieces and place it in a stew-pan with about two ounces of
butter, add a little pepper and salt and grated nutmeg; stir it
up until the butter is thoroughly melted, but do not let it turn
colour in the slightest degree. Add some milk, and let it
simmer very gently for about half an hour. Rub the whole
through a wire sieve, and add a small quantity of cream. Serve
with toasted or fried bread.
Scotch Broth.—Take two or three ounces of pearl barley,
wash it, and threw it into boiling water, and let it boil for five
or ten minutes. Then drain it off and threw away the water.
This is the only way to get pearl barley perfectly clean. Then
put on the barley in some stock or water, and let it boil for
four hours, till it is tender. Then add to it every kind
of vegetable that is in season, such as onion, celery, carrot,
turnip, peas, French beans, cut up into small pieces, hearts of
lettuces cut up. Flavour with pepper and salt and serve
altogether. If possible add leeks to this soup instead of onion,
and just before serving the soup throw in a brimming dessertspoonful
of chopped blanched parsley to every quart of soup. A
pinch of thyme can also be added.
Spinach Soup.—Wash some young, freshly gathered spinach,
cut it up with a lettuce, and, if possible, a few leaves of
sorrel, and throw them into boiling water. Let them boil
for five minutes, drain them off, and throw them into cold
water in order to keep their colour. Next take them out of
the water and squeeze all the moisture from them; then melt
two ounces of butter in a stew-pan, and add two tablespoonfuls
of flour. When this is thoroughly mixed together, and
begins to frizzle, add the spinach, lettuce, &c., and stir them
round and round in the stew-pan till all is well mixed together.
Then add sufficient water or vegetable stock to moisten the
vegetables (add also a pinch of thyme), and let it boil.
When it has boiled for about twenty minutes add a quart of
milk that has been boiled separately, flavour with pepper and
salt, and serve.
Tapioca Soup.—Clear tapioca soup is made by
thickening some ordinary clear soup (see CLEAR SOUP) with tapioca, allowing about two
ounces of tapioca to every quart. The tapioca should be put into the soup
when it is cold, and it is then far less likely to get lumpy. Tapioca can
also be boiled in a little strongly flavoured stock that has not been
coloured, and then add some boiling milk. Tapioca should be allowed to
simmer for an hour and a half. Of course, a little cream is a great
improvement when the soup is made with milk.
Tomato Soup.—This is a very delicate soup, and the
endeavour should be to try and retain the flavour of the
tomato. Slice up an onion, or better still two shallots, and fry
them in a little butter, to which can be added a broken-up,
dried bay-leaf, a saltspoonful of thyme, and a very small
quantity of grated nutmeg, Fry these in a little batter till the
onion begins to turn colour, and then add a dozen ripe tomatoes
from which the pips have been squeezed. Moisten with
a very little stock or water, and let them stew till they
are tender, then rub the whole through a wire sieve. The consistency
should be that of pea soup. Add a little butter to
soften the soup), and flavour with pepper and salt.
Turnip Soup.—Cut up some young turnips into small
pieces, throw them into boiling water, let them boil for a few
minutes, take them out and strain them, and put them into a
stew-pan with about two ounces of fresh butter; add a little salt
and sugar. Let them stew in the butter (taking great care that
they don’t turn colour) till they become soft, then add sufficient
boiling milk to moisten them, so that when rubbed through a
wire sieve the soup will be of the consistency of pea soup.
Serve fried or toasted bread with the soup.
Vegetable Marrow Soup.—Take a large vegetable marrow,
peel it, cut it open, remove all the pips, and place it in a stew-pan
with about two ounces of fresh butter. Add a brimming
teaspoonful of powdered sugar, a little grated nutmeg, and
pepper and salt. Keep turning the pieces of vegetable marrow
over in the butter, taking care that they do not at all turn
colour. After frying these pieces gently for five or ten minutes,
add some boiling milk, and let the whole simmer gently till it
can be rubbed through a wire sieve. Care must be taken not
to get this soup too thin, as the vegetable marrow itself contains
a large quantity of water. Season with pepper and salt, and
serve fried or toasted bread with the soup.
Vegetable Soup.—(See JARDINIÈRE SOUP.)
Vermicelli Soup.—Take a quarter of a pound of
vermicelli and break it up into small pieces, throw it into boiling water,
and let it boil for five minutes to get rid of the dirt and floury taste,
then throw it immediately into about a quart of clear soup. The vermicelli must be taken from the
boiling water and thrown into the boiling soup at once. If you were to boil
the vermicelli, strain it off, and put it by to add to the soup, you would
find it would stick together in one lump and be spoilt.
Vermicelli Soup, White.—The vermicelli must be thrown
into white soup instead of clear soup. (See WHITE SOUP.)
White Soup.—Just as in ordinary white soup the
secret of success is to have some strongly reduced stock, so in vegetarian
white soup it is essential that we should have a small quantity of liquid
strongly impregnated with the flavour of vegetables. For this purpose,
place an onion, the white part of a head of celery, and a slice of turnip
in a stew-pan with a little butter, and fry them till they are tender
without becoming brown. Now add sufficient water to enable you to boil
them, and let the water boil away till very little is left. Now rub this
through a wire sieve and add it to a quart of milk in which a couple of
bay-leaves have been boiled. Thicken the soup with a little white roux, add a suspicion of nutmeg, and also, if
possible, a little cream. Flavour with pepper and salt. Serve fried or
toasted bread with the soup.
Sauce Allemande.—Take a pint of butter
SAUCE)—and add to it four yolks of eggs. In order to do this
you must beat up the yolks separately in a basin and add the hot butter
sauce gradually, otherwise the yolks of eggs will curdle and the sauce
will be spoilt. In fact, it must be treated exactly like custard, and
in warming up the sauce it is often a good plan, if you have no
bain-marie, to put the sauce in a jug and place the jug in a
saucepan of boiling water. The sauce should be flavoured with a little
essence of mushroom if possible. Essence of mushroom can be made from
the trimmings of mushrooms, but mushroom ketchup must not be used on
account of the colour. Essence of mushroom can be made by placing the
trimmings of mushrooms in a saucepan, stewing them gently, and
extracting the flavour. The large black mushrooms, however, are not
suited. In addition to this essence of mushroom, a little lemon
juice—allowing the juice of half a lemon to every pint, should be
added to the sauce, as well as a slight suspicion of nutmeg, a pint of
sauce requiring about a dozen grates of a nutmeg. A little cream is a
great improvement to this sauce, but is not absolutely necessary. The
sauce should be perfectly smooth. Should it therefore contain any
lumps, which is not unfrequently the case in butter sauce, pass the sauce through a sieve
with a wooden spoon and then put it by in a bain-marie, or
warm it up in a jug as directed.
Almond Sauce.—This is suitable for puddings. The
simplest way of making it is to make, say half a pint of butter
sauce, or, cheaper, thicken half a pint of milk with a little
corn-flour, sweeten it with white sugar, and then add a few
drops of essence of almonds. About a dozen drops will be
sufficient if the essence is strong, but essence of almonds varies
greatly in strength. The sauce can be coloured pink with a
few drops of cochineal.
Almond Sauce (clear).—Thicken half a pint of water with
a little corn-flour, sweeten it with white sugar, add a dozen
drops of essence of almonds and a few drops of cochineal to
colour it pink. The sauce is very suitable to pour over custard
puddings made in a basin or cup and turned out on to a dish.
It is also very cheap.
Apple Sauce.—Peel say a dozen apples; cut them into
quarters; and be very careful in removing all the core, as many
a child is choked through carelessness in this respect. Stew
the apples in a little water till they become a pulp, placing
with them half a dozen cloves and half a dozen strips of the
yellow part only of the outside of the rind of a fresh lemon
of the size and thickness of the thumb-nail; sweeten with
brown sugar, that known as Porto Rico being the most
economical. Add a small piece of butter before serving.
Arrowroot Sauce.—Thicken half a pint of water with
about a dessertspoonful of arrowroot and sweeten it with white
sugar. The sauce can be flavoured by rubbing a few lumps of
sugar on the outside of a lemon, or with a few drops of essence of
vanilla, or with the addition of a little sherry or spirit, the best
spirit being rum. This sauce can, of course, be coloured pink
Artichoke Sauce.—Proceed exactly as if you were
making artichoke soup, only make the
purée thicker by using less liquid. A simple artichoke sauce can be
made by boiling down a few Jerusalem artichokes to a pulp, rubbing them
through a wire sieve, and flavouring with pepper and salt.
Asparagus Sauce.—Boil a bundle of asparagus and rub
all the green, tender part through a wire sieve, till it is a thick
pulp, flavour with a little pepper and salt, add a small piece of
butter, and a little spinach extract (vegetable colouring sold
in bottles) in order to give it a good colour.
Bread Sauce.—Take some dry crumb of bread, and rub
through a wire sieve. The simplest plan is to turn the
wire sieve upside down on a large sheet of paper. The bread
must be stale, and stale pieces can be put by for this purpose.
Next take, say, a pint of milk, and let it boil; then
throw in the bread-crumbs and let them boil in the milk.
This is the secret of good bread sauce. Add a dozen peppercorns,
and place a whole onion in the saucepan containing the
bread and milk, and place the saucepan beside the fire in order
to allow the bread-crumbs to swell. It will be found that
though at starting the bread sauce was quite thin and milky,
yet after a time it becomes thick. Take out the onion, add a
little piece of butter, stir it up, and serve. A little cream is a
great improvement, but is not absolutely necessary. This
sauce, though very simple, requires care: Many persons will
probably recollect having met with bread sauce which in
appearance resembled a poultice too much to be agreeable
either to the palate or the eye.
Butter Sauce.—This is the most important of all the
sauces with which we have to deal. The great mistake made by the vast
majority of women cooks is that they will use milk. They thicken a pint of
milk with a little butter and flour, and then call it melted butter, and,
as a rule, send to table enough for twenty persons when only two or three
are dining. As butter sauce will be served with the majority of vegetables,
we would call the attention of vegetarians to the fact that, as a rule,
ordinary cookery-books take for granted that vegetables will be served with
the meat. When therefore vegetables are served separately, and are intended
to be eaten with bread as a course by themselves, some alteration must be
made in the method of serving them. Again, vegetarians should bear in mind
that, except in cases where poverty necessitates rigid economy, a certain
amount of butter may be considered almost a necessity, should the meal be
wished to be both wholesome and nourishing. Francatelli, who was
chef-de-cuisine to the Earl of Chesterfield, and was also chief
cook to the Queen and chef at the Reform Club, and afterwards
manager of the Freemasons’ Tavern, in writing on this subject
observes:—“Butter sauce, or, as it is more absurdly called,
melted butter, is the foundation of the whole of the following sauces, and
requires very great care in its preparation. Though simple, it is
nevertheless a very useful and agreeable sauce when properly made. So far
from this being usually the case, it is too generally left to assistants to
prepare, as an insignificant matter; the result is therefore seldom
satisfactory. When a large quantity of butter sauce is required, put four
ounces of fresh butter into a middle-sized stew-pan, with some grated
nutmeg and minionette pepper; to these add four ounces of sifted flour,
knead the whole well together, and moisten with a pint of cold spring
water; stir the sauce on the fire till it boils, and after having kept it
gently boiling for twenty minutes (observing that it be not thicker than
the consistency of common white sauce),
proceed to mix in one pound and a half of sweet fresh butter, taking care
to stir the sauce quickly the whole time of the operation. Should it appear
to turn oily, add now and then a spoonful of cold spring water; finish with
the juice of half a lemon, and salt to palate; then pass the sauce through
a tammy into a large bain-marie for use.”
We have quoted the recipe of the late M. Francatelli in
full, as we believe it is necessary to refer to some very great
authority in order to knock out the prejudice from the minds
of many who think that they not only can themselves cook,
but teach others, but who are bound in the chains of prejudice
and tradition which, too often, in the most simple recipes,
lead them to follow in the footsteps of their grandmothers.
Real butter sauce can be made as follows, on a small scale:—Take
a claret-glass of water, and about a small teaspoonful of
flour mixed with rather more than the same quantity of butter,
and mix this in the water over the fire till it is of the consistency
of very thin gruel. If it is thicker than this, add a
little more water. Now take any quantity of butter, and
gradually dissolve as much as you can in this thin gruel,
adding say half an ounce at a time, till the sauce becomes
a rich oily compound. After a time, if you add too much
butter, the sauce will curdle and turn oily, as described by
Of course, in everyday life it is not necessary to have the
butter sauce so rich, still it is simply ridiculous to thicken a
pint of milk, or a pint of water, with a little butter and flour,
and then call it butter sauce or melted butter. Suppose we
have a large white cabbage, like those met with in the West
of England, and we are going to make a meal off it in conjunction
with plenty of bread. Suppose the cabbage is sufficiently
large for six persons, surely half a pound of butter is not an
excessive quantity to use in making butter sauce for the
purpose. Yet prejudice is such that if we use half a pound of
butter for the butter sauce, housekeepers consider it extravagant.
On the other hand, if the butter were placed on the
table, and the six persons helped themselves, and ate bread and
butter with the cabbage and finished the half-pound, it would
not be considered extravagant. Of course, this is simply
A simple way of making melted butter is as follows:—Take half a pint
of cold water, put it in a saucepan, and add sufficient white roux, or butter and flour mixed, till it is of
the consistency of thin gruel. Now gradually dissolve in this, adding a
little piece at a time, as much butter as you can afford; add a suspicion
of nutmeg, a little pepper and salt, and a few drops of lemon-juice from a
fresh lemon, if you have one in use.
Butter, Melted, or Oiled Butter.—Melted butter, properly
speaking, is rarely met with in this country, but is a common
everyday sauce on the Continent. It is simply what it says.
A piece of butter is placed in a little sauce-boat and placed in
the oven till the butter runs to oil, and then sent to table with
all kinds of fish with which in our present work we have
nothing to do; but it is also sent to table with all kinds of
vegetables, such as French artichokes, &c.; sometimes a spoonful
of French capers is added to the oiled butter.
Butter, Black, or Beurre Noir.—Take two ounces of
butter, and dissolve it in a frying-pan, and let it frizzle till
the butter turns a brown colour; then add a tablespoonful
of French vinegar, a teaspoonful of chopped capers, a teaspoonful
of Harvey’s sauce, and a teaspoonful of mushroom
ketchup. Let it remain on the fire till the acidity of the
vinegar is removed by evaporation. This is a very delicious
sauce, and can be served with Jerusalem artichokes boiled
whole, fried eggs, &c.
Caper Sauce.—Make some butter sauce, and to every half-pint of sauce
add a dessertspoonful of chopped French capers. If the sauce is liked
sharp, add some of the vinegar from the bottle of capers.
Carrot Sauce.—Proceed exactly as in carrot soup, using less liquid.
Cauliflower Sauce.—Proceed exactly as in cauliflower soup, using less liquid.
Celery Sauce.—Proceed exactly as in celery soup, only using less liquid. The thicker
this sauce is the better.
Cherry Sauce.—Take a quarter of a pound of dried
cherries, and put them into a small stew-pan, with a dessertspoonful of black currant jelly, a small stick of
cinnamon, with half a dozen cloves, and add rather less than half a pint of
water, and let the whole simmer gently for about ten minutes, when you must
take out the spices and send the rest to table.
N.B.—If wine is not objected to in cooking, it is a very
good plan to add claret instead of water.
Chestnut Sauce.—Proceed as in making chestnut soup, using as little liquid as
possible, so as to make the sauce thick.
Cinnamon Sauce.—The simplest way of making cinnamon
sauce is to sweeten some butter sauce with
some white sugar, and then add a few drops of essence of cinnamon. The
sauce can be coloured pink with a little cochineal. A little wine is an
improvement. The sauce can also be made by breaking up and boiling a stick
of cinnamon in some water, and then using the water to make some butter
Cocoanut Sauce.—Grate the white, part of a cocoanut very
finely, and boil it till tender in a very small quantity of water;
add about an equal quantity of white sugar as there was cocoa-nut;
mix in either the yolk of an egg or a tablespoonful of
cream. A little lemon juice is an improvement.
Cucumber Sauce.—Take two or three small cucumbers,
peel them, slice them, and place them in a dish with a little salt, which
has the effect of extracting the water. Now drain the pieces off and strain
then in a cloth, to extract as much moisture as possible. Put then in a
frying-pan with a little butter; fry them very gently, till they begin to
turn colour, then nib them through a wire sieve; moisten the pulp with a
little butter sauce; add a little pepper,
salt, and grated nutmeg and vinegar to taste.
Currant Sauce (Red).—Put a couple of tablespoonfuls
of red currant jellyinto a small
stew-pan, with half a dozen cloves, a small stick of cinnamon, and the rind
of an orange. Moisten with a little water, or still better, a little
claret, strain it off, and add the juice of the orange.
Currant Sauce (Black).—Proceed exactly as in the above
recipe, substituting black currant jelly for red.
Curry Sauce.—Take six large onions, peel them, cut
them up into small pieces, and fry them in a frying-pan in about two ounces
of butter. As soon as the onions begin to change colour, take a small
carrot and cut it up into little piece; and a sour apple. When the onions,
etc., are fried a nice brown, add about a pint of vegetable stock or water and let the whole simmer till the
vegetables are quite tender, then add a tea-spoonful of Captain
White’s curry paste and a dessertspoonful of curry powder; now rub
the whole through a wire sieve, and take care that all the vegetables go
through. It is rather troublesome, but will repay you, as good curry sauce
cannot be made without. The curry sauce should be sufficiently thick owing
to the vegetables being rubbed through the wire sieve. Should therefore the
onions be small, less water or stock had better be added. Curry sauce could
be thickened with a little brown roux, but it takes
away from the flavour of the curry. A few bay-leaves may be added to the
sauce and served up whole in whatever is curried. For instance, if we have
a dish of curried rice, half a dozen or more
bay-leaves could be added to the sauce and served up with the rice.
There are many varieties of curry. In India fresh mangoes
take the part of our sour apples. Some persons add
grated cocoanut to curry, and it is well worth a trial, although
on the P. and O. boats the Indian curry-cook mixes the curry
fresh every day and uses cocoanut oil for the purpose. In some
parts of India it is customary to serve up whole chillies in the
curry, but this would be better adapted to a stomach suffering
from the effects of brandy-pawnee than to the simple taste of
Dutch Sauce.—This is very similar to Allemande Sauce. Take half a pint of good butter sauce, make it thoroughly hot, add two
yolks of eggs, taking care that they do not curdle, a little pepper and
salt, a suspicion of nutmeg, and about a tablespoonful of tarragon vinegar.
Some persons instead of using tarragon vinegar add a little lemon juice,
say the half of a fresh lemon to this quantity, and half a dozen fresh
tarragon leaves, blanched—that is, dipped for a few seconds in
boiling water—and then chopped very fine. The tarragon vinegar is
much the simplest, as it is very difficult to get fresh tarragon leaves
unless one has a good garden or lives near Covent Garden Market.
Dutch Sauce (Green).—Proceed exactly as above and colour
the sauce a bright green with a little spinach extract (vegetable
colouring, sold in bottles by all grocers).
Egg Sauce.—Take half a dozen eggs, put them in a
saucepan with sufficient cold water to cover them. Put them on the fire and
let them boil for ten minutes after the water boils. Take them out and put
them into cold water and let them stand for ten minutes, when the shells
can be removed; then cut up the six hard-boiled eggs into little pieces, add
sufficient butter sauce to moisten them, make
the whole hot, and serve.
N.B.—Inexperienced cooks often think that hard-boiled eggs
are bad when they are not, owing to their often having a tinge of
green colour round the outside of the yolk and to their emitting
a peculiar smell when the shells are first removed while hot
All eggs contain a small quantity of sulphuretted hydrogen.
Fennel Sauce.—Blanch and chop up sufficient fennel
to colour half a pint of butter sauce a
bright green, add a little pepper, salt, and lemon juice, and serve.
German Sweet Sauce.—Take a quarter of a pound of dried
cherries, a small saltspoonful of powdered cinnamon, and a
few strips of lemon peel, and put them in a small saucepan
with about a quarter of a pint of water, or still better, claret,
if wine is allowed, and let them simmer on the fire gently
for about half an hour; then rub the cherries through a wire
sieve with the liquor—(of course, the lemon peel and cloves
will not rub through)—and add this to a quarter of a pound
of stewed prunes. This is a very popular sauce abroad.
Ginger Sauce.—The simplest way of making ginger
sauce is to sweeten half a pint of butter
sauce and then add a few drops of essence of ginger. A richer ginger
sauce can be made by taking two or three tablespoonfuls of preserved ginger
and two or three tablespoonfuls of the syrup in which they are preserved,
rubbing this through a wire sieve, adding about an equal quantity of butter sauce, making the whole hot in a
Gooseberry Sauce.—Pick and then stew some green gooseberries,
just moistening the stewpan with a little water to
prevent them burning. Rub the whole through a hair sieve
in order to avoid having any pips in the sauce. Sweeten with
a little Demerara sugar, as Porto Rico would be too dark in
colour. Colour the sauce a bright green with a little spinach
N.B.—It is a mistake to add cream to gooseberry sauce,
which is distinct altogether from gooseberry fool. In Germany,
vinegar is added to this sauce and it is served with meat.
Horse-radish Sauce.—Horse-radish sauce is made,
properly speaking, by mixing grated horse-radish with cream, vinegar,
sugar, made mustard, and a little pepper and salt. A very simple method of
making this sauce is to substitute tinned Swiss milk for the cream and
sugar. It is equally nice, more economical, and possesses this great
advantage: a few tins of Swiss milk can always be kept in the store
cupboard, whereas there is considerable difficulty, especially in all large
towns, in obtaining cream without giving twenty-four hours’ notice,
and the result even then is not always satisfactory. Horse-radish sauce is
very delicious, and its thickness should be entirely dependent upon the
amount of grated horse-radish. Sticks of horse-radish vary so very much in
size that we will say, grate sufficient to fill a teacup, throw this into a
sauce tureen, mix a dessertspoonful of Swiss milk with a tablespoonful of
vinegar and about two tablespoonfuls of milk and a teaspoonful of made
mustard, add this to the horse-radish, and, if necessary, sufficient milk
to make the whole of the consistency of bread
sauce. As the sauce is very hot, as a rule it is best not to add any
pepper, which can be easily added afterwards by those who like it.
Indian Pickle Sauce.—Chop up two or three
tablespoonfuls of Indian pickles, place them in a frying-pan with a quarter
of a pint of water, and if the pickles are sour as well as hot, let them
simmer some little time so as to get rid of the vinegar by evaporation.
Then thicken the whole with some brown roux till the
sauce is as thick as pea soup. The
vinegar should be got rid of as much as possible. This is a very appetising
dish with boiled rice and Parmesan cheese.
Italian Sauce.—This is an old-fashioned recipe taken
from a book written in French, and published more than fifty
years ago. Put into a saucepan a little parsley, a shallot, some
mushrooms and truffles, chopped very finely, with a piece of
butter about the size of a walnut. Let all boil gently for half
an hour, add a spoonful of oil, and serve.
Maître d’Hôtel Sauce.—Maître
d’Hôtel sauce is simply a lump of butter mixed with some
chopped parsley, a little pepper and salt, and lemon juice.
Hot sauce is often called Maître d’Hôtel when chopped
blanched parsley and lemon juice is added to a little white
Mango Chutney Sauce.—Take a couple of tablespoonfuls
of Mango Chutney, moisten it with two or three tablespoonfuls of butter sauce, rub the whole through a wire
sieve, and serve either hot or cold. Or the chutney can be simply chopped
up fine and added to the butter sauce without
rubbing through the wire sieve.
Mayonnaise Sauce.—This is the most delicious of all cold
sauces. It is composed entirely of raw yolk of egg and oil,
flavoured with a dash of vinegar. When made properly it
should be of the consistency of butter in summer time. Many
women cooks labour under the delusion that it requires the
addition of cream. Mayonnaise sauce is made as follows:—
Break an egg and separate the yolk from the white, and place
the yolk at the bottom of a large basin. Next take a bottle of
oil, which must be cool but bright; if the oil is cloudy, as it
often is in cold weather, you cannot make the sauce. Nor can
you if the oil has been kept in a warm place. Now proceed to
let the oil drop, drop by drop, on the yolk of egg, and with a
silver fork, or still better, a wooden one, beat the yolk of egg and
oil quickly together. Continue to drop the oil, taking care that
only a few drops drop at a time, especially at starting, and continue
to beat the mixture lightly and quickly. Gradually the
yolk of egg and oil will begin to get thick, first of all like
custard. When this is the case a little more oil may be added
at a time, but never more than a teaspoonful. As more oil is
added, and the beating continues, the sauce gets thicker and
thicker, till it is nearly as thick as butter in summer time.
When it arrives at this stage no more oil should be added. A
little tarragon vinegar may be added at the finish, or a little
lemon juice. This makes the sauce whiter in colour. One yolk
of egg will take a teacupful of oil. It is best to add pepper
and salt when the salad is mixed. Mayonnaise sauce is by far
the best sauce for lettuce salad. It will keep a day, but should
be kept in a cool place, and the basin should be covered over
with a moist cloth.
Mayonnaise Sauce, Green.—Make some mayonnaise sauce
as above, and colour it with some spinach colouring (vegetable
colouring, sold in bottles by all grocers).
Mint Sauce.—Take plenty of fresh mint leaves, as the
secret of good mint sauce is to have plenty of mint. Chop up
sufficient mint to fill a teacup, put this at the bottom of a sauce
tureen, pour sufficient boiling water on the mint to thoroughly
moisten it, and add a tablespoonful of brown sugar, which dissolves
best when the water is hot. Press the mint with a tablespoon
to extract the flavour, let it stand till it is quite cold,
and then add three or four tablespoonfuls of malt vinegar, stir
it up, and the sauce is ready. The quantity of vinegar added
is purely a matter of taste, but a teaspoonful of chopped mint
floating in half a pint of vinegar is no more mint sauce than
dipping a mutton chop in a quart of boiling water would
be soup in ordinary cookery.
Mushroom Sauce, White.—Mushroom sauce can be made
from fresh mushrooms or tinned mushrooms. When made from fresh they must be
small button mushrooms, and not those that are black underneath. They must
be peeled, cut small, and have a little lemon juice squeezed over them to
prevent them turning colour, or they had still better be thrown into lemon
juice and water. They must now be fried in a frying-pan with a small
quantity of butter till they are tender, and then added to a little
thickened milk, or still better, cream. When made from tinned mushrooms,
simply chop up the mushrooms, reserving the liquor, then add a little cream
and thicken with a little white roux. A little
pepper and salt should be added in both cases. Instead of using either milk
or cream, you can use a small quantity of sauce Allemande.
Mushroom Sauce, Brown.—Proceed exactly as above with
regard to the mushrooms, both fresh and tinned, only instead of adding
milk, cream, or Allemande sauce, add a
little stock or water, and then thicken the sauce with a little brown roux.
Mushroom Sauce, Purée.—Mushroom sauce, both white
and brown, is sometimes served as a purée. It is simply
either of the above sauces rubbed through a wire sieve.
Mustard Sauce.—Make, say, half a pint of good butter sauce, add to this a tablespoonful of
French mustard and a tablespoonful of made English mustard. Stir this into
the sauce, make it hot, and serve.
N.B.—French mustard is sold ready-made in jars, and is
flavoured with tarragon, capers, ravigotte, &c.
Onion Sauce.—Take half a dozen large onions, peel
them and boil them in a little salted water till they are tender. Then take
them out and chop them up fine, and put them in a stew-pan with a little
milk. Thicken the sauce with a little butter and flour, or white roux, and season with pepper and salt. A very
nice mild onion sauce is made by using Spanish onions.
Onion Sauce, Brown.—Slice up half a dozen good-sized
onions; put them in a frying-pan and fry them in a little butter till they
begin to get brown, but be careful not to burn them, and should there be a
few black pieces in the frying-pan, remove them; now chop up the onions,
not too finely, and put them in a saucepan with a very little stock or
water, let them simmer till they are tender, and then thicken the sauce
with a little brown roux, and flavour with pepper
Orange Cream Sauce for Puddings.—Take a large ripe
orange and rub a dozen lumps of sugar on the outside of the rind and
dissolve these in a small quantity of butter
sauce, and add the juice of the orange, strained. Now add a little
cream, or half a pint of milk that has been boiled separately, in which
case the sauce will want thickening with a little white
roux. Rubbing the sugar on the outside of the rind of the orange gives
a very strong orange flavour indeed—far more than the juice of almost
any number of oranges would produce, so care must be taken not to overdo
it. This is what French cooks call zest of orange.
Parsley Sauce.—Blanch and chop up sufficient parsley
to make a brimming tablespoonful when chopped. Add this to half a pint of
butter sauce, with a little pepper, salt, and
lemon juice. It is very important to blanch the parsley, i.e., throw it
into a little boiling water before chopping.
Pine-apple Sauce.—Take a pine-apple, peel it, cut it
up into little pieces on a dish, taking care not to lose any of
the juice, place it in a saucepan with a very little water, just
sufficient to cover the pine-apple; let it simmer gently until it
is tender, and then add sufficient white sugar to make the
liquid almost a syrup; a teaspoonful of corn-flour, made
smooth in a little cold water, can be added; but the sauce
should be of the consistency of syrup, and the corn-flour does
away with the difficulty of making it too sickly. The juice of
half a lemon may be added, and is, perhaps, an improvement.
Plum Sauce.—When made from ripe plums, take, say, a
pound, and place them in a stew-pan with a very little water
and a quarter of a pound of sugar. Take out the stones and
crack them. Throw the kernels into boiling water so that you
can rub off the skin, and add them to the sauce after you have
rubbed the stewed plums through a wire sieve.
To make plum sauce from dried French plums proceed exactly as in making
Prune Sauce. (See PRUNE SAUCE.)
Poivrade Sauce.—Take an onion, a very small head of
celery, and a carrot, and cut them into little pieces, and put them into a
frying-pan with a little butter, a saltspoonful of thyme, one or two dried
bay-leaves, and about a quarter of a grated nutmeg and two or three sprigs
of parsley. Fry these till they turn a light-brown colour, then add a
little stock or water, and two tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Let this boil in
the frying-pan for about half an hour, till the liquid is reduced in
quantity. Thicken it with a little brown roux, and
rub it through a wire sieve, make it hot, and serve. If wine is allowed,
the addition of a little sherry is a great improvement to this sauce.
Prune Sauce.—Take a quarter of a pound of prunes, put
them in a stew-pan with just sufficient water to cover them, and
let them stew. Put in one or two strips of lemon-peel to stew with
them, add a teaspoonful of brown sugar, about sufficient
powdered cinnamon to cover a shilling, and the juice of half a
lemon. When the prunes are quite tender take out the strip
of lemon-peel and stones, rub the whole through a wire sieve,
Radish Sauce.—Take a few bunches of radishes and grate
them, and mix this grated radish with a little oil, vinegar,
pepper, and salt. You can colour the sauce red by adding a
little beetroot, and make the sauce hot by adding a little grated
horse- radish. This cold sauce is exceedingly nice with cheese.
These grated radishes are more digestible than radishes served
Raspberry Sauce.—This sauce is simply stewed
raspberries rubbed through a wire sieve and sweetened. Some red-currant
juice should be added to give it a colour. It is very nice made hot and
then added to one or two beaten-up eggs and poured over any plain puddings,
such as boiled rice, &c.
Ratafia Sauce.—Add a few drops of essence of ratafia
to some sweetened arrowroot or to some butter sauce. The sauce can be coloured pink
with a few drops of cochineal.
Ravigotte Sauce.—Put a tablespoonful each of
Harvey’s sauce, tarragon vinegar, and chilli vinegar into a small
saucepan, and let it boil till it is reduced to almost one-half in
quantity, in order to get rid of the acidity. Now add about half a pint of
butter sauce, and throw in a tablespoonful of
chopped blanched parsley.
Robert Sauce.—Take a couple of onions, cut them up
into small pieces, and fry them with about an ounce of butter in a
frying-pan. Drain off the butter and add a couple of tablespoonfuls of
vinegar to the frying-pan, and let it simmer for ten minutes or a quarter
of an hour so as to get rid of the acidity of the vinegar. Now add a very
little stock or water, stir it tip, and thicken the sauce with a little brown roux. Add a dessertspoonful of fresh mustard and
a little pepper and salt.
Soubise Sauce.—Sauce Soubise is simply white onion sauce,
rubbed through a wire sieve, and a little cream added. It is
more delicate than ordinary onion sauce, and is often served in
France with roast pheasant. It owes its name to a famous
Sorrel Sauce.—Put about a quart of fresh green sorrel
leaves (after being thoroughly washed) into an enamelled saucepan,
with a little fresh butter, and let the sorrel stew till it is
tender. Rub this through a wire sieve, add a little powdered
sugar and a little lemon juice; a little cream may be added,
but is not absolutely essential.
Sweet Sauce.—Take half a pint of butter sauce, and
sweeten it with a little sugar. It can be flavoured by rubbing
a little sugar on the outside of a lemon, or with vanilla, essence
of almonds, or any kind of sweet essence. A little wine,
brandy, or, still better, rum, is a great improvement. Some
persons add cream.
Tarragon Sauce.—Blanch a dozen tarragon leaves, chop
them up, and stew them in any kind of stock thickened with
Tartar Sauce.—Take two or three tablespoonfuls of mayonnaise
sauce, and add to this a brimming teaspoonful of chopped
blanched parsley, as well as a piece of onion or shallot about
as big as the top of the thumb down to the first joint, chopped
very fine, and a brimming teaspoonful of French mustard.
Mix the whole well together.
N.B.—A teaspoonful of anchovy sauce would be a great
improvement were anchovy sauce allowed in vegetarian
Tomato Sauce.—The great secret of tomato sauce is to
taste nothing but the tomato. Take a dozen ripe tomatoes,
cut off the stalks, and squeeze out the pips, and put them in a
stew-pan with a little butter, and let them stew till they are
tender, and then rub the whole through a wire sieve. This,
in our opinion, is the best tomato sauce that can be made, the
only seasoning being a little pepper and salt. This wholesome
and delicious sauce can, however, be spoilt in a variety of
ways—by the addition of mace, cloves, shallots, onions, thyme,
&c. It can also be made very unwholesome by the addition of
a quantity of vinegar.
Truffle Sauce.—This sauce is very expensive if made
from whole fresh truffles, but can be made more cheaply if you can obtain
some truffle chips or parings. These must be stewed in a little stock,
thickened with brown roux, and then rubbed through a
wire sieve, a little sherry being a great improvement if wine is allowed.
Vanilla Sauce.—Add some essence of vanilla to some
sweetened butter sauce.
White Sauce.—White sauce is sometimes required for
vegetables and sometimes for puddings. In the former case some
good-flavoured, uncoloured stock must be thickened with white roux, and then have sufficient cream added to it
to make the sauce a pure white.
When white sauce is wanted for puddings, sufficient butter
sauce must be sweetened, and very slightly flavoured with nutmeg
or almond, and then an equal quantity of cream added to
it to make it a pure white. White sauce should not have with
it any strong predominant flavour.
SAVOURY RICE, MACARONI, OATMEAL, &c.
Probably all persons will admit that rice is a too much
neglected form of food in England. When we remember how
small a quantity of rice weekly is found sufficient to keep
alive millions and millions of our fellow-creatures in the East,
it seems to be a matter of regret that rice as an article of food
is not more used by the thousands and thousands of our fellow
creatures in the East—not in the ordinary acceptation of the
term, but East of Temple Bar. Rice is cheap, nourishing,
easily cooked, and equally easily digested, yet that monster,
custom, seems to step in and prevent the bulk of the poor
availing themselves of this light and nourishing food solely for
the reason that, as their grandfathers and grandmothers did
not eat rice before them, they do not see any reason why they
should, like the Irishman who objected to have his feet washed
on the same ground. Of the different kinds of rice Carolina is
the best, the largest, and the most expensive. Patna rice is
almost as good; the grains are long, small, and white, and it
is the best rice for curry. Madras rice is the cheapest.
Rice, pure and simple, is the food most suited for hot climates and
where a natural indolence of disposition results in one’s
day’s work of an ordinary Englishman being divided among twenty
people. As we move towards more temperate zones it will be found the
universal custom to qualify it by mixing it with some other substance;
thus, though rice is largely eaten in Italy, it is almost invariably
used in conjunction with Parmesan cheese. Rice contains no
flesh-forming properties whatever, as it contains no nitrogen; and with
all due respect to vegetarians, it will be found that as we recede from
the Equator and advance towards the Poles our food must of necessity
vary with the latitude, and, whereas we may start on a diet of rice, we
shall be forced, sooner or later, to depend upon a diet of pemmican, or
food of a similar nature.
Rice, to Boil.—The best method of boiling rice
is, at any rate, a much disputed point, if not an open question. There
are as many ways almost of boiling rice as dressing a salad, and each
one thinks his own way the best. We will mention a few of the most
simple, and will illustrate it by boiling a small quantity that can be
contained in a teacup. Of course, boiling rice is very much simplified
if you want some rice-water as well as rice itself. Rice-water contains
a great deal of nourishment, a fact which is well illustrated by the
well-known story of the black troops who served in India under Clive,
who, at the siege of Arcot, told Clive, when they were short of
provisions, that the water in which the rice was boiled would be
sufficient for them, while the more substantial grain could be
preserved for the European troops. Take a teacupful of rice and wash
the rice in several waters till the water ceases to be discoloured. Now
throw the rice into boiling water, say a quart; let the rice boil
gently till it is tender, strain off the rice and reserve the
rice-water for other purposes. The time rice will take to boil treated
this way would be probably about twenty minutes, but this time would
vary slightly with the quality and size of the rice.
Many years ago we watched a black man boiling rice on
board a P. and O. boat (the Mizapore); he proceeded as
follows:—He boiled the rice for about ten minutes, or perhaps
a minute or two longer, strained it off in a sieve, and then
washed the rice with cold water, and then put the rice back
in the stew-pan to once more get hot and swell. Of course,
this rice was being boiled for curry, and certainly the result
was that each grain was beautifully separated from every
other grain. We do not think, however, that this method
of boiling rice is customary on all the boats of the P. and O.
Company. Of course this method of boiling rice was somewhat
By far the most economical method of boiling rice is as
follows; and we would recommend it to all who are in the
habit of practising economy on the grounds of either duty or
necessity. Wash thoroughly, as before, a teacupful of rice and
put it in a small stew-pan or saucepan with two breakfastcupfuls
of water, bring this to a boil and let it boil for ten
minutes, then remove the saucepan to the side of the fire and
let the rice soak and swell for about twenty minutes. After a
little time, you can put a cloth on the top of the saucepan to
absorb the steam, similar to the way you treat potatoes after
having strained off the water.
In boiling rice we must remember that there are two ways
in which rice is served. One is as a meal in itself, the other
as an accompaniment to some other kind of food. It will be
found in Italy and Turkey and in the East generally, where
rice forms, so to speak, the staff of life, that it is not cooked
so soft and tender as it is in England, where it is generally
served with something else. In fact, each grain of rice may be
said to resemble an Irish potato, inasmuch as it has a heart in
it. In Ireland potatoes, as a rule, are not cooked so much
as they are in most parts of England. Probably the reason of
this is, in most cases, that experience has taught people that
there is more stay in rice and potatoes when served in a state
that English people would call “under-done.” There is no
doubt that the waste throughout the length and breadth of this
prosperous land through over-cooking is something appalling.
Another very good method of boiling rice is the American
style. Take a good-sized stew-pan or saucepan that has a tight-fitting
lid. Put a cloth over the saucepan, after first pouring
in, say, a pint of water; push down the cloth, keeping it tight,
so as to make a well, but do not let the cloth reach the water;
wash the rice as before, and put on the lid tight. Of course,
with the cloth the lid will fit very tight indeed. Now put the
saucepan on the fire and make the water boil continuously.
By these means you steam the rice till it is tender and lose
none of the nourishment. We can always learn from America.
Risotto à la Milannaise.—Take a teacupful of
rice, wash it thoroughly and dry it. Chop up a small onion and put it in
the bottom of a small stew-pan and fry the onion to a light-brown colour.
Now add the dry rice, and stir this up with the onion and butter till the
rice also is fried of a nice light-brown colour. Now add two
breakfastcupfuls of stock or water and a pinch of
powdered saffron, about sufficient to cover a threepenny-piece; let the
rice boil for ten or eleven minutes, move the saucepan to the side of the
fire and let it stand for twenty minutes or half an hour till it has
absorbed all the stock or water. Now mix in a couple of tablespoonfuls of
grated Parmesan cheese. Flavour with a little pepper and salt, and serve
the whole very hot.
Rice with Cabbage and Cheese.—Wash some rice and let
it soak in some hot water, with a cabbage sliced up, for about
an hour; then strain it off and put the rice and cabbage in
a stew-pan with some butter, a little pepper and salt, and
about a quarter of a grated nutmeg. Toss these about in
the butter for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour over the
fire, but do not let them turn colour; then add a small
quantity of water or stock, let it stew till it is tender, and
then serve it very hot with some grated cheese sprinkled
over the top.
N.B.—The end of cheese rind can be utilised with this dish.
Rice with Cheese.—Wash some rice and then boil it for
ten or eleven minutes in some milk, and let it stand till it
has soaked up all the milk. The proportion generally is,
as we have said before, a teacupful of rice to two breakfastcupfuls
of milk; but as we shall want the rice rather moist
on the present occasion, we must allow a little more milk.
Now mix in some grated cheese and a little pepper and salt,
place the mixture in a pie-dish, and cover the top with grated
cheese, and place the pie-dish in the oven and bake till the
top is nicely browned, and then serve.
Some cooks add a good spoonful of made mustard to the
mixture. Some persons prefer it and some don’t; it is therefore
best to serve some made mustard with the rice and
cheese at table. Unless the mixture was fairly moist before
it was put into the pie-dish, it would dry up in the oven
and become uneatable.
Rice, Curried.—Boil a teacupful of well-washed rice
in two breakfastcupfuls of water, and let the rice absorb all the water;
put a cloth in the saucepan, and stir up the rice occasionally with a fork
till the grains become dry and separate easily the one from the other. Now
mix it up with some curry sauce, make the
whole hot, and send it to table with a few whole bay-leaves mixed in with
the rice. Only sufficient curry sauce should be added to moisten the
rice—it must not be rice swimming in gravy; or you can make a well in
the middle of the boiled rice and pour the
curry sauce into this.
Rice Borders (Casseroles).—Casseroles, or rice borders,
form a very handsome dish. It consists of a large border
made of rice, the outside of which can be ornamented
and the centre of which can be filled with a macedoine
(i.e., a mixture) of fruit or vegetables. As you are probably
aware, grocers have in their shop-windows small tins with
copper labels, on which the word is printed “Macedoine.”
This tin contains a mixture of cut-up, cooked vegetables.
These are very useful to have in the house, as a nice dish
can be served at a few moments’ notice. Mixed fruits are
also sold in bottles under the name of Macedoine of Fruits.
Of course, both vegetables and fruit can be prepared at home
much cheaper from fresh fruit and vegetables, but this requires
time and forethought. These mixtures are very much
improved in appearance when served in a handsomely made
rice border, and as the border is eaten with the vegetables
and fruit there is no want of economy in the recipe. Suppose
we are going to make a rice border. Take a pound of rice and
wash it carefully if we are going to fill it with fruit we
must boil it in sweetened milk, but if we are going to fill
it with vegetables we must boil it in vegetable stock or
water. Add, as the case may be, sufficient liquid to boil
the rice till it is thoroughly tender and soft. Now place it
in a large bowl, and with a wooden spoon mash it till it
becomes a sort of firm, compact paste; then take it out and
roll it into the shape of a cannon-ball, and having done
this, flatten it till it becomes of the shape of the cheeses one
meets with in Holland—flat top and bottom, with rounded
edges. You can now ornament the outside by making it
resemble a fluted mould of jelly. The best way of doing this
is to cut a carrot in half and scoop out part of the inside
with a cheese-scoop, so that the width of the part where it
is scooped is about the same as the two flat sides. Make
the outside of the rice perfectly smooth with the back
of a wooden spoon. Butter the carrot mould to prevent it
sticking, and press this gently on the outside of the shape
of rice till it resembles the outside of a column in Gothic
architecture, then place it in the oven and let it bake till
it is firm and dry. Then scoop out the centre and put it
back for a short time. If the border is going to be used for a
macedoine of vegetables, beat up a yolk of egg and paint the
outside of the casserole with this, and then it will bake a nice
golden-brown colour. Now take it out of the oven and fill it
accordingly. It can be served hot or cold, or it can be filled
with a German salad. (See MACEDOINE OF FRUIT; MACEDOINE
OF VEGETABLES; SALAD, GERMAN.)
Rice Croquettes, Savoury.—Boil a teacupful of rice
in some stock or water (about two
breakfastcupfuls), till it is tender, and until the rice has absorbed all
the water or stock. Chop up a small onion very fine, fry it till tender in
a very little butter, but do not let it brown; add a small teaspoonful of
mixed savoury herbs, a brimming teaspoonful of chopped parsley, to the
contents of the frying-pan for two or three minutes, and then add them to
the rice. Mix it well together, and let the rice dry in the oven till the
mixture is capable of being rolled into balls. Now take two eggs, separate
the yolk from the white of one, beat up the whole egg and one white
thoroughly in a basin, but do no beat it to a froth; add the rice mixture
to this, mix it again very thoroughly, and then roll it into balls about
the size of a small walnut, seasoning the mixture with sufficient pepper
and salt. Roll these balls in flour, in order to insure the outside being
dry, and roll them backwards and forwards on the sieve in order to get rid
of the superfluous flour. Make some very fine bread-crumbs from some stale
bread; next beat up the yolk of egg with about a dessertspoonful of warm
water. Dip the rice-balls into this, and then cover them with the
bread-crumbs. Let them stand for an hour or two for the bread-crumbs to get
dry, and then fry them a light golden-brown colour in a little oil. Fried
parsley can be served with them.
Instead of bread-crumbs you can use up broken vermicelli—the
bottom of a jar of vermicelli can sometimes be utilised
this way. This has a very pretty appearance. The vermicelli
browns quickly, and the croquettes have the appearance of little
balls covered in brown network.
Rice, Savoury.—There are several ways of serving
savoury rice. The rice can be boiled in some stock,
strongly flavoured with onion and celery, and when cooked sufficiently
tender one or two eggs can be beaten up with it, pepper and salt added, and
the mixture served with grated cheese.
Rice can also be rendered savoury by the addition of chopped mushrooms,
pepper and salt, and a little butter, and if a tin of mushrooms is used,
the liquor in the tin should be added to the boiled rice, but in every case the rice should be
made to absorb the liquor in which it is boiled. Eggs can again be added,
as well as grated Parmesan cheese.
A cheap and quick way of making rice savoury is to mix it
with a large tablespoonful of chutney; make it hot with a
little butter, and add pepper—cayenne if preferred—and a
Rice can also be served as savoury by boiling it in any of the sauces that
may be termed savoury in distinction to those that are sweet, given in the
chapter entitled “Sauces.”
Rice and Eggs.—Boil, say half a pound of rice, and
let it absorb the water in which it is boiled. Take four hard-boiled eggs,
separate the yolks from the whites, chop the whites very fine, and add them
to the rice with about a brimming teaspoonful of chopped blanched parsley
and sufficient savoury herbs to cover a sixpence. Put this in the saucepan
and make it hot, with a little butter, and flavour with plenty of pepper
and salt. In the meantime beat the yellow hard-boiled yolks to a yellow
powder, turn out the rice mixture, when thoroughly hot, into a vegetable
dish, and put the yellow powder either in the centre or make a ring of the
yellow powder round the edge of the rice, and serve a little pile of fried
parsley in the middle.
Rice and Tomato.—Take half-a-dozen ripe tomatoes,
squeeze out the pips, and put them in a tin in the oven with a little
butter to bake; baste them occasionally with a little butter. In the
meantime boil half a pound of rice in a little stock or water, only adding sufficient so that the
rice can absorb the liquid. When this is done (and this will take about the
same time as the tomatoes take to bake), pour all the liquid and butter in
the tin on to the rice and stir it well up with some pepper and salt. Put
this on a dish, and serve the tomatoes on the rice with the red, unbroken
Macaroni.—Macaroni is a preparation of pure wheaten
flour. It is chiefly made in Italy, though a good deal is made in Geneva
and Switzerland. The best macaroni is made in the neighbourhood of Naples.
The wheat that grows there ripens quickly under the pure blue sky and hot
sun, and consequently the outside of the wheat is browner while the inside
of the wheat is whiter than that grown in England. The wheat is ground and
sifted repeatedly. It is generally sifted about five times, and the pure
snow-white flour that falls from the last sifting is made into macaroni. It
is first mixed with water and made into a sort of dough, the dough being
kneaded in the truly orthodox Eastern style by being trodden out with the
feet. It is then forced by a sort of rough machinery through holes,
partially baked during the process, and then hung up to dry. Macaroni
contains a great amount of nourishment, and it is only made from the purest
and finest flour. It is the staple dish throughout Italy, and in whatever
form or way it is cooked, except as a sweet, tomatoes and grated Parmesan
cheese seem bound to accompany it.
Sparghetti.—Sparghetti is a peculiar form of macaroni.
Ordinary macaroni is made in the form of long tubes, and
when macaroni pudding is served in schools, it is often
irreverently nicknamed by the boys gas-pipes. Sparghetti
is not a tube, but simply macaroni made in the shape of
ordinary wax-tapers, which it resembles very much in appearance.
In Italy it is often customary to commence
dinner with a dish of sparghetti, and should the dinner
consist as well of soup, fish, entrée, salad, and sweet, the
sparghetti would be served before the soup. Take, say, half a
pound of sparghetti, wash it in cold water, and throw it
instantly into boiling salted water; boil it till it is tender,
about twenty minutes, drain it, put it into a hot vegetable-dish,
and mix in two or three tablespoonfuls of grated
Parmesan cheese; toss it about lightly with a couple of forks,
till the cheese melts and forms what may be called cobwebs
on tossing it about. Add also two tablespoonfuls of tomato
conserve (sold by all grocers, in bottles), and serve immediately.
This is very cheap, very satisfying, and very nourishing; and it
is to be regretted that this popular dish is not more often used
by those who are not vegetarians, who would benefit both in
pocket and in health were they to lessen their butcher’s bill by
at any rate commencing dinner, like the Italians, with a dish
Macaroni—Italian Fashion.—This is very similar to
sparghetti, only ordinary pipe macaroni is used. Take, say, a
teacupful of macaroni, wash it, break it up into two-inch
pieces, and throw it into boiling water that has been salted.
Strain it of off, put it in the stew-pan for a few minutes, with
a little piece of butter and some pepper and salt. Add a tablespoonful
of tomato conserve, and serve it with some grated
Parmesan cheese, served separate in a dish.
Some rub the stew-pan with a head of garlic. This gives it
what may be called a more foreign flavour, but this should not
be done unless you know your guests like garlic. Unfortunately,
the proper use of garlic is very little understood in this
Macaroni Cheese.—Some years back this was almost the only
form in which macaroni was served in this country. Macaroni
cheese used to be served at the finish of dinner in a dried-up
state, and was perhaps one of the most indigestible dishes
which the skill, or want of skill, of our English cooks was
able to produce. Wash and then boil a quarter of a pound
of macaroni in a little milk till it is quite tender, then
put into a well-buttered oval tin a layer of macaroni, and cover
this with a layer of bread-crumbs, mixed with grated cheese,
and add a few little lumps of butter; then put another layer of
macaroni and another layer of bread-crumbs and cheese.
Continue alternate layers till you pile up the dish, taking care
to have a layer of dried bread-crumbs at the top. Warm some
butter, but do not oil it, and pour some of this warm butter
over the top of the dish to moisten them; put the dish in the
oven till it is hot through, then take it out and brown the top
quickly with a red-hot salamander. If you leave the macaroni
cheese in the oven too long the dish will taste oily and the
cheese get so hard as to become absolutely indigestible. Any
kind of grated cheese will do for this dish, but to the English
palate it is best when made from a moist cheese similar to that
which would be used in making Welsh rabbit.
Macaroni and Eggs.—Take half a pound of macaroni and
throw it into boiling water that has been salted. In the meantime have
ready four hard-boiled eggs. When the macaroni is nearly tender throw the
hard-boiled eggs into cold water for a minute, in order to enable you to
take off the shells without burning your fingers. Cut the eggs in half,
take out the half yellow yolk without breaking it; cut the whites of the
eggs into rings and mix these rings with the macaroni on the dish. The
macaroni and eggs must be flavoured with pepper and salt, and if possible
pour a little white sauce over the whole. If
you have no white sauce add a little cream or a little thickened milk with
a little butter dissolved in it; now sprinkle a little chopped blanched
parsley over the whole and ornament the dish with the eight half-yolks.
Macaroni à la Reine.—Boil half a pound of pipe
macaroni. Meanwhile warm slowly in a saucepan three-quarters
of a pint of cream, and slice into it half a pound of
Stilton or other white cheese, add two ounces of good fresh
butter, two blades of mace, pounded, a good pinch of cayenne
and a little salt. Stir until the cheese is melted and the whole
is free from lumps, when put in the macaroni and move it
gently round the pan until mixed and hot, or put the macaroni
on a hot dish and pour the sauce over. It may be covered
with fried bread-crumbs of a pale colour and browned in a Dutch
Macaroni au Gratin.—Break up a pound of macaroni in
three-inch lengths, boil as usual and drain. Put into a stew-pan a quarter
of a pound of fresh butter, the macaroni, twelve ounces of Parmesan and
Gruyère cheese mixed, and about a quarter of a pint of some good
sauce, white sauce. Move the stew-pan and its
contents over the fire until the macaroni has absorbed the butter, etc.,
then turn it out on a dish, which should be garnished with croutons of
fried bread. Pile it in the shape of a dome, cover with bread-raspings, a
little clarified butter run through a colander, and brown very lightly with
N.B.—The above two recipes are taken from “Cassell’s
Dictionary of Cookery.”
Macaroni as an Ornament.—Macaroni is sometimes used
to ornament the outside of puddings, either savoury or sweet.
Suppose the pudding has to be made in a small round mould
or basin. Some pipe macaroni is boiled in water till it is
tender, and then cut up into little pieces a quarter of an inch in
length. The inside of the mould is first thickly buttered, and
then these little quarter-inch tubes are stuck in the butter close
together; the pudding, for instance a custard pudding, is then
poured into the mould and the mould steamed. When the
pudding is turned out the outside of the pudding has the
appearance of a honey-comb, and looks extremely pretty. The
process is not difficult, but rather troublesome, as it requires
time and patience.
Macaroni, Timbale of.—This is a somewhat expensive
dish. You have first to decorate a plain mould with what is
called nouilles paste, which is made by mixing half a pound
of flour with five yolks of eggs. The mould is then lined with
ordinary short paste, made with half a pound of flour, a quarter
of a pound of butter, and one yolk of egg, mixed in the
ordinary way. When the mould is lined, you have to fill it
up with flour, and bake it in a moderate oven for about an
hour. You then take it out, empty out the flour and brush it
well out with an ordinary brush and dry the mould in a very
slack oven. The mould is then filled with some macaroni that
has been boiled tender in milk and flavoured with vanilla and
sugar and Parmesan cheese. The macaroni must be so managed
that it absorbs the moisture. The mould is filled, made hot,
and then turned out. It is customary to shake some powdered
sugar over the mould, and then glaze it with a red-hot
N.B.—Very few kitchens possess a proper salamander,
but if you make the kitchen shovel red-hot it will be found
to answer the same purpose.
Macaroni in Scollop Shells.—Take half a pound of
macaroni, wash it, and throw it into boiling water. Take the macaroni out,
drain it, and throw it into cold water. Then take it out and cut it into
pieces not more than half an inch in length. Take about a quarter of a
pound of butter, melt it in a stew-pan, and add about a cupful of milk, or
still better, cream. Stir it and dredge in enough flour to make it thick,
or still better, thicken it with a little white
roux; now add some pepper and salt, about a quarter of a grated nutmeg,
two or three spoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese; add the cut-up macaroni
and stir the whole well up over the fire together and fill the scollop
shells with the mixture, and throw some grated cheese over the top. Bake
the scollops in the oven till the cheese begins to brown; then pour a
little oiled butter over the top of the cheese. If made with cream this
dish is somewhat rich, but forms an admirable meal eaten with plenty of
Macaroni Nudels.—The word nudel is probably derived
from French nouilles paste. It is made in a similar manner, or
nearly so. French cooks use only yolk of egg and flour. English cooks use
beaten-up eggs, and sometimes even reserve the yolks for other purposes and
make the paste with white of egg. In any case, the yolks, the whole eggs,
or the white without the yolks, must be well beaten up and then mixed in
with the flour with the fingers till it makes a stiff paste. This paste or
dough is then rolled out with a straight rolling pin—(not an English
one)—till it is as thin as a wafer. The board must be well floured or
it will stick. A marble slab is best, and if you are at a loss for a
rolling-pin try an empty black bottle. It is very important to roll the
pastry thin, and it has been well observed that the best test of thinness
is to be able to read a book through the paste. When rolled out, let each
thin cake dry for five or ten minutes. If you have a box of cutters you can
cut this paste into all sorts of shapes according to the shape of the
cutters, or you can cut each thin cake into pieces about the same size, and
then with a sharp dry knife cut the paste into threads. These threads or
ornamental shapes can be thrown into boiling clear
soup, when they will separate of their own accord. Nudel paste is, in
fact, home-made Italian paste, or, when cut into threads, home-made
vermicelli. It is very nourishing, as it is made with eggs and flour.
Macaroni, Savoury.—Take half a pound of macaroni and
boil it in some slightly salted water, and let it boil and simmer
till the macaroni is tender and absorbs all the water in which
it is boiled. Now take a dessertspoonful of raw mustard, i.e.,
mustard in the yellow powder. Mix this gradually with the
macaroni, and add five or six tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan
cheese and a little cayenne or white pepper according to taste.
Turn the mixture out on to a dish, sprinkle some more grated
Parmesan cheese over the top, bake it in the oven till it
is slightly brown, pour a little oiled butter on the top, and
Macaroni and Chestnuts.—Bake about twenty chestnuts
till they are tender, and then peel them and pound them in a mortar, with a
little pepper and salt and butter, till they are a paste. Next wash and
boil in the ordinary way half a pound of macaroni. Drain off the macaroni
and put it in a stew-pan with the chestnuts and about a couple of ounces of
butter to moisten it, and stir it all together and put an onion in to
flavour it as if you were making bread sauce;
but the onion must be taken out whole before it is served. If the mixture
gets too dry, it can be moistened with a little milk or stock. After it has
been stirred together for about a quarter of an hour, turn it out on to a
dish, cover it with a little Parmesan cheese, bake in the oven till it is
brown, and moisten the top when browned with a little oiled butter.
Macaroni and Tomatoes.—Take half a pound of macaroni;
wash it and boil it until it is tender. In the meantime take
half a dozen or more ripe tomatoes; cut off the stalks, squeeze
out the pips, and place them in a tin in the oven with a little
butter to prevent their sticking. It is as well to baste the
tomatoes once or twice with the butter and the juice that will
come from them. Put the macaroni when tender and well
drained off into a vegetable-dish, pour the contents of the
tin, butter and juice, over the macaroni and add pepper and
salt, and toss it lightly together. Now place the whole tomatoes
on the top of the macaroni, round the edge, at equal distances.
It is a great improvement to the appearance of the dish to
sprinkle a little chopped blanched parsley over the macaroni.
The tomatoes should be placed with the smooth, red, unbroken
Macaroni and Cream.—Boil half a pound of macaroni;
cut it up into pieces about two inches long and put it into a
stew-pan with two ounces of butter and a quarter of a pound
of grated cheese, composed of equal parts of Gruyère and
Parmesan cheese. Moisten this with about three tablespoonfuls
of cream. Toss it all lightly together till the cheese makes
cobwebs. Add a little pepper and salt and serve with some
fried bread round the edge cut up into ornamental shapes.
Carefully made pieces of toast, cut into triangles, will do instead
of the fried bread.
Tagliatelli.—Take some flour and water, and with the
addition of a little salt make a paste which can be rolled out
quite thin; cut this into shapes of the breadth of half a
finger. Throw them into boiling water and let them boil a
few minutes. Then remove them to cold water; drain them
on a sieve and use them as macaroni; place at the bottom of
a dish some butter and grated cheese, then a layer of tagliatelli
seasoned with pepper, another layer of butter and cheese, and
then one of tagliatelli, until the whole is used; pour over it
a glass of cream, add a layer of cheese, and finish like
macaroni cheese, browning it in the oven.
Oatmeal Porridge.—Of all dishes used by vegetarians there
are none more wholesome, more nourishing, or more useful as
an article of everyday diet for breakfast than oatmeal porridge.
When we remember that the Scotch, who, for both body and
brain, rank perhaps first amongst civilised nations, almost live
on this cheap and agreeable form of food, we should take
particular pains in the preparation of a standing dish which is
in itself a strong argument in favour of a vegetarian diet when
we look at the results, both mentally and bodily, that have
followed its use North of the Tweed. The following excellent
recipe for the preparation of oatmeal porridge is taken from a
book entitled, “A Year’s Cookery,” by Phyllis Browne
(Cassell & Co.):—“When there are children in the family it is
a good plan, whatever they may have for breakfast, to let them
begin the meal either with oatmeal porridge or bread-and-milk.
Porridge is wholesome and nourishing, and will help to make
them strong and hearty. Even grown-up people frequently
enjoy a small portion of porridge served with treacle and milk.
Oatmeal is either ‘coarse,’ ‘medium,’ or ‘fine.’ Individual
taste must determine which of these three varieties shall be
chosen. Scotch people generally prefer the coarsest kind. The
ordinary way of making porridge is the following—Put as
much water as is likely to be required into a saucepan with a
sprinkling of salt, and let the water boil. Half a pint of
water will make a single plateful of porridge. Take a knife (a
‘spurtle’ is the proper utensil) in the right hand, and some
Scotch, or coarse, oatmeal in the left hand, and sprinkle the
meal in gradually, stirring it briskly all the time; if any lumps
form draw them to the side of the pan and crush them out.
When the porridge is sufficiently thick (the degree of thickness
must be regulated by individual taste), draw the pan back a
little, put on the lid, and let the contents simmer gently till
wanted; if it can have two hours’ simmering, all the better; but
in hundreds of families in Scotland and the North of England
it is served when it has boiled for ten minutes or a quarter of
an hour; less oatmeal is required when it can boil a long time,
because the simmering swells the oatmeal, and so makes it go
twice as far. During the boiling the porridge must be stirred
frequently to keep it from sticking to the saucepan and
burning, but each time this is done the lid must be put on again.
When it is done enough it should be poured into a basin or upon
a plate, and served hot with sugar or treacle and milk or cream.
The very best method that can be adopted for making porridge
is to soak the coarse Scotch oatmeal in water for twelve hours,
or more (if the porridge is wanted for breakfast it may be put
into a pie-dish over night, and left till morning). As soon as
the fire is lighted in the morning it should be placed on it,
stirred occasionally, kept covered, and boiled as long as possible,
although it may be served when it has boiled for twenty
minutes. When thus prepared it will be almost like a delicate
jelly, and acceptable to the most fastidious palate. The proportions
for porridge made in this way are a heaped tablespoonful
of coarse oatmeal to a pint of water.
“It is scarcely necessary to give directions for making—
“Bread and Milk, for everyone knows how this should be
done. It may be said that the preparation has a better appearance
if the bread is cut very small before the boiling milk is
poured on it, and also that the addition of a small pinch of salt
takes away the insipidity. Rigid economists sometimes swell
the bread with boiling water, then drain this off and pour milk
in its place. This, however, is almost a pity, for milk is so
very good for children; and though recklessness is seldom to
be recommended, a mother might well be advised to be reckless
about the amount of her milk bill, provided always that the
quantity of milk be not wasted, and that the children have it.”
Milk Porridge.—Take a tablespoonful of oatmeal and mix
it up in a cup with a little cold milk till it is quite smooth, in
a similar way as you would mix ordinary flour and milk in
making batter. Next put a pint of milk on to boil, and as
soon as it boils mix in the oatmeal and milk, and let it boil for
about a quarter of an hour, taking care to keep stirring it the
whole time. The fire should not be too fierce, as the milk
is very apt to burn. Flavour this with either salt or sugar.
Rice and Barley Porridge.—Take a quarter of a pound of
rice and a quarter of a pound of Scotch barley and wash them
very thoroughly. The most perfect way of washing barley and rice
is to throw them into boiling water, let them boil for five
or ten minutes, and then strain them off. By this means the
dirty outside is dissolved. Next boil the rice and barley gently
for three or four hours, strain them off, and boil them up again
in a little milk for a short time before they are wanted. It will
often be found best to boil the barley for a couple of hours and
then add the rice. A little cream is a very great improvement.
The porridge can be flavoured with pepper and salt, but is very
nice with brown sugar, treacle, or jam, and when cold forms
an agreeable accompaniment to stewed fruit.
Whole-meal Porridge.—Boil a quart of water and gradually
stir in about half a pound of whole-meal; let it boil for about
a quarter of an hour, and serve. Cold milk should accompany
Lentil Porridge.—To every quart of water add about six
tablespoonfuls of lentil flour; let the whole boil for about
a quarter of an hour, and flavour with pepper and salt.
Hominy.—Take a teacupful of hominy, wash it in
several waters and rub it well between the hands, and throw away the grains
that float on the top, the same as you do with split peas, pour the water
off the top, then strain it off, and put it in a basin with a quart of
water, and cover the basin over with a cloth; put it by to soak overnight,
should it be required for breakfast in the morning. The next day put it in
an enamelled stew-pan with about a teaspoonful of salt, and let it simmer
gently over the fire, taking care that it does not burn. It is best to
butter the bottom of the saucepan, or if you have a small plate that will
just go inside you will find this a great protection. Let it simmer gently
for rather more than an hour. Stir it well up and flavour it with either
sugar or salt, and let it be eaten with cold milk poured on it on the
plate, or with a little butter.
The hominy should simmer until it absorbs all the water
in which it is boiled. As a rule a good teacupful will absorb
Hominy, Fried.—This is made from the remains of cold
boiled hominy. When cold it will be a firm jelly. Cut the
cold hominy into slices, flour them, egg and bread-crumb them,
and then plunge them into some smoking hot oil till they are
of a nice bright golden colour. They are very nice eaten with
lemon-juice and sugar, or they can be served with orange
Frumenty.—Take a quarter of a pint of wheat, wash it
thoroughly, and let it soak for twelve hours or more in water.
Strain it off and boil it in some milk till it is tender, but do
not let it get pulpy. As soon as it is tender add a quart of
milk, flavoured with a little cinnamon, three ounces of sugar,
three ounces of carefully washed grocer’s currants, and let it
boil for a quarter of an hour. Beat up three yolks of eggs
in a tureen, and gradually add the mixture. It must not be
added to the eggs in a boiling state or else they will curdle.
A wineglassful of brandy is a great improvement, but is not
absolutely necessary. The wheat takes a long time to get
tender, probably four hours.
Sago Porridge.—Wash the sago in cold water and boil it
in some water, allowing about two tablespoonfuls to every
pint; add pepper and salt and let cold milk be served with the
Milk Toast.—This is a very useful way of using up stale
bread. Toast the bread a light brown, and if by chance any
part gets black scrape it gently off. Butter the toast slightly,
lay the toast on the bottom of a soup-plate, and pour some
boiling milk over it. Very little butter should be used, and
children often prefer a thin layer of marmalade to butter.
EGGS (SAVOURY) AND OMELETS.
Eggs, Plain Boiled.—There is an old saying that there is
reason in the roasting of eggs. This certainly applies equally
to the more common process of boiling them. There are few
breakfast delicacies more popular than a new-laid egg. There
are few breakfast indelicacies more revolting than the doubtful
egg which makes its appearance from time to time, and which
may be classed under the general heading of “Shop ’uns.” It
is a sad and melancholy reflection that these more than doubtful
“shop ’uns” were all once new-laid. It is impossible to draw
any hard-and-fast line to say at what exact period an egg
ceases to be fit for boiling. There is an old tradition, the truth
of which we do not endorse, that eggs may arrive at a period
when, though they are not fit to be boiled, fried, poached, or
hard-boiled, they are still good enough for puddings and
pastry. There is no doubt that many good puddings are spoilt
because cooks imagine they can use up doubtful eggs.
When eggs are more than doubtful, they are often bought
up by the smaller pastry-cooks in cheap and poor neighbourhoods
of our large towns, such as the East-End of London.
These eggs are called “spot eggs,” and are sold at thirty and
forty a shilling. They utilise them as follows: They hold the
egg up in front of a bright gas-light, when the small black
spot can be clearly seen. This black spot is kept at the lowest
point of the egg, i.e., the egg is held so that this black spot is
at the bottom. The upper part of the egg is then broken and
poured off, the black spot being retained. The moment the
smallest streak proceeds from this black spot the pouring-off
process is stopped. Of course, the black part is all thrown
away, the stench from it being almost intolerable, containing,
as it does, sulphuretted hydrogen. We mention the fact for
what it is worth. It would be a bold man who tried to lay
down any law as to where waste ceases and the use of wrongful
material commences. Everything depends upon the circumstances
of the case in question. We fear there are many
thousands, hundreds of thousands, in this great city of London,
whose everyday life more or less compares with that of a
shipwrecked crew. They “fain would fill their belly with the
husks that the swine do eat, but no man gives unto them.”
There is this to be said in favour of vegetarian diet—that,
were it universal, grinding poverty would be banished from
the earth. We must not cry out too soon about using what
some men call bad material. Lord Byron, when he was starving
after shipwreck, was glad to make a meal off the paws of his
favourite dog, which had been thrown away when the carcase
had been used on a former occasion.
The simplest way of boiling eggs is to place them at starting
in boiling water, and boil them from three to three and a
half to four minutes, according to whether they are liked
very lightly boiled, medium, or well-set.
The egg saucepan should be small, so that when the eggs
are first plunged in it takes the water off the boil for a few
seconds, otherwise the eggs are likely to crack. This applies
more particularly to French eggs, which have thin, brittle
shells containing an excess of lime, probably due to the
large quantity of chalk which is the distinguishing feature
of the soil in the Pas de Calais, which is the chief neighbourhood
from which French eggs are imported.
Over a million eggs are imported from France to England
every day, notwithstanding the fact that thousands are kept
awake by the crying of their neighbours’ fowls.
There is a strange delusion among Londoners that an egg
is not good if it is milky. This, of course, is never met with
in London, for the simple reason that a milky egg means, as a
rule, than it has not been laid more than a few hours. For this
reason eggs literally hot from the nest are not suitable for
making puddings or even omelets. Eggs that have been kept
one or two days will be found to answer better, as they possess
more binding properties.
There is an old-fashioned idea that the best way to boil an
egg is to place it in the saucepan in cold water, to put the
saucepan on the fire, and as soon as the water boils the egg is
done. A very little reflection will show that this entirely
depends upon the size of the saucepan and the fierceness of the
fire. If the saucepan were the size of the egg, the water would
boil before the egg was hot through; on the other hand, no
one could place an egg in the copper on this principle and then
light the copper fire.
Eggs are best boiled in the dining-room on the fire, or in
an ornamental egg-boiler. By this means we get the eggs hot,
an occurrence almost unknown in large hotels and big establishments.
Eggs, To Break.—Whenever you break eggs, never mind
what quantity, always break each egg separately into a cup
first; see that it is good, and then throw it into a basin with
the rest. One bad egg would spoil fifty. Supposing you
have a dozen or two dozen new-laid eggs just taken from the
nest, it is not an uncommon thing to have one that has been
overlooked for weeks, and which may be a half-hatched mass
Eggs, Fried.—The first point is to have a clean frying-pan,
which is an article of kitchen furniture very rarely indeed met
with in this country. For frying eggs, and for making omelets,
it is essential that the frying-pan should never be used for
If you think your frying-pan is perfectly clean, warm it in
front of the fire for half a minute, put a clean white cloth
over the top of the finger, and then rub the inside of the
To fry eggs properly, very little butter will be required; a
little olive-oil will answer the same purpose. If you have too
much “fat,” the white of the eggs are apt to develop into big
bubbles or blisters. Another point is, you do not want too
fierce a fire. Fry them very slowly. Some cooks will almost
burn the bottom of the egg before the upper part is set. As
soon as the white is set round the edge, you will often find the
yolk not set at all, surrounded by a rim of semi-transparent
“albumen.” When this is the case, it is very often a good
plan to take the frying-pan off the fire (we are presuming the
stove is a shut-up one), and place it in the oven for a minute
or so, leaving the oven door open. By this means the heat of
the oven will set the upper part of the eggs, and there is no
danger of the bottom part being burnt.
There is a great art in taking fried eggs out of a frying-pan
and serving them on a dish. Fried eggs, to look nice,
should have the yolk in the centre, surrounded by a ring of
white, perfectly round, rather more than an inch in breadth.
Take an egg-slice in the left hand, slide it under each
egg separately, so that the yolk gets well into the middle of
the slice. Now take a knife in the right hand and trim off
the superfluous white. By this means you will be able to
do it neatly. The part trimmed away is virtually refuse.
Of course, you do not throw away more than is necessary,
but take care that the white rim round the yolk is of uniform
breadth. Most cooks take the egg out with their right
hand, and attempt to trim it with the left; the result is
about as neat as what would happen were you to attempt
to write a letter with your left hand in a hurry.
Very often the appearance of fried eggs is improved by
sprinkling over them a few specks of chopped parsley.
In placing fried eggs on toast, place the slice over the
toast and draw the slice away. Do not push the egg on;
you may break it.
Eggs, Poached.—The best kitchen implement to use for
poaching eggs is a good large frying-pan. The mistake is
to let the water boil; it should only just simmer. You
should avoid having the white of the egg set too hard. We
should endeavour to have the eggs look as white as possible.
In order to insure this, put a few drops of vinegar or lemon-juice
into the water, break the eggs separately into a clip, and
then turn them very gently into the hot water. When they
are set fairly firm take them out with an egg-slice, using the
left hand as before, and trim them with the right. It is not
necessary, in poached eggs, to have a clear yolk surrounded
with a white uniform ring. Poached eggs often look best when
the yolk reposes in a sort of pillow-case of white. Before
putting them on toast or spinach, &c., be very careful to drain
off the water; this is particularly important when the water
is acid, especially with vinegar.
Eggs, Hard-boiled.—Place the eggs in cold water, bring
the water to boiling point, and let them boil for ten minutes;
if the hard-boiled eggs are wanted hot, put them in cold water
for half a minute, in order that you may remove the shells
without burning your fingers. If the eggs are required cold,
it is best not to remove the shells till just before they are
wanted; but if they have to be served cold, similar to what we
meet with at railway refreshment-rooms, let them be served
cold, whole. If you cut a hard-boiled egg the yolk very soon
gets discoloured and brown round the edge, shrivels up, and
becomes most unappetising in appearance.
Eggs, Curried.—Take some hard-boiled eggs, cut them in halves (remove
the half-yolks), and cut them into rings. Place all these rings round the
edge of the dish, and pile the white rings up to make a sort of border;
pour some thick curry sauce in the middle,
place the half-yolks at equal distances apart, on the white round the edge,
and sprinkle a few specks of green parsley round the edge on the whites;
this will give the dish a pretty appearance.
Eggs, Devilled.—Take, say, half a dozen eggs, boil them
hard, remove the shells while hot, cut them in halves, scoop
out the yolk, and cut a tiny piece off the bottom of each
white cup, so that it will stand upright—à la Columbus.
Next take all the yolks, and put them in a basin, and pound
them with a little butter till you get a thick squash; add some
cayenne pepper, according to taste, a little white pepper, a
little salt, and a few drops of chilli-vinegar or ordinary
vinegar; you can also add a little finely chopped parsley—say
a teaspoonful. Fill each cup with some of this mixture,
and as there will be more than enough to fill them, owing
to the butter, bring them to a point, like a cone. Devilled
eggs are best served cold, in which case they look best
placed on a silver or ordinary dish, the bottom of which is
covered with green parsley; the white looks best on a green
bed. Some cooks chop up the little bits of white cut off
from the bottom of the cups, divide them into two portions,
and colour one half pink by shaking them in a saucer with
a few drops of cochineal. These white and pink specks are
then sprinkled over the parsley.
N.B.—In an ordinary way devilled eggs require anchovy
sauce to be mixed with the yolks, but anchovy sauce is not
allowed in vegetarian cookery.
Eggs à la bonne femme.—Proceed exactly as in
making devilled eggs, till you place the
yolks in the basin; then add to these yolks, while hot, a little dissolved
butter, and small pieces of chopped cold boiled carrot, turnip, celery, and
beet-root; season with white pepper and salt, and mix well together. Add
also a suspicion of nutmeg and a little lemon-juice. Fill the cups with
this while the mixture is moist, as when the butter gets cold the mixture
gets firm. If you use chopped beet-root as well as other vegetables, it is
best to fill half the cups with half the mixture before any beetroot is
added, then add the beet-root and stir the mixture well up and it will turn
a bright red. Now fill the remaining half of the cups, and place them on
the dish containing the parsley, alternately. The red contrasts prettily
with the light yellowish white of the first half. Do not colour the white
specks with cochineal, as this is a different shade of red from the
beet-root. You can chop up the white and sprinkle it over the parsley with
a little chopped beet-root as well.
Eggs à la tripe.—Small Spanish onions are
perhaps best for this dish, but ordinary onions can be used. Cut the onions
cross-ways after peeling them, so that they fall in rings, and remove the
white core. Two Spanish or half a dozen ordinary onions will be sufficient.
Fry these rings of onions in butter till they are tender, without browning
them. Take them out of the frying-pan and put them aside. Add a spoonful of
flour to the frying-pan, and make a paste with the butter, and then add
sufficient milk so that when it is boiled and stirred up it makes a thick
sauce; add pepper and salt, a little lemon-juice, and a small quantity of
grated nutmeg. Put back the rings of onions into this, and let them simmer
gently. Take half a dozen hard-boiled
eggs, cut the eggs in halves, remove the yolks, and cut the whites into
rings, like the onions, mixing these white egg-rings with the onions and
sauce; make the whole hot and serve on a dish, using the hard-boiled
half-yolks to garnish; sprinkle a little chopped parsley over the whole,
Egg, Forcemeat of, or Egg Balls.—Take three hard-boiled
yolks of eggs, powder them, mix in a raw yolk, add a little
pepper and salt, a small quantity of grated nutmeg, about a
saltspoonful of finely chopped parsley, chopped up with a
pinch of savoury herbs, or a pinch of dust from bottled savoury
herbs, sifted from them, may be added instead. Roll these
into balls not bigger than a very small marble, flour them, and
throw them into boiling water till they are set.
In many parts of the Continent, hard-boiled yolks of eggs,
served whole, are used as egg balls. A much cheaper way of
making egg balls is as follows:—Beat up one egg, add a teaspoonful
of chopped blanched parsley, some pepper and salt,
and a very little grated nutmeg. Sift a bottle of ordinary mixed
savoury herbs in a sieve, and take about half a saltspoonful of
the dust and mix this with the egg, This will be found really
better than using the herbs themselves. Now make some very
fine bread-crumbs from stale bread, and mix this with the
beaten-up egg till you make a sort of soft paste or dough; roll
this into balls the size of a marble, flour them, and throw them
into boiling water. The balls must be small or they will split
Eggs au gratin.—Make about half a pint of butter sauce, make it hot over the fire, and
stir in about two ounces of Parmesan cheese, a quarter of a nutmeg grated,
some white pepper, and the juice of half a lemon. Make this hot, and then
add the yolks of four eggs. Stir it all up, and keep stirring very quickly
till the mixture begins to thicken, when you must instantly remove it from
the fire, but continue stirring for another minute. In the meantime have
ready some hard-boiled eggs, cut these
into slices, and make a circle of the bigger slices on a dish; then spread
a layer of the mixture over the slices of egg, and place another layer on
this smaller than the one below, then another layer of mixture, and so on
with alternate layers till you pile it up in the shape of a pyramid. Spread
a layer of the remainder of the mixture over the surface, and sprinkle some
powdered light-coloured bread-raspings mixed with some grated Parmesan
cheese over the whole; place the dish in the oven to get hot and to
slightly brown, and then serve. Some fried bread cut into pretty shapes can
be used to ornament the base.
Eggs and Spinach.—Make a thick purée of
spinach; take some hard-boiled eggs, cut
them in halves while hot, after removing the shells, and press each half a
little way into the purée, so that the yellow yolk will be shown
surrounded by the white ring. Be very careful not to smear the edge with
N.B.—Sometimes eggs are poached and laid on the spinach
Eggs and Turnip-tops.—Proceed exactly as above, using a
purée of turnip-tops instead of spinach.
Eggs and Asparagus.—Have ready some of the green
parts of asparagus, boiled tender, and cut up into little pieces
an eighth of an inch long so that they look like peas. Beat up
four eggs very thoroughly with some pepper and salt, and mix
in the asparagus, only do not break the pieces of green. Melt
a couple of ounces of butter in a small stew-pan, and as soon as
it commences to froth pour in the beaten-up egg and asparagus;
stir the mixture quickly over the fire, being careful to scrape
the bottom of the saucepan. As soon as the mixture thickens
pour it on some hot toast, and serve.
Eggs and Celery.—Have ready some stewed celery on
toast. (See CELERY, STEWED.) Poach some eggs and place them on the top. Hard-boiled eggs, cut into slices, can be
added to the celery instead of poached eggs.
When stewed celery is served as a course by itself, the
addition of the eggs and plenty of bread make it a wholesome
and satisfying meal.
Egg Salad.—(See SALADS.)
Egg Sandwiches.—(See SANDWICHES.)
Egg Sauce.—(See SAUCES.)
Egg Toast.—Beat up a couple of eggs, melt an ounce of
butter in a saucepan, and add to it a little pepper and salt. As
soon as the butter begins to froth, add the beaten-up egg and
stir the mixture very quickly, and the moment it begins to
thicken pour it over a slice of hot buttered toast.
Eggs à la Dauphine.—Take ten hard-boiled eggs, cut them
in halves and remove the yolks, and place the yolks in a basin
with a piece of new bread, about as big as the fist, that has been
soaked in some milk, or better still, cream; add a teaspoonful
of chopped parsley, a quarter of a grated nutmeg, and two
ounces of grated Parmesan cheese; rub the whole well together,
and then add two whole eggs, well beaten up, to the
mixture to moisten it. Next fill all these white cups of eggs
with some of this mixture, place the eggs well together, and
spread a thin layer of the mixture over the top; then take a
smaller number of half-eggs, filled, and place on the top and
make a pyramid, so that a single half-egg is at the top. You
can place ten half-eggs at the bottom in one layer, six half-eggs
on the top of these, spreading a thin layer of the mixture, then
three half-eggs, one more layer of the mixture, and then one
half-egg at the summit. This dish is sometimes ornamented
by forcing hard-boiled yolks of eggs through a wire sieve. It
falls like yellow vermicelli into threads. This dish should be
placed in the oven, to be made quite hot, and some kind of
white sauceshould be poured round the edge.
Eggs and Black Butter.—Fry
some eggs, serve them up on a hot dish, and pour some black butter
round the base. (See BLACK BUTTER
Eggs and Garlic.—This is better adapted for an
Italian than an English palate. Take half a dozen heads of garlic and fry
them in a little butter in order to remove the rankness of flavour. Take
them out and pound them in a mortar with rather more than a tablespoonful
of oil; heat this on the fire in a stew-pan, after adding some pepper and
salt. Beat up an egg, and stir this in with the oil and garlic till the
mixture gets thick. Arrange some slices of hard-boiled eggs—four eggs would be
sufficient—pour this mixture in the centre, and serve.
Eggs with Mushrooms.—Take half a pint of button
mushrooms and, if fresh, peel them and throw them instantly into water made
acid with lemon-juice, in order that they may not turn a bad colour. In the
meantime slice up a good-sized Spanish onion, and fry the onion in a little
butter. As soon as the onion is a little tender, chop up and add the
mushrooms. Put all this into a stew-pan with a little butter sauce, or a little water can be added and
then thickened with a little butter and flour. Let this simmer gently for
nearly half an hour, add a little made mustard, pepper and salt and a
dessertspoonful of vinegar. Before sending to table add half a dozen hard-boiled eggs; the whites should be cut
into rings, and should be only put into the sauce long enough to get hot;
the yolks should be kept separate, but must be warmed up in the sauce.
Eggs and Onions.—Cut up a large Spanish onion in
slices, and fry it in some butter till it is a light brown and tender, but
do not let it burn; drain off the butter and put the fried onion on a dish;
sprinkle some cayenne pepper and a little salt over the onions, and squeeze
the juice of a whole lemon over them. Now poach
some eggs and serve them on the top of the onion.
Eggs and Potatoes.—Take the remains of some floury
potatoes, beat up an egg, and mix the potato flour with the
egg. You can also chop up very finely a small quantity of
onion and parsley, and season with plenty of pepper and salt.
The respective quantities of floury potatoes and beaten egg
must be so regulated that you can roll the mixture into balls
without their having any tendency to break. Make the balls
big enough so that when you press them between the hands
you can squeeze the ball into the shape of an ordinary egg, or
you can mould them into this shape with a tablespoon. Now
flour these imitation eggs in order to dry the surface, and then
dip them into well-beaten-up egg and cover them with dried
bread-crumbs, and fry them in a little butter or oil, or brown
them in the oven, occasionally basting them with a little
Eggs and Sauce Robert.—Take some hard-boiled eggs, cut them into quarters, and
make them hot in some Sauce Robert—(see ROBERT SAUCE)—and serve with fried or
toasted bread in a dish.
Eggs and Sorrel.—Make a thick purée of
SAUCE)—and serve some hard-boiled or poached eggs on the top.
Eggs, Broiled.—Cut a large slice of crumb of bread off a
big loaf; toast it lightly, put some pieces of butter on it, and
put it on a dish in front of the fire; then break some eggs carefully
on to the toast, and let them set from the heat of the fire
like a joint roasting; when the side nearest the fire gets set, it
will be necessary to turn the dish round. When the whole
has set, squeeze the juice of an orange over the eggs, and a
little grated nutmeg may be added. The eggs and toast should
be served in the same dish in which they are baked.
Eggs, Buttered.—Break some eggs into a flat dish, then
take a little butter and make it hot in a frying-pan till it
frizzles and begins to turn brown. Now pour this very hot
butter, which is hotter than boiling water, over the eggs in the
dish. Put the dish in the oven a short time, and finish off
setting the yolks with a red-hot salamander.
Eggs, Scrambled.—Scrambled eggs, when finished properly,
should have the appearance of yellow and white streaks, distinct
in colour, but yet all joined together in one mass. Melt a
little butter in the frying-pan, break in some eggs, as if for
frying; of course, the whites begin to set before the yolks. As
soon as the whites are nearly but not quite set, stir the whole
together till the whole mass sets. By this means you will get
yellow and white streaks joined together. It is very important
that you don’t let the eggs get brown at the bottom; you will
therefore require a perfectly clean frying-pan and not too
fierce a fire.
Eggs in Sunshine.—This is a name given to fried eggs
with tomato served on the top. You want a dish that will
stand the heat; consequently, take an oval baking-tin, or
enamelled dish that you can put on the top of a shut-up stove.
Melt a little butter in this, and as soon as it begins to frizzle
break some eggs into the dish, and let them all set together.
As soon as they are set, pour four or five tablespoonfuls of
tomato conserve on the top; this is much better than tomato
sauce, which contains vinegar. Or you can bake half a dozen
ripe tomatoes in a tin in the oven, and place these on the top
instead of the tomato conserve.
Eggs and Cucumber.—Peel and slice up two or three
little cucumbers of the size generally sold on a barrow at a penny each.
Put these with two or three ounces of butter in a stew-pan, and three small
onions about the size of the top of the thumb, chopped very fine; fry these
and add a dessertspoonful of vinegar. When the cucumber is tender, and a
little time has been allowed for the vinegar to evaporate, add six hard-boiled eggs, cut into slices; make these
very hot and serve. Pepper and salt must be added.
Eggs with Cheese.—Take a quarter of a pound of grated
cheese (the cheese should be dry and white), melt this cheese
gently in a stew-pan over the fire, with a little bit of butter
about as big as the thumb, in order to assist the cheese in
melting. Mix with it a brimming teaspoonful of chopped
parsley, two or three tiny spring onions, chopped very fine,
and about a quarter of a small grated nutmeg. When the
cheese is melted, add six beaten-up eggs, and stir the whole
together till they are set. Fried or toasted bread should be
served round the edge of the dish.
Little Eggs for Garnishing.—This is a nice dish when
you require a lot of white of eggs for other purposes, such
as iceing a wedding-cake, or making light vanilla or almond
Take six hard-boiled yolks, powder them, flavour with a
little pepper and salt, and mix in three raw yolks; mix
this well together, and roll them into shapes like very small
sausages, pointed at each end like a foreign cigar. Flour
these on the outside, and throw them into boiling water.
These can be used for garnishing purposes for the vast
majority of vegetarian dishes. They can be flavoured if wished
with grated nutmeg, chopped parsley, and a few savoury
Omelets.—It is a strange fact, but not the less true, that
to get a well-made omelet in a private house in this country
is the exception and not the rule. A few general remarks
on making omelets will, we hope, not be out of place in
writing a book on an exceptional style of cookery, in which
omelets should play a most important part.
First of all, we require an omelet-pan, and for this purpose
the cheaper the frying-pan the better. The best omelet-pan
of all is a copper one, tinned inside. Copper conveys
heat quicker than almost any other metal; consequently, if
we use an ordinary frying-pan, the thinner it is the quicker
will heat be conveyed.
It is very essential that the frying-pan be absolutely
clean, and it will be found almost essential to reserve the
omelet-pan for omelets only. A frying-pan that has cooked
meat should not be used for the purpose; and although in vegetarian
cookery a frying-pan has not been used in this manner,
we should still avoid one in which onions or vegetables, or even
black butter has been made. The inside of an omelet-pan
should always look as if it had only just left the ironmonger’s
The next great question is, how much butter should be
allowed for, say, six eggs? On this point the greatest authorities
differ. We will first quote our authorities, and then
attempt to give an explanation that reconciles the difference.
A plain omelet may be roughly described as settings of eggs
well beaten up by stirring them up in hot butter. One of the
oldest cookery books we can call to mind is entitled “The Experienced
English Housekeeper,” by Elizabeth Raffald. The
book, which was published in 1775, is dedicated to the Hon.
Lady Elizabeth Warburton, whom the authoress formerly
served. as housekeeper. The recipe is entitled “To make an
amulet.” The book states, “Put a quarter of a pound of butter
into a frying-pan, break six eggs”; Francatelli also gives four
ounces of butter to six eggs.
On the other hand, Soyer, the great cook, gives two ounces
of butter to six eggs; so also does the equally great Louis
Eustache Ude, cook to Louis XVI.
We may add that “Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery” recommended
two ounces of butter to six eggs, whilst “Cassell’s
Shilling Cookery” recommends four eggs.
The probable reason why two such undoubtedly great
authorities as Soyer and Francatelli should differ is that in
making one kind of omelet you would use less butter than in
making another. Francatelli wrote for what may be described
as that “high class cooking suited for Pall Mall clubs,” where
no one better than himself knew how best to raise the jaded
appetite of a wealthy epicure. Soyer’s book was written for
There are two kinds of omelets, one in which the egg is
scarcely beaten at all, and in which, when cooked, the egg
appears set in long streaks. There is also the richer omelet,
which is sent to table more resembling a light pudding. For
the former of these omelets, two ounces of butter will suffice
for six eggs; for the latter of these you will require four
ounces of butter, or else the omelet will be leathery. In
Holland, Belgium, and Germany, and in country villages in
France, the omelet is made, as a rule, with six eggs to two
ounces of butter. It comes up like eggs that have been set.
In the higher-class restaurants in Paris, like Bignon’s, or the
Café Anglais, the omelet is lighter, and probably about four
ounces of butter would be used to six eggs.
This probably explains the different directions given in
various cookery books for making omelets.
Omelet, Plain.—Melt four ounces of butter in a frying-pan,
heat up six eggs till they froth; add a little pepper and
salt, pour the beaten-up eggs into the frying-pan as soon as the
butter begins to frizzle, and with a tablespoon keep scraping
the bottom of the frying-pan in every part, not forgetting the
edge. Gradually the mixture becomes lumpy; still go on
scraping till about two-thirds or more are lumpy and the rest
liquid. Now slacken the heat slightly by lifting the frying-pan
from the fire, and push the omelet into half the frying-pan
so that it is in the shape of a semicircle. By this time, probably,
it will be nearly set. Take the frying-pan off the fire,
and hold it in a slanting direction in front of the fire. When
the whole is set, as it will quickly do, slide off the omelet from
the frying-pan on to a hot dish with an egg-slice, and serve.
Omelet, Plain (another way).—Put two ounces of butter
into a frying-pan, break six eggs into a basin with a little pepper
and salt, and beat them very slightly, so that the yolks and whites
are quite mixed into one, but do not beat them more than you
can help, and do not let the eggs froth. As soon as the butter
frizzles, pour in the beaten eggs, scrape the frying-pan quickly
with a spoon in every part till the mixture gets lumpy. Now
slacken the heat if the fire is fierce, and let the mixture set in
the frying-pan like a pancake. As soon as it is nearly set, with
perhaps only a dessertspoonful of liquid left unset, turn the
omelet over, one half on to the other half, in the shape of a
semicircle, and bring the spoonful of unset fluid to join them
over the edge. Slide off the omelet on to a hot dish with an
Omelet with Fine Herbs.—Chop up a dessertspoonful of
parsley, and add a good pinch of powdered savoury herbs, add
these with pepper and salt to the six beaten-up eggs in a basin.
Beat up the eggs, either slightly or very thoroughly, according
to whether you use two ounces of butter or four. Proceed in
every respect, in making the omelet, as directed for plain
Omelet with Onion.—Proceed exactly as in the above
recipe, only adding to the chopped parsley a piece of onion or
shallot about as big as the top of the thumb down to the first
joint, also very finely chopped. When onion is used in making
an omelet a little extra pepper should be added.
Omelet with Cheese.—Proceed as if making an ordinary
omelet, with four ounces of butter. Add to the six well beaten-up
eggs about four ounces of grated Parmesan cheese; a small
quantity of cream will be found a great improvement to this
omelet. A little pepper and salt must, of course, be added
Potato Omelet.—Mix three ounces of a floury potato with
six eggs, a little pepper and salt, and half a pint of milk, and
make the milk boil and then stand for a couple of minutes
before it is mixed with the eggs; pour this mixture into three
or four ounces of butter, and proceed as in making an ordinary
Potato Omelet, Sweet.—Proceed exactly as above, only
instead of adding pepper and salt mix in a brimming tablespoonful
of finely powdered sugar, the juice of a lemon, with
half a grated nutmeg.
Cheese Soufflé.—To make a small cheese soufflé in a round
cake-tin, proceed as follows:—Make the tin very hot in the
oven. Put in about an ounce of butter, so as to make the tin
oily in every part inside. The tin must be tilted so that the
butter pours round the sides of the tin as well as the bottom.
Take two eggs, separate the yolks from the whites, and beat the
whites to a stiff froth; beat up the two yolks very thoroughly
with a quarter of a pint of milk. Add to this two tablespoonfuls
of grated Parmesan cheese; add this mixture to the
beaten-up whites, and mix the whole carefully together. Now
pour this mixture into the hot buttered tin, which should be
five or six inches deep, and bake it in the oven. The mixture
will rise to five or six times its original depth. As soon as it
is done, run with the soufflé from the oven door to the dining-room
door. However quick you may be, the soufflé will probably
sink an inch on the way. Some cooks wrap hot flannel
on the outside of the tin to keep up the heat. If you have a
folded dinner napkin round the tin for appearance sake, as is
usually the case, fold the napkin before you make the soufflé,
and make the napkin sufficiently big round that it can be
dropped over the tin in an instant. The napkin should be
pinned, and be quite half an inch in diameter bigger than the
width of the tin. This is to save time. Delay in serving the
soufflé is fatal.
Omelet Soufflé, Sweet.—In making an omelet soufflé,
sweet, you can proceed in exactly the same manner as making a
cheese soufflé, with the exception that you add two tablespoonfuls
of powdered sugar instead of two tablespoonfuls of grated
cheese. The omelet will, however, require flavouring of some
kind, the two most delicate being vanilla and orange-flower
water. You can flavour it with lemon by rubbing a few lumps
of sugar on the outside of a lemon, and then pounding this with
the powdered sugar. It must be pounded very thoroughly and
mixed very carefully, or else one part of the omelet will taste
stronger of lemon than the other. Some powdered sugar
should be shaken over the top of the soufflé just before
Omelet Soufflé (another way).—When a soufflé is made on
a larger scale, and served up on a flat dish, it is best to proceed
as follows:—Take six ounces of powdered sugar, and mix them
with six yolks of eggs and a dessertspoonful of flour and a
pinch of salt. To this must be added whatever flavouring is
used, such as vanilla. This is all mixed together till it is
perfectly smooth. Next beat the six whites to a very stiff
froth; mix this in with the batter lightly, put two ounces of
butter into an omelet-pan, and as soon as the butter begins to
frizzle pour in the mixture. As it begins to set round the
edges, turn it over and heap it up in the middle, and then slide
the omelet off on to a plated-edged baking dish, which must be
well buttered. Put it in the oven for about a quarter of an
hour, to let it rise, shake some powdered sugar over the top,
and serve very quickly.
Omelet, Sweet.—Make an ordinary plain omelet with six
eggs and either two or four ounces of butter, as directed for
making omelet, plain. Instead of adding pepper and salt to
the beaten-up eggs, add one or two tablespoonfuls of finely
powdered sugar. At the last moment, sprinkle a little
powdered sugar over the omelet, and just glaze the sugar with
a red-hot salamander.
Omelet with Jam.—Make a plain sweet omelet as directed
above, adding rather less sugar—about half. If you make the
omelet with two ounces of butter, and turn it over, put a
couple of tablespoonfuls of jam on the omelet, and turn the half
over the jam. It is best to put the jam in the oven for a
minute or two to take the chill off.
If you make the omelet with four ounces of butter, you must put the jam by
the side of the omelet and let the thin part of the omelet cover it. Of
course, the question what jam is best for sweet omelet is purely a matter
of taste. Most good judges consider that apricot
jam is the best, and if the sweet omelet itself be flavoured with a
little essence of vanilla, the result is generally considered one of the
nicest sweets that can be sent to table. Strawberry jam, especially if some of the
strawberries are whole, is also very nice. The objection to raspberry jam is the pips.
A most delicious omelet can be made by chopping up some preserved slices of
pine-apple, and placing this in the omelet, and making the pine-apple syrup
hot and pouring it round the base. Red-currant jelly, black-currant jam, and plum jamcan all be used. One of the cheapest and, in
the opinion of many, the best sweet omelets can be made with six eggs, two
ounces of butter, and three or four tablespoonfuls of orange marmalade. In
this case it will cost no more to rub a few lumps of sugar on the outside
of an orange, and pound these with the powdered sugar you use to sweeten
the omelet. If the marmalade is liquid, as it often is, one or two
tablespoonfuls of the juice can be poured round the edge of the omelet.
Omelet au Rhum.—As a rule, spirits are not allowed in
vegetarian cookery. An omelet au rhum is simply a sweet
omelet, plain, with plenty of powdered sugar sprinkled over the
top, with some rum ignited poured over it just before it is sent
to table. The way to ignite the rum is to fill a large spoon,
like a gravy-spoon, and hold a lighted wooden taper (not wax;
it tastes) underneath the spoon till the rum lights. The dish
should be hot. It may be a consolation to teetotallers to
reflect that the fact of burning the rum causes all the alcohol
to evaporate, and there is nothing left but the flavour.
Omelet au Kirsch.—Proceed as above, substituting
Kirschenwasser for Rum.
Omelet, Vegetable.—A plain
omelet can also be served with any purée of vegetables, so that
we can have—Asparagus Omelet, Artichoke Omelet, French Bean Omelet,
Celery Omelet, Spinach Omelet, Mushroom Omelet, Tomato Omelet, &c.
SALADS AND SANDWICHES.
Salads and Sandwiches.—Probably the most patriotic
Englishman will admit that, on the subject of salads, we can
learn something from the French. During the last half-century
a great improvement has taken place on this point in
this country. Many years ago it was the fashion to dress an
English lettuce, resembling in shape an old umbrella, with
a mixture of brown sugar, milk, mustard, and even anchovy
and Worcester sauce, and then add a few drops of oil, as if it
were some dangerous poison, like prussic acid, not to be tampered
with lightly. The old-fashioned lettuces were so hard
and crisp that it was difficult to chew them without making a
noise somewhat similar to walking on a shingly beach. In
modern days, however, we have arrived at a stage of civilisation
in which, as a rule, we use soft French lettuces instead
of the hard gingham-shaped vegetables which somehow or
other our grandfathers ate for supper with a whole lobster,
seasoned with about half a pint of vinegar, and then slept
none the worse for the performance. The first point for
consideration, if we wish to have a good salad, is to have
the lettuces crisp and dry. Old-fashioned French cookery-books
direct that the lettuce should never be washed. The
stalks should be cut off, the outside leaves removed and
thrown away, and the lettuce itself should then be pulled in
pieces with the fingers, and each piece wiped with a clean
cloth. This is not always practicable, but the principle remains
the same. You can wash the lettuce leaves without bruising
them. You can dry them by shaking them up lightly in a
large clean cloth, and you can spread them out and let them
get dry an hour or two before they are dressed.
Another important point to be borne in mind is that a
salad should never be dressed till just before it is wanted to
be eaten. If by chance you put by the remains of a dressed
salad, it is good for nothing the next morning. Finally, the
oil must be pure olive oil of the best quality, and to ensure
this it should bear the name of some well-known firm. A
good deal of the oil sold simply as salad oil, bearing no name,
is adulterated, sometimes with cotton-seed oil.
Salad, French Lettuce, Plain.—Clean one or more French
lettuces (throw away all the leaves that are decayed or bruised),
place these in a salad-bowl, and, supposing we have sufficient
for two persons, dress the salad as follows:—Put a saltspoonful
of salt and half a saltspoonful of pepper into a tablespoon. Fill
the tablespoon up with oil, stir the pepper and salt up with a
fork, and pour it over the lettuce. Now add another tablespoonful
of oil, and then toss the lettuce leaves lightly together
with a spoon and fork. Allow one tablespoonful of oil to each
person. This salad would suffice for two. Be sure and mix
the lettuce and oil well together before you add any vinegar.
The reason of this is that if you add the vinegar first it would
soak into the lettuce leaves, making one part more acid than
another. Having well mixed up the lettuce and oil, add half
a tablespoonful of vinegar. Mix it once more, and the salad
In France they always add to the lettuce, before it is
dressed, two or three finely chopped fresh tarragon leaves.
Dried tarragon can be used, but it is not equal to fresh. If you
have no tarragon it is a great improvement to use tarragon
vinegar instead of ordinary vinegar. Tarragon vinegar is sold
by all grocers at sixpence per bottle.
It is also often customary to rub the salad-bowl with a bead
of garlic, or rub a piece of crust of bread with garlic, and toss
this piece of crust up with the salad after it has been dressed.
Garlic should never be chopped up, but only used as stated
A good French salad is also always decorated with one or
more hard-boiled eggs, cut into quarters, longways. These
are placed on the top of the lettuce.
Salad, English, Lettuce.—The ordinary English salad is
made either with French or English lettuces, and is generally
dressed as follows:—One or two tablespoonfuls of cream or
milk, a teaspoonful of made mustard, two tablespoonfuls of
vinegar, pepper, and salt. There are many people still living
in remote parts of the country who prefer this style of
Salad, English, Mixed.—The old-fashioned English mixed
salad generally consisted of English lettuce cut up into strips
crossways, to which was added mustard and cress, boiled beetroot,
chopped celery, spring onions, radishes, and watercress.
It is by no means a bad mixture when dressed with oil, and,
of course, it can be dressed it à l’Anglaise. It makes an excellent
accompaniment to a huge hunk of cheese, a crusty loaf, a good
appetite, and a better digestion.
Salad, Mayonnaise.—This is generally considered the
king of salads, and it can be made an exceedingly pretty-looking dish, Take
two or more French lettuces, clean and dry them as directed above, and take
the small heart of one lettuce about the size of a small walnut, uncut from
the stalk, so that you can stand it upright in the middle of the salad,
raised above the surface. Arrange all the softer parts of the leaves on the
top of the salad so as to make as much as possible a smooth surface. Make
some Mayonnaise sauce, thick enough to be
spread like butter, and mask this little mound and all the surface of the
middle of the salad round it with a thin layer of the sauce, so that it
looks like the top of a mould of solid custard. Ornament the edge of the
salad with hard-boiled eggs cut in
quarters, and place between the quarters slices of pickled gherkins and
stoned olives. Take a small teaspoonful of French capers, dry them on a
cloth, and sprinkle a few of them about an inch apart on the white surface.
Next chop up, very finely, about half a teaspoonful of parsley, and see
that this doesn’t stick together in lumps. Place this on the end of a
knife and flip the knife so that the little green specks of parsley fall on
the white surface. Next take about half a saltspoonful of finely crumbled
bread, and shake these in a saucer with one or two drops of cochineal. This
will colour them a bright red, and they will have all the appearance of
lobster-coral. Place these red bread-crumbs on the end of a knife and let
them fall over the white surface like the parsley. The little red and green
specks on the white background make the dish look exceedingly pretty.
Before mixing the salad all together add a tablespoonful of tarragon
vinegar or lemon-juice.
Tomato Salad.—For making tomato salad you require red,
ripe tomatoes; the smoother they are the better, but the chief
points are—very ripe and very red. Never use those pink,
crinkly tomatoes which look something like milk stained with
plum juice. If tomatoes are picked unripe, and then allowed
to ripen afterwards, they become rotten and worthless. Slice
up half a dozen or more tomatoes—sometimes it will be necessary
to remove the core and pips, sometimes not; add a little
oil, a little vinegar, and some pepper and salt. Tomato salad
is one of the few that are very nice without any oil at all. Of
course, this is a matter of taste. Some persons slice up a few
onions and add to the tomatoes. In addition to this you can
add some slices of cold potatoes. In this latter case, heap the
potatoes up in the middle of the dish in the shape of a dome
sprinkle some chopped parsley over the potatoes, put a border
of sliced onion round the base, and then a border of sliced
tomato outside that. This makes the dish look pretty.
Many persons rub the dish or salad-bowl with a bead of
garlic. This is quite sufficient to flavour the salad; but never
chop garlic for salads.
Egg Salad.—Egg salad consists of an ordinary salad
made with French lettuces, with an extra quantity of hard-boiled eggs. If you want to make the
salad look very pretty on the top, cut up the lettuces and dress them with
oil and vinegar in the ordinary way. Make the tops of the lettuces (which
should be placed in a round salad-bowl) as smooth as you can without
pressing them down unnecessarily. Now take six hard-boiled eggs, separate
the yolks from the whites, powder the yolks, and chop up the whites small.
Sprinkle a ring of yellow round the edge of the salad-bowl, say an inch in
width, then put a ring of white round, and place the remainder of yolk in
the middle, almost up to the centre. Have the centre about two inches in
diameter. We now have a yellow centre surrounded by a broad white rim (as,
of course, there is more white than yellow), and an outside yellow ring,
which meets the white china bowl. Reserve about a teaspoonful of pieces of
finely chopped white, and put them in a saucer, with a few drops of
cochineal, and shake them. This turns them a bright red. Sprinkle these red
specks very sparingly on the white, and take about half a
teaspoonful of chopped blanched parsley, and sprinkle these green specks on
the yellow. This makes the dish look pretty.
German Salad.—German salad is made from cold boiled
vegetables chopped up. In Germany, it is made, according to
English ideas, from every vegetable you have ever heard of,
mixed with a number of vegetables you have never heard of.
In England it can be made by chopping up boiled carrot,
turnip, cabbage, cauliflower, potato, French beans, Brussels
sprouts (whole), celery, raw onion, raw apple, &c. In fact, in
making this vegetable salad the motto should be “the more
the merrier.” In addition to this you will find that they add
what is known as sauer kraut. This latter is not adapted, as
a rule, to English palates. The salad is mixed with oil and
vinegar in the ordinary way, the Germans adding much more
vinegar than we should care for in this country. The salad
is decorated at the finish with boiled beet-root. It is very
pretty to cut the beet-root into triangles, the base of the
triangle touching the edge of the salad-bowl, the point of the
triangle pointing inwards. Gut a star out of a good slice of
beet-root, and place it in the centre of the bowl; sprinkle a
little chopped blanched parsley over the surface of the mixed
Endive Salad.—Endives come into season long before
lettuces, and are much used abroad for making salads. The drawback to
endive is that it is tough, and the simple remedy is to boil it. Take three
or four white-heart endives, throw them into boiling water slightly salted.
When they get tender take them out and instantly throw them into cold
water, by which means you preserve their colour. When quite cold, take them
out again, drain them, dry them thoroughly, and pull them to pieces with
the fingers. Now place them in a salad-bowl, keeping the whitest part as
much as possible at the top. Place some hard-boiled eggs round the edge, and sprinkle
a little chopped blanched parsley over the white endive. You can, if you
like, put a few spikes of red beet-root between the quarters of eggs.
It is a great improvement to rub the salad-bowl with a
bead of garlic, or you can rub a crust of bread with a bead
of garlic, and toss this lightly about in the salad when you
Salsify Salad.—Boiled salsify makes a very delicious salad.
Take some white salsify, scrape it, and instantly throw it into
vinegar and water, by which means you will keep it a pure
white. Then, when you have all ready, throw it into boiling
water, slightly salted, boil it till it is tender, throw it into cold
water, and when cold take it out, drain it and dry it, cut it up
into small half-inch pieces (or put it in whole, in sticks, into
a salad-bowl), sprinkle a little chopped blanched parsley over
the top, dress in the ordinary way with oil and white French
vinegar, and be sure to use white pepper, not black, if white
wine vinegar is objected to, the juice of a hard fresh lemon is
equally good, if not better.
Potato Salad.—Potato salad is generally made from the
remains of cold boiled potatoes. Of course, potatoes can be
boiled on purpose, in which case they should be allowed to get
cold in the water in which they were boiled. New potatoes
are far better for the purpose than old. Cut the potatoes into
slices, and place them in a salad-bowl with a little finely chopped
blanched parsley. You can also add some finely chopped onion
or shallot. If you do not add these you can rub the bowl with
a bead of garlic. Sprinkle some more chopped parsley over
the top of the salad and ornament the edge of the bowl with
some thin slices of pickled gherkins. A few stoned olives can
also be added. Dress the salad with oil and vinegar in the
Asparagus Salad.—Cold asparagus makes a most delicious
salad. It is needless, perhaps, to say it is made from cold
boiled asparagus. The best dressing for asparagus salad is
somewhat peculiar, and is made as follows:—Take, say, an
ounce of butter, put it in a saucer, and melt it in the oven
till it is like oil. Now mix in a teaspoonful of made
mustard, some pepper, salt, and a dessertspoonful of vinegar.
Stir it all together, and as it gets cold it will begin to get
thick. Dip all the green part of the asparagus in this, and
lay the heads gently, without breaking them, in a vegetable
dish, with the white stalk resting on the edge of the dish,
and the green part in the middle. Let the salad get perfectly
cold, and then serve. Of course, the sauce clings to
the asparagus. The asparagus is eaten with the fingers like
hot asparagus—a custom now generally recognised.
Artichoke Salad.—This applies to French artichokes, not
Jerusalem. In France, artichokes are often served raw for
breakfast, on a plate, with a little heap of chopped raw
onion and another heap of chopped capers or parsley. The
Frenchman mixes a little oil or vinegar on his plate, adding
the onion, &c., according to his taste. The leaves are pulled
off one by one, the white stalk part dipped in this dressing,
and then eaten, by being drawn through the teeth. The
artichoke bottom is reserved for the finish as a bon bouche,
something like a schoolboy who will eat all the pastry round a
jam tart, leaving the centre for the finale.
Beet-root Salad.—In boiling beet-roots be careful not to
break them, or else they will bleed and lose their colour.
When the beet-root is boiled and cold, peel it, and cut it
into thin slices. It can be dressed with oil and vinegar, or
vinegar only, adding pepper and salt. Some persons dress
beet-root with a salad-dressing in which cream is used instead
of oil; but never use cream and oil. To mix cream and oil is
like mixing bacon with butter.
Cucumber Salad.—Peel a cucumber and cut it into slices
as thin as possible. We might almost add, thinner if possible.
Mix it with a little salt, and let it stand, tossing the cucumber
about every now and then. By this means you extract all the
water from the cucumber. Drain off this water, and add
plenty of oil to the cucumber, and then mix it so that every
slice comes in contact with the oil. Now add a little pepper,
and a very little vinegar, and mix it thoroughly. If you add
vinegar to cucumber before the oil some of the slices will taste
like sour pickle, as the vinegar soaks into the cucumber.
Cucumber should be always served very cold, and is best
placed in an ice-chest for an hour before serving. Some people
put a piece of ice on the top of the cucumber.
French Bean Salad.—Cold boiled French beans make a
very nice salad. A little chopped parsley should be mixed
with them, and the salad-bowl can be rubbed with a bead of
garlic. Some people soak the beans in vinegar first, and then
add oil. This would suit a German palate. A better plan is
to add the oil first, with pepper and salt, mix all well together,
and then add the vinegar.
Bean Salad.—Cold boiled broad beans make a very nice
salad. Rub off the skins so that only the green part is put in
the salad-bowl. Rub the bowl with garlic, add a little chopped
parsley, then oil, pepper and salt, mix well, and add vinegar
last of all.
Haricot Bean Salad.—This can be made from cold, boiled,
dried white haricot beans. Add plenty of chopped parsley,
rub the bowl with garlic, mix oil, pepper and salt first, vinegar
The nicest haricot bean salad is made from the fresh green
beans met with abroad. They can be obtained in this country
in tins, and a delicious salad can be had at a moment’s notice
by opening a tin, straining off the liquor, and drying the little
green beans, which are very soft and tender, and dressing them
with oil and vinegar, in the ordinary way. A little chopped
parsley, or garlic flavouring by rubbing the bowl, can be added
or not, according to taste.
Celery and Beet-root Salad.—A mixture of celery and
beet-root makes a very nice winter salad. The beet-root, of
course, is boiled, and the celery generally sliced up thin in a
raw state. It is a great improvement to boil the celery till it
is nearly tender. By this means you improve the salad, and
the celery assists in making vegetarian stock.
Water-cress.—Water-cress is sometimes mixed with other
salad, but when eaten alone requires no dressing, but only a
Dandelion Leaf Salad.—Considering that the root of the
dandelion is so largely used in medicine for making taraxacum,
it is to be regretted that the leaves of the plant are not utilised
in this country as they are abroad for making salad. These
leaves can be obtained in London at a few shops in the French
colony of Soho. The leaves are washed, dried, placed in a
salad-bowl, and dressed with oil and vinegar in the ordinary
Cauliflower Salad.—The remains of a cold boiled cauliflower
makes a very good salad if only the white part be used. It
can be mixed with remains of cold potatoes, some chopped
blanched parsley should be sprinkled over the top, and it can
be dressed with oil and vinegar in the ordinary way; or it can
be served up with a sauce made from oiled butter similar to
that described for dressing cold asparagus.
Mustard and Cress.—This is somewhat similar to watercress.
When served alone it is generally dipped in salt and
eaten with bread-and-butter, but it is very useful to mix with
other kinds of salad.
Hop Salad.—In Germany a very nice salad is made from
young hops, which are grown very extensively in America and
Germany, as English brewers are well aware. The hops are
picked when quite young, before they get leafy; they are then
boiled till nearly tender. They can be dressed in the English
fashion with oil and vinegar, or in the German fashion with
vinegar and sugar.
Onion Salad.—Few people are aware of what an excellent
salad can be made from the remains of cold boiled Spanish
onions. Spanish onions can generally be bought at a penny a
pound. They are mild in flavour, very wholesome, and contain
a great deal of nourishment. Take a couple of cold boiled
Spanish onions, pull them into leaves after they are quite dry,
and dress them with a very little oil and vinegar.
Italian Salad.—This is a very delicious salad, met with in
Italy. It consists of a great variety of boiled vegetables, which
are placed in a mould and served in aspic jelly. This latter,
however, is not allowed in vegetarian cookery. A very good
imitation, however, can be made as follows:—First take as
many cold vegetables as you can, consisting of new potatoes,
sliced, and cut up with a cutter into pretty-looking shapes.
You can also take green peas, asparagus tops, cold boiled cauliflower,
French beans, beet-root, &c. These vegetables should
be dressed with a little oil, tarragon vinegar, pepper and salt,
and can be placed in a mould or plain round basin. This
basin can now be filled up with a little water thickened with
corn-flour, hot. When it is cold, it can be turned out and
sent to table in the shape of a mould.
Melon Salad.—Melon is sometimes served abroad as a
salad, and a slice of melon is often sent to table at the commencement
of dinner, to be eaten with a little salt, cayenne
pepper, and sometimes oil and vinegar.
Salads, Sweet.—Apples, oranges, currants, pine-apple, and
bananas are sometimes served as salads with syrup and sugar.
They make a very nice mixture, or can be served separately.
When preserved pine-apples in tins are used for the purpose,
the syrup in the tin should be used for dressing the salad.
Whole ripe strawberries are a great improvement, as also a
wineglassful of brandy and a lump of ice.
Sandwiches.—There is an art in cutting sandwiches—a
fact which persons in the habit of frequenting railway restaurants
will hardly realise. A tinned loaf is best for the purpose if we
wish to avoid waste. The great thing is to have the two slices
of bread to fit together neatly, and there is no occasion to cut
off the crusts when made from a well-rasped tin loaf. First
cut off the crust from the top of the loaf, which, of course,
must be used for some other purpose. The best use for
this top slice is to toast it lightly on the crumby side, and
cut it up into little pieces to be served with soup. Next
take the loaf, cut off one thin slice, evenly, and let it fall
on its back on the board you are using. Now butter very
slightly the upper surface. Next butter the top of the loaf,
cut another thin slice, and, of course, these two pieces of
bread will be perfectly level, and, if the two buttered sides be
placed together, will fit round the edge exactly.
Tomato Sandwiches.—Cut some very ripe red tomatoes
into thin slices, and cut them parallel with the core, as otherwise
you will get them in rings from which the core will drop
out. Sprinkle some thin slices of bread-and-butter with
mustard and cress, dip the slices of tomato into a dressing
made with a little oil, pepper, and salt, well mixed up. Put
these between the bread-and-butter, and cut them into
squares or triangles with a very sharp knife. These sandwiches are very cool and refreshing, and make a most
agreeable supper after a hot and crowded ball-room. If you
wish to have them look pretty, pile them up in the centre of a
silver dish, and place a few ripe red tomatoes round the base
on some bright green parsley. Place the dish in an ice-chest
for an hour before it is eaten.
Mustard and Cress Sandwiches.—Place well-washed and
dried mustard and cress between two slices of bread-and-butter,
and trim the edges. It is best to pepper and salt the bread-and-butter
first. Pile up the sandwiches on a silver dish, and
sprinkle some loose mustard and cress round the base.
Egg Sandwiches.—Cut some hard-boiled eggs into very
thin slices; season them with pepper and salt, and place them
between two slices of thin bread-and-butter; cut the sandwiches
into triangles or squares, pile them up in a silver dish,
place plenty of fresh green parsley round the base of the
dish, and place some hard-boiled eggs, cut in halves, on the
parsley, which will show what the sandwiches are composed
Indian Sandwiches.—These are exactly similar to the
above, with the addition that the slices of hard-boiled eggs are seasoned with a little
curry-powder. If hard-boiled eggs in halves are placed round the base of
the dish, each half-egg should be sprinkled with curry-powder in order to
show what the sandwiches are.
Mushroom Sandwiches.—Take a pint of fresh button
mushrooms, peel them, and throw them into lemon-juice and
water, in order to preserve their colour; or else take the
contents of a tin of mushrooms, chop them up and stew
them in a frying-pan very gently with a little butter, pepper,
salt, a pinch of thyme, and the juice of a whole lemon to every
pint of mushrooms. When tender, rub the mixture through a
wise sieve while the butter is warm and the mixture moist.
Add a teaspoonful of finely chopped blanched parsley, spread
this mixture while still warm on a thin slice of bread, and
cover it over with another thin slice of bread, and press the
two slices of bread together. When the mixture gets quite
cold, the butter will set and the sandwiches get quite firm.
The bread need not be buttered, as the mixture contains butter
enough. Pile these sandwiches up on a silver dish, surround
the dish with plenty of fresh parsley, and place a few fresh
mushrooms whole, stalk and all, round them, as if they are
growing out of the parsley.
Cheese Sandwiches.—Oil a little butter, add some
pepper and salt, and a spoonful of made mustard and a pinch of cayenne
pepper. When this mixture is nearly cold, use it for buttering some thin
slices of bread, and, before it is quite cold, sprinkle them with some
grated Parmesan cheese. Put the two slices of bread together and press
them, and, when cold,. cut them into squares or triangles. Place plenty of
fresh green parsley round the dish, and, if you are using hard-boiled eggs for other purposes, take the
end of the white of egg, which has a little cup in it not much bigger than
the top of the finger, and put a little heap of Parmesan cheese in each
cup. Place a few of these round the base of the dish, on the parsley, in
order to show what the sandwiches are composed of.
Cream-Cheese Sandwiches.—Chop up some of the white
part of a head of celery very fine, and pound it in a mortar with
a little butter; season it with some salt. Use this mixture and
butter some thin slices of bread, place a thin slice of cream
cheese between these slices, cut the sandwiches into squares
or triangles with a very sharp knife, and pile the sandwiches
up on a silver dish. Surround the dish with parsley, and place
a few slices of cream-cheese, cut round the size of a halfpenny,
round the base, stick a little piece of the yellowish-white leaves
of the heart of celery in each piece.
In many parts of the country mushrooms grow so plentifully that their
cost may be considered almost nothing. On the other hand, if they have
to be bought fresh, at certain seasons of the year they are very
expensive, while tinned mushrooms, which can always be depended upon,
cannot be regarded in any other light than that of a luxury.
When mushrooms can be gathered in the fields like black-berries
they are a great boon to vegetarians. Of course, great
care must be taken that only genuine mushrooms are picked,
as there have been some terrible instances of poisoning from
fungi being gathered by mistake, as many Cockney tourists
know to their cost. As a rule, in England all mushrooms
bought in markets can be depended upon. In France, where
mushrooms are very plentiful, an inspector is appointed in
every market, and no mushrooms are allowed to be sold unless
they have first received his sanction. This is a wise precaution
in the right direction.
One important word of warning before leaving the subject.
Mushrooms should be eaten freshly gathered, and, if allowed to
get stale, those which were perfectly wholesome when fresh
picked become absolutely poisonous. The symptoms are somewhat
similar to narcotic poisoning. This particularly applies
to the larger and coarser kind that give out black juice.
Mushrooms, Plain, Grilled.—The larger kinds of mushrooms
are best for the purpose. The flat mushrooms should be
washed, dried, and peeled. They are then cooked slowly over a
clear fire, and a small wire gridiron, like those sold at a penny
or twopence each, is better adapted for the purpose than the
ordinary gridiron used for grilling steak. The gridiron should
be kept high above the fire. The mushrooms should be dipped
in oil, or oiled butter, and care should be taken that they do not
stick to the bars. They should be served very hot, with pepper
and salt and a squeeze of lemon-juice.
Mushrooms, Fried.—When mushrooms are very small they
are more easily fried than grilled. They should be washed,
dried and peeled, placed in a frying-pan, with a little butter,
pepper and salt, and cooked till tender. They are very nice
served on toast, and the butter in which they are cooked can
be poured on the toast first, and the mushrooms arranged on
the top afterwards. A squeeze of lemon-juice is an improvement.
Mushrooms au gratin.—This is a very delicious dish, and
is often served as an entrée at first-class dinners. They are
made from what are known as cup mushrooms. It is best to
pick mushrooms, as far as possible, the same size, the cup
being about two inches in diameter. Peel the mushrooms very
carefully, without breaking them, cut out the stalks close down
with a spoon, scoop out the inside of the cup, so as to make it
hollow. Now peel the stalks and chop them up with all the
scooped part of the mushroom, with, supposing we are making
ten cups, a piece of onion as big as the top of the thumb down
to the first joint. To this add a brimming teaspoonful of
chopped parsley, or even a little more, a saltspoonful of dried
thyme, or half this quantity of fresh thyme. Fry all this in
a frying-pan, in a little butter. The aroma is delicious. Then
add sufficient dried bread-crumbs that have been rubbed
through a wire sieve to make the whole into a moist paste,
fill each of the cups with this mixture so that the top
is as convex as the cup of the mushroom, having first
seasoned the mixture with a little pepper, salt, and lemon-juice.
Shake some fine bread-raspings over the top so as to
make them of a nice golden-brown colour, pour a little drop of
oil into a baking-tin, place the mushrooms in it, and bake them
gently in an oven till the cup part of the mushroom becomes
soft and tender, but take care they do not cook till they break.
Now take them out carefully with an egg-slice, and place them
on a dish—a silver dish is best for the purpose-and place some
nice, crisp, fried parsley round the edge.
Mushrooms à la Bordelaise.—This, as the
name implies, is a French recipe. It consists of ordinary grilled mushrooms, served in a sauce
composed of oil or oiled butter, chopped up with parsley and garlic,
thickened with the yolks of eggs.
Mushrooms à la Provençale.—This is an Italian recipe.
You must first wash, peel, and dry the mushrooms, and then
soak them for some time in what is called a marinade, which is
another word for pickle, of oil mixed with chopped garlic,
pepper, and salt. They are then stewed in oil with plenty of
chopped parsley over rather a brisk fire. Squeeze, a little
lemon-juice over them and serve them in a dish surrounded
with a little fried or toasted bread.
Mushroom Forcemeat.—The mushrooms after being
cleaned should be chopped up and fried in a little butter; lemon-juice
should be added before they are chopped in order to preserve their
colour. One or two hard-boiled yolks of
eggs can be added to the mixture, and the whole rubbed through a
wire sieve while hot. When the mixture is hot it should be moist, but,
of course, when it gets cold, owing to the butter it will be hard. This
mushroom forcemeat can be used for a variety of purposes.
Mushroom Pie.—Wash, dry, and peel some mushrooms,
and cut them into slices with an equal quantity of cut-up
potatoes. Bake these in a pie, having first moistened the potatoes
and mushrooms in a little butter. Add pepper and salt
and a small pinch of thyme. Cover them with a little water
and put some paste over the dish in the ordinary way. It is a
great improvement, after the pie is baked, to pour in some
essence of mushrooms made from stewing the stalks and peelings
in a little water. A single onion should be put in with
Mushroom Pie, Cold.—Prepare the mushrooms, potatoes,
and essence of mushroom as directed above, adding a little
chopped parsley. Bake all these in the dish before you cover
with paste, add also an extra seasoning of pepper. When the
mushrooms and potatoes are perfectly tender, strain off all
the juice or gravy, and thicken it with corn-flour; put this
back in the pie-dish and mix all well together, and pile it up in
the middle of the dish so that the centre is raised above the
edge. Let this get quite cold, then cover it with puff-paste,
and as soon as the pastry is done take it out of the oven and
let the pie get cold. This can now be cut in slices.
Mushroom Pudding.—Make a mixture of mushrooms,
potatoes, &c., exactly similar to that for making a pie. Place
this in a basin with only sufficient water to moisten the ingredients,
cover the basin with bread-crumbs soaked in milk,
and steam the basin in the ordinary way.
Tomatoes, Grilled.— What is necessary is a clear
fire and a gridiron in which the bars are not too far apart. The
disputed point is, should the tomatoes be grilled whole or cut in half?
This may be considered a matter of taste, but personally we prefer them
grilled whole. Moisten the tomato in a little oil or oiled butter, and
grill them carefully, as they are apt to break. Grilled tomatoes are
very nice with plain boiled macaroni, or can
be served up on boiled rice.
Tomatoes, Baked.—Place the tomatoes in a tin
with a little butter, and occasionally baste them with the butter. When
they are tender, they can be served either plain or with boiled macaroni or rice.
The butter and juice in the tin should be poured over them.
Tomatoes, Fried.—Place the tomatoes in a
frying-pan with a little butter, and fry them until they are tender.
Pour the contents of the frying-pan over them, serve plain, or with
macaroni or rice.
Tomatoes, Stewed.—Take half a dozen good-sized
tomatoes, and chop up very finely one onion about the same size as the
tomatoes. Moisten the bottom of a stew-pan with a little butter, and
sprinkle the chopped onion over the tomatoes. Add a dessertspoonful of
water; place the lid on the stewpan, which ought to fit tightly. It is
best to put a weight on the lid of the stew-pan, such as a flat-iron.
Place the stew-pan on the fire, and let them steam till they are
tender. They are cooked this way in Spain and Portugal, and very often
chopped garlic is used instead of onion.
Tomatoes au gratin.—Take a dozen ripe tomatoes,
cut off the stalks, and squeeze out time juice and pips. Next take a
few mushrooms and make a mixture exactly similar to that which was used
to fill the inside of Mushrooms au
gratin. Fill each tomato with some of this mixture, so that it
assumes its original shape and tight skin. The top or hole where the
stalk was cut out will probably be about the size of a shilling or
halfpenny. Shake some bright-coloured bread raspings over this spot
without letting them fall on the red tomato. In order to do this, cut a
round hole the right size in a stiff piece of paper. Place the tomatoes
in a stew-pan or a baking-dish in the oven, moistened with a little
oil. The oil should be about the eighth of an inch deep. Stew or bake
the tomatoes till they are tender, and then take them out carefully
with an egg-slice, and serve them surrounded with fried parsley. If
placed in a silver dish this has a very pretty appearance.
Tomato Pie.—Slice up an equal number of ripe tomatoes
and potatoes. Place them in a pie-dish with enough oiled
butter to moisten them. Add a brimming teaspoonful of
chopped parsley, a pinch of thyme, pepper, and salts and, if
possible, a few peeled mushrooms, which will be found to be a
very great improvement. Cover the pie with paste, and bake
in the oven.
Tomato Pie (another way).—Proceed as in making an
ordinary potato pie. Add a small bottle of tomato conserve,
cover with paste, and bake in the ordinary way.
Potato Pie.—Peel and slice up some potatoes as thin as
possible. At the same time slice up some onions. If Spanish
onions are used allow equal quantities of potatoes and onions,
but if ordinary onions are used allow only half this quantity.
Place a layer of sliced onion and sliced potato alternately. Add
some pepper, salt, and sufficient butter to moisten the potato
and butter before any water is added. Pour in some water
and add a teaspoonful of chopped parsley, cover the pie with
paste, and bake in the ordinary way.
Potato Pie (another way).—Butter a shallow
pie-dish rather thickly. Line the edges with a good crust, and then
fill the pie with mashed potatoes seasoned with pepper, salt, and
grated nutmeg. Lay over them some small lumps of butter, hard-boiled eggs, blanched almonds,
sliced dates, sliced lemon and candied peel. Cover the dish with pastry
and bake the pie in a well-heated oven for half an hour or more,
according to the size of the pie.
Pumpkin Pie.—Peel a ripe pumpkin and chip off the rind
or skin, halve it, and take out the seed and fluffy part in the
centre, which throw away. Cut the pumpkin into small, thin
slices, fill a pie-dish therewith, add to it half a teaspoonful of
allspice and a tablespoonful of sugar, with a small quantity of
water. Cover with a nice light paste and bake in the ordinary
way. Pumpkin pie is greatly unproved by being eaten with
Devonshire cream and sugar. An equal quantity of apples
with the pumpkin will make a still more delicious pie.
Pumpkin Pudding.—Take a large pumpkin, pare it, and
remove the seeds. Cut half of it into thin slices, and boil these
gently in water until they are quite soft, then rub them through
a fine sieve with the back of a wooden spoon. Measure the
pulp, and with each pint put four ounces of butter and a large
nutmeg, grated. Stir the mixture briskly for a minute or two,
then add the third of a pint of hot milk and four well-beaten
eggs. Pour the pudding into a buttered dish, and bake in a
moderate oven for about an hour. Sugar may be added to taste.
Potato Cheesecake.—(See CHEESECAKES.)
Cheese with Fried Bread.—Take some stale bread, and cut
it into strips about three inches long and one wide and one
inch thick. Fry the bread in some butter or oil till it is a
nice bright golden colour. Spread a layer of made mustard
over the strips of fried bread, and then cover them with grated
Parmesan cheese, pile them up on a dish, and place them in the
oven. As soon as the cheese begins to melt serve them very hot.
Cheese, Savoury.—Take equal quantities of grated Parmesan
cheese, butter, and flour; add a little salt and cayenne
pepper, make these into a paste with some water, roll out the
paste thin till it is about a quarter of an inch thick; cut it
into strips and bake them in the oven till they are a nice
brown, and serve hot.
Cheese Soufflé.—(See OMELETS.)
Cheese Pudding.—Mix half a pound of grated Parmesan
cheese with four eggs, well beaten up; mix in also two ounces
of butter, which should be first beaten to a cream, add half a
pint of milk and pour the mixture into a well-buttered pie-dish,
sprinkle some grated Parmesan cheese over the top, and bake in
the oven for about half an hour. The pudding will be lighter if
two of the whites of eggs are beaten to a stiff froth. The edge of
the pie-dish can be lined with puff-paste.
Cheese Ramequins.—Put half a pound of grated Parmesan
cheese in a stew-pan with a quarter of a pound of butter and a
quarter of a pint of water; add a little pepper and salt, and as
much flour as will make the whole into a thick paste. Mix up
with the paste as many well-beaten-up eggs as will make the
paste not too liquid to be moulded into a shape. The eggs
should be beaten till they froth. Now, with a tablespoon,
mould this mixture into shapes like a meringue or egg; place
these on a buttered tin and bake them till they are a nice
Cheese, Stewed.—When the remains of cheese have got very
dry it is a good plan to use it up in the shape of stewed cheese.
Break up the cheese and put it in a small stew-pan with about
a quarter its weight of butter; add a little milk, and let the
cheese stew gently till it is dissolved. At the finish, and when
you have removed it from the fire, add a well-beaten-up egg.
This can be served on toast, or it can be poured on to a dish
and pieces of toasted bread stuck in it.
Cheese Straws.—Mix equal quantities of grated Parmesan
cheese, grated bread-crumbs that have been rubbed through a
wire sieve, butter, and flour; add a little cayenne and grated
nutmeg. Make it into a thick paste, roll it out very thin, cut
it into strips, and bake for a few minutes in a fierce oven.
Cheese, Toasted.—This is best done in a Dutch oven, so
that when one side is toasted you can turn the oven and toast
the back; as soon as the cheese begins to melt it is done. As
it gets cold very quickly, and when cold gets hard, it is best
served on hot-water plates.
Cheese, Devilled.—Chop up some hot pickles, add some
cayenne pepper and mustard. Melt some cheese in a stew-pan
with a little butter, mix in the pickles, and serve on toast.
Welsh Rarebit.—Toast a large slice of bread; in the meantime
melt some cheese in the saucepan with a little butter.
When the cheese is melted it will be found that a good deal of
oiled butter floats on the top. Pour this over the dry toast
first, and then pour the melted cheese afterwards. Some
persons add a teaspoonful of Worcester sauce to the cheese,
and others a tablespoonful of good old Burton ale over
Ayoli.—This is a dish almost peculiar to the South of
France. Soak some crusts of bread in water, squeeze them
dry, and add two cloves of garlic chopped fine, six blanched
almonds, also chopped very fine, and a yolk of an egg; mix up
the whole into a smooth paste with a little oil.
Pumpkin à la Parmesane.—Cut a large pumpkin into
square pieces and boil them for about a quarter of an hour in
salt and water, and take them out, drain them, and put them
in a stew-pan with a little butter, salt, and grated nutmeg;
fry them, sprinkle them with a little Parmesan cheese, and
bake them for a short time in the oven till the cheese begins to
melt, and then serve. This is an Italian recipe.
Zucchetti farcis.—Take some very small gourds or
pumpkins, boil them for about a quarter of an hour in salt and water,
and then fill them with a forcemeat made as follows: Take some crumb of
bread and soak it in milk, squeeze it and add the yolks of two hard-boiled eggs and two raw yolks; chop
up very finely half a dozen blanched almonds with a couple of cloves;
add two ounces of grated Parmesan cheese, and a little salt and grated
nutmeg. Stew these gourds in butter and serve them with white sauce.
Stuffed Onions (Italian fashion).—Parboil some large
onions, stamp out the core after they have been allowed to
get quite cold in a little water; fill the inside with forcemeat
similar to the above; fry then), squeeze the juice of a lemon
over them, with a little pepper.
Polenta.—Polenta is made from ground Indian corn, and is
seen in Italian shop-windows in the form of a yellow powder;
it is made into a paste with boiling water, sprinkled with Parmesan
cheese, and baked in the oven.
Piroski Sernikis.—This dish is met with in Poland, and is
made by mixing up two pounds of cream-cheese, three-quarters
of a pound of fine bread-crumbs that have been rubbed through
a wire sieve, six eggs well beaten up; add a little cream or
milk, four ounces of washed grocer’s currants, one ounce of
sugar, half a grated nutmeg; and when the whole is thoroughly
mixed add as much flour as is necessary to make the whole
into a paste that can be rolled into balls. These balls should
not be much bigger than a walnut. Flour them, and then
flatten them into little cakes and fry them a nice brown in
Of course, a smaller quantity can be made by using these
ingredients in proportion.
Nalesnikis (Polish Pancakes).—Take eight eggs and beat
them up very thoroughly with about a pint and a half of milk,
or still better, cream, two ounces of butter that has been oiled,
half a grated nutmeg, and about a dozen lumps of sugar that
have been rubbed on the outside of a lemon; mix in sufficient
flour—about three-quarters of a pound will be required—to
make the whole into a very smooth batter. Melt a little butter
in a frying-pan, pour it all over the pan, and when it frizzles,
pour in some of the batter, and sprinkle over a few currants;
when the pancake is fried, shake some powdered sugar over it,
roll it up like an ordinary pancake, and serve hot.
Batter for Savoury Fritters.—Put six ounces of flour into
a basin, with a pinch of salt, the yolk of one egg, and a quarter
of a pint of warm water. Work this round and round with a
wooden spoon till it is perfectly smooth and looks like thick
cream. About half an hour before the batter is wanted for
use whip the white of one egg to a stiff froth and mix it
Mushroom Fritters.—Make some mushroom forcemeat; let
it get quite cold on a dish about a quarter of an inch thick. Cut out some
small rounds, about the size of a penny-piece. They fry better if slightly
oval. Have ready some thick batter (See BATTER). Have also ready in a saucepan some
boiling oil, which should be heated to about 350°. Place a
frying-basket in the saucepan, flour the rounds of mushroom forcemeat so as
to make them perfectly dry on the outside. Dip these pieces into the batter
and throw them into the boiling oil. The great heat of the oil will set the
batter before the mushroom forcemeat has time to melt. Directly the batter
is a nice light-brown colour, lift them out of the boiling oil with the
frying-basket, and throw them on to a cloth to drain. Break off the outside
pieces of batter, and serve the fritters on a neatly folded napkin on a
dish surrounded by fried parsley.
The beauty of these fritters is that when they are eaten the
inside is moist, owing, of course, to the heat having melted the
Tomato Fritters.—Make some mushroom forcemeat and spread it out as
thin as possible. Take some ripe tomatoes, cut them in slices, dip the
slice in vinegar, drain it and pepper it, and then wrap this thin slice of
tomato in a layer of mushroom forcemeat. Bring the edges together, flour
it, dip it into batter (see BATTER), and throw it into boiling oil as in
making mushroom fritters (see MUSHROOM FRITTERS).
Imitation Game Fritters.—Make some mushroom
forcemeat as directed under the heading “Mushroom Forcemeat,”
with the addition of, when you fry the mushrooms, chop up and fry with them
two heads of garlic, and add a saltspoonful of aromatic flavouring herbs.
(These, are sold in bottles by all grocers under the name of
“Herbaceous Mixture.”) Then proceed exactly as if you were
making mushroom fritters (see MUSHROOM FRITTERS).
Hominy Fritters.—These are made from remains of cold
boiled hominy, cut in thin slices, which must be dipped in
batter and fried in boiling oil.
Cheese Fritters.—Pound some dry cheese, or take about
three ounces of Parmesan cheese, and mix it with a few
bread-crumbs, a piece of butter, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and
the yolk of an egg, till the whole becomes a thick paste. Roll
the mixture into very small balls, flatten them, flour them, dip
them into batter, and throw them into boiling oil in the
ordinary way. Put them in the oven for five minutes before
Sage and Onion Fritters.—Make some ordinary sage and
onion stuffing, allowing one fresh sage leaf or two dried to
each parboiled onion; add pepper and salt and dried breadcrumbs.
Now moisten the whole with clarified butter, till the
mixture becomes a moist pulp. When it begins to get cold and
sets, roll it into small balls, the size of a very small walnut,
flatten these and let them get quite cold, then flour them, dip
them into batter, and throw them into boiling oil; remove them
with the frying-basket, and serve with fried parsley.
Spinach Fritters.—Make a little thick purée
of spinach, add a pinch of savoury herbs containing marjoram; mix in a
little clarified butter and one or two lumps of sugar rubbed on the outside
of a lemon, as well as a little grated nutmeg. Roll the mixture into very
small ball; or else they will break, flatten them, flour them, dip them
into batter, and throw them into boiling oil, and serve immediately.
Fritters, Sweet.—In making sweet fritters, the same kind
of batter will do as we used for making savoury fritters, though
many cooks add a little powdered sugar. The same principles
hold good. The oil must be heated to a temperature of 350∞, and
a frying-basket must be used. Instead of flouring the substances
employed to make them dry, before being dipped into the batter,
which is an essential point in making fritters, we must use finely
powdered sugar, and it will be found a saving of both time and
trouble to buy pounded sugar for the purpose. It is sold by
grocers under the name of castor sugar. We cannot make this
at home in a pestle and mortar to the same degree of fineness
any more than we could grind our own flour. We cannot compete
Apple Fritters.—Peel some apples, cut them in slices
across the core, and stamp out the core. It is customary,
where wine, &c., is not objected to, to soak these rings of
apples for several hours in a mixture of brandy, grated lemon
or orange peel and sugar, or better still, to rub some lumps
of sugar on the outside of a lemon or orange and dissolve this
in the brandy. Of course, brandy is not necessary, but the
custom is worth mentioning. The rings of apple can be
soaked for some time in syrup flavoured this way. They must
then be made dry by being dipped in powdered sugar, then
dipped into batter and thrown, one at a time, into a saucepan
containing smoking hot oil in which a wire frying-basket has
been placed. Directly the fritters are a nice brown, take them
out, break off the rough pieces, shake some finely powdered
sugar over them, pile them up on a dish, and serve.
Apricot Fritters.—These can be made from fresh apricots or
tinned ones, not too ripe; if they break they are not fitted. When
made from fresh apricots they should be peeled, cut in halves, the
round end removed, dipped in powdered sugar, then dipped in
batter, thrown into boiling oil, and finished like apple fritters.
Some persons soak the apricots in brandy.
Banana Fritters.—Banana fritters can be made from the
bananas as sold in this country, and it is a mistake to think
that when they are black outside they are bad. When in
this state they are sometimes sold as cheap as six a penny.
Peel the bananas, cut them into slices half an inch thick, dip
them into finely powdered sugar and then into batter, and
finish as directed in apple fritters.
Some persons soak the slices of banana in maraschino.
Custard Fritters.—Take half a pint of cream in which some
cinnamon and lemon have been boiled, add to this five yolks of
eggs, a little flour, and about three ounces of sugar. Put this
into a pie-dish, well buttered, and steam it till the custard
becomes quite set; then let it get cold, and cut it into slices
about half an inch thick and an inch and a half long, sprinkle
each piece with a little powdered cinnamon, and make it quite
dry with some powdered sugar. Then dip each piece into
batter, throw them one by one into boiling oil, and finish as
directed for apple fritters.
Almond Fritters, Chocolate Fritters, Coffee Fritters,
Vanilla Fritters, &c.—These fritters are made exactly in
the same way as custard fritters, only substituting powdered
chocolate, pounded almonds, essence of coffee, or essence of
vanilla, for the powdered cinnamon.
Frangipane Fritters.—Make a Frangipane cream by
mixing eggs with a little cold potato, butter, sugar, and powdered
ratafias, the proportion being a quarter of a pound of butter, four eggs,
six ounces of sugar, one cold floury potato, and a quarter of a pound of
ratafias. Bake or steam this until it is set, and proceed as in custard fritters. Many persons add the
flavouring of a little rum.
Peach Fritters.—These are made exactly similar to apricot
fritters, bearing in mind that if they are made from tinned
peaches only the firm pieces, and not pulpy ones, must be used
for the purpose. Proceed exactly as directed for apricot
If any liqueur is used, noyeau is best adapted for the
Potato Fritters.—Mix up some floury potato with a quarter
of a pound of butter, a well-beaten-up egg, and three ounces of
sugar, some of which has been rubbed on the outside of a lemon.
The addition of a little cream is a great improvement. Roll
the mixture into small balls and flour them; they are then
fried just as they are, without being dipped into batter.
Pine-apple Fritters.—These can be made from fresh
pine-apples or tinned. They should be cut into slices like apple fritters
if the pine-apple is small, but if the pine-apple is large they can be cut
into strips three inches long and one wide and half an inch thick. These
must be dipped in powdered sugar, then into batter, and finished as
directed for apple fritters.
If any liqueur is used, maraschino is best adapted to the
Orange Fritters.—Only first-class oranges are adapted for
this purpose. Thick-skinned and woolly oranges are no use.
Peel a thin-skinned ripe orange, divide each orange into about
six pieces, soak these in a syrup flavoured with sugar rubbed
on the outside of an orange, and if liqueur is used make the
syrup with brandy. After they have soaked some time, remove
any pips, dip each piece into hatter, and proceed as
directed for apple fritters.
Cream Fritters.—Rub some lumps of sugar on the outside
of an orange, pound them, and mix with a little cream; take
some small pieces of stale white cake, such as Madeira cake
or what the French call brioche. Soak these pieces of stale
cake, which must be cut small and thin, or they will break, in
the orange-flavoured cream, dry each piece in some finely-powdered
sugar, dip it into batter, and proceed as directed for
making apple fritters.
German Fritters.—Take some small stale pieces of cake,
and soak them in a little milk or cream flavoured with essence
of vanilla and sweetened with a little sugar. Take them out,
and let them get a little dry on the outside, then dip them in a
well-beaten-up egg, cover them with bread-crumbs, and fry a
nice golden-brown colour.
Rice and Ginger Fritters.—Boil a small quantity of
rice in milk and add some preserved ginger chopped small, some sugar, and
one or more eggs, sufficient to set the mixture when baked in a pie-dish.
Bake till set, then cut into slices about two inches long, an inch wide,
and half an inch thick; dry these pieces with powdered sugar, dip into
batter, and finish as directed for making apple
Rice Fritters.—A variety of fritters could be made
from a small baked rice pudding, flavoured with various kinds of essences,
spices, orange marmalade, peach marmalade, fresh lime marmalade, apricot
jam, &c., proceeding exactly as directed above.
Vegetables may be roughly divided into two classes—those
that may be called substantial and which are adapted to form
a meal in themselves, and those of a lighter kind, which cannot
be said to make a sufficient repast unless eaten with bread.
Potatoes were first introduced into this country about 400
years ago, tobacco being introduced about the same period,
and we cannot disguise the fact that there are many who regard
the latter as the greater blessing of the two. If Sir Henry
Thompson is right in stating that tobacco is the great ally of
temperance, there may be some ground for this opinion.
Potatoes form an important article of food for the body,
while, whatever effect tobacco may have upon the thinking
powers of mankind, it is almost the only product of
the vegetable kingdom that is absolutely uneatable even
when placed within the reach of those in the last stage of
In some parts, especially in Ireland, potatoes form almost
the only food of the population, just as rice does in hotter
climates, and when the crop fails famine ensues. When
potatoes form the only kind of food, a very large quantity has
to be eaten by a hard-working man in order for him to receive
sufficient nourishment to keep his body healthy, the amount
required being not less than ten pounds per day. If, on the
other hand, a certain amount of fat or oil of some kind be
mixed with them, a far less quantity will suffice. Hence we
find in Ireland that, wherever it is possible, either some kind
of oily fish, such as herring, is taken with them, or, which is
much more to the point with vegetarians, a certain quantity
of fat is obtained in the shape of milk.
It must also be remembered that four pounds of raw
potatoes contain only one pound of solid food, the remaining
three pounds being water. It is important, for those who first
commence a vegetarian diet, to remember that vegetables like
peas, haricot beans, and lentils are far superior to potatoes so far
as nourishment is concerned, for many are apt to jump to the
conclusion that potatoes are the very best substitute for bread
and milk. So, too, is oatmeal. A Scotchman requires a
far less quantity of oatmeal to sustain life than an Irishman
does potatoes; hence it is a very important point to remember
that, if we depend upon potatoes to any great extent for our
daily food, we should cook them in such a manner as to
entail as little waste as possible. We will now try and
explain, as briefly as possible, the best method of serving.
Potatoes, Plain Boiled.—The best method of having
potatoes, if we wish to study economy, is to boil them in their
jackets, as it is generally admitted that the most nourishing
part is that which lies nearest to the skin. There are many
houses in the country where an inexperienced cook will peel,
say four pounds of potatoes, and throw the peel into the
pig-tub, where the pig gets a better meal than the family.
When potatoes are boiled in their skins, they should be
thoroughly washed and scrubbed with a hard brush. Old
potatoes should be put into cold water, and when the water
boils the time should a good deal depend upon the size of the
potatoes. When the potatoes are large, the chief principle to
be borne in mind is, do not let them boil too quickly or cook
too quickly. We must avoid having the outside pulpy while
the inside is hard. The water, which should be slightly salted,
should more than cover them, and, if the potatoes are very
large, directly the water comes to the boil it is a good plan to
throw in a little cold water to take it off the boil. It is quite
impossible to lay down any exact law in regard to boiling
potatoes. We cannot do more than give general principles
which can only be carried out by cooks who possess a little
Small new potatoes are an extreme in one direction.
They should be thrown into boiling water, and are generally
cooked in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. Large
old potatoes should be put into cold water and, as we have
stated, the water should not be allowed to boil too soon, and
it will take very often an hour to boil them properly. Between
these two extremes there is a gradually ascending scale which
must be left to the judgment of the cook. It is as impossible
to lay down any hard-and-fast line with regard to time in
boiling potatoes as it would be to say at what exact point in
the thermometer between freezing and 80∞ in the shade a man
should put on his top coat.
If we may be allowed the expression, “old new” potatoes
should be thrown into neither boiling water nor cold water,
but lukewarm water. Again, in boiling potatoes, especially
in the case of old ones, some little allowance must be made
for the time of year. In winter, they require longer time,
and we may here mention the fact that it is very important
that potatoes, after they are dug, should not be left out of
doors and exposed to a hard frost, as in this case a chemical
change takes place in which the starch is converted into
When potatoes are boiled in their jackets sufficiently,
which fact is generally tested by sticking a steel fork into
them, they should be strained off, and allowed to get dry for
a few minutes in the saucepan, which should be removed from
the fire, as at times the potatoes are apt to stick and burn.
When large potatoes are peeled before they are boiled, we
should endeavour to send them to table floury, and this is
often said to be the test of a really good cook. After the
water has been strained off from the potatoes, a dry cloth
should be placed under the lid of the saucepan, and the lid
should only be placed half on, i.e., it should not be fitted down
tight. It is also as well to give the saucepan now and then a
shake, but do not overdo the shaking and break them. About
five or ten minutes is generally sufficient.
Potatoes, Steamed.—Potatoes can be steamed in their
jackets, and it is a more economical method than peeling. It
should be remembered, however, that steam is hotter than
boiling water. If plain water is underneath and boils
furiously, and the steam is well shut in, they will cook very
quickly; but if, as is generally the case, something else is in
the saucepan under the steamer, boiling gently, this does not
apply. We refer to the ordinary steamer met with in private
houses, and not to the ones used in the large hotels and
Potatoes, Baked.—When potatoes are baked in the oven
in their jackets the larger they are the better. The oven
must not be too fierce, and ample time should be allowed.
Baked potatoes require quite two hours. This only refers to
those baked in their jackets. When potatoes are cut up and
baked in a tin they require some kind of fat, which, of
course, in vegetarian cookery must be either oil or butter.
Potatoes, Mashed.—What may be termed high-class
mashed potatoes are made by mashing up ordinary boiled
potatoes with a little milk previously boiled, a little butter,
and passing the whole through a wire sieve, when a little
cream, butter and salt is added.
In private houses mashed potatoes are generally made from
the remains of cold boiled potatoes, or when the cook, in
boiling the potatoes, has made a failure. Still, of course, potatoes
are boiled often expressly for the purpose of being mashed.
This is often the case where old potatoes have to be cut into
all sorts of shapes and sizes in order to get rid of the black
spots. As soon as the potatoes are boiled they are generally
moistened in the saucepan with a little drop of milk. It is
undoubtedly an improvement, and also entails very little extra
trouble, to boil the milk first. There is a difference in flavour,
which is very marked, between milk that has been boiled and
raw milk. Suppose you have coffee for breakfast, add boiling
milk to one cup and raw milk to another, and then see how
great a difference there will be in the flavour of the two. A
little butter should be added to mashed potatoes, but it is not
really essential. Mashed potatoes can be served in the shape
of a mould, that is, they can be shaped in a mould and then
browned in the oven. If you serve mashed potatoes in an
ordinary dish, and pile them up in the shape of a dome, the
dish will look much prettier if you score it round with a
fork and then place the dish in a fairly fierce even; the edges
will brown, but be careful that they don’t get burnt black.
Potatoes, Fried.—The best lesson, if you wish to fry
potatoes nicely, is to look in at the window of a fried fish shop,
where every condition is fulfilled that is likely to lead to
perfection. The bath of oil is deep and smoking hot, and in
sufficient quantity not to lose greatly in temperature on the
introduction of the frying-basket containing the potatoes.
The potatoes must be cut up into small pieces, not much bigger
in thickness than the little finger; these are plunged into the
smoking hot oil, and as soon as they are slightly browned on
the outside they are done. They acquire a darker colour after
they are removed from the oil, and the inside will go on
cooking for several minutes. It would be quite impossible to
eat fried potatoes directly they are taken out of the fat, as
they would burn the mouth terribly. It is best to throw the
fried potatoes into a cloth for a few seconds.
Potato Chips.—Potato chips are ordinary fried potatoes
cut up when raw into little pieces about the size and thickness
of a lucifer match. They, of course, will cook very quickly.
They should be removed from the oil directly they begin to
Potato Ribbon.—Potato ribbon is simply ordinary fried
potatoes, in which the raw potato is cut in the shape of a
ribbon. You take a potato and peel it in the ordinary way.
You then take this and, with not too sharp a knife, peel it like
apple, making the strip as long as you can, like children
sometimes do when they throw the apple peel over their
shoulders to see what letter it will make. You can go on
peeling the potato round and round till there is none left.
These ribbons are thrown into boiling oil, and must be removed
as soon as they begin to turn colour. When piled up in a
dish they look very pretty, and with a little pepper and salt,
and a squeeze of lemon-juice, make an excellent meal when eaten
Potato Sauté.—This dish is more frequently met with
abroad than in England, except in foreign restaurants. It is
made by taking the remains of ordinary plain-boiled potatoes
that are not floury. These are cut up into small pieces about
the size of the thumb, no particular shape being necessary.
They are thrown into a frying-pan with a little butter, and
fried gently till the edges begin to brown; they are served with
chopped parsley and pepper and salt. The butter should be
poured over the potatoes, and supplies the fatty element which
Potatoes à la Maître
d’Hôtel.—These are very similar to potato
sauté, the difference being that they are not browned at the edges.
Small kidney potatoes are best for the purpose. These must be boiled till
tender, and the potatoes then cut into slices. These must be warmed up with
a spoonful or two of white sauce (see WHITE SAUCE), to which is added some chopped
parsley and a little lemon-juice. A more common way is to boil the
potatoes, slice them up while hot, and then toss them about in a
vegetable-dish lightly with a lump of what is called Maître
d’Hôtel butter. This is simply a lump of plain cold butter,
mixed with chopped parsley, till it looks like a lump of cold parsley and
butter. When tossed about squeeze a little lemon-juice over the whole and
Potatoes, New.—New potatoes should be washed and the
skin, if necessary, rubbed off with the fingers; they should be
thrown into boiling water, slightly salted, and as a rule require
from fifteen to five-and-twenty minutes to boil before
they are done. During the last few minutes throw in one or
two sprigs of fresh mint, drain them off and let there dry, and
then place them in a vegetable-dish with the mint and a little
piece of butter, in which the potatoes should be boiled to give
them a shiny appearance outside.
New potatoes can also be served with a little white sauce
to which has been added a little chopped parsley.
Potato Balls.—Mash some boiled potatoes with a little
butter, pepper, salt, chopped parsley, chopped onion, or still
better, shallot, and add a few savoury herbs. Mix up one or
two or more well-beaten eggs, according to the quantity of
potato, roll the mixture into balls, flour them, and fry them a
nice brown colour, and serve.
Potato Croquettes or Cutlets.—These are very similar
to potato balls, only they should be smaller and more delicately flavoured.
The potatoes are boiled and mashed, and, if the croquettes are wished to be
very good, one or two hard-boiled yolks of
eggs should be mixed with them. The mixture is slightly flavoured with
shallot, savoury herbs or thyme, chopped parsley, and a little nutmeg. One
or two fresh well-beaten-up eggs are now added, the mixture then rolled
into small balls no bigger than a walnut. These are then dipped in
well-beaten-up egg, and then bread-crumbed. The balls are fried a nice
golden-brown colour and served.
Potato cutlets are exactly the same, only instead of shaping
the mixture into a little ball, the ball is flattened into the
shape of a small oval cutlet. These are then egged, bread-crumbed,
and fried, but before being sent to table a small piece
of green parsley stalk is stuck in one end to represent the
bone of the cutlet. These little cutlets, placed on an ornamental
sheet of white paper, at the bottom of the silver dish,
look very pretty. A small heap of fried parsley should be
placed in the centre of the dish.
Potato Pie.—(See SAVOURY DISHES, p. 112.)
Potato Cheesecake.—(See CHEESECAKES, p. 169.)
Potato Salads.—(See SALADS, p. 101.)
Potato, Border of.—A very pretty dish can be made by
making a border of mashed potatoes, hollow in the centre, in which can be
placed various kinds of other vegetables, such as haricot beans, stewed
peas, &c. The mashed potato should be mixed with one or two
well-beaten-up eggs, and the outside of the border can be moulded by hand,
to make it look smooth and neat; a piece of flexible tin, flat, will be
found very useful, or even a piece of cardboard. If you wish to make the
border ornamental, you can proceed exactly as directed under the heading Rice Borders, and if it is wished to make the
dish particularly handsome, it can be painted outside, before being placed
in the oven, with a yolk of egg beaten up with a tiny drop of hot water.
When this is done, the potato border has an appearance similar in colour to
the rich pastry generally seen outside a pie, or vol au vent. The
inside of the potato border after it has been scooped out can be filled
with plain boiled macaroni mixed with Parmesan
cheese, and ornamented with a little chopped parsley on the top and a few
small baked red ripe tomatoes. Again, it can be filled with white haricot
beans piled up in the shape of a dome, with some chopped parsley sprinkled
over the top. There are, perhaps, few dishes in vegetarian cookery that can
be made to look more elegant.
Potato Biscuits (M. Ude’s
Recipe).—Take fifteen fresh eggs, break the yolks into one pan
and the whites into another. Beat the yolks with a pound of sugar pounded
very fine, scrape the peel of a lemon with a lump of sugar, dry that and
pound it fine also; then throw into it the yolks, and work the eggs and
sugar till they are of a whitish colour. Next whip the whites well and mix
them with the yolks. Now sift half a pound of flour of potatoes through a
silk sieve over the eggs and sugar. Have some paper cases ready, which lay
on a plafond with some paper underneath. Fill the cases, but not too full;
glaze the contents with some rather coarse sugar, and bake the whole in an
oven moderately heated.
Potato Bread.—In making bread, a portion of mashed
potato is sometimes added to the flour, and this addition improves
the bread very much for some tastes; it also keeps it
from getting dry quite so soon. At the same time it is not so
nutritious as ordinary home-made bread. Boil the required
quantity of potatoes in their skins, drain and dry them, then
peel and weigh them. Pound them with the rolling-pin until
they are quite free from lumps, and mix with them the flour in
the proportion of seven pounds of flour to two and a half
pounds of potatoes. Add the yeast and knead in the ordinary
way, but make up the bread with milk instead of water. When
the dough is well risen, bake the bread in a gentle oven.
Bake it a little longer than for ordinary bread, and, when it
seems done enough, let it stand a little while, with the oven-door
open, before taking it out. Unless these precautions are
taken, the crust will be hard and brittle, while the inside is
still moist and doughy. This recipe is from “Cassell’s Dictionary
Potato Cake.—Take a dozen good-sized potatoes and hake
them in the oven till done, then peel and put them into a
saucepan with a little salt and grated lemon-peel; set them
upon the stove and put in a piece of fresh butter and stir the
whole; add a little cream and sugar, still continuing to stir
them; then let them cool a little and add some orange-flower
water, eight yolks of eggs and four only of whites, whisked
into froth; heat up the whole together and mix it with the
potato purée. Butter a mould and sprinkle it with bread-crumbs;
pour in the paste, place the pan upon hot cinders,
with fire upon the lid, and let it remain for three-quarters of
an hour, or it may be baked in an oven.
Potato Cheese.—Potato cheeses are very highly esteemed
in Germany; they can be made of various qualities, but care
must be taken that they are not too rich and have not too
much heat, or they will burst. Boil the potatoes till they are
soft, but the skin must not be broken. The potatoes must be
large and of the best quality. When boiled, carefully peel
them and beat them to a smooth paste in a mortar with a
wooden pestle. To make the commonest cheese, put five
pounds of potato paste into a cheese-tub with one pound of
milk and rennet; add a sufficient quantity of salt, together
with caraways and cumin seed sufficient to impart a good
flavour. Knead all these ingredients well together, cover up
and allow them to stand three or four days in winter, two to
three in summer. At the end of that time knead them again,
put the paste into wicker moulds, and leave the cheeses to
drain until they are quite dry. When dry and firm, lay them
on a board and leave them to acquire hardness gradually in a
place of very moderate warmth; should the heat be too great,
as we have said, they will burst. When, in spite of all
precautions, such accidents occur, the crevices of the burst
cheeses are, in Germany, filled with curds and cream mixed,
some being also put over the whole surface of the cheese, which
is then dried again. As soon as the cheeses are thoroughly
dry and hard, place them in barrels with green chickweed
between each cheese; let them stand for about three weeks,
when they will be fit for use.
Potatoes à la Barigoule.—Peel some potatoes and boil
them in a little water with some oil, pepper, salt, onions, and
savoury herbs. Boil them slowly, so that they can absorb the
liquor; when they are done, brown them in a stew-pan in a
little oil, and serve them to be eaten with oil and vinegar,
pepper and salt.
Potatoes, Broiled.—Potatoes are served this way sometimes
in Italy. They are first boiled in their skins, but not
too long. They are then taken out and peeled, cut into thin
slices, placed on a gridiron, and grilled till they are crisp. A
little oil is poured over them when they are served.
Potatoes à la Lyonnaise.—First boil and then
peel and slice some potatoes. Make some rather thin purée of onion.
(See SAUCE SOUBISE.) Pour this over
the potatoes and serve.
Another way is to first brown the slices of potatoes and
then serve them with the onion sauce, with the addition of a
little vinegar or lemon-juice.
Potatoes à la Provençale.—Put a small piece of butter
into a stew-pan, or three tablespoonfuls of oil, three beads of
garlic, the peel of a quarter of a lemon, and some parsley, all
chopped up very fine; add a little grated nutmeg, pepper and
salt. Peel some small potatoes and let them stew till they
are tender in this mixture. Large potatoes can be used for
the purpose, only they must be cut tip into pieces. Add the
juice of a lemon before serving.
Haricot Beans.—It is very much to be regretted that
haricot beans are not more used in this country. There are
hundreds of thousands of families who at the end of a year
would be richer in purse and more healthy in body if
they would consent to deviate from the beaten track and try
haricot beaus, not as an accompaniment to a dish of meat, but
as an article of diet in themselves. The immense benefit
derived in innumerable cases from a diet of beans is one of
the strongest and most practical arguments in favour of
vegetarianism. Meat-eaters often boast of the plainness of
their food, and yet wonder that they suffer in health. It is
not an uncommon thing for a man to consult his doctor
and to tell him, “I live very simply, nothing but plain roast
Medical men are all agreed on one point, and that is
that haricot beans rank almost first among vegetables as a
nourishing article of diet. In writing on this subject, Sir
Henry Thompson observes, “Let me recall, at the close of
these few hints about the haricot, the fact that there is no
product of the vegetable kingdom so nutritious, holding its
own, in this respect, as it well can, even against the beef and
mutton of the animal kingdom.”
This is a very strong statement, coming as it does from so
high an authority, and vegetarians would do well to hear it in
mind when discussing the subject of vegetarianism with those
who differ from them. Sir Henry proceeds as follows:—“The
haricot ranks just above lentils, which have been so much
praised of late, and rightly, the haricot being to most palates
more agreeable. By most stomachs, too, haricots are more
easily digested than meat is; and, consuming weight for
weight, the eater feels lighter and less oppressed, as a rule,
after the leguminous dish, while the comparative cost is very
greatly in favour of the latter.”
To boil haricot beans proceed as follows. We refer, of
course, to the dried white haricot beans, the best of which are
those known as Soissons. The beans should be soaked in cold
water overnight, and in the morning any that may be found
floating on the top of the water should be thrown away.
Suppose the quantity be a quart; place these in a saucepan
with two quarts of cold water, slightly salted. As soon as time
water conies to the boil, move it so that the beans will only
simmer gently; they must then continue simmering till they
are tender. This generally takes about three hours, and if the
water is hard, it is advisable to put in a tiny piece of
soda. This is the simple way of cooking beans usually recommended
in cookery-books when they are served up with a
dish of meat, such as a leg of mutton à la Bretonne, where the
beans are served in some rich brown gravy containing fat.
In vegetarian cookery, of course, we must proceed entirely
differently, and there are various ways in which this nourishing
dish can be served, as savoury and as appetising, and indeed
more so, than if we had assistance from the slaughter-house.
We will now proceed to give a few instances.
In the first place, it will greatly assist the flavour of the
beans if we boil with them one or two onions and a dessertspoonful
of savoury herbs. Supposing, however, we have
them boiled plain. Take a large dry crust of bread and rub
the outside well over with one or two beads of garlic. Place
this crust of bread with the beans after they have been strained
off, and toss them lightly about with the crust without breaking
the beans. Remove the crust and moisten the beans while hot
with a lump of butter, add a brimming dessertspoonful of
chopped blanched parsley; squeeze the juice of a lemon over
the whole, and serve. Instead of butter we can add, as they
always do in Italy, two or three tablespoonfuls of pure olive
oil. Those who have conquered the unreasonable English
prejudice against the use of oil will probably find this superior
If the beans are served in the form of a purée, it is always
best to boil a few onions with them and rub the onions through
the wire sieve with the beans, taking care that the quantity of
onion is not so large that it destroys and overpowers the
delicate and delicious flavour of the beans themselves.
Next, we would call attention to the importance of not
throwing away the water in which the beans were boiled.
This water contains far more nourishment than people are aware
of, and throughout the length and breadth of France, where
economy is far more understood than in this country, it is
invariably saved to assist in making some kind of soup, and
as our soup will, of course, be vegetarian, the advantage gained
is simply incalculable.
Flageolets.—These are haricot beans in the fresh green
state, and are rarely met with in this country, though they
form a standing dish abroad. They are exceedingly nice, and
can be cooked in a little butter like the French cook green
peas. They are often flavoured with garlic, and chopped
parsley can be added to them. Those who are fond of this
vegetable in the fresh state can obtain them in tins from any
high-class grocer, as the leading firms in this country keep
them in this form for export.
Peas, Dried.—Dried peas, like dried beans, contain a very
great amount of nourishment. Indeed, in this respect, practically,
dried beans, dried peas, and lentils may be considered
equal. Dried peas are met with in two forms—the split yellow
pea and those that are dried whole, green. Split peas are
chiefly used in this country to make pea soup, or purée of peas
and peas pudding. We have already given recipes for the two
former, and will now describe how to make—
Peas Pudding.—Soak a quart of peas in water overnight,
throwing away those in the morning that are found floating at
the top. Drain them off and tie them up in a pudding-cloth,
taking care to leave plenty of room for the peas to swell; put
them into cold water, and boil them till they are tender. This
will take from two to three hours. When tender, take
them out, untie the cloth, and rub them through a colander,
or, better still, a wire sieve. Now mix in a couple of ounces
of butter with some pepper and salt, flour the cloth well and
tie it up again and boil it for another hour, when it can be
turned out and served. Peas pudding when eaten alone is
improved by mixing in, at the same time as the butter, a
dessertspoonful of dried powdered mint, also, should you have
the remains of any cold potatoes in the house, it is a very good
way of using them up. A few savoury herbs can be used
instead of mint.
Peas “Brose.”—Dr. Andrew, in writing to the “Cyclopædia
of Domestic Medicine,” says, “In the West of Scotland,
especially in Glasgow, ‘peas brose,’ as it is called, is made of
the fine flour of the white pea, by forming it into a mass
merely by the addition of boiling water and a little salt. It
is a favourite dish with not only the working classes, but it
is even esteemed by many of the gentry. It was introduced
into fashion chiefly by the recommendation of Dr. Cleghorn,
late Professor of Chemistry in Glasgow University. The peas
brose is eaten with milk or butter, and is a sweet, nourishing
article of diet peculiarly fitted for persons of a costive habit
and for children.”
Peas, Dried Whole, Green.—This is perhaps the best form
with which we meet peas dried. When the best quality is
selected, and care taken in their preparation, they are quite
equal to fresh green peas when they are old. Indeed, many
persons prefer them.
Soak the peas overnight, throwing away those that float
at the top; put them into cold water, and when they boil let
the peas simmer gently till they are tender. The time varies
very much with the quality and the size of the peas, old ones
requiring nearly three hours, others considerably less. When
the peas are tender, throw in some sprigs, if possible, of fresh
mint, and after a minute strain them off; add pepper, salt, and
about two ounces of butter to a quart of peas—though this
is not absolutely necessary—and nearly a dessertspoonful of
white powdered sugar.
If you wish to have the peas as bright a green as freshly
gathered ones, after you strain them off you can mix them in
a basin, before you add the butter, with a little piece of green
vegetable colouring (sold in bottles by all grocers). The peas
should then be put back in the saucepan for a few minutes to
be made hot through, and then finished as directed before.
Peas, Dried, Green, with Cream.—Boil the peas as before
directed till they are quite tender, then strain them off and
put them in a stew-pan with one ounce of butter to every
quart of peas and toss them lightly about with a little pepper,
salt, and grated nutmeg. Add to each quart of peas a quarter
of a pint of cream and a dessertspoonful of powdered sugar;
surround the dish with fried or toasted bread.
Lentils.—Lentils are, comparatively speaking, a novel
form of food in this country, though they have been used
abroad for many years, and a recipe for cooking them will be
found in a well-known work, published in Paris in 1846, entitled
“La Cuisinière de la Campagne et de la Ville; ou,
Nouvelle Cuisine Économique,”one of the most popular French
cookery-books ever published, and which in that year had
reached a circulation of 80,000 copies.
Recipes for boiled lentils and lentil soup are
given in “Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery,” published in
1875; but it is stated in the introductory remarks that lentils are little
used in England except as food for pigeons, and adds, “They are
seldom offered for sale.” Since that date lentils have become an
exceedingly popular form of food in many households, and vegetarians
generally regard them as one of the most nourishing forms of food served at
the table. There are two kinds of lentils, the German and Egyptian. The
Egyptian are red and much smaller than the German, which are green. The
former kind are generally used on the Continent, in Italy and the South of
France, while, as the name implies, the green lentils are more commonly
used in Eastern Europe. Either kind, however, can be used for making soup
and purée, recipes of which have already been given, as well as for
the recipes in the present chapter.
Lentils, Boiled.—The lentils should be placed in soak overnight,
and those that float should be thrown away. Suppose
we have half a pint of lentils, they should be boiled in about
a pint and a half of water. Boil them till they are tender,
which will take about half an hour, then drain them off and
put them back in the saucepan for a few minutes with a little
piece of butter, squeeze over them the juice of half a lemon,
and serve hot. Some people make a little thickened sauce with
yolks of eggs and a little butter and flour mixed with the
water in which they are boiled.
Lentils, Curried.—Lentils are very nice curried.
Boil the lentils as directed above till they are tender. When they are
placed in a vegetable-dish make deep well in the centre and pour some thick
curry sauce into it. (See CURRY
Lentils à la Provençale.—Soak the lentils overnight and
put them into a stew-pan with five or six spoonfuls of oil, a
little butter, some slices of onion, some chopped parsley, and a
teaspoonful of mixed savoury herbs. Stew them in this till
the lentils are tender, and then thicken the sauce with yolks of
eggs, add a squeeze of lemon-juice, and serve.
N.B.—Haricot beans can be cooked in a similar manner.
Artichokes, French, Plain Boiled.—Put the
artichokes to soak in some well salted water, upside down, as otherwise
it is impossible to get rid of the insects that are sometimes hidden in
the leaves. Trim off the ends of the leaves and the stalk, and all the
hard leaves round the bottom should be pulled off. Put the artichokes
into a saucepan of boiling water sufficiently deep to nearly cover
them. The tips of the leaves are best left out; add a little salt,
pepper, and a spoonful of savoury herbs to the water in which they are
boiled. French cooks generally add a piece of butter. Boil them till
they are tender. The time depends upon the size, but you can always
tell when they are done by pulling out a single leaf. If it comes out
easily the artichokes are done. Drain them off, and remember in
draining them to turn them upside down. Some kind of sauce is generally
served with artichokes separately in a boat, such as butter sauce, sauce Allemande, or Dutch sauce.
Artichokes, Broiled.—Parboil the artichokes and take
out the part known as the choke. In the hollow place a little
chopped parsley and light-coloured bread-raspings soaked in
olive oil. Place the bottoms of the artichokes on a gridiron
with narrow bars over a clear fire, and serve them as soon a
they are thoroughly hot through.
Artichokes, Fried.—The bottoms of artichokes after being
boiled can be dipped in batter and fried.
Artichokes à la Provençale.—Parboil the artichokes and
remove the choke, and put them in the oven in a tin with a
little oil, pepper and salt, and three or four heads of garlic,
whole. Let them bake till they are tender, turning them over
in the oil occasionally; then take out the garlic and serve them
with the oil poured over them, and add the juice of a lemon.
Artichokes, Jerusalem, Boiled, Plain.—The artichokes
must be first washed and peeled, and should be treated like
potatoes in this respect. They should be thrown into cold
water immediately, and it is best to add a little vinegar to
the water. If the artichokes are young, throw them into
boiling water, and they will become tender in about a quarter
of an hour or twenty minutes. It is very important not to
over-boil them, as they turn a bad colour. If any doubt
exists as to the age of the artichokes, they had better be tested
with a fork. Immediately they are tender they should be
drained and served.
Old artichokes must be treated like old potatoes, i.e., put
originally into cold water, and when they come to the boiling point allowed
to simmer till tender; but these are best mashed. When the artichokes have
been drained, they can, of course, be served quite plain, but they are best
sent to table with some kind of sauce poured over them, such as Allemande sauce, Dutch sauce, white
sauce, or plain butter sauce. They are
greatly improved in appearance, after a spoonful of sauce has been poured
over each artichoke, if a little blanched chopped parsley is sprinkled over
them, and a few red specks made by colouring a pinch of bread-crumbs by
shaking them with a few drops of cochineal.
Another very nice way of sending artichokes to table is to place all the
artichokes together in a vegetable-dish, and, after pouring a little white sauce over each artichoke, to place a
fresh-boiled bright green Brussels sprout between each. The white and green
contrast very prettily.
Jerusalem Artichokes, Fried.—Peel and slice the artichokes
very thin; throw these slices into smoking hot oil in
which a frying-basket has been placed. As soon as the artichokes
are of bright golden-brown colour, lift out the frying-basket,
shake it while you pepper and salt the artichokes,
and serve very hot. They can be eaten with thin brown bread-and-butter
and lemon-juice, and form a sort of vegetarian
Artichokes, Mashed.—These are best made from old artichokes.
They must be rubbed through a wire sieve, and the strings
left behind. It is best to mash them up with a little butter, and
a spoonful or two of cream is a very great improvement.
Asparagus, Boiled.—Cut the asparagus all the same
length by bringing the green points together, and then trimming the stalks
level with a sharp knife. Throw the asparagus into boiling salted water.
Time, from fifteen to twenty-five minutes, according to thickness. Serve on
dry toast, and send butter sauce to table
separate in a tureen.
Beans, Broad, Plain Boiled.—Broad beans, if eaten
whole, should be quite young. They should be thrown into boiling water,
salted. They require about twenty minutes to boil before they are tender.
Serve with parsley and butter sauce.
Broad Beans, Mashed.—When broad beans get old, the
only way to serve them is to have them mashed. Boil them,
and remove the skins, then mash them up with a little butter,
pepper, and salt, and rub them through a wire sieve, make
them hot, and serve. You can if you like boil a few green
onions and a pinch of savoury herbs with the beans, and rub
these through the wire sieve as well. This dish is very cheap
and very nourishing. Very young beans, like very young
peas, are more nice than economical.
Beans à la Poulette.—Boil some young beans till they
are tender, and put them into a saucepan with a little butter,
sugar, pepper, and salt, and sufficient flour to prevent the
butter cooking oily; stew them in this a short time, i.e., till
they appear to begin to boil, as the water from the beans will
mix with the butter and flour and look like thin butter sauce
thicken this with one or two yolks of eggs, and serve.
Beans à la Bourgeoise.—Place the beans in a saucepan,
with a piece of butter, a small quantity of shallot chopped
fine, and a teaspoonful of savoury herbs; toss them about in
this a little time, and then add a little water, sufficient to
moisten them so that they can stew; add a little sugar, and
when tender thicken the water with some beaten-up egg.
Beans, French, Plain Boiled.—French beans are only
good when fresh gathered, and the younger they are the better.
When small they can be boiled whole, in which case they only
require the tips cut off and the string that runs down the side
removed. When they are more fully grown they will require,
in addition to being trimmed in this manner, to be cut into
thin strips, and when very old it will be found best to cut
them slanting. They must be thrown into boiling salted
water, and boiled till they are tender. The time for boiling
varies with the age; very young ones will not take more than
a quarter of an hour, and if old ones are not tender in half an
hour they had better be made into a purée. As soon as the
beans are tender, drain them off, and serve them very hot; the
chief point to bear in mind, if we wish to have our beans nice,
is, they must be eaten directly they are drained from the water
in which they are boiled. They are spoilt by what is called
being kept hot, and possess a marvellous facility of getting
cold in a very short space of time.
In vegetarian cookery, when beans are eaten without being an accompaniment
to meat, some form of fat is desirable. When the beans are drained we can
add either butter or oil. When a lump of Maître d’Hôtel
butter is added they form what the French call haricots vert
à la Maître d’Hôtel. In this case, a slight
suspicion of garlic may be added by rubbing the stew-pan in which the
French beans are tossed together with the Maître
d’Hôtel butter. When oil is added, a little chopped
parsley will be found an improvement, as well as pepper, salt, and a
suspicion of nutmeg.
French beans are very nice flavoured with oil and garlic,
and served in a border of macaroni.
French Bean Pudding.—When French beans are very old
they are sometimes made into a pudding as follows:—They
must be trimmed, cut up, boiled, with or without the addition
of a few savoury herbs. They must be then mashed in a basin,
tied up in a well-buttered and then floured cloth, and boiled
for some time longer. The pudding can then be turned out.
A still better way of making a French bean pudding is to rub
the beans through the wire sieve, leaving the strings behind,
flavouring the pudding with a few savoury herbs, a little sugar,
pepper, and salt, and, if liked, a suspicion of garlic; add one or
two well-beaten-up eggs, and put the mixture in a round pudding-basin,
and bake it till it sets. This can be turned out on
the centre of a dish, and a few young French beans placed
round the base to ornament it, in conjunction with some
pieces of fried bread cut into pretty shapes.
Brocoli.—Trim the outer leaves off a brocoli, and
cut off the stalk even, so that it will stand upright. Soak the brocoli in
salt and water for some time, in order to get rid of any insects. Throw the
brocoli into boiling water that has been salted, and boil till it is
tender, the probable time for young brocoli being about a quarter of an
hour. It should be served on a dish with the flower part uppermost; and butter sauce, sauce
Allemande, or Dutch sauce can be served separately, or poured over the
When several heads of brocoli are served at once, it is important
to cut the stalks flat, as directed, before boiling. After
they have been thoroughly drained upside down, they should
be placed on the dish, flower part uppermost, and placed
together as much as possible to look like one large brocoli. If
sauce is poured over them, the sauce should be sufficiently
thick to be spread, and every part of the flower should be
covered. Half a teaspoonful of chopped blanched parsley
may be sprinkled over the top, and improves the appearance
of the dish.
N.B.—We would particularly call attention to the importance
of draining brocoli and cauliflower very thoroughly,
especially when any sauce is served with the brocoli. When
the dish is cut into, nothing looks more disagreeable than to
see the white sauce running off the brocoli into green water at
the bottom of the dish.
Brocoli Greens.—The outside leaves of brocoli should not
be thrown away, but eaten. Too often they are trimmed off
at the greengrocer’s or at the market, and, we presume, utilised
for the purpose of feeding cattle. They can be boiled exactly
like white cabbages, and are equal to them, if not superior, in
flavour. To boil them, see CABBAGE, WHITE, LARGE.
Brussels Sprouts.—These must be first washed in cold
water and all the little pieces of decayed leaves trimmed away.
Throw them into boiling salted water; the water must be kept
boiling the whole time, without a lid on the saucepan, and if
the quantity of water be sufficiently large not to be taken off
the boil by the sprouts being thrown in they will be sent to
table of a far brighter green colour than otherwise. In order
to ensure this, throw in the sprouts a few at a time, picking out
the big ones to throw in first. Sprouts, as soon as they are
tender—probable time a quarter of an hour—should be drained
and served quickly. When served as a dish by themselves,
after being drained off, they can be placed in a stew-pan with
a little butter, pepper, salt, nutmeg, and lemon-juice. They
can then be served with toasted or fried bread.
Cabbage, Plain Boiled.—Ordinary young cabbages should
be first trimmed by having the outside leaves removed, the
stalks cut off, and then should be cut in halves and allowed to
soak some time in salt and water. They should be thrown into
plenty of boiling water; the water should be kept boiling and
uncovered. As soon as they are tender they should be strained
off and served immediately. Young summer cabbages will not
take longer than a quarter of an hour, or even less; old
cabbages take nearly double that time. It is impossible to
lay down any exact rule with regard to time. Savoys generally
take about half an hour. The large white cabbages met with
in the West of England take longer and require a different
When cabbage is served as a dish by itself it will be found a
great improvement to add either butter or oil to moisten the
cabbage after it is thoroughly drained off. In order to ensure
the butter not oiling, but adhering to the cabbage, it is best
after the butter is added, and while you mix it with the
cabbage, to shake the flour-dredger two or three times over the
vegetable. In Germany, many add vinegar and sugar to the
Cabbage, Large White.—In the West of England cabbages
grow to an immense size, owing, probably, to the moist heat,
and have been exhibited in agricultural shows over twenty
pounds in weight and as big as an eighteen gallon cask. These
cabbages are best boiled as follows:—After being cut up and
thoroughly washed, it will be found that the greater part of
the cabbage resembles what in ordinary cabbage would be called
stalk, and, of course, the leaves vary very considerably in thickness
from the hard stalk end up to the leaf. Have plenty of
boiling water ready salted, now cut off the stalk part where it is
thickest and throw this in first. Wait till the water comes to
the boil again and let it boil for a few minutes. Then throw
in the next thickest part and again wait till the water re-boils,
and so on, reserving the thin leafy part to be thrown in last of
all. By this means, and this only, do we get the cabbage boiled
uniformly. Had we thrown in all at once one of two things
would be inevitable—either the stalk would be too hard to be
eaten or the leafy part over-boiled. A large white cabbage takes
about an hour to boil tender, and a piece of soda should be added
to the water. When the cabbage is well drained, it can be
served either plain or moistened, and made to look oily by the
addition of a piece of butter. As the cabbage is very white,
the dish is very much improved by the addition of a little
chopped parsley sprinkled over the top, not for the sake of
flavour but appearance.
Cabbage and Cream.—Ordinary cabbages are sometimes
served stewed with a little cream. They should be first parboiled,
then the moisture squeezed from them, and then they
must be put in a stew-pan with a little butter, pepper, salt
and nutmeg, and a spoonful of flour should be shaken over the
cabbage in order to prevent the butter being too oily. When
the cabbage is stewed till it is perfectly tender, add a few
spoonfuls of cream, stir up, and make the whole thoroughly
hot, and serve with fried or toasted bread.
Cabbage, Red.—Red cabbages are chiefly used for pickling.
They are sometimes served fresh. They should be cut across
so that the cabbage shreds, boiled till they are tender, the
moisture thoroughly extracted, and then put into a stew-pan
with a little butter, pepper, and salt, and a few shakes of flour
from the flour-dredger. After stirring for ten minutes or a
quarter of an hour, squeeze the juice of a lemon over them and
Carrots, Boiled.—When carrots are boiled and served
as a course by themselves, they ought to be young. This dish is constantly
met with abroad in early summer, but is rarely seen in England, except at
the tables of vegetarians. The carrots should be trimmed, thoroughly
washed, and, if necessary, slightly scraped, and the point at the end,
which looks like a piece of string, should be cut off. They should be
thrown into fast boiling water (salted) in order to preserve their colour.
When tender they can be served with some kind of good white sauce, or sauce Allemande or Dutch sauce. Perhaps this latter sauce is best of
all, as it looks like rich custard. Part of the red carrot should show
uncovered by any sauce. They are best placed in a circle and the thick
sauce poured in the centre; a very little chopped blanched parsley can be
sprinkled on the top of the sauce. In making Dutch sauce for carrots use
lemon-juice instead of tarragon vinegar.
Carrots, Fried.—Fried carrots can be made from full-grown
carrots. They must be first parboiled and then cut in slices;
they must then be dipped in well-beaten-up egg, and then
covered with fine dry bread-crumbs and fried a nice brown in
smoking hot oil in a frying-basket. The slices of carrot should
be peppered and salted before being dipped in the egg.
Carrots, Mashed.—When carrots are very old they are best
mashed. Boil them for some time, then cut them up and rub
them through a wire sieve. They can be pressed in a basin
and made hot by being steamed. A little butter, pepper and
salt should be added to the mixture. A very pretty dish can
be made by means of mixing mashed carrots with mashed
turnips. They can be shaped in a basin, and with a little
ingenuity can be put into red and white stripes. The effect is
something like the top of a striped tent.
Cauliflower, Plain Boiled.—Cauliflowers can be treated in
exactly the same manner as brocoli, and there are very few who
can tell the difference. (See BROCOLI.)
Cauliflower au gratin.—This is a very nice method of
serving cauliflower as a course by itself. The cauliflower or cauliflowers
should first be boiled till thoroughly tender, very carefully drained, and
then placed upright in a vegetable-dish with the flower part uppermost. The
whole of the flower part should then be masked (i.e.,
covered over) with some thick white sauce. Allemande sauce or Dutch sauce will do. This is then sprinkled over
with grated Parmesan cheese and the dish put in the oven for the top to
brown. As soon as it begins to brown take it out of the oven and
finish it off neatly with a salamander (a red-hot shovel will do), the same
way you finish cheese-cakes made from curds.
Cauliflower and Tomato Sauce.—Boil and place the cauliflower
or flowers upright in a dish as in the above recipe.
Now mask all the flower part very neatly, commencing round
the edges first, with some tomato conserve previously made
warm, and serve immediately. This is a very pretty-looking
Celery, Stewed.—The secret of having good stewed
celery is only to cook the white part. Throw the celery into boiling water,
with only sufficient water just to cover it. When the celery is tender use
some of the water in which it is stewed to make a sauce to serve with it,
or better still, stew the celery in milk. The sauce looks best when it is
thickened with the yolks of eggs. A very nice sauce indeed can be made by
first thickening the milk or water in which the celery is stewed with a
little white roux, and then adding a quarter of a
pint of cream boiled separately. Stewed celery should be served on toast,
like asparagus; a little chopped blanched parsley can be sprinkled over the
white sauce by way of ornament, and fried bread should be placed round the
edge of the dish.
Stewed celery can also be served with sauce
Allemande or Dutch sauce.
Endive.—Endive is generally used as a salad, but is very
nice served as a vegetable, stewed. White-heart endives should
be chosen, and several heads will be required for a dish, as they
shrink very much in cooking. Wash and clean the endives
very carefully in salt and water first, as they often contain
insects. Boil them in slightly salted water till they are tender,
then drain them off, and thoroughly extract the moisture; put
them in a stew-pan with a little butter, pepper, salt, and nutmeg,
let them stew for some little time; add the juice of a lemon, and
serve. It will make the dish much prettier if you reserve one
head of endive boiled whole. Place the stewed endive on a
dish, and sprinkle some chopped blanched parsley over it, then
place the single head of endive upright in the centre, and place
some fried bread round the edge.
Leeks, Stewed.—Leeks must be trimmed down to where
the green part meets the white on the one side, and the root, where the
strings are, cut off on the other. They should be thrown into boiling
water, boiled till they are tender, and then thoroughly drained. The water
in which leeks have been boiled is somewhat rank and bitter, and, as the
leeks are like tubes, in order to drain them perfectly you must turn them
upside down. They can be served on toast, and covered with some kind of
white sauce, either ordinary white sauce, sauce Allemande, or Dutch sauce.
Leeks, Welsh Porridge.—The leeks are stewed and cut in
slices, and served in some of the liquor in which they are
boiled, with toast cut in strips, something like onion porridge.
Boil the leeks for five minutes, drain them off, and throw away
the first water, and then stew them gently in some fresh water.
In years back, in Wales, French plums were stewed with and
added to the porridge.
Lettuces, Stewed.—As lettuces shrink very much when
boiled, allowance must be made, and several heads used. This
is also a very good way of utilising the large old-fashioned
English lettuce resembling in shape a gingham umbrella.
They should be first boiled till tender. The time depends
entirely upon the size. Drain them off, and thoroughly extract
the moisture; put them into a stew-pan, with a little
butter, pepper, salt, and nutmeg. Let them stew some little
time, and add a little vinegar, or, still better, lemon-juice.
Lettuces Stewed with Peas.—A border of stewed lettuces
can be made as above, and the centre filled up with some fresh-boiled
young green peas.
Onions, Plain Boiled.—When onions are served as a dish
by themselves, Spanish onions are far best for the purpose.
Ordinary onions, as a rule, are too strong to be eaten, except
as an accompaniment to some other kind of food. When
onions are plain boiled, they are best served on dry toast
without any sauce at all. Butter can be added when eaten on
the plate if liked. Large Spanish onions will require about
three hours to boil tender.
Onions, Baked.—Spanish onions can be baked in the oven.
They are best placed in saucers, with a very little butter to
prevent them sticking, with which they can also be basted
occasionally. Probable time about three hours. They should
be of a nice brown colour at the finish.
Onions, Stewed.—Place a large Spanish onion in a saucer
at the bottom of the saucepan, and put sufficient water in the
saucepan to reach the edge of the saucer; keep the lid of the
saucepan on tight, and let it steam till tender. A large onion
would take about three hours. The water from the onion will
prevent the necessity of adding fresh water from time to time.
Parsnips.—Like young carrots, young parsnips are
often met with abroad as a course by themselves. They should be trimmed and
boiled whole, and served with white sauce, Allemande sauce, or Dutch sauce; a little chopped blanched parsley
should be sprinkled over the sauce, and fried bread served round the edge
of the dish.
Parsnips, Fried.—Boil some full-grown parsnips till they
are tender, cut them into slices, pepper and salt them, dip them
into beaten-up egg, and cover them with bread-crumbs, and
fry these slices in some smoking hot oil till they are a nice
Parsnips, Mashed.—When parsnips are very old they are
best mashed. Boil them for an hour or more, then cut them
up and rub them through a wire sieve. The stringy part will
have to be left behind. Mix the pulp with a little butter,
pepper, and salt; make this hot, and serve. A little cream is
a great improvement.
Parsnip Cake.—Boil two or three parsnips until they are
tender enough to mash, then press them through a colander
with the back of a wooden spoon, and carefully remove any
fibrous, stringy pieces there may be. Mix a teacupful of the
mashed parsnip with a quart of hot milk, add a teaspoonful of
salt, four ounces of fresh butter, half a pint of yeast, and
enough flour to make a stiff batter. Put the bowl which contains
the mixture in a warm place, cover it with a cloth, and
leave it to rise. When it has risen to twice its original size,
knead some more flour into it, and let it rise again; make it
into small round cakes a quarter of an inch thick, and place
these on buttered tins. Let them stand before the fire a few
minutes, and bake them in a hot oven. They do not taste of
the parsnip. Time, some hours to rise; about twenty minutes
Peas, Green.—By far the best and nicest way of cooking
green peas when served as a course by themselves is to stew
them gently in a little butter without any water at all, like
they do in France. The peas are first shelled, and then placed
in a stew-pan with a little butter, sufficient to moisten them.
As soon as they are tender, which will vary with the size and
age of the peas, they can be served just as they are. The
flavour of peas cooked this way is so delicious that they are
nicest eaten with plain bread. When old peas are cooked this
way it is customary to add a little white powdered sugar.
Peas, Green, Plain Boiled.—Shell the peas, and throw
them into boiling water slightly salted. Keep the lid off the
saucepan and throw in a few sprigs of fresh green mint five
minutes before you drain them off. Young peas will take
about ten to twenty minutes, and full-grown peas rather
longer. Serve the peas directly they are drained, as they are
spoilt by being kept hot.
Peas, Stewed.—When peas late in the season get old and
tough, they can be stewed. Boil them for rather more than
half an hour, throwing them first of all into boiling water;
drain them off, and put them into a stew-pan with a little
butter, pepper, and salt. Young onions and lettuces cut up
can be stewed with them, but young green peas are far too
nice ever to be spoilt by being cooked in this way.
Scotch Kale.—Scotch kale, or curly greens, as it is sometimes
called in some parts of the country, is cooked like ordinary greens.
It should be washed very carefully, and thrown
into fast-boiling salted water. The saucepan should remain
uncovered, as we wish to preserve the dark green colour.
Young Scotch kale will take about twenty minutes to boil
before it is tender. When boiled, if served as a course by
itself, it should be strained off very thoroughly and warmed in
a stew-pan with a little butter, pepper, and salt.
Sea Kale.—Sea kale possesses a very delicate
flavour, and in cooking it the endeavour should be to preserve this
flavour. Throw the sea kale when washed into boiling water; in about twenty
minutes, if it is young, it will be tender. Serve it on plain dry toast,
and keep all the heads one way. Butter sauce,
white sauce, Dutch
sauce, or sauce Allemande can be
served with sea kale, but should be sent to table separate in a boat, as
the majority of good judges prefer the sea kale quite plain.
Spinach.—The chief difficulty to contend with in cooking
spinach is the preliminary cleansing. The best method of
washing spinach is to take two buckets of water. Wash it in
one; the spinach will float on the top whilst the dirt settles
at the bottom. Lift the spinach from one pail, after you have
allowed it to settle for a few minutes, into the other pail.
One or two rinsings will be sufficient. Spinach should be
picked if the stalks are large, and thrown into boiling water
slightly salted. Boil the spinach till it is tender, which will
take about a quarter of an hour, then drain it off and cut it
very small in a basin with a knife and fork, place it back
in a saucepan with a little piece of butter to make it thoroughly
hot, put it in a vegetable dish and serve.
Hard-boiled eggscut in halves, or poached eggs, are usually served with spinach. A
little cream, nutmeg, and lemon-juice can be added. Many cooks rub the
spinach through a wire sieve.
Vegetable Marrow.—Vegetable marrows must be first
peeled, cut open, the pips removed, and then thrown into boiling
water; small ones should be cut into quarters and large ones
into pieces about as big as the palm of the hand. They take
from fifteen to twenty minutes to boil before they are tender.
They should be served directly they are cooked and placed on
dry toast. Butter sauce or white sauce can be served with
them, but is best sent to table separate in a boat, as many
persons prefer them plain.
Vegetable Marrows, Stuffed.—Young vegetable marrows
are very nice stuffed. They should be first peeled very slightly and then
cut, long-ways, into three zigzag slices; the pips should be removed and
the interior filled with either mushroom forcemeat (see MUSHROOM FORCEMEAT) or sage-and-onion
stuffing made with rather an extra quantity of bread-crumbs. The vegetable
marrow should be tied up with two separate loops of tape about a quarter of
the way from each end, and these two rings of tape tied together with two
or three separate pieces of tape to prevent them slipping off at the ends.
The forcemeat or stuffing should be made hot before it is placed in the
marrow. The vegetable marrow should now be thrown into boiling water and
boiled till it is tender, about twenty minutes to half an hour. Take off
the tape carefully, and be careful to place the marrow so that one half
rests on the other half, or else it will slip.
N.B.—If you place the stuffing inside cold, the vegetable
marrow will break before the inside gets hot through.
Turnips, Boiled.—When turnips are young they are
best boiled whole. Peel them first very thinly, and throw them into cold
water till they are ready for the saucepan. Throw them into boiling water
slightly salted. They will probably take about twenty minutes to boil. They
can be served quite plain or with any kind of white sauce, butter
sauce, sauce Allemande, or Dutch sauce. In vegetarian cookery they are
perhaps best served with some other kind of vegetable.
Turnips, Mashed.—Old turnips are best mashed, as they are
stringy. Boil them till they get fairly tender; they will
take from half an hour to two hours, according to age; then
rub them through a wire sieve and warm up the pulp with a
little milk, or still better, cream and a little butter; add pepper
N.B.—If the pulp be very moist let it stand and get rid
of the moisture gradually in a frying-pan over a very slack
Turnips, Ornamental.—A very pretty way of serving
young turnips in vegetarian cookery is to cut them in halves
and scoop out the centre so as to form cups; the part
scooped out can be mixed with some carrot cut up into small
pieces, and some green peas, and placed in the middle of a dish
in a heap; the half-turnips forming cups can be placed round
the base of the dish and each cup filled alternately with the
red part of the carrot, chopped small and piled up, and a
spoonful of green peas. This makes a very pretty dish of
Turnip-tops.—Turnip-tops, when fresh cut, make very
nice and wholesome greens. They should be thrown into boiling water and
boiled for about twenty minutes, when they will be tender. They should then
be cut up with a knife and fork very finely and served like spinach. If
rubbed through a wire sieve and a little spinach extract mixed with them to give them
the proper colour, and served with hard-boiled
eggs, there are very few persons who can distinguish the dish from eggs and spinach.
Vegetable Curry.—A border made of all kinds of mixed
vegetables is very nice sent to table with some good thick curry
sauce poured in the centre.
Nettles, To Boil.—The best time to gather nettles for
eating purposes is in the early spring. They are freely eaten
in many parts of the country, as they are considered excellent
for purifying the blood. The young light-green leaves only
should be taken. They must be washed carefully and boiled
in two waters, a little salt and a very small piece of soda being
put in the last water. When tender, turn them into a colander,
press the water from them, put them into a hot vegetable-dish,
score them across three or four times, and serve. Send melted
butter to table in a tureen. Time, about a quarter of an hour
Salsify.—Scrape the salsify and throw it into cold
water with a little vinegar. Then throw it into boiling water, boil til
tender, and serve on toast with white sauce.
Time to boil, about one hour.
PRESERVED VEGETABLES AND FRUITS.
Vegetables and fruits are preserved in two ways. We can
have them preserved both in bottles and tins, but the principle
is exactly the same in both cases, the method of preservation
being simply that of excluding the air. We will not enter
into the subject of how to preserve fruit and vegetables, but
will confine ourselves to discussing as briefly as possible the
best method of using them when they are preserved.
Unfortunately there exists a very unreasonable prejudice
on the part of many persons against all kinds of provisions
that are preserved in tins. This prejudice is kept alive by
stories that occasionally get into print about families being
poisoned by using tinned goods. We hear stories also of
poisoning resulting from using copper vessels. Housekeepers
should endeavour to grasp the idea that the evil is the result
of their own ignorance, and that no danger would accrue
were they possessed of a little more elementary knowledge
of chemistry. If a penny be dipped in vinegar and exposed
to the air, and is then licked by a child, a certain amount of
ill effect would undoubtedly ensue, but it does not follow
that we should give up the use of copper money. So, too, if
we use tinned goods, and owing to our own carelessness or
ignorance find occasionally that evil results ensue, we should
not give up the use of the goods in question, but endeavour
to find out the cause why these evil results follow only
All good cooks know, or ought to know, that if they leave
the soup all night in a saucepan the soup is spoilt. Again,
all housekeepers know that although they have a metal tank,
they are bound to have a wooden lid on top, there being a
law to this effect. The point they forget in using tinned goods
is this, so long as the air is excluded from the interior of the
tin no chemical action goes on whatever. When, therefore,
they open the tin, if they turn out the contents at once no harm
can ensue. Unfortunately, there are many thousands who
will open a tin, take out what they want, and leave the remainder
in the tin. Of course, they have only themselves to
blame should evil result.
Preserved vegetables are so useful that they are inseparable
from civilised cookery; for instance, what would a French
cook do were he dependent for his mushrooms upon these
fresh grown in the fields? The standard dish at vegetarian
restaurants is mushroom pie, and, thanks to tinned mushrooms,
we can obtain this dish all the year round. In most
restaurants peas are on the bill of fare throughout the year.
Were we dependent upon fresh grown ones, this popular dish
would be confined almost to a few weeks.
In the case of preserved goods, tinned fruits are even more
valuable than tinned vegetables. Ripe apricots and peaches
picked fresh from the tree are expensive luxuries that in this
country can only be indulged in by the rich, whereas, thanks
to the art of preserving, we are enabled to enjoy them all the
year round. We will run briefly through a few of the chief
vegetables and fruits, and give a few hints how to best use
them. First of all—
Asparagus, Tinned.—Place the tin in the saucepan with
sufficient cold water to cover it. Bring the water to a boil
and let it boil for five minutes; take out the tin and cut it
open round the edge, as near to the edge as possible, otherwise
you will be apt to break the asparagus in turning it out.
Drain off the liquor and serve the asparagus on freshly made
hot toast. There is much less waste as a rule in tinned
asparagus than in that freshly cut. As a rule, you can eat
nearly the whole of it.
Peas, Tinned.—Put the tin before it is opened into cold
water, bring the water to a boil, and let it boil five minutes, or
longer if the tin is a large one. Cut open the tin at the top,
pour out the liquor, and serve the peas with a few sprigs of
fresh mint, if it can be obtained, that have been boiled for two
or three minutes. Supposing the tin to contain a pint of
peas, add while the peas are thoroughly hot a brimming saltspoonful of finely powdered sugar, and half a saltspoonful of
salt. If the peas are to be eaten by themselves, as is generally
the case with vegetarians, add a good-sized piece of butter.
French Beans, Tinned.—These can be treated in exactly
similar manner to green peas, only, instead of adding mint,
add a little chopped blanched parsley; the same quantity of
sugar and salt should be added as in the case of peas. After
the butter has melted, it is a great improvement, when the
beans are eaten as a course by themselves, with bread, if the
juice of half a lemon is added.
Flageolets, Tinned.—For this delicious vegetable, in
England, we are dependent upon tinned goods, as we cannot
recall an instance in which they can be bought freshly
gathered. Warm up the beans in the tin by placing the tin
in cold water, bringing the water to a boil, and letting it boil
for five minutes. Drain off the liquor, add a saltspoonful of
sugar, half a one of salt, and a lump of butter. Instead of
butter, you can add to each pint two tablespoonfuls of pure
olive oil. Many persons consider it a great improvement to
rub the vegetable-dish with a bead of garlic. In this case the
beans should be tossed about in the dish for a minute or two.
Brussels Sprouts, Tinned.—The tin should be made hot
before it is opened, the liquor drained off, and the sprouts
placed in a dish, with a little butter or oil, powdered sugar,
salt, pepper, and a slight flavouring of nutmeg. In France, in
some parts, a little cream is poured over them.
Spinach, Tinned.—Spinach is sold in tins fairly
cheap, and, quoting from the list of a large retail establishment where
prices correspond with those of the Civil Service Stores, a tin of spinach
can be obtained for fivepence-halfpenny. The spinach should be made very
hot in the tin, turned out on to a dish, and hard-boiled eggs, hot, cut in halves, added.
Some people add also a little vinegar, but, unless persons’ tastes
are known beforehand, that is best added on the plate.
Carrots, Tinned.—Young carrots can be obtained in
tins, and, as only young carrots are nice when served as a course by
themselves, these will be found a valuable addition to the vegetarian
store-cupboard. Make the carrots hot in the tin, and let the water boil,
for quite ten minutes after it comes to the boiling point. Drain off the
liquor, and serve them with some kind of white
sauce exactly as if they were freshly boiled young carrots.
Turnips, Tinned.—Proceed exactly the same as in the case
Fond d’Artichoke.—These consist of the bottom
part only of French artichokes. They should be made hot in the tin, and
served up with some good butter sauce, and
cut lemon separate, as many prefer the artichokes plain.
Macedoines.—This, as the word implies, is a mixture
of various vegetables, the chief of which are generally chopped-up carrot
and turnip with young green peas. A very nice dish which can be served at a
very short notice, if you have curry sauce in
bottles, is a dish of vegetable curry. The macedoines should be made hot in
the tin, the liquor drained off, and the curry sauce, made hot, should be
poured into a well made in the centre of the macedoines in the dish.
Macedoines are also very useful, as they can be served as a vegetable salad
at a moment’s notice, as the vegetables are sufficiently cooked
without being made hot.
Tinned Fruits.—Tinned fruits are ready for eating directly
the tin is opened. All we have to bear in mind is to turn them
all out of the tin on to a dish immediately. Do not leave any
in the tin to be used at another time. Most tinned fruits can
be served just as they are, in a glass dish, but a great improvement
can be made in their appearance at a very small cost and
with a very little extra trouble if we always have in the house
a little preserved angelica and a few dried cherries. As these
cost about a shilling or one and fourpence per pound, and even
a quarter of a pound is sufficient to ornament two or three
dozen dishes, the extra expense is almost nil.
Apricots, Tinned.—Pile the apricots up, with the convex
side uppermost, in a glass dish, reserving one cup apricot to go
on the top, with the concave side uppermost. Take a few preserved
cherries, and cut them in halves, and stick half a cherry
in all the little holes or spaces where the apricots meet. Cut
four little green leaves out of the angelica about the size of the
thumb-nail, only a little longer; the size of a filbert would perhaps
describe the size better. Put a whole cherry in the
apricot cup at the top, and four green leaves of angelica round
it. Take the white kernel of the apricot—one or two will
always be found in every tin—and cut four white slices out of
the middle, place these round the red cherry, touching the
cherry, and resting between the four green leaves of angelica;
the top of this dish has now the appearance of a very pretty
Peaches, Tinned.—These can be treated in exactly a similar
way to the apricots.
Peaches and Apricots, with Cream.—Place the fruit in a
glass dish, with the concave side uppermost; pour the syrup
round the fruit, and with a teaspoon remove any syrup that
may have settled in the little cups, for such the half-peaches or
apricots may be called. Get a small jar of Devonshire clotted
cream; take about half a teaspoonful of cream, and place it in
the middle of each cup, and place a single preserved cherry on
the top of the cream. This dish can be made still prettier
by chopping up a little green angelica, like parsley, and
sprinkling a few of these little green specks on the white
Pine-apple, Tinned.—Pine-apples are preserved in tins
whole, and are very superior in flavour to those which are sold
cheap on barrows, which are more rotten than ripe. They
require very little ornamenting, but the top is greatly improved
by placing a red cherry in the centre, and cutting eight strips
of green angelica like spikes, reaching from the cherry to the
edge of the pine-apple. They should be cut in exact lengths,
so as not to overlap. The top of the pine-apple looks like a
green star with a red centre.
Pears, Tinned.—Tinned pears are exceedingly nice in
flavour, but the drawback to them is their appearance. They
look like pale and rather dirty wax, while the syrup with which
they are surrounded resembles the water in which potatoes have
been over-boiled. The prettiest way of sending them to table
is as follows:—Take, say a teacupful of rice, wash it very carefully,
boil it, and let it get dry and cold. Take the syrup
from the pears and taste it, and if not sweet enough add some
powdered sugar. Put the rice in a glass dish, and make a very
small well in the centre, and pour all the syrup into this, so
that it soaks into the rice at the bottom of the dish without
affecting the appearance of the surface. In the meantime,
place the pears themselves on a dish, and let the syrup drain
off them, and if you can let them stand for an hour or two to
let them dry all the better. Now, with an ordinary brush,
paint these waxy-looking pears a bright red with a little
cochineal, and place these half-pears on the white rice, slanting,
with the thick part downwards and the stalk end uppermost.
Cut a few sticks of green angelica about an inch and a half
long and of the thickness of the ordinary stalk of a pear, and
stick one of these into the stalk end of each pear. The red
pear, with the green stalk resting on the snow-white bed of
rice, looks very pretty. A little chopped angelica can be
sprinkled over the white rice, like chopped parsley.
Fruits, Bottled.—When apricots and peaches are
preserved in bottles, they can be treated exactly in a similar manner to
those preserved in tins. It will be found advisable, however, to taste the
syrup in the bottle, as it will be often found that it requires the
addition of a little more sugar. Ordinary bottled fruits, such as
gooseberries, currants, raspberries, rhubarb, damsons, cranberries, etc.,
can be used for making fruit pies, or they can be sent to table simply as
stewed fruit. In this case some whipped cream on the top is a very great
improvement. Another very nice way of sending these bottled fruits to table
is to fill a border made with rice, as
described in Chapter III.
JELLIES (VEGETARIAN) AND JAMS.
By vegetarian jelly we mean jellies made on vegetarian principles.
To be consistent, if we cannot use anchovy sauce
because it is made from fish, on the same principle we cannot
use either gelatine or isinglass, which, of course, as everybody
knows, is made from fishes. For all this, there is no reason
why vegetarians should not enjoy jellies quite equal, so far
as flavour is concerned, to ordinary jelly. The simplest substitute
for gelatine, or what is virtually the same thing, isinglass,
is corn-flour. Tapioca could be used, but corn-flour saves
much trouble. Some persons may urge that it is not fair to give
the name of jelly to a corn-flour pudding. There is, however,
a very great difference between a corn-flour pudding flavoured
with orange, and what we may call an orange jelly, in which
corn-flour is only introduced, like gelatine, for the purpose of
transforming a liquid into a solid.
We also have this advantage in using corn-flour: it is
much more simple and can be utilised for making a very large
variety of jellies, many of which, probably, will be new even
to vegetarians themselves. We are all agreed on one point,
i.e., the wholesomeness of freshly picked ripe fruit. We will
suppose the season to be autumn and the blackberries ripe on
the hedgerows, and that the children of the family are nothing
loth to gather, say, a couple of quarts. We will now describe
how to make a mould of—
Blackberry Jelly.—Put the blackberries in an enamelled
saucepan with a little water at the bottom, and let them stew
gently till they yield up their juice, or they can be placed
in a jar in the oven. They can now be strained through a
hair sieve, but, still better, they can be squeezed dry in a
tamis cloth. This juice should now be sweetened, and it can
be made into jelly in two ways, both of which are perfectly
lawful in vegetarian cookery. The juice, like red currant
juice, can be boiled with a large quantity of white sugar till
the jelly sets of its own accord; in this case we should require
one pound of sugar to every pint of juice, and the result would
be a blackberry jelly like red currant jelly, more like a preserve
than the jelly we are accustomed to eat at dinner alone.
For instance, no one would care to eat a quantity of red currant
jelly like we should ordinary orange or lemon jelly—it would
be too sickly; consequently we will take a pint or a quart of our
blackberry juice only and sufficient sugar to make it agreeably
sweet without being sickly. We will boil this in a saucepan
and add a tablespoonful of corn-flour mixed with a little cold juice
to every pint to make the juice thick. This can be now poured
into a mould or plain round basin; we will suppose the latter.
When the jelly has got quite cold we can turn it out on to a
dish, say a silver dish, with a piece of white ornamental paper
at the bottom. We now have to ornament this mould of blackberry
jelly, and, as a rule, it will be found that no ornament
can surpass natural ones. Before boiling the blackberries for
the purpose of extracting their juice, pick out two or three
dozen of the largest and ripest, wash them and put them by
with some of the young green leaves of the blackberry plant
itself, which should be picked as nearly as possible of the same
size, and, like the blackberries, must be washed. Now place a
row of blackberry leaves round the base of the mould, with the
stalk of the leaf under the mould, and on each leaf place a
ripe blackberry touching the mould itself. Take four very
small leaves and stick them on the top of the mould, in the
centre, and put the largest and best-looking blackberry of all
upright in the centre. This dish is now pretty-looking enough
to be served on really great occasions. We consider this dish
worthy of being called blackberry jelly, and not corn-flour
Lemon Jelly.—Take six lemons and half a pound of sugar,
and rub the sugar on the outside of three of the lemons; the
lemons must be hard and yellow, the peel should not be
shrivelled. Now squeeze the juice of all six lemons into a
basin, add the sugar and a pint of water. Of course, the
lemon-juice must be strained. (If wine is allowed, add half a
pint of good golden sherry or Madeira.) Bring this to the
boil and thicken it with some corn-flour in the ordinary way,
allowing a tablespoonful of corn-flour for every pint of fluid.
Pour it into a mould and when it is set turn it out. A lemon
jelly like this should be turned on to a piece of ornamental
paper placed at the bottom of a silver or some other kind of
dish. The base of the mould should be ornamented with thin
slices of lemon cut in half, the diameter touching the base of
the mould and the semicircular piece of peel outside. If a
round basin has been used for a mould, place a corner of a
lemon on the top in the middle, surrounded with a few imitation
green leaves cut out of angelica. This improves the dish in
appearance and also shows what the dish is made of.
Orange Jelly.—Take six oranges, two lemons, and half a
pound of lump sugar; rub the sugar on the outside of three
of the oranges, squeeze the juice of the six oranges into a basin
with the juice of two lemons, strain, add the sugar and a pint
of water. The liquid will be of an orange colour, owing to the
rind of the orange rubbed on to the sugar. (If wine be
allowed, add half a pint of golden sherry or Madeira.) Bring
the liquid to boiling point and then thicken it with corn-flour,
and pour it while hot into a mould or plain white basin; when
cold, turn it out on to a piece of ornamental paper placed at
the bottom of a dish; surround the bottom of the mould with
thin slices of orange cut into quarters and the centre part
pushed under the mould; place the small end of an orange
on the top of the mould with some little leaves or spikes of
green angelica placed round the edge.
Black Currant Jelly.—The juice of black currants makes
excellent jelly in the ordinary way if we boil a pint of black
currant juice with a pound of sugar till it sets; but a mould
of black currant jelly suitable to be used as a sweet at dinner
can be made by adding less sugar and thickening the juice with
corn-flour, allowing about a tablespoonful to every pint, and
pouring it into a mould or plain round basin. The mould
can be ornamented as follows, and we will suppose a pudding-basin
to be used for the purpose. We will suppose the mould
of jelly to have been turned out on to a clean sheet of white
paper. Pick some of the brighter green black-currant leaves
off the tree, and place these round the base of the mould with
the stalk of the leaf pushed underneath and the point of the
leaf pointing outwards. Now choose a few very small bunches
of black currants, wash these and dip them into very weak
gum and water, and then dip them into white powdered sugar.
They now look, when they are dry, as if they were crystallised
or covered with hoar-frost. Place one of these little bunches,
with the stalk stuck into the mould of jelly, about an inch
from the bottom, so that each bunch rests on a green leaf. Cut
a small stick of angelica and stick it into the top of the mould
upright, and let a bunch of frosted black currants hang over
the top. If we wish to make the mould of jelly very pretty
as a supper dish, where there is a good top light, we can dip
the green leaves into weak gum and water and then sprinkle
over them some powdered glass.
Red Currant Jelly.—Red currant jelly can be made in
exactly a similar manner, substituting red currants for black.
Raspberry Jelly.—The raspberries should be picked very
ripe, and two or three dozen of the best-looking ones of the
largest and ripest should be reserved for ornamenting. If
possible, also gather some red currants and mix with the raspberries,
on account of the colour, which otherwise would be
very poor indeed. It will be found best to rub the raspberries
through a hair sieve, as the addition of the pulp very much
improves the flavour of the jelly. The sieve should be sufficiently
fine to prevent the pips of the raspberries passing
through it. The juice and pulp from the raspberries and
currants can now be thickened with corn-flour as directed in
the recipe for blackberry jelly. Raspberry leaves should be
placed round the base of the jelly and a ripe raspberry placed
on each. The best-looking raspberry can be placed on the top
of the mould in the centre of two or three raspberry leaves
stuck in the jelly.
Apple Jam and Apple Jelly.—The following recipe is
taken from “A Year’s Cookery,” by Phyllis Brown:—“The
best time for making apple jelly is about the middle of
November. Almost all kinds of apples may be used for the
purpose, though, if a clear white jelly is wanted, Colvilles or
orange-pippins should be chosen; if red jelly is preferred, very
rosy-cheeked apples should be taken, and the skins should be
boiled with the fruit. Apple jam is made of the fruit after
the juice has been drawn off for jelly. Economical house-*keepers
will find that very excellent jelly can be made of
apple parings, so that where apples in any quantity have
been used for pies and tarts the skins can be stewed in sufficient
water to cover them, and when the liquor is strongly flavoured
it can be strained and boiled with sugar to a jelly. To make
apple jelly, pare, core and slice the apples and put them into
a preserving-pan with enough water to cover them. Stir
them occasionally and stew gently till the apples have fallen,
then turn all into a jelly-bag and strain away the juice, but
do not squeeze or press the pulp. Measure the liquid and
allow a pound of sugar to a pint of juice. Put both juice and
sugar back into the preserving-pan, and, if liked, add one or
two cloves tied in muslin, or two or three inches of lemon-rind.
Boil gently and skim carefully for about half an hour,
or till a little of the jelly put upon a plate will set. Pour it
while hot into jars, and when cold and stiff cover down in the
usual way. If yellow jelly is wanted a pinch of saffron tied
in muslin should be boiled with the juice. To make apple jam,
weigh the apple pulp after the juice has been drawn from it,
rub it through a hair sieve, and allow one pound of sugar to
one pint of pulp, and the grated rind of a lemon to three
pints of pulp. Boil all gently together till the jam will set
when a little is put on a plate. Apple jam is sometimes
flavoured with vanilla instead of lemon.”
Damson Jelly.—Damson jelly can be made in two ways.
The juice can be boiled with sugar till it gets like red currant
jelly, or the juice of the damsons can be sweetened with less sugar
and thickened with corn-flour. In order to extract the juice from
damsons they should be sliced and placed in a jar or basin and
put in the oven. They are best left in the oven all night. If
the mould of jelly is made in a round basin, a single whole
damson can be placed on the top of the mould and green
leaves placed round the base.
Pine-apple Jelly.—The syrup from a preserved pine,
should the pine-apple itself be used for mixing with other
fruits, or for ornamental purposes, can be utilised by being
made into a mould of jelly and by being thickened with corn-flour.
It will bear the addition of a little water.
Apricot Jelly.—The juice from tinned apricots can be
treated like that of pine-apple. When a mixture of fruits is
served in a large bowl, the syrup from tinned fruits should not
be added, but at the same time, of course, should be used in
some other way.
Mulberry Jelly.—Mullberries, of course, would not be
bought for the purpose, but those who possess a mulberry tree
in their garden will do well to utilise what are called windfalls
by making mulberry jelly. The juice can be extracted by
placing the fruit in a jar and putting it in the oven; sugar
must be added, and the juice thickened with corn-flour. There
are few other ways of using unripe mulberries.
Jams.—Home-made jam is not so common now as it was
some years back. As a rule, it does not answer from an economical
point of view to buy fruit to make jam. On the other
hand, those who possess a garden will find home-made jam a
great saving. Those who have attempted to sell their fruit
probably know this to their cost. In making every kind of
jam it is essential the fruit should be picked dry. It is also a
time-honoured tradition that the fruit is best picked when
basking in the morning sun. It is also necessary that the
fruit should be free from dust, and that all decayed or rotten
fruit should be carefully picked out.
Jam is made by boiling the fruit with sugar, and it is false
economy to get common sugar; cheap sugar throws up a quantity
of scum. Years back many persons used brown sugar,
but in the present day the difference in the price of brown and
white sugar is so trifling that the latter should always be used
for the purpose. The sugar should not be crushed. It is best
to boil the fruit before adding the sugar. The scum should be
removed, and a wooden spoon used for the purpose. A large
enamel stew-pan can be used, but tradition is in favour of a
brass preserving-pan. It will be found best to boil the fruit as
rapidly as possible. The quantity of sugar varies slightly with
the fruit used. Supposing we have a pound of fruit, the
following list gives what is generally considered about the
proper quantity of sugar
APRICOT JAM.—Three-quarters of a pound.
BLACKBERRY JAM.—Half a pound; if apple is mixed, rather
BLACK CURRANT JAM.—One pound.
RED CURRANT JAM.—One pound.
DAMSON JAM.—One pound.
GOOSEBERRY JAM.—Three-quarters of a pound.
GREENGAGE JAM.—Three-quarters of a pound.
PLUM JAM.—One pound.
RASPBERRY JAM.—One pound.
STRAWBERRY JAM.—Three-quarters of a pound.
CARROT JAM.—If you wish the jam to be of a good colour,
only use the outside or red part of the carrots. Add the rind
and the juice of one lemon, and one pound of sugar to every
pound of pulp; a little brandy is a great improvement.
RHUBARB JAM.—To every pound of pulp add three-quarters
of a pound of sugar, and the juice of one lemon and the rind
of half a lemon. Essence of almonds can be substituted for
VEGETABLE MARROW JAM.—Add three-quarters of a pound
of sugar to every pound of pulp. The jam can be flavoured
either with ginger or lemon-juice.
CREAMS, CUSTARDS, AND CHEESE-CAKES.
Creams.—Creams may be divided into two
classes—whipped cream, flavoured in a variety of ways, and the
solid moulds of cream, which when turned out look extremely elegant,
but which when tasted are somewhat disappointing. These latter moulds
owe their firmness and consistency to the addition of isinglass, and,
as this substance is not allowed in vegetarian cookery, we shall be
able to dispense with cream served in this form, nor are we losers by
so doing. The ordinary mould of cream is too apt to taste like spongy
liver, and, so far as palate is concerned, is incomparably inferior to
the more delicate whipped creams. Just in the same way a good rich
custard made with yolks of eggs is spoilt by being turned into a solid
custard by the addition of gelatine. In order to have good whipped
cream, the first essential is to obtain pure cream. This greatly
depends upon the neighbourhood in which we live. In country houses,
away from large towns, there is as a rule no trouble, whereas in London
really good cream can only be obtained with great difficulty. There is
a well-known old story of the London milkman telling the cook who
complained of the quality of the cream to stir it up, as the cream
settled at the bottom. We will not enter into the subject of the
adulteration of cream in big cities, as probably many of these stories
are gross exaggerations, though it is said that pigs’ brains and
even horses’ brains have been used for the purpose of giving the
cream a consistency, while undoubtedly turmeric has been used to give
it a colour.
We will suppose that we have, say, a quart of really good
thick cream. All that is necessary is to beat up the cream
with a whisk till it becomes a froth. This is much more easily
done in cold weather than in hot, and, if the weather be very
warm, it is best to put the tin or pan containing the cream
into ice an hour or two before it is used. Old French cookery-books
recommend the addition of a little powdered gum, not
bigger than a pea, and the gum recommended is that known
as tragacanth. Others again beat up the white of an egg to a
stiff froth, and add this to the cream. It is a good plan when
the cream fails to froth completely to take off the top froth
and drain it on a sieve placed upside down. The cream that
drains through can be added to what is left and re-whipped.
It is also a good plan to make whipped cream some time before
it is wanted, and, indeed, it can be prepared with advantage the
day before. When the cream is drained (we are supposing a
quart to have been used) it should be mixed with three or
four ounces of very finely powdered sugar, as well as the particular
kind of flavouring that will give the cream its name.
For instance, we can have, if liqueurs are allowed—
Maraschino Cream.—This is simply made by mixing a
small glass of maraschino with some whipped cream, properly
Coffee Cream.—Make a very strong infusion of pure coffee
that has been roasted a high colour. It will be found best to
re-roast coffee berries in the oven if you have not got a
proper coffee-roaster. Pound the berries in a pestle and mortar,
or grind them very coarsely; then make a strong infusion with
a very small quantity of water, and strain it till it is quite
bright. This is mixed with the whipped sweetened cream.
Chocolate Cream.—Take about two ounces of the very best
chocolate and dissolve it in a little boiling water; let it get
cold, and then mix with the whipped sweetened cream.
Vanilla Cream.—Vanilla cream is nicest when a fresh
vanilla pod is used for the purpose, but a more simple process
is to use a little essence of vanilla.
Orange Cream.—Rub some lumps of sugar on the outside
of an orange, and pound this sugar very finely, and then mix
it with the whipped cream.
Lemon Cream.—Proceed exactly as in making orange
cream, only substituting lemon for orange.
Strawberry Cream.—The juice only of the strawberry
should be used. This juice should be mixed with the powdered
sugar and then used for mixing with the whipped cream. It
is a mistake, in making creams, to have too much flavouring.
The juice of a quarter of a pound of ripe red strawberries
would be sufficient for a quart of cream.
Pistachio Cream.—Take about half a pound of pistachio
kernels, throw them for a minute or two into boiling water,
and then rub off the skins, throwing them into cold water like
you do in blanching almonds. Pound these in a mortar with
a tablespoonful of orange-flower water, and mix a little spinach
extract to give it a colour. Now mix this with the whipped
sweetened cream very thoroughly. This bright green cream
makes a very elegant dish.
Custards.—Good custard forms, perhaps, the best cold sweet
sauce known. It can be made very cheaply, and, on the other
hand, it may be made in such a manner as to be very expensive.
We will first describe how to make the most expensive kind of
custard, as very often we can gather ideas from a high-class
model and carry them out in an inexpensive way. The highest
class custard is made by only using yolks of eggs instead of
whole eggs, and we can use cream in addition to milk. The
great art in making custard is to take care it does not curdle.
Six yolks of eggs, half a pint of milk, half a pint of cream,
sweetened, would, of course, form a very expensive custard.
An ordinary custard can be made as follows:—Take four large
or five small eggs, beat them up very thoroughly, and add them
gradually to a pint of sweetened milk that has been boiled separately.
In order to thicken the custard, it is a good plan to put
it in a jug and stand the jug in a saucepan of boiling water, and
stir the custard till it is sufficiently thick. Custard can be
flavoured in various ways. One of the cheapest and perhaps
nicest is to boil one or two bay-leaves in the milk. Custard
can also be flavoured by the addition of a small quantity of
the essence of vanilla; if you use a fresh pod vanilla, tie it up
in a little piece of muslin and have a string to it. This can be
boiled in the milk till the milk is sufficiently flavoured, and
this pod can be used over and over again. Of course, as it
loses its flavour, it will have to remain in the milk longer.
Cheap Custard.—A very cheap custard can be made by
adding to one pint of boiled milk one well-beaten-up egg and one
good-sized teaspoonful of corn-flour. The milk should be first
sweetened, and can be flavoured very cheaply by rubbing a few
lumps of sugar on the outside of a lemon, or by having a few
bay-leaves boiled in it. A rich yellow colour can be obtained
by using a small quantity of yellow vegetable colouring extract,
which, like the green colouring, is sold in bottles by all grocers.
These bottles are very cheap, as they last a long time. They
simply give any kind of pudding a rich colouring without
imparting any flavour whatever, and in this respect are very
superior to saffron.
Apple Custard.—Good apple custard can only be made by
using apples of a good flavour. When apples are in season,
this dish can be made fairly cheaply, but it does not do to use
those high-priced imported apples. Peel and take out the cores
of about four pounds of apples, and let these simmer till they
are quite tender in rather more than a pint of water. Add
about one pound of sugar, or rather less if the apples are sweet;
add a little powdered cinnamon, and mix all this with eight
eggs, well beaten up; stir the mixture very carefully in a saucepan,
or better still in a good-sized jug placed in a saucepan,
till it begins to thicken. This custard is best served in
glasses, and a little cinnamon sugar can be shaken over the
top. Nutmeg may be used instead of cinnamon, and by many
is thought superior.
Cheese-cakes.—Cheese-cakes can be sent to table in two
forms, the one some rich kind of custard or cream placed in
little round pieces of pastry, or we can have a so-called cheese-cake
baked in a pie-dish, the edges only of which are lined with
puff paste. We can also have cheese-cakes very rich and
cheese-cakes very plain. The origin of the name cheese-cake is
that originally they were made from curds used in making cheese.
Probably most people consider that the cheese-cakes made from
curds are superior, and in the North of England, and especially
in Yorkshire, where curds are exposed for sale in the windows at
so much a pound, very delicious cheese-cakes can be made, but
considerable difficulty will be experienced if we attempt to
make home-made curds from London milk. Curds are made
by taking any quantity of milk and letting it nearly boil,
then throw in a little rennet or a glass of sherry. The curds
must be well strained.
Cheese-cakes from Curds.—Take half a pound of curds
and press the curds in a napkin to extract the moisture. Take
also six ounces of lump sugar, and rub the sugar on the outside
of a couple of oranges or lemons. Dissolve this sugar in
two ounces of butter made hot in a tin in the oven; mix this
with the curds, with two ounces of powdered ratafias and a
little grated nutmeg—about half a nutmeg to this quantity
will be required; add also six yolks of eggs. Mix this well
together, and fill the tartlet cases, made from puff paste, and
bake them in the oven. It is often customary to place in the
centre of each cheese-cake a thin strip of candied peel. As
soon as the cheese-cakes are done, take them out of the oven,
and if the mixture be of a bad colour finish it off with a
salamander, but do not let them remain in the oven too long,
so that the pastry becomes brittle and dried up. These
cheese-cakes can be made on a larger scale than the ordinary
one so familiar to all who have looked into a pastry-cook’s
window. Suppose we make them of the size of a breakfast
saucer, a very rich and delicious cheese-cake can be made
by adding some chopped dried cherries to the mixture. Sometimes
ordinary grocer’s currants are added and the ratafias
omitted. Sultana raisins can be used instead of currants, and
by many are much preferred.
This mixture can be baked in a shallow pie-dish and time
edge of the dish lined with puff paste, but cheese-cakes made
from curds are undoubtedly expensive.
Cheese-cakes from Potatoes.—Exceedingly nice cheese-cakes
can be made from remains of cold potatoes, and can be
made very cheap by increasing the quantity of potatoes used.
Take a quarter of a pound of butter, four eggs, two fresh
lemons, and half a pound of lump sugar. First of all rub
off all the outsides of two lemons on to the sugar; oil the
butter in a tin in the oven and melt the sugar in it; squeeze
the juice of the two lemons, and take care that the sugar is
thoroughly dissolved before you begin to mix all the ingredients
together. Now beat up the eggs very thoroughly and mix the
whole in a basin. This now forms a very rich mixture indeed,
a good-sized teaspoonful of which would be sufficient for the
interior of an ordinary-sized cheese-cake, but a far better plan
is to make a large cheese-cake, or rather cheese-cake pudding,
in a pie-dish by adding cold boiled potatoes. The plainness or
richness of the pudding depends entirely upon the amount of
potatoes added. The pie-dish can be lined with a little puff
paste round the edge, if preferred, or the pudding can be sent
to table plain. It should be baked in the oven till the top is
nicely browned. It can be served either hot or cold, but, in
our opinion, is nicer cold. If the lemons are very fresh and
green—if the pudding is sent to table hot—you will often
detect the smell of turpentine. If a large quantity of potatoes
is added more sugar will be required.
Orange Cheese-cake.—Proceed exactly as above, only substituting
two oranges for two lemons.
Almond Cheese-cakes.—Proceed exactly as above, only
instead of rubbing the sugar on the outside of lemons add
a small quantity of essence of almonds.
Apple Cheese-cakes.—Apple cheese-cakes can be made
in a similar manner to apple custard, the
only difference being that the mixture is baked till it sets.
STEWED FRUITS AND FRUIT ICES.
There are few articles of diet more wholesome than fruit, in
every shape, provided it is fresh. It is a great mistake, however,
to suppose that fruit, when too stale to be eaten as it is, is yet
good enough for stewing. We often hear, especially in summer
weather, of persons being made ill from eating fruit. Probably
in every case the injury results, not from eating fruit as fruit,
but from eating it when it is too stale to be served as an article
of food at all. There is an immense amount of injury done to
this country by the importation of rotten plums, more especially
from Germany, and it is to be regretted that more stringent
laws are not made to prevent the importation of all kinds of
food hurtful to health.
We will suppose that in every recipe we are about to give
the fruit is at any rate fresh; we do not say ripe, because
there are many instances in which fruit not ripe enough to be
eaten raw is exceedingly wholesome when stewed properly and
sweetened. As an instance we may mention green gooseberries
and hard greengages, which, though quite uneatable in
their natural state, yet make delicious fruit pies or dishes of
stewed fruit. Of all dishes there are few to equal what is
called a compote of fruit, and there are probably few sweets
more popular than—
Compote of Fruit.—A compote of fruit consists of a variety
of fresh fruits mixed together in a bowl. Some may be stewed
and some served in their natural state, or the whole may be
stewed. When a large variety of fruits can be obtained, and
are sent to table in an old-fashioned china family bowl, few
dishes present a more elegant appearance, especially if you
happen to possess an old-fashioned punch ladle, an old silver
bowl with a black whalebone handle. Care should be taken
to keep the fruit from being broken. The following fruits
will mix very well, although, of course, it is impossible always
to obtain every variety. We can have strawberries, raspberries,
red, white, and black currants, and cherries, as well
as peaches, nectarines, and apricots. We can also have stewed
apples and stewed pears. Very much, of course, will depend
upon the time of year. Those fruits that want stewing
should be placed in some hot syrup previously made, and
only allowed to stew till tender enough to be eaten. Tinned
fruits, especially apricots, can be mixed with fresh fruits, only
it is best not to use the syrup in the tin, as it will probably
overpower the flavour of the other fruits. The syrup, as far
as possible, should be bright and not cloudy. The fruit in the
bowl should be mixed, but should not be stirred up. We should
endeavour as much as possible to keep the colours distinct.
If strawberries or raspberries form part of the compote, the
syrup will get red. Should black currants be present, avoid
breaking them, as they spoil the appearance of the syrup. In
summer the compote of fruits is much improved by the addition
of a lump of ice and a glass of good old brandy. Should the
compote of fruits, as is often the case, be intended for a garden
party, where it will have to stand a long time, if possible get
a small bowl, like those in which gold and silver fish are sold
in the street for sixpence, and fill this with ice and place it in
the middle of the larger bowl containing fruit, otherwise the
melted ice will utterly spoil the juice that runs from the fruit,
which is sweetened with the syrup and flavoured with the
brandy. If much brandy be added, old ladies at garden
parties will be found to observe that the juice is the best part
Apples, Stewed.—Peel and cut out the cores of the apples,
and stew them gently in some syrup composed of about half a
pound of white sugar and rather more than a pint of water.
A small stick of cinnamon, or a few cloves, and a strip of
lemon-peel can be added to the syrup, but should be taken out
when finished. The apples should be stewed till they are
tender, but must not be broken. The syrup in which the
apples are stewed should of course be served with them. This
syrup can be coloured slightly with a few drops of cochineal,
but should not be coloured more than very slightly. The syrup
looks a great deal better if it is clear and bright. It can be
strained and clarified. Apples are very nice stewed in white
French wine, such as Chablis or Graves.
Stewed Pears.—Pears known as cooking pears take a
long time to stew. They should be peeled and the cores removed,
and then stewed very gently in a syrup composed of
half a pound of sugar to about a pint and a half of water; add
a few cloves to the syrup, say two cloves to each pear. The
pears will probably take from two to three hours to stew before
they are tender. When tender add a glass of port wine and a
little cochineal. If the pears are stewed, like they are abroad,
in claret, add cinnamon instead of the cloves.
Stewed Rhubarb.—Stewed rhubarb is of two kinds. When
it first comes into season it is small, tender, and of a bright
red colour, and when stewed makes a very pretty dish. The
red rhubarb should be cut into little pieces about two inches
long. Very little water will be required, as the fruit contains
a great deal of water in itself. The amount of sugar added
depends entirely upon taste. The stewed rhubarb should be
sent to table unbroken, and floating in a bright red juice.
When rhubarb is old and green it is best served more like
a purée, or mashed. Very old rhubarb is often stringy,
and can with advantage be rubbed through a wire sieve. It is
no use attempting to colour old rhubarb red, but you can improve
its colour by the addition of a very little spinach extract.
A few strips of lemon-peel can be stewed with old rhubarb, but
should never be added to young red rhubarb.
Gooseberries, Stewed.—Young green gooseberries stewed,
strange to say, require less sugar than ripe gooseberries. It is
best to stew the fruit first, and add the sugar afterwards.
The amount of sugar varies very much with the quality of the
Prunes, Stewed.—The prunes should be washed before they
are stewed. They will not take more than half an hour to
stew, and a strip of lemon-peel should be placed in the juice.
Stewed prunes are much improved by the addition of a little
Plums, Stewed.—Stewed plums, such as black, ordinary,
or greengages, or indeed any kind of stone fruit, can be stewed
in syrup, and have this advantage—plums can be used this
way which could not be eaten at all if they were raw. These
fruits are much nicer cold than hot. In many cases, in stewing
stone fruit (and this applies particularly to peaches, apricots,
and nectarines), the stones should be removed and cracked
and the kernels added to the fruit.
Cherries, Stewed.—Large white-heart cherries form a very
delicate dish when stewed. Very little water should be added,
and the syrup should be kept as white as possible, and, if
necessary, strained. Stew the cherries till they are tender,
but do not let them break. Colour the syrup with a few drops
of cochineal, and add a glass of maraschino.
Ices.—Ices are too often regarded as expensive luxuries,
and show how completely custom rules the majority of our
housekeepers. There are many houses where the dinner may
consist daily of soup, fish, entrées, joint, game, and wine, and
yet, were we to suggest a course of ices, the worthy housekeeper
would hesitate on the ground of extravagance. It is difficult
to argue with persons whose definition of economy is what
they have always been accustomed to since they were children,
and whose definition of extravagance is anything new. The
fact remains, however, that there is many a worthy signor who
sells ices in the streets at a penny each, and manages to make
a living out of the profit not only for himself, but for his
signora as well. Under these circumstances, the manufacture
of these “extravagances” is worthy of inquiry. Ices can be
made at home very cheaply with an ice machine, which can
now be obtained at a, comparatively speaking, small cost.
With a machine there is absolutely no trouble, and directions
will be given with each machine, so that any details here,
which vary with the machine, will be useless. Ices can be
made at home without a machine with a little trouble, and, to
explain how to do this, it is necessary to explain the theory of
ice-making, which is exceedingly simple. We will not allude
to machines dependent on freezing-powders, but to those which
rely for their cold simply on ice and salt mixed. We will suppose
we want a lemon-water ice, i.e., we have made some very
strong and sweet lemonade, and we want to freeze it. It is
well known that water will freeze at a certain temperature,
called freezing-point. By mixing chopped ice and salt and
a very little water together, a far greater degree of cold can
be immediately produced, viz., a thermometer would stand at
32° below freezing-point were it to be plunged into this mixture.
An ice machine is a metal pail placed in another pail
much larger than itself. The “sweet lemonade” is placed in
the middle pail, and chopped ice and salt placed outside it.
The proportion of ice to salt should be double the weight of
the former to the latter. It is now obvious that if we have
filled two pails, the one with “the sweet lemonade,” and the
other with the ice and salt, very soon our lemonade will be a
solid block of ice. To prevent this it must be constantly
stirred, and, as the lemonade would of course freeze first against
the sides of the pail, these sides must be constantly scraped.
Inside the inner pail, consequently, there is a stirrer, which,
by means of a handle, continually scrapes the side of the pail.
It is obvious that if the stirrer is fixed, and the pail itself
made to revolve, that is the same as if the pail were fixed and
the stirrer made to revolve. To make lemon-water ice, therefore,
place the lemonade in the inner pail, surrounded with
chopped ice and salt, two parts of the former to one of the
latter, turn the handle, and in a few minutes the ice is made.
Now, suppose you have not got a machine, proceed as follows:
Take an empty, clean, round coffee-tin (the larger the better).
[We mention coffee-tin as the most probable one to be in the
house, but any round tin will do.] Get a clean piece of wood,
the same width as the inside diameter of the tin, only it must
be a great deal longer. We will suppose the tin rather more
than a foot deep and five inches in diameter. Our piece of
wood, which should be clean and smooth, must be nearly five
inches wide, say a quarter of an inch thick, and about two feet
long. Next get a small tub, say nine inches deep, place the
round tin in the middle, with the sweet lemonade inside; next
place the piece of wood upright in the tin, so that the wood
touches the bottom. Next surround the tin with chopped ice
and salt up to the edge of the tub, fill it as high as you can,
and then cover it round with a blanket, i.e., cover the ice and
salt. Now get someone to hold the wooden board steady;
take the tin in your two hands, and turn it round and round,
first one way and then another. In a very short time you
will find the tin to contain lemon-water ice. The following
hints, rather than recipes, for making ices, i.e., for making the
liquid, which must be frozen as directed above, are given, not
because they are the best recipes, but because cream, which
is the basis of all first-class ices, is often too expensive to be
used constantly. Of course, real cream is far superior to any
Ice Cream, Cheap.—Make a custard (see CUSTARD) with half a pint of milk, the yolks of two
eggs, and a tablespoonful of Swiss milk and some sugar. As soon as it gets
a little thick, stir it till it is nearly cold, then add some essence of
vanilla or almonds, or a wineglassful of noyeau, or any flavouring wished,
Ices from Fresh Fruits.—Take half a pound of fresh
strawberries or raspberries, add half that weight of sugar, pound
thoroughly, rub through a sieve, and mix with this thick juice, rubbed
through, half a pint of the mixture made for ice cream (see ICE CREAM, CHEAP), only, of course, without
any flavouring such as vanilla, etc. Mix thoroughly, and freeze.
N.B.—A few red currants should be mixed with the
raspberries. Should the colour be poor, brighten it up before freezing with
a little cochineal.
Ices from Jam.—Mix a quarter of a pound of any jam
with half a pint of the mixture made for ice cream (see ICE CREAM, CHEAP), without any flavouring such
as vanilla. Rub all through a fine sieve, and freeze. Cochineal will give
additional colour to red jams; spinach
extract to green jams; and a very little turmeric, or yellow vegetable
colouring, to yellow jams. A small pinch of turmeric can be boiled in the
Ice, Lemon-Water.—Rub six lumps of sugar on the rind of
six lemons, add this and the juice of six lemons to a pint of
fairly sweet syrup. The amount of sugar is a matter of taste.
Strain and freeze. Some persons add a few drops of dilute
Ice, Orange-Water.—Act exactly as in lemon-water,
using oranges instead of lemons, and syrup containing less
Ice, Water Fruit.—All sorts of water fruit ices can be
made by mixing half a pint of juice, such as currant-juice, with
twice that quantity of syrup, and freezing. Grated ripe pine-apple,
pounded and bruised, ripe cherries and greengages,
strawberry-juice, raspberry-juice, can be mixed with syrup and
frozen. Sometimes a little lemon-juice can be added with
advantage, and in the case of cherry ice and greengage ice a
little noyeau added is an improvement.
CAKES AND BREAD.
In vegetarian cookery there is no difference, as far as cake-making
is concerned, between it and ordinary cookery. In
making cakes we will confine our attention chiefly to general
principles which, if once known, render cake-making of every
description comparatively easy work. Those who wish for
detailed recipes for making almost every kind of cake known
will find all that they require on a large scale in “Cassell’s
Dictionary of Cookery,” and also everything necessary on a
smaller scale in “Cassell’s Shilling Cookery,” which has already
reached its hundred-thousandth edition.
Cakes may be divided into two classes—those that contain
fruit and those that do not. Plum cakes can be made very
rich indeed, like a wedding cake, or so plain that it can scarcely
be distinguished from a loaf of bread with a few currants in it.
Again, cakes that contain no fruit can, at the same time, be
made exceedingly rich, the richness chiefly depending upon the
amount of butter and eggs that are used. We will first give
a few directions with regard to making what may be termed
plain cakes, i.e., cakes that contain no fruit at all. Perhaps
the best model we can give to illustrate the general principles
will be that of a pound cake. The recipe is a very easy one
to recollect, as a pound cake means one that is made from a
pound of butter, a pound of sugar, a pound of eggs, and a
pound of flour. There is one addition, however, which the
good plain cook will probably not be up to, and which, so far
as flavour is concerned, makes all the difference between
Francatelli and “Jemima Ann”—we must rub some of the
lumps of sugar on the outsides of either two oranges or two
lemons. It is also a great improvement to add a small glass
of brandy, and in every kind of cake we must add a pinch
In making cakes it is always necessary to be careful about
the butter. It is best to put the butter in cold water before
it is used, and, if salt butter, it should be washed in several
waters to extract the salt. The next thing necessary is to
beat the butter to a cream. To do this it must be worked
about in a basin with a wooden spoon. The basin should
be a strong one, and a wooden spoon is far preferable to a metal
one. You simply beat the butter and spread it against the
sides of the basin and knock it about till it loses its consistency.
You cannot beat the butter to the consistency of
ordinary cream, but to a state more resembling Devonshire
clotted cream. Of course, when it is like this it is much more
easily mixed with the other ingredients. In making a pound
cake we should first of all beat the butter to a cream and then
add flour, sugar, and eggs gradually. When the whole is
thoroughly well mixed together, we must bake it in a tin, or
mould, or hoop. We need say nothing about tins or moulds,
but will confine ourselves to giving directions how to bake a
cake in a hoop, for, as a rule, ordinary English cooks do not
understand how to use them.
One great advantage of using a hoop is that when the cake
is baked there is no fear of breaking it in turning it out. A
very simple hoop can be made with an ordinary slip of tin, say
six inches wide; as the tin will lap over, the cake can be made
any size round you wish. It is a good plan to fasten a piece
of copper wire round the outside of the tin. This can be
twisted, and when the cake is baked and has got cold can be
untwisted, and the tin will then open of its own accord. The
tin must be lined with buttered paper, and buttered paper must
be placed on a flat piece of tin at the bottom. When an
“amateur hoop” is used like we have described, care must be
taken that the cake does not come out at the bottom. The
cake, especially when it is made with beaten-up eggs, like
sponge cake, will rise, and unless precautions are taken the
tin will rise with it, and the unset portion of the cake break
loose round the edge at the bottom. To prevent this the tin
must be kept down with a weight at the top. In a proper
hoop made for the purpose there are appliances for fastening
the hoop together itself and also for keeping it in its place, but
if we use a strip of tin we must place something across the tin
on the top and then put on a heavy weight. When this is
done, you must remember to allow room for the cake to rise.
A pound cake such as we have described can be made into a
rich fruit cake by adding stoned raisins, currants, chopped
candied peel, sultana raisins, or, better still, dried cherries. In
making ordinary cakes, when currants are used, they should
be first washed and then dried; if you use damp currants the
cake will probably be heavy.
With regard to the flour, it is cheapest in the end to use
the best quality, and the flour should be dried and sifted. If
you weigh the flour remember to dry and sift it before you
weigh it, and not after. In using sugar get the best loaf; this
should also be pounded and sifted.
In using eggs, of course each egg should be broken
separately. Very often it is necessary to separate the yolks
from the whites. This requires some little skill; you are less
likely to break the yolk when you crack the egg boldly.
Put the yolk from one half egg-shell into the other half,
spilling as much of the white as you can. You will soon get
the yolks separate. Next, remember before mixing the eggs
to remove the thread or string from them. When the
whites are beaten separately, you must whisk them till they
become a solid froth; no liquid should remain at the bottom
of the basin. The yolks should not be broken till they are
Lemon-peel is often used in making cakes, and in chopping
it a little powdered sugar is a great assistance in preventing
the peel sticking together. Remember only to use the yellow
part, not the white. The white part gives the cake a bitter
Sometimes milk or cream is used in cake-making. If Swiss
milk is used as a substitute, remember that less sugar will be
When pounded almonds are used for cakes, the almonds
must be blanched by being thrown, first into boiling water,
and then into cold water. In pounding them, add a little rose-water
or orange-flower water, or the white of an egg, to prevent
the almonds getting oily.
Nearly all plain cakes, where only a few eggs are used, will
be made lighter by the addition of a little baking-powder. A
very good baking-powder is made by mixing an ounce of tartaric
acid with an ounce and a half of bicarbonate of soda,
and an ounce and a half of arrowroot. The baking powder
should be kept very dry.
A very nice way of making home-made cakes is to use some
dough, which can be procured from the baker’s. Suppose you
have a quartern of dough, put it in a basin, cover it over with
a cloth, and put it in front of the fire to rise, then spread it on
a floured pastry-board, slice it up, and work in half a pound
of fresh butter, half a pound of moist sugar, six eggs, a teaspoonful
of salt, and half an ounce of caraway seeds. When
all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed, place them in two or
more well-buttered tins or hoops, and let them stand in front
of the fire a little while before they are placed in the oven.
Cakes can be flavoured with a variety of spices, such as cinnamon,
mace, nutmeg, or powdered coriander seeds. These last
are always used to give a special flavour to hot cross buns.
Bread.—Home-made bread is not so much used now as it
was years back. Most housekeepers have found by experience
that it is a waste both of time and money. There are very
few houses among the middle classes which possess an oven
capable of competing with any chance of success with a baker’s
oven. There are, however, many vegetarians who believe in
what is called whole-meal bread. A good deal of the whole-meal
bread sold as such has been found to be adulterated with
substances very unwholesome to ordinary stomachs. We may
mention saw-dust as one of the ingredients used for the purpose.
Again, if you attempt to make whole-meal bread into
loaves, you will find great difficulty in baking the loaves. This
whole-meal is a very slow conductor of heat, and the result
will probably be that the outside of the loaf will be very hard
while the inside will be too underdone to be eaten. Consequently,
should you wish to have home-made whole-meal bread,
it is far best to bake it in the form of a tea-cake or flat-cake.
We cannot do better, in conclusion, than quote what Sir Henry
Thompson says on this subject:—“The following recipe,” he
says, “will be found successful, probably, after a trial or two, in
producing excellent, light, friable, and most palatable bread:
To two pounds of coarsely ground or crushed whole-meal,
add half a pound of fine flour and a sufficient quantity of
baking powder and salt; when these are well mixed, rub in
two ounces of butter, and make into dough with half milk and
water, or with all milk if preferred. Make rapidly into flat
cakes like ‘tea-cakes,’ and bake without delay in a quick
oven, leaving them afterwards to finish thoroughly at a lower
temperature. The butter and milk supply fatty matters, in
which the wheat is somewhat deficient; all the saline and
mineral matters of the husk are retained; and thus a more
nutritive form of bread cannot be made. Moreover, it retains
the natural flavour of the wheat, in place of the insipidity
which is characteristic of fine flour, although it is indisputable
that bread produced from the latter, especially in Paris and
Vienna, is unrivalled for delicacy, texture, and colour. Whole
meal may be bought; but mills are now cheaply made for
home use, and wheat may be ground to any degree of coarseness
PIES AND PUDDINGS.
In vegetarian cookery, as a rule, pies and puddings are made
in the same way as in ordinary cookery, with the exception
that we cannot use lard or dripping in making our pastry.
Nor are we allowed to use suet in making crust for puddings.
It would have been quite impossible to have given even one
quarter of the recipes for the pies and puddings known,
and we must refer those who wish for information on this
subject to “Cassell’s Shilling Cookery,” where will be found a
very complete list, but which would have occupied the whole
of the space which we have devoted to recipes where vegetarian
cookery, as a rule, differs from the ordinary.
We will, on the present occasion, confine our attention to
the two points we have mentioned, viz., how to make pastry
without lard or dripping, and pudding crust without suet. The
first of these two points causes no difficulty whatever, as the
best pastry, especially that known as puff paste, is invariably
made with butter only as the fatty element; but there is one
point we must not overlook.
Vegetarians are divided into two classes: those who use
the animal products—butter, milk, cream, and eggs—and
those who do not. This latter class contains, probably, the
most respected members of the vegetarian body, as it will
always be found that there is an involuntary homage paid by
all men to consistency. How then are strict vegetarians to
make pastry, butter being classed with the forbidden fruit? We
fear we cannot tell them how to make good puff paste; but
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” and naturally olive oil
must supply the place of butter.
Pastry without Butter.—We will describe how to make
a small quantity, which is always best when we make experiments. Take half
a pound of the best Vienna flour, and mix with it, while dry, about a
salt-spoonful of baking-powder. Now add about a tablespoonful of olive oil,
and work the oil and flour together with the fingers exactly as you work a
small piece of butter into the flour at the commencement of making puff
paste. Next add sufficient water to make the whole into an elastic paste;
roll it out and let it set between two tins containing ice, similar to the
method used in making high-class pastry.
We have mentioned a tablespoonful of oil, but if ice is
used more oil may be added.
We all know that oil will freeze at a much lower temperature
than water, consequently the minute particles of oil
become partially solid. Now take the paste, roll it out, and
give it three turns; roll it out again, give it three more turns,
and put it back in the ice; let it stand ten minutes or a
quarter of an hour, and repeat this process three times. Be
careful to flour the pastry each time before it is turned. By
this means we get the pastry in thin layers, with minute air
bubbles between them, and this will cause the pastry to rise.
If you are making a pie, roll out the pastry the last time,
cover the pie, and put it in the oven immediately, while the
pastry is cold. Do not let the pastry stand, unless it be in a
very cold place.
This pastry we have just described, made with oil, can also be
utilised for puddings, in which latter case we would recommend
the addition of a little more baking-powder, and to every
pound of flour add two tablespoonfuls of very fine bread-crumbs.
These must be dry, and rubbed through a fine sieve.
Pastry with Butter.—Good puff paste is made by taking
equal quantities of butter and flour—say a pound of each—the
yolk of one egg, a pinch of salt, while the water used is acidulated
with lemon-juice. For the manipulation of this pastry
we must refer those who do not know how to make it to
other cookery books, or to the shilling one above mentioned.
In making ordinary paste we must use less butter;
and when we use considerably less butter, if we wish
the pastry light, we shall require baking-powder. The
quantity depends very much upon the quality. Many
persons make their own baking-powder, and we cannot recommend
any better than the recipe given in the last chapter,
viz., an ounce of tartaric acid, an ounce and a half of bicarbonate
of soda, and an ounce and a half of arrowroot. A
great deal, too, depends upon the quality of the flour. Vienna
flour is much more expensive than ordinary flour, but incomparably
superior. What limit we can assign to the quantity of
butter used it is impossible to say. A quarter of a pound of
butter to a pound of flour, and a teaspoonful of baking-powder,
will make a fair crust. When less butter is used the
result is not altogether satisfactory.
Puddings.—We next come to the very large class of puddings
in which suet is used. The ordinary plum pudding is a case
in point. The best substitute for suet, of course, is butter or
oil; a plum pudding, however, made without suet, would undoubtedly
be heavy, and, to avoid this, we must use butter,
bread-crumbs, and baking-powder. It would be impossible to
give any exact quantity, as so much depends upon the other ingredients.
Some people use bread-crumbs only in making plum
pudding, and no flour, in which case, of course, a very considerable
number of eggs must be used or else the pudding will
break to pieces. In the case, however, of oil being used as a
substitute for butter, it is of the utmost importance that the
oil be pure and fresh. We here have to overcome a deeply-rooted
English prejudice. Pure oil is absolutely tasteless,
and it has often been remarked by high-class authorities
that really pure butter ought to be the same. We fear, however,
that purity in food is the exception rather than the rule,
as at no period of this country’s history has the crime of
adulteration been so rampant as in the present day.
Adulteration has been said to be another form of competition.
Too often adulteration is a deliberate form of robbery.
Steps have been taken in recent years to put a stop to this
universal system of fraud, more especially in connection with
butter. Were more Acts passed similar to the “Margarine
Act” we believe that this country would be richer and happier,
and without doubt more healthy.
In that large class of puddings known as custard pudding,
cabinet pudding, there is no difference whatever in vegetarian
cookery. It would be quite impossible to make any of these
puddings without eggs, and when eggs are used we may take for
granted that butter is allowed also.
We have, throughout, called particular attention to
the importance of appearances. In the case of all puddings
made with eggs and baked in a dish, it is a very great
improvement to reserve one or two whites of egg, and to
beat these to a stiff froth, with a little white powdered sugar.
When the pudding is baked, cover it with this snow-white
froth, and let it set by placing it in a slack oven for two or
three minutes. Whether the pudding is served hot or cold,
the result is the same. An otherwise plain and somewhat
common-looking dish is transformed into an elegant one, the
only extra expense being a little trouble.
We may sum up our instructions to cooks in the words:
“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”
- Allemande Sauce, 44
- Almond Cheesecakes, 170
- Apple Cheesecakes, 170
- Apples, Stewed, 172
- Apricot Fritters, 119
- Apricots Tinned, 155
- Aromatic Herbs, 32
- Arrowroot Sauce, 45
- Artichokes, French, 137
- Artichoke, Jerusalem, 137
- Asparagus and Eggs, 85
- Ayoli, 115
- Baking-Powder, 180
- Banana Fritters, 119
- Barley and Rice Porridge, 75
- Batter for Fritters, 116
- Beans, Broad, 139
- Beans, French, 139
- Beans, Haricot, 131
- Beetroot Salad, 102
- Beurre Noir, 48
- Blackberry Jam, 164
- Black Butter, 48
- Black Currant Jam, 164
- Bread, 180
- Brocoli, 141
- Brown Mushroom Sauce, 55
- Brussels Sprouts, 141
- Butter, Black, 48
- Cabbage, 142
- Cakes, 177
- Caper Sauce, 49
- Carrot Jam, 164
- Carrots, Boiled, 143
- Cauliflower and Tomato Sauce, 145
- Casseroles, 64
- Celery and Eggs, 85
- Cheesecakes, 165-168
- Cheese and Eggs, 89
- and Fried Bread, 113
- and Rice, 63
- Devilled, 114
- Fritters, 117
- Ramequins, 114
- Sandwiches, 107
- Savoury, 113
- Soufflé, 92
- Soup, 29
- Stewed, 114
- Straws, 114
- Toasted, 114
- Cherry Sauce, 49
- Cherries, Stewed, 174
- Chestnut Sauce, 49
- Chestnuts and Macaroni, 72
- Chocolate Cream, 166
- Chutney Sauce, 53
- Cinnamon Sauce, 49
- Clear Soup, 30
- Cocoanut Sauce, 49
- Coffee Cream, 166
- Cottage Soup, 30
- Cream and Macaroni, 73
- Cheese Sandwiches, 107
- Chocolate, 166
- Coffee, 166
- Fritters, 120
- Lemon, 166
- Maraschino, 166
- Orange, 166
- Pistachio, 167
- Strawberry, 167
- Vanilla, 166
- Creams, 165
- Croquettes, Potato, 127
- Cucumber and Eggs, 88
- Currant Sauce, Black, 50
- Curried Eggs, 82
- Curry Sauce, 50
- Custard, Apple, 168
- Custards, 167
- Cutlets, Potato, 127
- Egg Balls, 83
- Eggs, 78
- à la bonne femme, 83
- à la Dauphine, 85
- à la tripe, 83
- and Asparagus, 85
- Black Butter, 86
- Celery, 85
- Cheese, 89
- Cucumber, 88
- Garlic, 86
- Mushrooms, 86
- Onions, 87
- Potatoes, 87
- Rice, 66
- Sauce Robert, 87
- Sorrel, 87
- Spinach, 85
- Turnip-tops, 85
- au gratin, 84
- Boiled, 78
- Broiled, 87
- Buttered, 88
- Curried, 82
- Devilled, 82
- Fried, 80
- in Sunshine, 88
- Little, 89
- Poached, 81
- Scrambled, 88
- To Break, 80
- Endive, 145
- English Salad, 97
- Extract of Spinach, 25
- Fennel Sauce, 51
- Flageolets, 133
- Fond d’Artichokes, 155
- Forcemeat of Egg, 83
- Frangipane Fritters, 120
- French Beans, 139
- Fritters, 116
- Almond, 119
- Apple, 118
- Apricot, 119
- Banana, 119
- Batter for, 116
- Cheese, 117
- Chocolate, 119
- Coffee, 119
- Cream, 120
- Custard, 119
- Frangipane, 120
- Game, 117
- German, 121
- Ginger and Rice, 121
- Hominy, 117
- Mushroom, 116
- Orange, 120
- Pine Apple, 120
- Peach, 120
- Potato, 120
- Rice, 121
- Sage and Onion, 118
- Spinach, 118
- Sweet, 118
- Tomato, 117
- Vanilla, 119
- Fruit, Compote of, 171
- Fruits, Bottled, 157
- Frumenty, 76
- Jam Apple, 161
- Apricot, 164
- Blackberry, 164
- Black Currant, 164
- Carrot, 164
- Damson, 164
- Gooseberry, 164
- Greengage, 164
- Plum, 164
- Raspberry, 164
- Red Currant, 164
- Rhubarb, 164
- Strawberry, 164
- Vegetable Marrow, 164
- Jams, 163
- Jardinière Soup, 33
- Jellies, 158
- Jelly, Apple, 161
- Apricot, 163
- Blackberry, 158
- Black Currant, 160
- Damson, 162
- Lemon, 159
- Mulberry, 163
- Orange, 160
- Pine Apple, 162
- Raspberry, 161
- Red Currant, 161
- Julienne Soup, 33
- Macaroni, 67
- à la Reine, 69
- and Cheese, 68
- as an Ornament, 70
- au gratin, 69
- Italian Fashion, 68
- Nudels, 71
- Savoury, 72
- Scolloped, 70
- Soup, Clear, 34
- Soup, Thick, 34
- Timbale of, 70
- Macedoines, 155
- Maître d’Hôtel
- Mango Chutney Sauce, 53
- Maraschino Cream, 166
- Mayonnaise Salad, 98
- Melon Salad, 105
- Milk Porridge, 75
- Mint Sauce, 54
- Mock Turtle Soup, 35
- Mulberry Jelly, 163
- Mulligatawny Soup, 35
- Mushroom, Essence of, 44
- Mushrooms, 108
- Mustard Sauce, 55
- Mustard and Cress, 104
- Oatmeal Porridge, 73
- Oiled Butter, 48
- Omelet au Kirsch, 95
- au Rhum, 95
- Cheese, 92
- Fine Herbs, 92
- Onion, 92
- Plain, 91
- Potato, 92
- Potato, Sweet, 92
- Soufflée, 93
- Sweet, 94
- Vegetable, 95
- with Jam, 94
- Omelets, 89
- Onion Omelet, 92
- Onions and Eggs, 87
- Orange Cheesecakes, 170
- Ox-tail Soup, 36
- Palestine Soup, 24
- Pancakes, Polish, 116
- Parsley Sauce, 56
- Parsnip Cake, 147
- Parsnips, 147
- Paste for Pies, 184.
- Peach Fritters, 120
- Peaches, Tinned, 156
- Pea Soup, Dried Green, 37
- Peas, Boiled, 148
- Pear Soup, 37
- Pears, Stewed, 173
- Pie, Mushroom, 110
- Pies and Puddings, General, 183
- Pine Apple Fritters, 120
- Piroski Sernikis, 116
- Pistachio Cream, 167
- Plum Jam, 164
- Plums, Stewed, 174
- Polenta, 115
- Poached Eggs, 81
- Poivrade Sauce, 57
- Polish Pancakes, 116
- Porridge, Barley and Rice,
- Potato Balls, 127
- Biscuits, 129
- Border, 128
- Bread, 129
- Cake, 129
- Cheese, 130
- Cheesecake, 169
- Chips, 126
- Croquettes, 127
- Fritters, 120
- Omelet, 92
- Omelet, Sweet, 92
- Ribbon, 126
- Salad, 101
- Soup, 38
- Potatoes and Eggs, 87
- à la Barigoule, 130
- à la Lyonnaise, 131
- à la Maître d’Hôtel, 127
- à la Provençale, 131
- Baked, 125
- Boiled, 123
- Broiled, 131
- Fried, 126
- Mashed, 125
- New, 127
- Sauté, 126
- Steamed, 124
- Pound Cake, 179
- Prune Sauce, 57
- Prunes, Stewed, 173
- Pudding, Cheese, 114
- Puddings, 182
- Pumpkin à la Parmesane, 115
- Purée, Endive, 31
- Rarebit, Welsh, 115
- Raspberry Ice, 176
- Ramequins, Cheese, 114
- Ratafia Sauce, 57
- Ravigotte Sauce, 57
- Red Currant Jam, 164
- Red Haricot Bean Soup, 26
- Rhubarb Soup, 39
- Rice, 60
- and Barley Porridge,
- and Cabbage, 63
- and Cheese, 63
- and Eggs, 66
- and Ginger Fritters,
- and Tomatoes, 66
- Boiled, 61
- Border, 64
- Croquettes, 65
- Curried, 63
- Fritters, 121
- Soup, 39
- Soup à la Royale,
- Risotto, 62
- Robert Sauce, 58
- Roux, Brown, 22
- Sage and Onion Fritters, 118
- Sago Porridge, 77
- Salad, Artichoke, 102
- Asparagus, 101
- Bean, Broad, 103
- Bean, Haricot, 103
- Beetroot, 102
- Cauliflower, 104
- Celery, 103
- Cucumber, 102
- Dandelion, 103
- Egg, 99
- Endive, 100
- English, 97
- French, 97
- French Beans, 102
- German, 100
- Hop, 104
- Italian, 104
- Mayonnaise, 98
- Melon, 105
- Mixed, 98
- Mustard and Cress, 104
- Onion, 104
- Potato, 101
- Salsify, 101
- Sweet, 105
- Tomato, 99
- Water-cress, 103
- Salads, 96
- Salsify, Boiled, 151
- Sandwiches, 105
- Sauce, Allemande, 44
- Almond, 44
- Almond, Clear, 45
- Apple, 45
- Arrowroot, 45
- Artichoke, 45
- Asparagus, 45
- Bread, 45
- Butter, 46
- Butter, Black, 48
- Butter, Oiled, 48
- Caper, 49
- Carrot, 49
- Cauliflower, 49
- Celery, 49
- Cherry, 49
- Chestnut, 49
- Cinnamon, 49
- Cocoa-nut, 49
- Cucumber, 49
- Currant, Black, 50
- Currant, Red, 50
- Curry, 50
- Dutch, 51
- Egg, 51
- Fennel, 51
- German Sweet, 51
- Ginger, 52
- Gooseberry, 52
- Horseradish, 52
- Indian Pickle, 53
- Italian, 53
- Mango Chutney, 53
- Mayonnaise, 53
- Mint, 54
- Mushroom, 54
- Mustard, 55
- Onion, 55
- Orange Cream, 56
- Parsley, 56
- Pine Apple, 56
- Plum, 56
- Poivrade, 57
- Prune, 57
- Radish, 57
- Raspberry, 57
- Ratafia, 57
- Ravigotte, 57
- Robert, 58
- Sorrel, 58
- Soubise, 58
- Sweet, 58
- Tarragon, 58
- Tartar, 58
- Tomato, 59
- Truffle, 59
- Vanilla, 59
- White, 59
- Sauces, 44
- Savoury Rice, 66
- Scotch Broth, 40
- Sea Kale, 148
- Sorrel Sauce, 58
- Soubise Sauce, 58
- Soufflé, Cheese, 92
- Soup, Almond, 23
- Apple, 24
- Artichoke, 24
- Asparagus, 24
- Barley, 25
- Bean, French, 27
- Beetroot, 26
- Cabbage, 27
- Carrot, 27
- Cauliflower, 28
- Celery, 29
- Cheese, 29
- Cherry, 29
- Chestnut, 30
- Clear, 30
- Cocoanut, 31
- Cottage, 30
- Endive, 31
- Fruit, 31
- Green Pea, Dried, 37
- Hare, 32
- Hotch Potch, 32
- Jardinière, 33
- Julienne, 33
- Leek, 33
- Lentil, 33
- Lentil à la Soubise,
- Macaroni, Clear, 34
- Milk, 35
- Mock Turtle, 35
- Mulligatawny, 35
- Onion, 35
- Ox-tail, 36
- Palestine, 24
- Parsnip, 36
- Pear, 37
- Pea, Split, 37
- Potato, 38
- Pumpkin, 39
- Rhubarb, 39
- Rice, 39
- Sago, 40
- Scotch Broth, 40
- Sea Kale, 40
- Sorrel, 40
- Spinach, 41
- Tapioca, 41
- Tomato, 41
- Turnip, 42
- Vegetable, 33
- Vermicelli, 42
- White, 43
- Soups, 23
- Sparghetti, 67
- Spinach, 149
- Stock, 21
- Strawberry Cream, 167
- Sweet Fritters, 118
- Tagliatelli, 73
- Tapioca Soup, 41
- Tarragon Sauce, 58
- Tartar Sauce, 58
- Thickening, Brown, 22
- Timbale of Macaroni, 70
- Toast, Egg, 85
- Tomato Fritters, 117
- Tomatoes and Macaroni, 72
- Truffle Sauce, 59
- Turnip Soup, 42
- Turnips, Boiled, 150
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