THE
MODERN HOUSEWIFE
OR,

COMPRISING
NEARLY ONE THOUSAND RECEIPTS,
FOR THE ECONOMIC AND JUDICIOUS
PREPARATION OF EVERY MEAL OF THE DAY,
WITH THOSE OF
THE NURSERY AND SICK ROOM,
AND MINUTE DIRECTIONS FOR FAMILY MANAGEMENT
IN ALL ITS BRANCHES.

Illustrated with Engravings.
BY
ALEXIS SOYER,
AUTHOR OF “THE GASTRONOMIC REGENERATOR.”
EDITED BY AN AMERICAN HOUSEKEEPER.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
PHILADELPHIA: G. S. APPLETON, 146 CHESNUT ST.
1850.

ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by
D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District
of New-York.

[PREFACE BY THE EDITOR.]

IN adapting M. Soyer’s admirable receipt book to the use of American families, I have not presumed to amend, or attempted to improve upon the text of so accomplished a master of the art, which may with entire propriety be called the “preservative of all arts.” All that I have ventured to do has been to make a verbal correction here and there, necessary to render the meaning of the author more plain; to erase certain directions for cooking different kinds of game and fish unknown in the new world; and to omit the purely local information, and scraps of history, which only increased the cost and bulk of the book, without, in any way, adding to its value.

Except in one instance, nothing has been added; for the object in republishing the MENAGÈRE, was to furnish a new and valuable work on the preparation of food, which should contain important receipts hitherto unknown. Every country must have its indigenous dishes, and it is to be presumed that every American housekeeper likely to profit by M. Soyer’s receipts, will need no instruction in the art of preparing the many excellent dishes peculiar to the United States.

It is a vulgar error to suppose that French cookery is more costly and highly flavored than English; an examination of the MENAGÈRE will abundantly prove that the reverse is the fact, and that M. Soyer’s system, which has rendered him famous in Europe, is not only simple and economical, but the best adapted to insuring the enjoyment of health, the elevation of the mental faculties, and converting the daily necessity of eating into a source of daily enjoyment. M. Soyer’s great work, The Gastronomic Regenerator, was prepared for the highest classes of English society, and public festivals; but the MENAGÈRE is adapted to the wants and habits of the middle classes, and, as presented in the present edition, calculated for the use of the great bulk of American families.

M. Soyer is the good genius of the kitchen; although he is the renowned chef of one of the most sumptuous of the London Club Houses, and the pet of aristocratic feeders, he has labored continually to elevate the mind, and better the condition of the poor by instructing them in the art of obtaining the greatest amount of nourishment and enjoyment from their food. The dietetic maxims and culinary receipts of M. Soyer are not less needed in the United States than in England; but for different reasons. Happily, our countrymen do not suffer for lack of raw materials, so much as for lack of cooks; and, in the Modern Housewife of M. Soyer, our housekeepers will find a reliable guide and an invaluable friend.

New York, December, 1849.

[CONTENTS.]

[INTRODUCTION.]

IN the following gossipping conversation between Mrs. B—— and Mrs. L——, and in the two letters which follow, M. Soyer explains the motive of the work; and, in a natural manner introduces the subject.—Ed.

[DIALOGUE BETWEEN MRS. B—— AND MRS. L——, HER FRIEND AND VISITOR.]

Mrs. L. I have now, my dear Mrs. B., been nearly a fortnight at your delightful Villa, and I must say, with all truth, that I never fared better in my life, yet I am considered somewhat of an epicure, as is likewise my husband; but, of course, our means being rather limited, we are obliged to live accordingly.

Mrs. B. Well, so must we; and I assure you that, during the first few years of our marriage, our pecuniary resources were but small, but even then I managed my kitchen and housekeeping at so moderate an expense compared with some of our neighbors, who lived more expensively, but not so well as we did, that, when any of them dined with us, they flattered me with the appellation of the “Model Housekeeper,” and admired the comforts of our table, but would leave with the impression that I must be the most extravagant of wives. Now, believe me, I have always prided myself, whether having to provide for a ceremonious party or dining by ourselves, to have everything properly done and served, that, if any friends should come in by accident or on business, they were generally well pleased with our humble hospitality, and that without extravagance, as my husband is well convinced; for when we dine with any acquaintance of ours he is very eager to persuade them to adopt my system of management; for though he is no great judge of what is called the highest style of cookery, yet he does not like to live badly at any time; as he very justly says, it matters not how simple the food,—a chop, steak, or a plain boiled or roast joint, but let it be of good quality and properly cooked, and every one who partakes of it will enjoy it.

Mrs. L. Nothing more true!

Mrs. B. But since you talk of limited income and economy, let me relate to you a conversation which occurred a few years ago between Mr. B. and a friend of his, who declared to him that his income would never allow him to live in such luxury, which he called a comfortable extravagance.

“Extravagance!” exclaimed Mr. B., “if you have a few minutes to spare, I will convince you of the contrary, and prove to you that such an expression is very unjust, if applied to my wife’s management. Now, to begin; what sum should you suppose would cover our annual housekeeping expenditure, living as we do, in a style of which you so much approve, but consider so extravagant? there are ten of us in family, viz., myself and wife, three children, two female servants, and three young men employed in my business, and including our usual Christmas party, which, of course you know, (having participated in the last two), besides two separate birthday parties of twenty each, and three juvenile petits-soupers and dances for the children upon their natal anniversaries, also a friend dropping in occasionally, which is never less than once or twice a-week.”—“Well, I do not know,” answered our friend; “but having nearly the same number to provide for, and in a more humble way, my expenses for housekeeping are never less than £—— per annum.”—“Less than what?” exclaimed Mr. B.; “why, my dear friend, you must be mistaken;” at the same time ringing the bell.” I wish I were, with all my heart,” was the reply, as the servant entered the room; “Jane,” said Mr. B., “ask your mistress to step this way for a few minutes; I wish to look at her housekeeping book.” But being busy at the time in the kitchen, I sent up a key for him to get it, which happened to be a wrong one, but, upon discovering the mistake, sent up the right one with an apology for not coming myself, as I was superintending the cooking of some veal broth, which the doctor had ordered for our poor little Henry, who was ill at the time. “Well,” said his friend, “there is a wife for you; I must confess mine can hardly find the way to the kitchen stairs.” “Now!” said my husband, opening my desk, and, taking up my book, he showed him the last year’s expenditure, which was £——. “No! no! that is impossible,” replied the other. “But,” said Mr B., “there it is in black and white.” “Why, good heavens!” exclaimed he, “without giving so many parties, and also two less in family, my expenditure is certainly greater.” To which Mr. B. replied, “So I should imagine from the style in which I saw your table provided the few days when we were on a visit to your house; therefore I am not in the least astonished. Here, however, is the account for the closing year just made up to the 28th December, 1848. Let us see what it amounts to, probably to £50 or £60 more.” “So, so,” replied the other, “that is an increase;”—“Let it be so,” said Mr. B.; “but you must remember that we are twelve months older, and as our business increases, so do we increase our comforts; and this year Mrs. B., with the children, had a pretty little house at Ramsgate for two months, which will account for the greater part of it.”

Mrs. L. But, my dear Mrs. B., I am as much astonished as your friend could possibly have been. I should, however, have liked you to explain the matter; but here comes your husband, who will probably initiate me in your culinary secrets.

Good morning, my dear Mr. B. I have been talking to Mrs. B. about her system of housekeeping, who was relating to me a conversation you had with a gentleman, who was surprised with its economy. I am also surprised, and should like to take a few leaves out of your most excellent book, if you will allow me.

Mr. B. Certainly, my dear madam; in my wife, without flattering her too much, you see almost an accomplished woman (in hearing such praise, Mrs. B. retired, saying, “How foolish you talk, Richard”); she speaks two or three different languages tolerably well, and, as an amateur, is rather proficient in music, but her parents, very wisely considering household knowledge to be of the greater importance, made her first acquainted with the keys of the store-room before those of the piano; that is the only secret, dear madam; and this is the explanation that I gave to my friend, who thought it a good jest and one of truth. I told him to do the same by his two daughters, which would not only make them more happy through life, but transmit that happiness to their posterity, by setting an example worthy of being followed. I always say, give me a domesticated wife, and with my industry I would not change my position for a kingdom; “Very true, very true,” was my friend’s answer, and we then parted.

I have never seen him since nor his wife, who was probably offended at the economical propositions of her husband; for nothing, you are well aware, is more common than for people to be offended when told the truth respecting themselves; or perhaps she was too advanced in years to think of changing her ideas of housekeeping.

I see, my dear Mrs. L., the Brougham is waiting at the gate to convey you to the railway; allow me to see you safe to the station; you will not have many minutes to spare, for the train will shortly be up.

About an hour after the above conversation, Mrs. L. was seen entering her cottage at Oatlands, fully resolved to follow as closely as possible the economic management of Mrs. B.; but a little reflection soon made her perceive that she possessed only the theory, and was sadly deficient in the practice: she then determined to beg of her friend a few receipts in writing, and immediately dispatched the following letter:—

From Mrs. L—- to Mrs. B——.

Oatlands Cottage; Jan. 1st, 1849.

MY DEAR HORTENSE,—Upon my arrival at home, I am happy to say that I found all quite well, and delighted to see me, after (to them) so long an absence as a fortnight, which my husband was gallant enough to say appeared months; but to myself the time appeared to pass very swiftly; for, indeed, every day I felt so much more interested in watching closely how well you managed your household affairs, that, believe me, you have quite spoiled me, especially with your recherché style of cookery, which even now I cannot make out how you could do it at such moderate expense: and, apropos of cooking, Mr. L., expecting me home to dinner, had, I have no doubt, a long interview and discussion with Cook respecting the bill of fare. “Well, sir,” I will suppose she said, “what can be better than a fine fat goose, stuffed with sage and ingyons; we have a very fine ’un hanging in the larder.” (You must observe, dear, that my cook is plain in every way.) “A very excellent notion that, Cook; nothing can be better than a good goose;” was no doubt, my husband’s answer, who, although very fond of a good dinner, cannot endure the trouble of ordering it.

Well, then, here I am in my little drawing-room (the window slightly open), enjoying the fresh country air, which seems to have been amalgamated with a strong aroma from the aforesaid goose, especially the sage and onions; and I am almost certain that the inseparable applesauce is burnt or upset on the stove, from the brown smoke now ascending from the grating over the kitchen window. This style is now to me quite unbearable, and I mean to have quite a reform in my little establishment, and first of all to bring up my daughter in the way recommended by Mr. B. to his friend, to make her more domesticated than I am myself, as I begin to perceive that a knowledge of household affairs is as much required as intellectual education; and, for my part, I have come to the determination of adopting your system of management as closely as possible; but first, you must know, that, without your scientific advice, it will be totally impossible; therefore I beg to propose (if you can afford the time) that you will, by writing, give me the description how you lay out your breakfast-table, with the addition of a few receipts for the making of rolls and the other breakfast bread, which I so much enjoyed while with you; even how to make toast, and more especially how you make coffee, chocolate, cocoa (tea, of course, I know). And should this meet your approbation, I mean to make a little journal, which may some day or other be useful to our families and friends.

Until I hear from you I shall be waiting with anxiety for your decision upon this important and domestic subject.

Yours very sincerely,
ELOISE.

From Mrs. B——, in reply.

Bifrons Villa; Jan. 3d, 1849.

MY DEAR ELOISE,—In answer to yours, I agree, with the greatest pleasure, to contribute towards your domesticated idea, which, I must say, is very original, and may, as you observe, prove useful; but why should we confine our culinary journal to breakfast only? why not go through the different meals of the day? that is, after breakfast, the luncheon; then the nursery-dinner at One; and here it strikes me that, in that series, we might introduce some receipts, to be called Comforts for Invalids; even our servants’ dinners and teas; then the early dinner at two or three for people in business, the parlor-dinner at six, the coffee after dinner, and even suppers for a small ball or evening party; but all on a moderate scale, leaving the aristocratic style entirely to its proper sphere.

To show my approbation of your idea, I enclose herewith the first receipt, How to make Toast.

[BREAKFASTS.]

WHEN we first commenced housekeeping, we were six in family, five of whom breakfasted together, the three young men in the shop, Mr. B——, and myself. The cloth was laid by the servant girl at half-past seven precisely; at ten minutes to eight I used to make tea, and at eight o’clock we were seated at breakfast, which was composed merely of bread and butter at discretion, fresh water cresses when plentiful, or sometimes boiled eggs, and for variation, once a week, coffee, and if in the winter, we had toast, which I never suffered any servant to prepare more than five minutes before we were seated, for, if standing any time, the dry toast becomes tough, and the buttered very greasy, and consequently unpalatable, as well as indigestible. Twenty minutes only was the time allowed for breakfast, after which the table was cleared, the cloth carefully folded and put by for the next morning, for we kept a separate one for dinner, and imposed the fine of a half-penny upon any one who should spill their tea or coffee over the cloth by carelessness. Such was always my plan when in business; for you must know as well as myself, it is not only the expense of the washing, but the continual wear and tear of the linen, which make such frequent washings so ruinous, but my cloth used always to look clean, and I am confident that not less than five pounds a-year were saved on that very trifling matter, and you know we thought as much then of five pounds as we perhaps now do of twenty.

Before partaking of a breakfast, you must provide the materials (which I always select of the best quality), and require to know how to prepare them. I shall, therefore, give you a series of every description of articles which may properly be partaken of at the breakfast-table.

[FIRST SERIES OF RECEIPTS.]

PERHAPS some housekeepers may laugh at the presumption of M. Soyer in attempting to give a formal receipt for so trifling a matter as making a piece of toast. But, in Cookery, there are no trifles. Every preparation of food, however simple, requires thought, care, and experience. Among the unpleasantnesses of our breakfast-tables, there are none more common than poor toast.—Ed.

1. Toast.—Procure a nice square loaf of bread that has been baked one or two days previously (for new bread cannot be cut, and would eat very heavy), then with a sharp knife cut off the bottom crust very evenly, and then as many slices as you require, about a quarter of an inch in thickness (I generally use a carving-knife for cutting bread for toast, being longer in the blade, it is more handy, and less liable to waste the bread); contrive to have rather a clear fire; place a slice of the bread upon a toasting-fork, about an inch from one of the sides, hold it a minute before the fire, then turn it, hold it before the fire another minute, by which time the bread will be thoroughly hot, then begin to move it gradually to and fro until the whole surface has assumed a yellowish-brown color, when again turn it, toasting the other side in the same manner; then lay it upon a hot plate, have some fresh or salt butter (which must not be too hard, as pressing it upon the toast would make it heavy), spread a piece, rather less than an ounce, over, and cut into four or six pieces; should you require six such slices for a numerous family, about a quarter of a pound of butter would suffice for the whole; but cut each slice into pieces as soon as buttered, and pile them lightly upon the plate or dish you intend to serve it. This way you will find a great improvement upon the old system, as often in cutting through four or five slices with a bad knife, you squeeze all the butter out of the upper one, and discover the under one, at the peril of its life, swimming in an ocean of butter at the bottom of the dish.

N.B. The warming of the bread gradually through, on both sides, is a very great improvement upon the quality of the toast; it may give a trifle more trouble, but still it is quicker done, and much lighter.

All kinds of toast require to be done the same way, but if to be served under a bird, eggs, or kidneys, it requires to be toasted drier.

Being in every way an economist, I have generally saved the remnants of the loaf that have become too dry to be eaten as bread, and by just dipping them in warm water, toasting them gradually, and buttering them, I have generally found that they have been eaten in preference, but their being stale is a secret of my own, which, if divulged, would prevent their ever being eaten after.

2. Dry Toast.—Ought not to be toasted until quite ready to serve; when done, place it in a toast-rack, or standing upon its edges, one piece resting against another; any kind of toast that has been made half an hour is not worth eating.

3. To toast Muffins (for Receipt, see No. 6.)—Just open, half an inch deep, the sides of the muffins, exactly in the centre, with a knife, then put your toasting-fork in the middle of the bottom, hold it a little distance from the fire, until partly warmed through, when turn it and put it again to the fire until it becomes lightly toasted, when again turn it to toast the other side; when done, pull it open, spread a thin layer of butter on each side, close them together; lay them upon a plate, then with a sharp knife divide them across the middle, and serve very hot. If more than one muffin is required, cut them all separately, and pile them lightly one upon another, on the plate; when well prepared, they are, in my opinion, a very great luxury, obtainable at a trifling expense.

4. To toast Crumpets.—Crumpets stand lower in the general estimation of the public, probably from not being so distingué, and having the misfortune to be cheaper than their sister muffins; but, for all that, the poor ought never to be forgotten, and a crumpet toasted as follows is not to be despised. Choose your crumpets fresh if possible, though they are not bad after having been made three or four days; toast them by warming both sides first, like muffins, then give them a nice light brown color on each side, lay them in a plate, and spread some rather soft butter lightly upon each side; cut in halves with a sharp knife, and serve; half a pat of butter to each crumpet is quite sufficient. If you have several to serve, lay them separately upon a large hot dish; some people lay them one upon the other, which is a very bad plan, as it causes the under ones to eat like a piece of dough, and such food cannot be wholesome. Crumpets require to be toasted rather quick.

5. To make Rolls and other Breakfast Bread.—Put four pounds of flour into an earthen pan, make a hole in the centre, in which put three parts of a pint of warm water, to which you add a gill of white brewer’s yeast, free from bitter, mix a little flour to form a leaven, which set in a warm place to rise (it must be allowed to remain until the leaven has risen and begun to fall), then add a little salt and a pint of warm milk, form the whole into a flexible dough, which keep in a warm place for another hour; it is then ready, and may be moulded into the form of rolls, twists, little crusty loaves, or any shapes most pleasing for the breakfast-table.

6. To make Muffins.—Mix a quart of warm water in which you have dissolved a quarter of a pound of German yeast, with sufficient flour to form a stiffish batter, which let remain in a warm place four hours, then stir the mixture down, and break it into pieces weighing a quarter of a pound each, which mould round with your hands, and put into wooden trays containing a round bed of flour for each; let them remain in a warm place two hours to prove, when have your muffin-stove hot; have a round piece of iron; place on the fire to get hot; set the muffins upon it, and when nicely risen, turn them gently over, baking them upon the stove until sufficiently set, when they are done; they will take about ten minutes baking if the stove is at the proper heat, which is known by throwing a little flour on it and becoming brown. Muffins may also be made of brewer’s yeast, but then they would require longer proving, and great care must be taken that the yeast be not bitter.

7. To make Crumpets.—Mix a gill of brewer’s yeast, free from bitter, with two quarts of water, just lukewarm, to which add sufficient flour to make a thinnish batter, and let it stand six hours in a warm place, when stir it well with a wooden spoon, and let it remain four hours longer; have the muffin-stove hot, upon which lay a number of tin hoops, the size of crumpets, pour a small ladleful of the batter into each hoop, and when the top is covered with small bladders, turn them quickly over (hoops and all) with a large palate knife, and in about five minutes afterwards they will be sufficiently baked.

8. Rusks.—Put three pounds of flour upon a dresser, make a hole in the middle, into which put two ounces of German yeast, dissolved in a pint of warm water, mix a little of the flour in, and leave it half an hour in a warm place to rise, then add two ounces of powdered sugar, and a quarter of a pound of butter, dissolved in half a pint of warm water; mix the whole into a dough, and let it remain in a warm place until well risen, when work it down with the hands, divide it in three pieces, each of which form into a long roll about two inches in thickness, place them upon a buttered baking-sheet, four inches apart, and put them in a warm place to prove, occasionally moistening the tops with milk; bake them in a moderate oven; when cold, cut them in slices the thickness of a penny piece, which lay upon a clean baking-sheet, and put into a warm oven, when well browned upon one side, turn them over, put them again into the oven until the other side is browned, when they are done and ready for use.

9. Tops and Bottoms.—Make a dough exactly as described in the last, but using only half the butter; have a deep-edged baking-sheet well buttered, and when the dough is ready, turn it on to a dresser, well floured; divide into small pieces the size of walnuts, which mould into round balls, and place close together upon the baking-sheet; put them in a warm place to prove, and bake well in a moderate oven; when cold, divide and cut each one in halves (making a top and bottom) which brown in the oven as directed for rusks.

10. Buns.—Put three pounds of flour in an earthen pan, make a hole in the middle, in which put two ounces of German yeast, dissolved in three parts of a pint of warm water, and stir in a little of the flour, forming a thinnish batter, let it remain in a warm place nearly an hour, until well fermented, when add half a pound of sugar, a few currants, and half a pound of butter, dissolved in nearly a pint of warm milk, mix the whole well together, making a soft but dry dough; let it remain in a warm place until it rises very light, when turn it out of the pan on to a board; work it well with the hands, shaking flour over lightly, then mould it into small round balls, double the size of walnuts, which place upon a buttered baking-sheet, four inches apart; moisten the tops with milk; put them in a warm place to prove, not, however, permitting them to crack, and bake them in a hot oven.

11. —Brioche Rolls.—Put four pounds of flour upon a dresser, one pound of which put on one side, make a hole in the middle into which pour nearly three parts of a pint of warm water, in which you have dissolved an ounce of German yeast; mix it into a stiff but delicate paste, which roll up into a ball: cut an incision across it, and lay it in a basin well floured, in a warm place, until becoming very light, then make a large hole in the centre of the three pounds of flour, into which put half an ounce of salt, two pounds of fresh butter, half a gill of water, and sixteen eggs, mix it into a rather softish flexible paste, which press out flat, lay the leaven upon it, folding it over and working with the hands until well amalgamated, flour a clean cloth, fold the paste in it and let remain all night. In the morning mould them into small rolls; put them upon a baking-sheet, and bake in a moderate oven. Unless your breakfast party is very large, half the above quantity would be sufficient; but these rolls being quite a luxury, I only make them upon very especial occasions.

12. How to choose Eggs.—New-laid eggs should not be used until they have been laid about eight or ten hours, for that part which constitutes the white is not properly set before that time, and does not until then obtain their delicate flavor; that which is termed milk in eggs being, according to my opinion, very insipid; but that entirely depends upon fancy.

Nothing being more offensive than eggs in a state of decomposition, it is very important that every person should know how to detect them (especially in the winter), if, by shaking them, they sound hollow, you may be certain they are not new-laid, and not fit to be boiled for breakfast: but, if broken, they may prove fit for any other culinary purpose, except for soufflés, for which eggs must be very fresh. The safest way to try them is to hold them to the light, forming a focus with your hand; should the shell be covered with small dark spots, they are very doubtful, and should be broken separately in a cup, and each egg smelt previous to using; if, however, in looking at them, you see no transparency in the shells, you may be sure they are rotten and only fit to be thrown away; the most precise way is, to look at them by the light of a candle; if quite fresh, there are no spots upon the shells, and they have a brilliant light yellow tint; in the spring of the year, it would be scarcely excusable to use any eggs that are not quite fresh.

13. Eggs for Breakfast,—plain boiled.—Put about a pint of water to boil in any kind of small stewpan (or saucepan) over the fire; when boiling, put in two or three fresh eggs, gently, with a spoon, being particular not to crack them or allow them to boil too fast, or the interior of the eggs would partly escape before they were set, giving them an unsightly appearance, and entirely prevent their cooking regularly: three minutes is sufficient to cook a full-sized egg, but if below the average size, two minutes and a half will suffice.

14. Eggs au Beurre: a new method.—Let the eggs boil six minutes instead of three, then take them out, dip them for two seconds in cold water, crack and peel off the shells, and lay them in a hot plate (they will remain quite whole if properly done), cut each egg in halves lengthwise, spread a little fresh butter and sprinkle a little salt over the interior, and eat them very hot.

Eggs done in this manner are delicate and digestible.

15. To boil Eggs hard.—Never boil eggs for salads, sauces, or any other purposes, more than ten minutes, and when done place them in a basin of cold water for five minutes to cool: take off their shells, and use them when required.

Nothing is more indigestible than an egg too hard-boiled.

16. Poached Eggs.—Put a pint of water in a stewpan, with four teaspoonfuls of vinegar and half a teaspoonful of salt, place it over the fire, and when boiling, break your eggs into it as near the surface of the water as possible, let them boil gently about three minutes; have rather a thin piece of toast, as described (No. 1), upon a dish, take the eggs out carefully with a small slice, lay the slice with the eggs upon a cloth for a second to drain the water from them, set them carefully upon the toast, and serve very hot. If the eggs are fresh they will look most inviting, but the way of breaking and boiling them must be most carefully attended to, and care should be taken not to boil too many together; if the yolks separate from the white it may be presumed that the egg is not fresh, but it may be eatable, for the same thing may happen through awkwardness in poaching.

Again, the toast upon which they are served may be buttered either with plain or maître d’hôtel butter, or two small pats of butter may be melted, without boiling it, and poured over, or a little melted butter sauce, or the same with the addition of a little maître d’hôtel butter poured over when just upon the point of boiling, or a little anchovy butter instead of the other; thus you may be able to indulge in nice little luxuries at a trifling expense.

17. Toast and Eggs.—Break three eggs into a small stewpan, add a saltspoonful of salt, a quarter of that quantity of pepper, and two ounces of fresh butter (the fresher the better), set the stewpan over a moderate fire, and stir the eggs round with a wooden spoon, being careful to keep every particle in motion, until the whole has become a smooth and delicate thickish substance; have ready a convenient-sized crisp piece of toast, pour the eggs upon it, and serve immediately.

18. Eggs sur le Plat.—Lightly butter a small oval dish, upon which break two, three, or more eggs without breaking the yolks, season lightly with a little white pepper and salt, put a few small pieces of butter here and there upon them, and then set the dish in a small oven, where let it remain until the whites become set, but by no means hard, and serve hot; if the oven is moderately hot, they will take about ten minutes; if no oven, put the dish before the fire, turning it round now and then until the eggs are set regular. This is a most excellent dish.

19. Omelettes may also be served for breakfast with great advantage, being very relishing, especially the omelettes aux fines herbes, au lard, and aux champignons, but as they are considered to belong to the dinner, they will be given in that series of receipts.

20. Herring Toast Sandwich.—Choose a bloater for this purpose not too dry, which split in two, cutting it down the back; lay them upon a plate and pour a pint of boiling water over; let them soak five minutes, when lay them upon a cloth to dry; then broil them very gradually upon a gridiron; when well done, which will be in about four or five minutes, have ready two thin slices of toast, made very crisp, butter them lightly, then take away all the bones from the herrings, lay the fleshy parts equally upon one piece of toast and cover with the other: serve very hot.

21. Toast and Eggs with Herring.—Prepare your toast and eggs as directed (No. 17), but previous to pouring the eggs over, lay the flesh of a herring as directed in the last, and pour the eggs over that. Herrings upon toast, with a layer of mashed potatoes over, is also very good.

Dried haddock may also be served the same, as also may sardines, but they being ready-cooked, are laid over cold without splitting them; they are very delicious; if wanted hot, set them a few minutes before the fire.

22. Fish for Breakfast,—Bloated Herrings.—They require to be freshly salted, for if dry they are quite rank and unpalatable; scrape them lightly with a knife, and wipe them well with a cloth; pass the point of a knife down the back from head to tail, making an incision about a quarter of an inch in depth; place them upon the gridiron over a sharp fire; they will take about six minutes to cook, of course turning them occasionally; when done, put them upon a hot dish, open the backs, and place half a small pat of butter in each; again close them: cooked this way they are delicious, especially if they are real bloaters. Another way is to cut them quite open and broil them flat upon the gridiron, and serve quite plain; this way they are done much more quickly. Or, if nice and fresh, oil half a sheet of white paper for every fish, in which fold them and broil fifteen minutes over a slow fire, turning them over three or four times, and serve in the papers. Should you have any that have become dry, soak them about twenty minutes in lukewarm water, and proceed as first directed. (Same process will do for red herrings.)

23. Dried Haddock.—A very excellent thing for breakfast, but they never ought to be cooked whole, for one side being thinner than the other is of course dried up before the other is much more than half done, especially the larger ones; the better plan is to cut them in halves lengthwise, put them upon the gridiron over a moderate fire, keeping them frequently turned, and taking the thinnest half off first; the thickest will require about ten minutes to cook it thoroughly; when done, spread a pat of fresh butter over, and serve upon a very hot dish.

Haddocks may also be skinned and broiled in oiled paper, but of course would take rather more time in cooking.

24. Whitings.—Of all the modes of preparing and dressing whitings for breakfast I cannot but admire and prize the system pursued by the Scotch, which renders them the most light, wholesome, and delicious food that could possibly be served for breakfast: their method is, to obtain the fish as fresh as possible, clean and skin them, take out the eyes, cover the fish over with salt, immediately after which take them out and shake off the superfluous salt, pass a string through the eye-holes, and hang them up to dry in a passage or some place where there is a current of air; the next morning take them off, just roll them lightly in a little flour, broil them gently over a slow fire, and serve very hot, with a small piece of fresh butter rubbed over each, or serve quite dry if preferable.

25. Slips or Small Soles.—When cleaned, season them with a little pepper and salt, dip lightly into flour, and broil them slowly over a moderate fire about ten minutes, or according to the size; when done, place them upon a hot dish, pour two tablespoonfuls of cream over and serve immediately. They may of course be served dry, but pouring the cream over is a new and very good idea. Nothing but small white fish could be tolerated for breakfast.

26. Sprats when nicely cooked are very commendable. Dip them lightly into flour, and place them upon a gridiron over a slow fire; when about half done, turn them; when done (which would be in about five minutes from the time you put them on), serve dry in a very hot dish.

27. Meat for Breakfast,—Sheep’s Kidneys.—Procure as many as you may require for your party, about one each is generally sufficient; be sure that they are fresh, which any person can ascertain by smelling, if not able to judge by their appearance; cut them open very evenly lengthwise, down to the root, but not to separate them; then have some small iron or wooden skewers, upon which thread the kidneys quite flat, by running the skewer twice through each kidney, that is, under the white part; season them rather highly with pepper and salt, and place them upon a gridiron (the inside downwards), over a sharp fire; in three minutes turn them over, and in about six they will be sufficiently done; then take them off the skewers, place them in a very hot dish, and serve immediately. In opening them be careful to cut them in the centre, for should one half be thicker than the other, one would be dried before the other was sufficiently cooked.

28. Kidneys on Toast.—Prepare the kidneys precisely as in the last, but when done have ready a piece of hot toast, which butter lightly; lay the kidneys upon it; have ready a small piece of butter, to which you have added a little pepper, salt, and the juice of half a lemon; place a small piece in the centre of each kidney, and when melted serve.

29. Kidney bread-crumbed, à la Maître d’Hôtel.—Prepare the kidneys as before, and when upon the skewer, have ready upon a plate an egg well beat up with a fork; season the kidneys with a little salt and pepper, dip them into the egg, then lightly cover them with bread-crumbs, put them upon the gridiron, which place over a moderate fire, broil them about ten minutes, turning them when half done, have ready a little maître d’hôtel butter, put about half an ounce in each kidney, and serve immediately upon a very hot dish; by the time it gets upon the table the butter will be melted, and they eat very relishing; dressed this way they may also be served upon toast.

30. Sautéd Kidneys.—Should you not have a fire fit for broiling, put an ounce of butter into a sauté-pan (which of course must be very clean), cut the kidney in halves lengthwise; and when the butter is melted, lay them in, the flat side downwards, having previously well seasoned them with pepper and salt; set the pan on a moderate fire three minutes, then turn them, place them again upon the fire until done; when have ready a piece of dry toast, which place upon a hot dish, pour the kidneys with the butter and gravy over and serve very hot, care must be taken in sautéing that the butter does not become burnt.

Another way is to sprinkle about a teaspoonful of chopped eschalots, or onions, over them whilst being sautéd; this materially changes the flavor, and meets the approbation of many.

For the cooking of mutton chops, steaks, cutlets, broiled fowl, broiled bones, or remnants of poultry or game, I must refer you to where they are given as receipts for the dinner-table.

31. Bacon and Ham, how to choose both fit for broiling.—Ham for broiling ought not to be too old or too dry, it would perhaps eat rank: nothing requires more care than broiling. Either get a slice of ham weighing a quarter of a pound or two ounces, which lay on your gridiron; put them over the fire; it will take perhaps five minutes, if the fire is good, and more, of course, if slow, but in that short space of time turn them three or four times, and it is done. Proceed the same if you want to serve it with poached eggs, but be careful that the eggs be ready at the same time as the bacon or ham, or both would eat badly. If you happen to have a whole ham by you for that purpose only, begin to cut the slices in a slanting direction and the same thickness, and proceed to the end of the ham with the remainder; it will prove more profitable to broil with greens, peas, broad beans, &c., &c.

To sauté it, put a little butter or good fat in the pan; set it on the fire with your slice in it, sauté very gently, turning very often, and serve it on very thin toast.

32. Ham and Eggs.—While your ham is doing, break two fresh eggs in the pan, season slightly with salt and pepper, set it before the fire till the eggs are delicately done, and slip them whole carefully into your dish, without breaking the yolk.

33. Bacon.—The streaky part of a thick flank of bacon is to be preferred; cut nice slices not above a quarter of an inch thick, take off the rind, put to broil on the gridiron over a clear fire, turn it three or four times in the space of five minutes; this will be all the cooking required: serve it very hot. Though this is the best part, the whole of the bacon is still good, especially if not rank, which can be easily detected by its yellowish color: if too dry or salt, after it has been cut in slices, dip it into a little vinegar and water three or four times, and sauté as usual, it will make it softer and less salt: serve as usual. If any remain after a dinner of boiled bacon, it is also very good broiled or fried for next day’s breakfast.

34. Sausages.—Sausages are very frequently esteemed for breakfast. By all means, never use them, except you are confident that they are fresh. The skin must be transparent, that the meat should be seen through; they keep good two or three days in a cold place in summer, nearly a week in winter (with care). For the receipt how to make them in the homely way, see future letter.

35. Sausages, how to cook them.—Prick them with a pin all round about twenty times, put them on the gridiron over a gentle fire, turn three or four times, by doing which you will have them a very nice yellow color; dish them, and serve them very hot.

36. Sautéd Sausages.—If your fire smokes, it is preferable to sauté them; put some butter in the pan, with four sausages; after you have pricked them as before-mentioned, sauté gently, a few minutes will do them, turn them often; in many instances a thin slice of bread sautéd in the fat they have produced is a great improvement; save the fat, as it is always useful in a kitchen. In case you are in a hurry to do them, throw them into hot water for one minute previously to their being broiled or sautéd; they will then be the sooner cooked, and even eat rather more relishing to a delicate stomach, having extracted the oil from the skin; they may also be fried in the frying-pan.

37. Black Puddings, broiled.—Make about six or eight incisions through the skin with a knife, in a slanting way, on each side of the pudding; put it on the gridiron for about eight minutes, on rather a brisk fire, turn it four times in that space of time, and serve it broiling hot.

I should recommend those who are fond of black puddings to partake of no other beverage than tea or coffee, as cocoa or chocolate would be a clog to the stomach. In France they partake of white wine for breakfast, which accounts for the great consumption of black pudding. Now really this is a very favorite dish with epicures, but I never should recommend it to a delicate stomach.

ON COFFEE.—Coffee, which has now come so generally into use, originally came from Arabia, where it has been known from time immemorial, but was brought into use in England in the year 1653; as it is not generally known how it was introduced, I will give you the account of it from “Houghton’s Collection,” 1698. “It appears that a Mr. Daniel Edwards, an English Merchant of Smyrna, brought with him to this country a Greek of the name of Pasqua, in 1652, who made his coffee; this Mr. Edwards married one Alderman Hodges’s daughter, who lived in Walbrook, and set up Pasqua for a coffee-man in a shed in the churchyard in St. Michael, Cornhill, which is now a scrivener’s brave-house, when, having great custom, the ale-sellers petitioned the Lord Mayor against him, as being no freeman. This made Alderman Hodges join his coachman, Bowman, who was free, as Pasqua’s partner; but Pasqua, for some misdemeanor, was forced to run the country, and Bowman, by his trade and a contribution of 1000 sixpences, turned the shed to a house. Bowman’s apprentices were first, John Painter, then Humphrey, from whose wife I had this account.” Having examined the renter churchwarden’s book of St. Michael, Cornhill, I find that the house or shed Bowman built is now part of the Jamaica Coffee-House; it was rebuilt by Bowman, after the fire, in 1667.

It is a very remarkable fact that but few persons in England know how to make good coffee, although so well supplied with the first quality of that delicious berry; but, by way of contrast, I must say that the middle classes of France are quite as ignorant of the method of making tea.

I remember, upon one occasion, whilst staying at Havre with Mr. B., where we were upon a visit at the house of one of his agents, who invited a few of his friends to meet us at a tea-party à l’Anglaise, as they used to call it, about an hour previous to tea, and previous to the arrival of the guests, I was walking upon the lawn before the house, when my attention was attracted by a cloud of steam issuing from the kitchen-window, smelling most powerfully of tea: my curiosity led me to the kitchen, where I found the cook busily engaged making cocoa and most delicious coffee, but preparing the tea in a ridiculous fashion, the leaves of which were in an awful state of agitation, attempting as it were to escape from an earthen pot at the side of the fire, in which the delicious soup we had for dinner was made a few hours previously. (See Pot-au-Feu.)

“My dear girl,” said I (in French), “what process do you call that of making tea? it never ought to be boiled.”

“I beg your pardon, Madame,” says she, “master and mistress like it well done, and it will be another short half-hour before it is properly cooked (ce sera alors copieux).”

“You are decidedly wrong,” said I, “and I shall be most happy to show you the way we make it in England.”

“Yes, I know what you mean, Madame,” replied she; “I used to make it that way before, but no one liked it, that is, to boil it one hour in a copper-pan over a charcoal fire.” Upon which I retired, making a most comical grimace, to refrain from laughing at her still more ridiculous fashion.

You must, however, observe that this occurred nearly twelve years ago, and I have no doubt but a reform has taken place since then by the continual traffic of the English through that part of the country. I must say, with respect to ourselves, we do not make quite such a blunder respecting coffee, but still our middle classes very seldom enjoy the aroma of that delicious beverage, which should be made as follows:

Choose the coffee of a very nice brown color, but not black (which would denote that it was burnt, and impart a bitter flavor); grind it at home if possible, as you may then depend upon the quality; if ground in any quantity, keep it in a jar hermetically sealed. To make a pint, put two ounces into a stewpan, or small iron or tin saucepan, which set dry upon a moderate fire, stirring the coffee round with a wooden spoon continually until it is quite hot through, but not in the least burnt; should the fire be very fierce, warm it by degrees, taking it off every now and then until hot (which would not be more than two minutes), when pour over a pint of boiling water, cover close, and let it stand by the side of the fire (but not to boil) for five minutes, when strain it through a cloth or a piece of thick gauze, rinse out the stewpan, pour the coffee (which will be quite clear) back into it, place it upon the fire, and, when nearly boiling, serve with hot milk if for breakfast, but with a drop of cold milk or cream if for dinner.

To prove the simplicity of this mode of making coffee, I shall here give a repetition of the receipt as it actually is:

38. Put two ounces of ground coffee into a stewpan, which set upon the fire, stirring the powder round with a spoon until quite hot, when pour over a pint of boiling water; cover over closely for five minutes, when pass it through a cloth, warm again, and serve.[1]

The foregoing proportions would make coffee good enough for any person, but more or less coffee could be used, if required; the cloth through which it is passed should be immediately washed and put by for the next occasion. A hundred cups of coffee could be made as here directed in half an hour, by procuring a pan sufficiently large, and using the proper proportions of coffee and water, passing it afterwards through a large cloth or jelly-bag.

39. Coffee, French fashion.—To a pint of coffee, made as before directed, add a pint of boiling milk, warm both together until nearly boiling, and serve. The French never use it any other way for breakfast.

40. White Coffee, a new style.—Put two ounces of unground coffee, slightly roasted, into a clean stewpan, which set upon a moderate fire, slowly warming the coffee through, shaking the stewpan round every half-minute; when very hot, which you will perceive by the smoke arising from it, pour over half a pint of boiling water, cover the stewpan well, and let it infuse by the side of the fire for fifteen minutes, then add half a pint of boiling-hot milk, pass the coffee through a small fine sieve into the coffee-pot or jug, and serve with white sugar-candy or crystallized sugar; it is, as you will perceive, a great novelty, and an agreeable change; but if by neglect you let the coffee get black, or the least burnt, do not attempt to make use of it; it should only be sufficiently charred to break easily in a mortar if required.

41. Coffee, made with a filter.—To make a quart; first put a pint of boiling water through the filter to warm it, which again pour away, then put a quarter of a pound of ground coffee upon the filter, upon which put the presser lightly, and the grating, pour over half a pint of boiling water, let it drain three or four minutes, then pour over a pint and a half more boiling water; when well passed through, pour it into a clean stewpan, which set at the corner of the fire until a light scum arises, but not boiling; pour it again through the filter, and when well drained through, pour into the coffee-pot, and serve with hot milk, or a little cream, separately.

42. Another way, more economical.—Proceed as in the last, but draining the coffee through once only, and serve, after which pour another quart of boiling water over the coffee-grounds, which, when drained through, reserve, and boil up for the next coffee you make, using it instead of water, and an ounce less coffee.

TEA is, without doubt, one of the most useful herbs ever introduced into England, which was in the year of the fire of London, 1666: it has replaced an unwholesome and heavy drink (ale) which used to be partaken of previously, and has created habits of sobriety. It is indigenous to China, Japan, and Siam, and consists of many varieties, the proper mixing of which constitutes the great art of a tea-dealer. It is exceedingly useful in many cases of sickness, and particularly after having partaken of any liquor to excess, or after extraordinary fatigue. When new, it is a narcotic; but when old it has a different effect,[2] and in its native country is never partaken of until a year old, and not then, unless exceedingly desiccated. I cannot recommend you any one in particular, as that depends on taste; but this I advise, that when you have a kind to your liking, to keep to it.

And now, my dear friend, without wishing in the least to offend you, or attempting to aggravate your good nature, I must beg to contradict your assertion made at the commencement of our undertaking, where you say, respecting tea, of course I know how to make it; you made it whilst staying at our house occasionally, and Mr. B. found there was a great difference between it and mine. But to tell you the truth respecting tea, I have a little secret of my own, being a discovery which I made a short time ago by accident. Whilst in the act of making tea, I had just put the dry tea in the pot, when I heard a fearful scream up-stairs in the drawing-room; rushing there, I found my little girl had had a severe fall in reaching something from the chimney-piece, the stool upon which she stood having upset: twenty minutes at least had elapsed before I returned to my tea (which, being alone, I was in no particular hurry for), when I found that the servant, thinking there was water in the pot, and fearing the tea would be spoiled, put it into the oven, which was rather hot; when she brought it to me, I was rather annoyed, when all at once it struck me that the leaves being hot through, the tea would not require so long to draw; I then filled the teapot with boiling water, and in a minute afterwards had a most delicious cup of tea, since which I have adopted the system upon all occasions, and am now having made a small spirit-lamp to warm the pot and leaves, as the oven is not always hot: it may, however, be made hot in front of the fire, but not too close of course. I gave the receipt to one of our neighbors, who actually laughed at the idea, but never tried it, saying, “We cannot teach anything to our grandmothers, and that what did for them would do for us.” Now what could you say to such people? why nothing, but let them alone, as I shall do for the future. But you, my dear, I know have better sense; proceed as I have directed, and you will find it a great improvement. Put your tea in the pot a quarter of an hour before ready for it, warming both tea and pot, fill with boiling water, and leave it from three to five minutes to draw, when it is quite ready.

CACAO was first known in Europe after the discovery of America, and it retains its Indian name; of course, it was first used in Spain, and did not come into use in England until much later; and we find that there was imported into England, in the year 1694, about 13,000 lbs. weight of it; at the present day there was, in 1848, 410,000 lbs. It is a long fruit, about five to eight inches, and three or four thick, which contains about thirty nuts: the tree grows to only a few feet in height.

In the course of my experiments, I have found that the shell is almost as nutritious as the kernel, with less oily particles in it, which, to many, are unpleasant.

43. Chocolate.—Scrape two ounces of the cake, which put into a stew or saucepan, with a gill of water, upon the fire, keeping it stirred with a wooden spoon until rather thick, when work it quickly with the spoon, stirring in half a pint of boiling milk by degrees; serve very hot, with sugar separate.

44. Chocolate made in the Italian method.—Procure a regular chocolate-pot with a muller, the handle of which comes through the lid, one might be procured at any brazier’s, put in two ounces of chocolate (scraped), over which by degrees pour a pint of boiling milk, put on the lid, with the muller inside, which keep well moving, setting the pot upon the fire, and when very hot and frothy, serve.

45. Cocoa.—Put a teaspoonful and a half of canistered cocoa into a cup, which fill by degrees with boiling milk, stir it until dissolved, when it is ready to serve; sugar separately.

[LETTER NO. III]

Oatlands Cottage, Jan. 20, 1849.

DEAR HORTENSE,—I have inclosed the whole of the receipts which you have sent me for the breakfasts, properly classified, having omitted the cold meats (as you desired me) from this series, thinking, as you do, they are more suited for the luncheon. To save useless repetition, I have placed the receipts in numbers, by which references can be easily made, and any dish appearing in the dinner or luncheon series, but available for breakfast, can be directly found.

But one thing I remember when at your house was, that when the remains of a joint were rather large, you used to put it upon a side table, and let any one help themselves from it there; your idea being, I believe, that very few persons liked to have a large dish of meat before their eyes almost immediately after rising from their beds, or at the first meal of the morning. Respecting the way your table was laid out, to the best of my recollection, it was as follows:—First the large table-cloth, over which was laid a small napkin before each person, with cups and saucers for tea or coffee, at choice, small plates for rolls, and a size larger for meat, sausages, eggs, &c., a small knife and fork for each; the butter in a pretty freezing butter-glass, just covered with clear spring water, and garnished with a few sprigs of parsley or watercresses; the cream in a small china cream-jug, and a larger jug containing hot milk for coffee; orange marmalade in its original pot, honeycomb, watercresses, and once a few nice young radishes, which were excellent, although a little out of season; one day also dry toast was served, another day buttered, the next muffins, then crumpets, white and brown bread, and small rolls, thus making a continual change, but all so small and inviting. I shall always, when I have company, as you had then, arrange everything in the same manner, especially now that I have your receipts down. But when you are alone, you tell me, you never make any such display, which of course would be ridiculous; still even then you vary, by having either tea, coffee, or chocolate, which change I like as well as you. I eat meat but occasionally, but Mr. L—— generally likes a little broiled bacon, or boiled egg, things in themselves very simple and pleasant to have upon the table. Yours, in haste,

ELOISE.

[EARLY LUNCHEONS.]

[LETTER NO. IV]

MY DEAR FRIEND,—I feel perfectly satisfied with the manner in which you have classified my receipts respecting the breakfasts, and must say I felt very much interested in looking over them; I am confident they would prove interesting and instructive to any young housekeeper; I hope, therefore, you will preserve the originals, as I do not keep any copies, fearing they would confuse me by making reference to them; so that, if at any future time I should make a repetition in other series, you would be able to correct me, for I am as willing as yourself that we should complete our work by going through every series comprising meals of the day.

The next meal, then, to breakfast, in the ordinary course of events, is the luncheon. Although it is a meal we never touch ourselves, I am aware many small families make it a regular one, so our little journal would not be complete without some few remarks, which I intend making as short and concise as possible. When we were in business, our luncheons were comprised of any cold meats which were cooked for previous dinners; if a joint of cold roast or boiled meat, it requires to be nicely trimmed before making its appearance at table, but reserving the trimmings for hash, if of roast meat, or bubble-and-squeak, if salt beef, which is an excellent method of disposing of the remainder of a joint to advantage; if the joint happened to be cold veal, I used to send for a plate of ham to serve with it, unless there was a piece of bacon also left; if mutton, I used to dish up the leg with a pretty little paper frill upon the knuckle, also trimming the joint lightly, for you must be aware that, after four or five have dined from a leg of mutton, its appearance becomes quite spoiled, and looks blackish when cold. Pork I also serve the same; when parsley was cheap, I always laid a few branches round it, which used, as my visitors said, to make the meat look very refreshing and inviting. Our only addition was sometimes the remainder of game, which at that time used frequently to be presented to us—pheasants, partridges, or grouse; as it would then have been very extravagant to have purchased them, especially when they were so expensive. As an accompaniment to the meat, I always kept two different sorts of mixed pickles, good bread, butter, cheese, and a glass of excellent table ale; or, if our guest was some bosom friend or good customer, a bottle of sherry (not decantered), never any port, thinking that more fit for the dinner-table. Such was my plan in the first five years after my marriage: everything upon our table was of the first quality, and every one used to admire the neatness with which the table was laid out.

My method now, when luncheon is required (as we do not dine until half-past five o’clock, Mr. B. being engaged until four in the city), I have the cloth laid at twelve, and lunch at half-past; and that time being just after the nursery dinner, we generally have some sort of pudding or tart, made at the same time with theirs. For cold meat, I always serve that up which has been left from a previous dinner, if any, or any remains of poultry, game, ham, or tongue. When, however, we have six or eight friends from the country at Christmas, I feel proud to show them my style of doing things well and economically, for they are very intelligent people, and can appreciate good living, though at home they really live too plain for their incomes; but they say, “We do not understand how it is that you make a nice little dish almost out of nothing.” For should I have the remnants of any poultry or game not very inviting to the sight, I generally cut it up and show my cook how to hash it in a variety of ways; and I always remark, that they never partake of any cold meat whilst any of the hash remains. For the methods of making various hashes of fowl, game, hare, rabbit, beef, mutton, as also curries, minced veal and poached eggs, cold pies of game, poultry, mutton, beefsteak, or pigeon, as also plain mutton cutlets, steaks, and broiled bones, the whole of which may be served for luncheon, I must refer you to the series of receipts belonging to the dinner; any of these articles are placed in order upon the table, with the pickle-stand, two different cruet-sauces, orange marmalade, potatoes, butter, cheese, sherry and port wines. This style of luncheon will no doubt surprise you, but I can assure you it scarcely increases my expenditure, having the same number to provide for daily, so that the luncheon is generally made up from the remains of dinner, and the remains of luncheon will dine our three servants at half-past one. In the summer, I introduce a few dishes of fruit, and less meat; and when there are several ladies, I often introduce some English-made wine, which once I used to make myself, but which I can now buy cheaper.

[THE NURSERY DINNER.]

[LETTER NO. V]

DEAR FRIEND,—Now here I must call your especial attention to the way many people treat this department of domestic comfort, which is often very slight and irregular. Now, for my part, I have made quite a study of it, and could prove that health is always dependent on the state of the digestive organs; and that, if you should improperly treat young stomachs, by over or under supplying their wants, or using them to ill-cooked food, you not only destroy the functionary coating of the stomach, but also impede the development of the intellect. It is, then, as much a science to manage the food of children, as to cater for the palate of the gourmet, and I shall always consider that good food is to the body what education is to the mind.

My plan of managing the nursery meals is as follows:—At eight o’clock in the morning, which was my usual time, I used myself to prepare that glutinous food upon which our ancestors and race were first reared, rather unclassically denominated pap. My method was very simple:

46. —Put two ounces of rusk, or tops and bottoms, in a small saucepan, with just sufficient water to moisten them; set the saucepan upon the fire until its contents are thoroughly warmed through; pour a little of the water away, if too thin, pressing the rusk with a spoon; then add a teaspoonful of brown sugar, and beat the whole with a spoon until quite a pulp; it is then ready for use.

I have seen some poor people in the country make it with a stale piece of bread, previously well dried and lightly toasted before the fire, and you could scarcely tell the difference from rusks; and you must observe, that people in a country village cannot always supply themselves with everything in the way of luxury; but look at the greater part of those country urchins,—are they not a real picture of health? for, after all, nothing is more advantageous to a delicate child than country air and country food. When Mr. B. and myself were staying at Boulogne for a few weeks, I was astonished to hear that everybody used to put their children out to nurse. I was so surprised, that I made every inquiry, and found it literally true, that even respectable tradespeople sent their children a mile or two in the country, some to the houses of very poor people: I cannot say that I approve of such a style of bringing up infants, but even there they seem as healthy and as joyful as possible. I also found there something to be learned, and that was, how to make French pap, which I think very nutritious, but which I considered at the time rather heavy for our climate; but having afterwards made a trial of it upon our little Henry, I found him doing so extremely well, that I continued feeding him upon it for nearly eight months, until he was old enough to eat other food. The following is the receipt:

47. —Put a tablespoonful of flour into a pap saucepan, to which add by degrees two gills of milk, mixing it into a very smooth batter with a wooden spoon; place the saucepan upon the fire, let it boil ten minutes, keeping it stirred the whole time, or it is liable to burn or become brown, then add about half an ounce of sugar and a little salt, put it into a basin, and it is ready for use. A little butter is also very good in it.

You will observe, that it is more difficult and troublesome to make than our pap; but when used to it, you will expend no more time over it; and, as the French people say, cooking is all pleasure and no trouble. But what convinces me that it is more palatable and nutritious is, that I have seen a very robust man make a hearty dinner of two plates of it by introducing bread in it. I have no doubt that our own hasty pudding was taken from it, for the use of children of three or four years old, being thought too heavy for infants. These long details may appear rather insignificant and tedious to you, but I leave them to your good judgment, begging of you to curtail my remarks should you think proper; but, although you may consider that every person is acquainted with these domestic habits, you would find upon inquiry that very many persons neglect them almost entirely. Having written thus much upon the food of infants, we must next consider the proper diet for children of twelve months old, commencing with bread and milk.

48. —For which, cut about two ounces of any white bread into small thin slices, which put into a small basin or a large breakfast cup, in a little saucepan (only used for that purpose) have half a pint of milk, which, when upon the point of boiling, pour over the bread; cover the cup over five minutes, and it is ready for use.

I much prefer this method to that of boiling the bread and milk together. In first commencing to feed a child upon the above, I always added a little sugar, which I withdrew by degrees, as I do not like to accustom children to too much sweets, as it inclines them when a little older to be always wanting or eating sweet stuff, which often spoils the best set of teeth; and here let me remark, that the finest fortune you can give to your children is health, and as loving mothers, whilst we have them under our control, it is our duty to study their little comforts, and direct their first steps in life in the road of happiness.

49. Porridge.—When children are delicate, porridge is often preferable to bread and milk. Put two tablespoonfuls of Scotch grits or oatmeal in the milk saucepan, which moisten with half a pint of milk; let it boil ten minutes, keeping well stirred, add a small piece of butter and a little sugar, and it is ready for use.

When my children were about eighteen months or two years old, I used to give them a little tender meat, such as boiled mutton, and broth, but in very small quantities, keeping still for the general food the bread and milk and porridge; but now they are old enough to eat anything wholesome (one being nine and the other ten years of age), their meals are composed thus:

50. —Bread and milk for breakfast at eight; the dinner at one, which was composed as follows throughout the week: roast mutton and apple pudding, roast beef and currant pudding, baked apples; boiled mutton with turnips, after which rice or vermicelli pudding; occasionally a little salt beef, with suet dumplings, plain and with currants in them, or pease pudding; or if unwell, a little veal or chicken-broth, or beef-tea (the receipts for which will be found in the series entitled Comforts for Invalids).

When in business, the first three years we could not afford to keep a nursery, in fact, we had no room to spare; the children then used to dine with us at one, but at a side-table with their nurse.

51. —They then had a little plain meat, cut small in their plates, with potatoes, pieces of bread, and gravy, after which, three times a week, plain rice, bread, or other plain pudding, or rhubarb or apple tart; and, at five o’clock, their bread and milk again, previous to going to bed.

But if for people who could afford it, I should recommend the following diet-table, for nurserymaid and all:

52. —First, about two pounds of mutton well-cooked, but with the real gravy of the meat in it, which will require about one hour before a moderate fire, dredge it ten minutes before being done; when taken up and in the dish, sprinkle a little salt over the meat, and pour over three or four spoonfuls of hot water to make a little light gravy.

Many persons will, I am aware, quite disapprove of this system of washing the meat: they would serve it as if it were for full-grown people, but you well know what would do for children as well as I—plain, simple, and wholesome food; I always carried out this system, and I now make my cook do the same.

53. —Then the next day I would give them a small piece of mutton, plain boiled, with turnips, and apple tart; or a few slices of roast beef, or a small piece roasted on purpose, after which a very plain currant pudding; or, occasionally, a little pickled pork, with pease pudding, or roast pork, with baked apples, and now and then a little salt beef, but very well boiled, with suet dumplings, and occasionally, for change, either bread, vermicelli, or tapioca puddings; in case of illness, and with the approbation of the doctor, veal, mutton, or chicken-broth, sago, gruel, panada, &c., for which refer to the receipts for invalids.

Now the more I write the more I am convinced that, for the method of preparing certain articles for the children’s dinners, we must refer to the kitchen department of receipts and receipts for invalids, especially as regards broth, meat, puddings, &c., or otherwise we should have so many repetitions; so that it would be better, upon the completion of the journal, to make references, either by numbers of receipt or page; it will be more intelligible, and less confused.

Many people would, perhaps, imagine that there is too much variety of food for children; but it is quite the contrary, for change of food is to the stomach what change of air is to the general health, but, of course, with children, those changes must be effected with judgment, and their food administered in smaller quantities; but you must observe when children are well brought up with regard to their meals, they possess extraordinary organs of digestion, the proof of which is that they require feeding oftener than a full-grown person, and never appear to be tired of eating, thus, of course, they do not require such quantities at a time. Having here terminated my remarks upon the Nursery, I shall leave this scene of romp and confusion, to walk on tip-toe to the sick-room door, and carefully enter, without noise, into this mournful abode of human suffering and captivity, in hopes that, by watching over their diet, my small efforts may improve their comforts, which, by being properly managed, may assist in their restoration to health. I shall, therefore, proceed to give some receipts, entitled Comforts for Invalids.

Nothing is to me more painful than to see any food ill-prepared for sick people, where the sense of taste is partially gone; everything ordered by the doctors as food, should be cooked in the greatest perfection, especially as everything they require is so very simple and easily done, that it is unpardonable to do it badly, although I am sorry to say that it is too often the case, even in many of our first hospitals and other public establishments, where they have provisions in abundance, and of the first quality.

Perhaps you may fancy I am too severe upon that delicate subject, but I can assure you that I have for years been in the habit of visiting some of these institutions for the sick, and can therefore speak with confidence. I have grieved often to see it, and have wished that they would follow a system I would lay down, but there are some people who would not change their style, however bad, for a better one, for the world.

Now I must here claim all your intelligence, for pointing out those receipts the accomplishing of which is most plain, and will insure success to those who may try to do them, and cause them to persuade others to follow their example. I therefore inclose the following. Yours, &c.

HORTENSE.

[COMFORTS FOR INVALIDS.]

54. Meat for Invalids.—The best meat as food for invalids is, in fact, that which is principally used, mutton and beef, lamb, if not too young (sweetbreads, I consider, ought oftener to be introduced), and calves’ feet or head, scalded and boiled until tender, are very nutritious; chickens, pigeons, partridges, are also very inviting. All the above-mentioned articles are easy of digestion, excepting perhaps the beef, which may require to be gently stewed until tender, if for a delicate stomach just ordered to take meat after a serious fit of illness.

55. Plain Mutton Broth for Invalids.—Get one pound of scrag of mutton, break the bone with a chopper, without separating the meat, then put it into a stewpan with three pints of water and a salt-spoonful of salt; boil gently two hours, carefully removing all the scum and fat, which is easily done by allowing it to simmer slowly by the side of the fire; it will be by that time reduced to about one quart, and is then ready to serve. This broth must not be expected to drink very palatable, being deprived of vegetables and seasoning, being in fact more like a beverage than a soup: at the commencement of convalescence more strength may be given if ordered by the doctor, by reducing the original quantity to one pint. This broth is often administered by a spoonful only at a time.

56. Seasoned Mutton Broth.—Put the same quantity of mutton and water into your stewpan, add double the quantity of salt, and a quarter ditto brown sugar, quarter of a middle-sized onion, very little celery, and one ounce of turnip; set it upon the fire, and when beginning to boil draw it to the side; let it simmer gently two hours; skim off all the scum and fat, and pass it through a sieve, and use it when required. When finished, there ought to remain about a quart of broth; but if by neglect it has boiled too fast, add more water, and set to boil for a quarter of an hour longer. If the patient is getting better, his medical man will probably order him to eat a little of the meat, or even turnips, in which case serve them on a plate separately; should the meat not be required by the patient, it is very excellent for a healthy person, with a few spoonfuls of onions or caper sauce, or even plain. If pearl-barley is required to be taken with the broth, put a tablespoonful of it in with the water when you first put it upon the fire, the whole will then be done together; if the barley is to be eaten by the patient, take out the meat and vegetables, and skim off every spot of grease; but if the barley is not required, pass the broth, as before, through a sieve.

57. Mutton Broth (with variations). With Vermicelli.—Having made your broth, and passed it through a sieve, as before, put the meat and vegetables upon a plate, and the broth back into the same stewpan; when boiling, if about a quart, add one or two tablespoonfuls of vermicelli, depending upon the strength of the patient’s stomach; ten minutes’ boiling will be sufficient to cook vermicelli.

58. With Rice.—One spoonful of best rice in the stewpan, with mutton and water the same as the barley, as it is better for the rice to be in pulp than underdone.

59. With Semoulina.—Semoulina is very delicate and glutinous, and I am quite confident that the faculty would approve of it after a trial or two; it is good in any kind of broth or milk for invalids, of very easy digestion, and having also the advantage of being tolerably cheap and quickly cooked; proceed as directed for vermicelli.

60. With Arrow-root.—After having passed your broth, place it again into the stewpan to boil; when boiling, put two teaspoonfuls of arrow-root into a cup, which mix smoothly with a gill of cold broth, or half ditto of water; then pour it into your boiling broth, which keep stirring with a spoon; let it simmer ten minutes, and it is ready for use.

61. Veal Broth (French method).—The following is much recommended by French physicians:—Put one pound of veal from knuckle, with but very little of the bone, into a stewpan with three pints of water and a salt-spoonful of salt, place it over the fire to boil; when boiling, take off all the scum; then add a small cabbage-lettuce and a few sprigs of chervil, if handy; let simmer slowly for two hours, it will then be reduced to about a quart; pass it through a sieve, letting the meat drain, and it is ready to serve.

62. Another way, more palatable.—Take the same quantity of veal as before, which cut into small dice (as you should cut all meat if possible), put it into the stewpan, with a small pat of butter, half an onion, about the same quantity of carrot and turnip, a little celery, and a teaspoonful of salt; set the stewpan upon the fire, keeping the contents stirred, for about ten minutes, until the bottom of the stewpan is covered with a whitish glaze, then add three pints of hot water; let the whole simmer one hour at the corner of the fire, skim well, pass it through a sieve, and use when required. This broth is most palatable and very digestible, but of course only to be given to the convalescent; it may be served with vermicelli, rice, arrow-root, and semoulina, as directed for mutton broth.

63. Another very Refreshing and Strengthening Veal Broth.—Put two pounds of knuckle of veal into a stewpan, with a calf’s foot split, and the bone taken out and chopped up, add three quarts of water, a good-sized onion, one leek, a piece of parsnip, and two salt-spoonfuls of salt (if allowed by the doctor, if not, the salt must be omitted), set it upon the fire, and when beginning to boil, skim, and let it simmer at the corner of the fire four hours; twenty minutes before passing, again skim off all the fat, and add ten large leaves of sorrel, or twenty small, one cabbage-lettuce, and a handful of chervil, and when done pass it through a sieve, when it is ready for use. This broth is very cooling and nutritious when taken cold, as it is then quite a jelly; vermicelli, rice, &c., may be added when served hot, and the veal and calf’s foot is very excellent, eaten with parsley-and-butter or sharp sauce; but should the patient require any, it must be quite plain, with a little of the broth and only the gelatinous part of the foot.

The above also makes an excellent dinner soup, and if put in a cool place, would keep a week in winter and three days in summer.

64. Soyer’s new way of making Beef Tea.—Cut a pound of solid beef into very small dice, which put into a stewpan, with a small pat of butter, a clove, two button onions, and a salt-spoonful of salt, stir the meat round over the fire for a few minutes, until it produces a thin gravy, then add a quart of water, and let it simmer at the corner of the fire for half an hour, skimming off every particle of fat, when done pass through a sieve. I have always had a great objection to passing broth through a cloth, as it frequently quite spoils its flavor.

The same, if wanted plain, is done by merely omitting the vegetables, salt, and clove; the butter cannot be objectionable, as it is taken out in skimming, pearl-barley, vermicelli, rice, &c., may be served in it if required.

65. Real Essence of Beef.—Take one pound of solid beef from the rump, a steak would be the best, cut it into thin slices, which lay upon a thin trencher, and scrape quite fine with a large and sharp knife (as quickly as possible, or the juice of the meat would partially soak into the wood, your meat thus losing much of its strengthening quality), when like sausage-meat put it into a stewpan or saucepan, and stir over the fire five or ten minutes, until thoroughly warmed through, then add a pint of water, cover the stewpan as tightly as possible, and let it remain close to the fire or in a warm oven for twenty minutes, then pass it through a sieve, pressing the meat with a spoon to extract all the essence.

I beg to observe that here you have the real juice of the meat; but if wanted stronger, put only half instead of one pint of water; seasoning may be introduced, that is, a little salt, sugar, and cloves, but no vegetables, as they would not have time to cook, thus leaving a raw, bad flavor.

66. Pure Osmazome, or Essence of Meat.—Take two pounds of the flesh of any animal or bird (the older the better for obtaining the true flavor), as free from sinew as possible, and mince it well; place it in a Florence oil-flask, and cork it; put this in a saucepan filled with cold water, leaving the neck uncovered; place it on the side of the fire until the water arrives at 160° Fahr., at which temperature it must remain for twenty minutes; then remove it, and strain the contents through a tammie, pressing the meat gently with a spoon; should it require to be kept for some time, put the liquor in a basin or cup, which place in the saucepan; subject it to a boiling heat until it is reduced to a consistency like treacle, removing the scum; this, when cold, will become solid, and will keep for any number of years. Osmazome is known under various names in different cookery books, as “fumet, essence,” &c., but which are obtained in a different way, which causes the gelatine to be produced with the osmazome; but, by the above plan, it is left in the meat, and the osmazome, with a small quantity of the albumen, is extracted, and the albumen is afterwards removed as the scum.

67. Chicken Broth.—Put half a raw chicken into a stewpan, with a quart of water, a little leek and celery, with a salt-spoonful of salt, and a few sprigs of parsley (if allowed), set the stewpan upon the fire; when boiling, skim well, and let simmer upon the corner for one hour; pass it through a sieve, and it is ready for use.

The chicken would eat very nice with a little maître d’hôtel sauce, or any other from that series would do for the parlor, that is, when the patient is not allowed to eat it.

For a change, chicken-broth in the following way is very nutritious; that is, after having passed the broth through a sieve, pour it back again into the stewpan, which place over the fire; moisten a teaspoonful of flour in a cup with a little cold broth or water, and when quite smooth pour it into the broth whilst boiling, stirring quickly, let simmer a quarter of an hour, and it is ready. Mutton or veal-broth may also be varied the same.

68. Eel Broth, very strengthening.—Take a small eel, which skin as described, and wash well, then cut into slices, which put into a small saucepan, just covered with water, add a little salt, a few sprigs of parsley, two button onions, and a clove; let it simmer very gently until the eels are tender, when skim off all the fat, pass the broth through a very fine sieve into a cup: it is then ready to serve when required, but a spoonful only should be taken at a time.

A patient is sometimes allowed to take part of the fish, which being so much boiled, constitutes a lighter food than eels are in general; a little melted butter and parsley might be served with them.

69. Lait de Poule, French remedy for colds.—May be made from any of the foregoing broths, and for colds is excellent. Break a fresh egg, separate the white from the yolk, put the yolk in a basin, with a quarter of a gill of good cream or milk, which mix well with a spoon, have half a pint of broth boiling, which pour gradually over the egg and cream, mixing it (as you pour the broth) with a wooden spoon; it is then ready, and ought to be taken when going to bed, if only for a cold.

70. Sweet Lait de Poule.—This is also reckoned very good for a cold. Put two yolks of eggs into a cup, with two teaspoonfuls of pounded sugar, a few drops of orange-flower water, or the eighth part of the rind of a fresh lemon grated, beat them well together for ten minutes, then pour boiling water gradually over, keeping it stirred, until the cup is nearly full. Drink this very hot when in bed; I can strongly recommend it from experience.

71. Riz au Lait, or Rice Milk, is a very favorite food, or soup; in France many persons make their suppers from it, even when in a state of perfect health. Proceed as follows: wash a tablespoonful of good rice in water, which drain and put into a stewpan, with a pint of milk, upon the fire, and when boiling, place it at the corner to simmer, until the rice is quite tender, but for invalids, must be in a pulp; sweeten with a little sugar, and it is quite ready.

72. Rice Milk seasoned.—Proceed exactly as in the last, but when the rice is quite tender add an ounce of butter, two teaspoonfuls of sugar, and a little salt, stir well together, and it is then ready; this must neither be too thick nor too thin, but about the thickness of well-made gruel; in France they always add a few drops of orange-flower water, but that depends upon taste. These two last are very nutritious, especially after a long illness.

73. Vermicelli au Lait.—Boil a pint of milk, and when boiling add sufficient vermicelli to make it about the thickness of the last article; it may be served quite plain if required, or seasoned as for the riz au lait, but omitting the orange-flower water.

74. Semoulina au Lait.—Boil a pint of milk, and when boiling add a tablespoonful of semoulina, stirring it gently, to prevent its becoming lumpy; let it simmer twenty minutes, and serve either plain or seasoned, as for the riz au lait.

75. Tapioca au Lait.—Proceed exactly as in the last, but it will require rather longer to simmer before the tapioca is tender; and, by way of change, add a little grated lemon-peel, or a glass of white wine, if allowed by the doctor, or season as for the last.

76. Arrow-root.—Put two teaspoonfuls of arrow-root, which mix gradually with enough water or milk, stirring it with a spoon, let it boil a few minutes, and if made with milk, add only a little butter, sugar, and salt, or serve plain; but if made with water, add the eighth part of the rind of a fresh lemon to boil with it; when done add a glass of port or sherry, sugar, a little salt, and a small piece of butter, unless prohibited.

77. Gruel.—Put two tablespoonfuls of oatmeal or prepared groats into a stewpan, and by degrees add a pint of water, mixing smoothly with a wooden spoon, place it upon the fire, keeping it well stirred, until it has boiled a couple of minutes, when pour it into a basin, add half a salt-spoonful of salt, two teaspoonfuls of brown sugar, and two ounces of butter, the latter especially, if for a cold in the chest, even more than that quantity, if the stomach is strong enough to bear it.

Gruel when properly made ought to adhere rather thickly to the back of the spoon, but not to be pasty; it ought, likewise, to be eaten directly it is made, or it becomes thick and unpleasant to eat; if required plain, omit all the seasoning; it might also be made of milk.

78. Gruel from Scotch Groats.—Proceed as above, but adding rather more water, and boiling a few minutes longer; many people prefer eating it with the rough groats in it, but if objectionable, place a small clean sieve over the basin you intend serving it in, pass the gruel through, and season as in the last. Some people add spirits or wine; but that I should never recommend any one to do, unless by the doctor’s orders, and that would be but very seldom, especially as regards spirits.

79. Sago Gruel.—Put two tablespoonfuls of sago into a small saucepan, which moisten gradually with a pint of cold water, set it over a slow fire, keeping it stirred until becoming rather thickish and clear, similar to a jelly, then add a little grated nutmeg and sugar according to taste, and serve; half a pat of butter might also be added with the sugar, or it might be made with new milk, and a little salt added, and a glass of wine in either case makes it more palatable.

80. Arrow-root, Transparent Jelly.—Put a good teaspoonful of arrow-root into a basin, which mix smoothly with two spoonfuls of water, then add enough boiling water to make it about the consistency of starch, stirring all the time, pour it into a stewpan, and stir over the fire until it has boiled two minutes; add a little cream, a small glass of wine, and a little sugar, and serve.

81. French Panada, for aged people, invalids, and children.—Break a stale penny roll into a saucepan, in which pour just sufficient water to cover the bread, stir well over the fire, allowing it to boil five minutes, then add half a teaspoonful of salt, and two ounces of fresh butter, mix them, and take from the fire; have one yolk of egg well beaten, with two tablespoonfuls of milk (if handy) or water, which pour into the panada, stirring very quickly for half a minute, it is then ready to pour into a basin and serve. Any common bread would do for panada, but would not eat so light as when made from a roll.

I knew a very aged lady in France who accustomed herself to eat a basin of panada every night, a few minutes previous to going to bed, for a period of eighteen years, which will prove that, although very substantial in appearance, it must be very easily digested.

Panada ought to be rather thicker than gruel, and may likewise be made of milk, but water is preferable, especially when for bilious people.

82. Barley Water.—Put half a gallon of water into a very clean saucepan, with two ounces of clean (but unwashed) pearl barley, when boiling, carefully skim it with a tablespoon, and add half the rind of a small lemon, let it boil until the barley is quite tender; sweeten with half an ounce of white sugar, strain it through a fine hair sieve, and use when required. The juice of half a lemon in some cases may also be introduced.

83. Rice Water.—Put a quart of water to boil in a saucepan, with a handful of clean rice (but not washed), place it upon the fire, and let boil gently until the rice is quite in a pulp, then pass it through a hair sieve into a jug, pressing as much of the rice through as possible, and when getting cold, sweeten moderately with honey, which will make it very palatable; it should be drunk lukewarm.

84. A New Drink.—Put half a gallon of water upon the fire, and when boiling, have ready four pippin apples (quite ripe), cut each apple into eight slices, without peeling them, throw them into the water, which keep boiling until the apples are quite soft, pass the water through a sieve, pressing the apples gently against the side of the sieve, but not rubbing them through, add enough honey to make it a little sweetish, and drink lukewarm.

Two apples thrown into the rice-water and boiled the same would be a great improvement. People in good health would much enjoy such drink, during the summer especially; as also would poor people in the country, where apples are plentiful. Any kind of apples would suit, and brown sugar instead of honey, or even no sugar at all.

85. Cooling Drink.—Bake four or six apples, without peeling them; when done and quite hot, put them into a jug, and pour over three pints of boiling water; cover the jug over with paper, and when cold it is ready for use; a spoonful of honey or brown sugar added makes it very palatable.

86. Almond Water.—Put five ounces of sweet and two of bitter almonds into a saucepan, with a pint of hot water, set them upon the fire, and, when boiling, strain them upon a sieve, take off their skins, and set them in spring water to cool, then dry them upon a cloth, pound them in a mortar until very fine, adding a few drops of water occasionally, to prevent their becoming oily, set a pint of syrup to boil, when throw in the mashed almonds; boil together a minute, then set it at the corner to simmer for a quarter of an hour; it is then ready to pass through a fine sieve for use. When required, add any quantity of cold water you please to make it palatable, according to taste or direction.

87. Barley Lemonade.—Put a quarter of a pound of sugar into a small stewpan, with half a pint of water, which boil about ten minutes, or until forming a thickish syrup; then add the rind of a fresh lemon and the pulp of two; let it boil two minutes longer, when add two quarts of barley-water, from which you have omitted the sugar and lemon; boil five minutes longer, pass it through a hair sieve into a jug, which cover with paper, making a hole in the centre to let the heat through; when cold, it is ready for use; if put cold into a bottle and well corked down, it would keep good several days.

Barley Orangeade is made the same, substituting the rind and juice of oranges; the juice of a lemon, in addition, is an improvement, when taken as a refreshing beverage.

88. A Refreshing Beverage.—Slice two oranges and one lemon, which put into a jug, with two ounces of sugarcandy, over which pour one quart of boiling water; stir it occasionally until cold, when drink it a little at a time, as often as ordered by the medical attendant. This drink is also very excellent for persons in health, especially in warm weather.

89. Raspberry Vinegar Beverage.—Put two tablespoonfuls of raspberry vinegar into a cup, over which pour half a pint of boiling water; when cold, use it as you may be instructed or when necessary; any kind of fruit syrup would answer the same purpose, and be equally as good, that is, currants, cherries, strawberries, mulberries, &c.

90. A very Strengthening Drink.—Put a teacupful of pearl-barley into a saucepan, with three pints of cold water, the rind of a lemon and a small piece of cinnamon; boil the whole very gently until the barley becomes tender, when strain it through a fine sieve, and sweeten with a spoonful of treacle: if treacle should be objectionable, honey or sugar will do.

91. Fresh Fruit Water.—Fresh fruits, when in season, are very preferable to syrups, which are but seldom well made, except at some of the first confectioners or Italian warehouses.

Pick a bottle of fresh raspberries or strawberries, whichever you may require, rub them through a sieve into a basin, which mix well with half a pint of syrup, the juice of a lemon, and a quart of spring water; pass it through a fine hair sieve, and put it by in a jug for use; both the syrup and water may either be increased or diminished according to taste.

Red or white currant waters are made precisely the same, only omitting the lemon, the currants themselves being sufficiently sharp.

92. Cherry Draught.—Choose a pound of good fleshy cherries, from which take the stalk and stones, have a pint of syrup boiling, into which throw them, to boil as fast as possible for ten minutes, then take them from the fire, and add a good wine-glassful of Madeira or sherry, and a quart of boiling water; put it into a jug, with a cup over; when cold, pass it through a sieve, and it is ready for use: the wine may be omitted if not required. A drink of the same description may likewise be made from mulberries, but then a little lemon-juice must be added.

93. Arrow-root Water.—Put half a gallon of water to boil with two apples, the same as in No. 84, with the addition of a stick of cinnamon; let the whole boil half an hour, then mix two large spoonfuls of arrow-root with half a pint of cold water, very smoothly, and pour it into the boiling water: let the whole boil ten minutes, and pass it through a sieve; when cold, it will drink light and thickish.

94. French Herb Broth.—This is a very favorite beverage in France, as well with people in a state of health as with invalids, especially in the spring, when the herbs are young and green. Put a quart of water to boil, but have previously prepared about forty leaves of sorrel, a cabbage-lettuce, and ten sprigs of chervil, the whole well washed; when the water is boiling, throw in the above, with the addition of a teaspoonful of salt and half an ounce of fresh butter; cover your saucepan close, and let them simmer a few minutes, then pass it through a sieve or colander. This is to be drunk cold, especially in the spring of the year, after the change from winter. I generally drink about a quart per day for a week, at that time; but if for sick people, it must be made less strong of herbs, and taken a little warm. To prove that it is wholesome, we have only to refer to the instinct which teaches dogs to eat grass at that season of the year. I do not pretend to say that it would suit persons in every malady, because the doctors are to decide upon the food and beverage of their patients, and study its changes as well as change their medicines.

95. Dry Plum Beverage.—Put a quart of water in a saucepan upon the fire, and, when boiling, throw in twelve fresh dry French plums, and let them boil twenty minutes, then pour them in a basin with the liquor to cool; when cold, take out the plums, which put into a basin; add two tablespoonfuls of brown sugar and a very small quantity of port wine. They are excellent to eat, and the liquor to drink.