"The DOSE OF THE PERSUADERS must be adapted to the constitutional peculiarity of the patient. When you wish to accelerate or augment the alvine exoneration, take two, three, or more, according to the effect you desire to produce. Two pills will do as much for one person, as five or six will for another: they will generally very regularly perform what you wish to-day, without interfering with what you hope will happen to-morrow; and are therefore as convenient an argument against constipation as any we are acquainted with.

"The most convenient opportunity to introduce them to the stomach, is early in the morning, when it is unoccupied, and has no particular business of digestion, &c. to attend to—i. e. at least half an hour before breakfast. Physic must never interrupt the stomach, when it is busy in digesting food.

"From two to four persuaders will generally produce one additional motion, within twelve hours. They may be taken at any time by the most delicate females, whose constitutions are so often distressed by constipation, and destroyed by the drastic purgatives they take to relieve it."

The cloth[39-*] should be laid in the parlour, and all the paraphernalia of the dinner-table completely arranged, at least half an hour before dinner-time.

The cook's labour will be lost, if the parlour-table be not ready for action, and the eaters ready for the eatables, which the least delay will irreparably injure: therefore, the GOURMAND will be punctual for the sake of gratifying his ruling passion; the INVALID, to avoid the danger of encountering an indigestion from eating ill-dressed food; and the RATIONAL EPICURE, who happily attends the banquet with "mens sana in corpore sano," will keep the time not only for these strong reasons, but that he may not lose the advantage of being introduced to the other guests. He considers not only what is on the table, but who are around it: his principal inducement to leave his own fireside, is the charm of agreeable and instructive society, and the opportunity of making connexions, which may augment the interest and enjoyment of existence.

It is the most pleasing part of the duty of the master of the feast (especially when the guests are not very numerous), to take advantage of these moments to introduce them to one another, naming them individually in an audible voice, and adroitly laying hold of those ties of acquaintanceship or profession which may exist between them.

This will much augment the pleasures of the festive board, to which it is indeed as indispensable a prelude, as an overture is to an opera: and the host will thus acquire an additional claim to the gratitude of his guests. We urge this point more strongly, because, from want of attention to it, we have seen more than once persons whom many kindred ties would have drawn closely together, pass an entire day without opening their lips to each other, because they were mutually ignorant of each other's names, professions, and pursuits.

To put an end at once to all ceremony as to the order in which the guests are to sit, it will save much time and trouble, if the mistress of the mansion adopts the simple and elegant method of placing the name of each guest in the plate which is intended for him. This proceeding will be of course the result of consideration, and the host will place those together whom he thinks will harmonize best.

Le Journal des Dames informs us, that in several fashionable houses in Paris, a new arrangement has been introduced in placing the company at a dinner-table.

"The ladies first take their places, leaving intervals for the gentlemen; after being seated, each is desired to call on a gentleman to sit beside her; and thus the lady of the house is relieved from all embarrassment of etiquette as to rank and pretensions," &c.

But, without doubt, says the Journalist, this method has its inconveniences.

"It may happen that a bashful beauty dare not name the object of her secret wishes; and an acute observer may determine, from a single glance, that the elected is not always the chosen."

If the party is large, the founders of the feast may sit in the middle of the table, instead of at each end, thus they will enjoy the pleasure of attending equally to all their friends; and being in some degree relieved from the occupation of carving, will have an opportunity of administering all those little attentions which contribute so much to the comfort of their guests.

If the GUESTS have any respect for their HOST, or prefer a well-dressed dinner to one that is spoiled, instead of coming half an hour after, they will take care to make their appearance a quarter of an hour before the time appointed.

The operations of the cook are governed by the clock; the moment the roasts, &c. are ready, they must go to the table, if they are to be eaten in perfection.

An invitation to come at FIVE o'clock seems to be generally understood to mean six; FIVE PRECISELY, half past five; and NOT LATER THAN FIVE (so that dinner may be on the table within five minutes after, allowing this for the variation of watches), FIVE O'CLOCK EXACTLY.

Be it known to all loyal subjects of the empire of good-living, that the COMMITTEE OF TASTE have unanimously resolved, that "an invitation to ETA. BETA. PI. must be in writing, and sent at least ten days before the banquet; and must be answered in writing (as soon as possible after it is received), within twenty-four hours at least," especially if it be not accepted: then, in addition to the usual complimentary expressions of thanks, &c. the best possible reasons must be assigned for the non-acceptance, as a particular pre-engagement, or severe indisposition, &c. Before the bearer of it delivers it, he should ascertain if the person it is directed to is at home; if he is not, when he will be; and if he is not in town, to bring the summons back.

Nothing can be more disobliging than a refusal which is not grounded on some very strong and unavoidable cause,—except not coming at the appointed hour;—"according to the laws of conviviality, a certificate from a sheriff's officer, a doctor, or an undertaker, are the only pleas which are admissible. The duties which invitation imposes do not fall only on the persons invited, but, like all other social duties, are reciprocal.

"As he who has accepted an invitation cannot disengage himself from it; the master of the feast cannot put off the entertainment on any pretence whatever. Urgent business, sickness, not even death itself, can dispense with the obligation which he is under of giving the entertainment for which he has sent out invitations, which have been accepted; for in the extreme cases of compulsory absence, or death, his place may be filled by his friend or executor."—Vide le Manuel des Amphitryons, 8vo. Paris, 1808; and Cours Gastronomique, 1809; to which the reader is referred for farther instructions.

It is the least punishment that a blundering, ill-bred booby can receive, who comes half an hour after the time he was bidden, to find the soup removed, and the fish cold: moreover, for such an offence, let him also be mulcted in a pecuniary penalty, to be applied to the FUND FOR THE BENEFIT OF DECAYED COOKS. This is the least punishment that can be inflicted on one whose silence, or violation of an engagement, tends to paralyze an entertainment, and to draw his friend into useless expense.

BOILEAU, the French satirist, has a shrewd observation on this subject. "I have always been punctual at the hour of dinner," says the bard; "for I knew, that all those whom I kept waiting at that provoking interval, would employ those unpleasant moments to sum up all my faults.—BOILEAU is indeed a man of genius, a very honest man; but that dilatory and procrastinating way he has got into, would mar the virtues of an angel."

There are some who seldom keep an appointment: we can assure them they as seldom "'scape without whipping," and exciting those murmurs which inevitably proceed from the best-regulated stomachs, when they are empty, and impatient to be filled.

The most amiable animals when hungry become ill-tempered: our best friends employ the time they are kept waiting, in recollecting and repeating any real faults we have, and attributing to us a thousand imaginary ones.

Ill-bred beings, who indulge their own caprice, regardless how they wound the feelings of others, if they possess brilliant and useful talents, may occasionally be endured as convenient tools; but deceive themselves sadly, even though they possess all the wisdom, and all the wit in the world, if they fancy they can ever be esteemed as friends.

Wait for no one: as soon as the clock strikes, say grace, and begin the business of the day,

"And good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both."

MANNERS MAKE THE MAN.

Good manners have often made the fortune of many, who have had nothing else to recommend them:

Ill manners have as often marred the hope of those who have had every thing else to advance them.

These regulations may appear a little rigorous to those phlegmatic philosophers,

"Who, past all pleasures, damn the joys of sense, With rev'rend dulness and grave impotence,"

and are incapable of comprehending the importance (especially when many are invited) of a truly hospitable entertainment: but genuine connoisseurs in the science of good cheer will vote us thanks for our endeavours to initiate well-disposed amateurs.

CARVING.

Ceremony does not, in any thing, more commonly and completely triumph over comfort, than in the administration of "the honours of the table."

Those who serve out the loaves and fishes seldom seem to understand that he is the best carver who fills the plates of the greatest number of guests, in the least portion of time.

To effect this, fill the plates and send them round, instead of asking each individual if they choose soup, fish, &c. or what particular part they prefer; for, as they cannot all be choosers, you will thus escape making any invidious distinctions.

A dexterous CARVER[43-*] (especially if he be possessed with that determined enemy to ceremony and sauce, a keen appetite,) will help half a dozen people in half the time one of your would-be-thought polite folks wastes in making civil faces, &c. to a single guest.

It would save a great deal of time, &c. if POULTRY, especially large turkeys and geese, were sent to table ready cut up. (No. 530.*)

FISH that is fried should be previously divided into such portions as are fit to help at table. (See No. 145.)

A prudent carver will cut fair,[43-+] observe an equitable distribution of the dainties he is serving out, and regulate his helps, by the proportion which his dish bears to the number he has to divide it among, taking into this reckoning the quantum of appetite the several guests are presumed to possess.

"Study their genius, caprices, gout— They, in return, may haply study you: Some wish a pinion, some prefer a leg, Some for a merry-thought, or sidesbone beg, The wings of fowls, then slices of the round The trail of woodcock, of codfish the sound. Let strict impartiality preside, Nor freak, nor favour, nor affection guide."

From the BANQUET.

The guest who wishes to ensure a hearty welcome, and frequent invitation to the board of hospitality, may calculate that the "easier he is pleased, the oftener he will be invited." Instead of unblushingly demanding of the fair hostess that the prime "tit-bit" of every dish be put on your plate, receive (if not with pleasure, or even content) with the liveliest expressions of thankfulness whatever is presented to you, and forget not to praise the cook, and the same shall be reckoned unto you even as the praise of the mistress.

The invalid or the epicure, when he dines out, to save trouble to his friends, may carry with him a portable MAGAZINE OF TASTE. (See No. 462.)

"If he does not like his fare, he may console himself with the reflection, that he need not expose his mouth to the like mortification again: mercy to the feelings of the mistress of the mansion will forbid his then appearing otherwise than absolutely delighted with it, notwithstanding it may be his extreme antipathy."

"If he likes it ever so little, he will find occasion to congratulate himself on the advantage his digestive organs will derive from his making a moderate dinner, and consolation from contemplating the double relish he is creating for the following meal, and anticipating the (to him) rare and delicious zest of (that best sauce) good appetite, and an unrestrained indulgence of his gormandizing fancies at the chop-house he frequents."

"Never intrust a cook-teaser with the important office of CARVER, or place him within reach of a sauce-boat. These chop-house cormorants, who

'Critique your wine, and analyze your meat, Yet on plain pudding deign at home to eat,'

are, generally, tremendously officious in serving out the loaves and fishes of other people; for, under the notion of appearing exquisitely amiable, and killingly agreeable to the guests, they are ever on the watch to distribute themselves the dainties which it is the peculiar part of the master and mistress to serve out, and is to them the most pleasant part of the business of the banquet: the pleasure of helping their friends is the gratification, which is their reward for the trouble they have had in preparing the feast. Such gentry are the terror of all good housewives: to obtain their favourite cut they will so unmercifully mangle your joints, that a dainty dog would hardly get a meal from them after; which, managed by the considerative hands of an old housekeeper, would furnish a decent dinner for a large family."—Vide "Almanach des Gourmands."

I once heard a gentle hint on this subject, given to a blue-mould fancier, who by looking too long at a Stilton cheese, was at last completely overcome, by his eye exciting his appetite, till it became quite ungovernable; and unconscious of every thing but the mity object of his contemplation, he began to pick out, in no small portions, the primest parts his eye could select from the centre of the cheese.

The good-natured founder of the feast, highly amused at the ecstasies each morsel created in its passage over the palate of the enraptured gourmand, thus encouraged the perseverance of his guest—"Cut away, my dear sir, cut away, use no ceremony, I pray: I hope you will pick out all the best of my cheese. Don't you think that THE RIND and the ROTTEN will do very well for my wife and family!!" There is another set of terribly free and easy folks, who are "fond of taking possession of the throne of domestic comfort," and then, with all the impudence imaginable, simper out to the ousted master of the family, "Dear me, I am afraid I have taken your place!"

Half the trouble of WAITING AT TABLE may be saved by giving each guest two plates, two knives and forks, two pieces of bread, a spoon, a wine-glass, and a tumbler, and placing the wines and sauces, and the MAGAZINE OF TASTE, (No. 462,) &c. as a dormant, in the centre of the table; one neighbour may then help another.

Dinner-tables are seldom sufficiently lighted, or attended. An active waiter will have enough to do to attend upon half a dozen active eaters. There should be about half as many candles as there are guests, and their flame be about eighteen inches above the table. Our foolish modern pompous candelabras seem intended to illuminate the ceiling, rather than to give light on the plates, &c.

Wax lights at dinner are much more elegant, and not so troublesome and so uncertain as lamps, nor so expensive; for to purchase a handsome lamp will cost you more than will furnish you with wax candles for several years.

FOOTNOTES:

[38-*] Swilling cold soda water immediately after eating a hearty dinner, is another very unwholesome custom—take good ginger beer if you are thirsty, and don't like Sir John Barleycorn's cordial.

[38-+] Strong peppermint or ginger lozenges are an excellent help for that flatulence with which some aged and dyspeptic people ate afflicted three or four hours after dinner.

[39-*] Le Grand Sommelier, or CHIEF BUTLER, in former times was expected to be especially accomplished in the art of folding table linen, so as to lay his napkins in different forms every day: these transformations are particularly described in ROSE'S Instructions for the Officers of the Mouth, 1682, p. 111, &c. "To pleat a napkin in the form of a cockle-shell double"—"in the form of hen and chickens"—"shape of two capons in a pye"—or "like a dog with a collar about his neck"—and many others equally whimsical.

[43-*] In days of yore "Le Grand Ecuyer Tranchant," or the MASTER CARVER, was the next officer of the mouth in rank to the "Maitre d'Hotel," and the technical terms of his art were as singular as any of those which ornament "Grose's Classical Slang Dictionary," or "The Gipsies' Gibberish:" the only one of these old phrases now in common use is, "cut up the TURKEY:"—we are no longer desired to "disfigure a PEACOCK"—"unbrace a DUCK"—"unlace a CONEY"—"tame a CRAB"—"tire an EGG"—and "spoil the HEN," &c.—See Instructions for the Officers of the Mouth, by ROSE, 1682.

[43-+] Those in the parlour should recollect the importance of setting a good example to their friends at the second table. If they cut bread, meat, cheese, &c. FAIRLY, it will go twice as far as if they hack and mangle it, as if they had not half so much consideration for those in the kitchen as a good sportsman has for his dogs.



FRIENDLY ADVICE TO COOKS,[46-*] AND OTHER SERVANTS

On your first coming into a family, lose no time in immediately getting into the good graces of your fellow-servants, that you may learn from them the customs of the kitchen, and the various rules and orders of the house.

Take care to be on good terms with the servant who waits at table; make use of him as your sentinel, to inform you how your work has pleased in the parlour: by his report you may be enabled in some measure to rectify any mistake; but request the favour of an early interview with your master or mistress: depend as little as possible on second-hand opinions. Judge of your employers from YOUR OWN observations, and THEIR behaviour to you, not from any idle reports from the other servants, who, if your master or mistress inadvertently drop a word in your praise, will immediately take alarm, and fearing your being more in favour than themselves, will seldom stick at trifles to prevent it, by pretending to take a prodigious liking to you, and poisoning your mind in such a manner as to destroy all your confidence, &c. in your employers; and if they do not immediately succeed in worrying you away, will take care you have no comfort while you stay: be most cautious of those who profess most: not only beware of believing such honey-tongued folks, but beware as much of betraying your suspicions of them, for that will set fire to the train at once, and of a doubtful friend make a determined enemy.

If you are a good cook, and strictly do your duty, you will soon become a favourite domestic; but never boast of the approbation of your employers; for, in proportion as they think you rise in their estimation, you will excite all the tricks, that envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness can suggest to your fellow-servants; every one of whom, if less sober, honest, or industrious, or less favoured than yourself, will be your enemy.

While we warn you against making others your enemies, take care that you do not yourself become your own and greatest enemy. "Favourites are never in greater danger of falling, than when in the greatest favour," which often begets a careless inattention to the commands of their employers, and insolent overbearance to their equals, a gradual neglect of duty, and a corresponding forfeiture of that regard which can only be preserved by the means which created it.

"Those arts by which at first you gain it, You still must practise to maintain it."

If your employers are so pleased with your conduct as to treat you as a friend rather than a servant, do not let their kindness excite your self-conceit, so as to make you for a moment forget you are one. Condescension, even to a proverb, produces contempt in inconsiderate minds; and to such, the very means which benevolence takes to cherish attention to duty, becomes the cause of the evil it is intended to prevent.

To be an agreeable companion in the kitchen, without compromising your duty to your patrons in the parlour, requires no small portion of good sense and good nature: in a word, you must "do as you would be done by."

ACT FOR, AND SPEAK OF, EVERY BODY AS IF THEY WERE PRESENT.

We hope the culinary student who peruses these pages will be above adopting the common, mean, and ever unsuccessful way of "holding with the hare, and running with the hounds," of currying favour with fellow-servants by flattering them, and ridiculing the mistress when in the kitchen, and then, prancing into the parlour and purring about her, and making opportunities to display all the little faults you can find (or invent) that will tell well against those in the kitchen; assuring them, on your return, that they were vraised, for whatever you heard them blamed, and so excite them to run more extremely into any little error which you think will be most displeasing to their employers; watching an opportunity to pour your poisonous lies into their unsuspecting ears, when there is no third person to bear witness of your iniquity; making your victims believe, it is all out of your sincere regard for them; assuring them (as Betty says in the man of the world,) "That indeed you are no busybody that loves fending nor proving, but hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping and backbiting," &c. &c.

Depend upon it, if you hear your fellow-servants speak disrespectfully of a master or a mistress with whom they have lived some time, it is a sure sign that they have some sinister scheme against yourself; if they have not been well treated, why have they stayed?

"There is nothing more detestable than defamation. I have no scruple to rank a slanderer with a murderer or an assassin. Those who assault the reputation of their benefactors, and 'rob you of that which nought enriches them,' would destroy your life, if they could do it with equal impunity."

"If you hope to gain the respect and esteem of others, and the approbation of your own heart, be respectful and faithful to your superiors, obliging and good-natured to your fellow-servants, and charitable to all." You cannot be too careful to cultivate a meek and gentle disposition; you will find the benefit of it every day of your life: to promote peace and harmony around you, will not only render you a general favourite with your fellow-servants, but will make you happy in yourself.

"Let your character be remarkable for industry and moderation; your manners and deportment, for modesty and humility; your dress distinguished for simplicity, frugality, and neatness. A dressy servant is a disgrace to a house, and renders her employers as ridiculous as she does herself. If you outshine your companions in finery, you will inevitably excite their envy, and make them your enemies."

"Do every thing at the proper time." "Keep every thing in its proper place." "Use every thing for its proper purpose."

The importance of these three rules must be evident, to all who will consider how much easier it is to return any thing when done with to its proper place, than it is to find it when mislaid; and it is as easy to put things in one place as in another.

Keep your kitchen and furniture as clean and neat as possible, which will then be an ornament to it, a comfort to your fellow-servants, and a credit to yourself. Moreover, good housewifery is the best recommendation to a good husband, and engages men to honourable attachment to you; she who is a tidy servant gives promise of being a careful wife.

Giving away Victuals.

Giving away any thing without consent or privity of your master or mistress, is a liberty you must not take; charity and compassion for the wants of our fellow-creatures are very amiable virtues, but they are not to be indulged at the expense of your own honesty, and other people's property.

When you find that there is any thing to spare, and that it is in danger of being spoiled by being kept too long, it is very commendable in you to ask leave to dispose of it while it is fit for Christians to eat: if such permission is refused, the sin does not lie at your door. But you must on no account bestow the least morsel in contradiction to the will of those to whom it belongs.

"Never think any part of your business too trifling to be well done."

"Eagerly embrace every opportunity of learning any thing which may be useful to yourself, or of doing any thing which may benefit others."

Do not throw yourself out of a good place for a slight affront. "Come when you are called, and do what you are bid." Place yourself in your mistress's situation, and consider what you would expect from her, if she were in yours; and serve, reverence, and obey her accordingly.

Although there may be "more places than parish-churches," it is not very easy to find many more good ones.

"A rolling stone never gathers moss." "Honesty is the best policy." "A still tongue makes a wise head."

Saucy answers are highly aggravating, and answer no good purpose.

Let your master or mistress scold ever so much, or be ever so unreasonable; as "a soft answer turneth away wrath," "so will SILENCE be the best a servant can make".

One rude answer, extorted perhaps by harsh words, or unmerited censure, has cost many a servant the loss of a good place, or the total forfeiture of a regard which had been growing for years.

"If your employers are hasty, and have scolded without reason, bear it patiently; they will soon see their error, and not be happy till they make you amends. Muttering on leaving the room, or slamming the door after you, is as bad as an impertinent reply; it is, in fact, showing that you would be impertinent if you dared."

"A faithful servant will not only never speak disrespectfully to her employers, but will not hear disrespectful words said of them."

Apply direct to your employers, and beg of them to explain to you, as fully as possible, how they like their victuals dressed, whether much or little done.[50-*]

Of what complexion they wish the ROASTS, of a gold colour, or well browned, and if they like them frothed?

Do they like SOUPS and SAUCES thick or thin, or white or brown, clean or full in the mouth? What accompaniments they are partial to?

What flavours they fancy? especially of SPICE and HERBS:

"Namque coquus domini debet habere gulam."—MARTIAL.

It is impossible that the most accomplished cook can please their palates, till she has learned their particular taste: this, it will hardly be expected, she can hit exactly the first time; however, the hints we have here given, and in the 7th and 8th chapters of the Rudiments of Cookery, will very much facilitate the ascertainment of this main chance of getting into their favour.

Be extremely cautious of seasoning high: leave it to the eaters to add the piquante condiments, according to their own palate and fancy: for this purpose, "THE MAGAZINE OF TASTE," or "Sauce-box," (No. 462,) will be found an invaluable acquisition; its contents will instantaneously produce any flavour that may be desired.

"De gustibus non est disputandum."

Tastes are as different as faces; and without a most attentive observation of the directions given by her employers, the most experienced cook will never be esteemed a profound palatician.

It will not go far to pacify the rage of a ravenous gourmand, who likes his chops broiled brown, (and done enough, so that they can appear at table decently, and not blush when they are cut,) to be told that some of the customers at Dolly's chop-house choose to have them only half-done, and that this is the best way of eating them.

We all think that is the best way which we relish best, and which agrees best with our stomach: in this, reason and fashion, all-powerful as they are on most occasions, yield to the imperative caprice of the palate.

Chacun a son gout.

"THE IRISHMAN loves Usquebaugh, the SCOT loves ale call'd Blue-cap, The WELCHMAN he loves toasted cheese, and makes his mouth like a mouse-trap."

Our ITALIAN neighbours regale themselves with macaroni and parmesan, and eat some things which we call carrion.—Vide RAY'S Travels, p. 362 and 406.

While the ENGLISHMAN boasts of his roast beef, plum pudding, and porter,

The FRENCHMAN feeds on his favourite frog and soupe-maigre,

The TARTAR feasts on horse-flesh,

The CHINAMAN on dogs,

The GREENLANDER preys on garbage and train oil; and each "blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury." What at one time or place is considered as beautiful, fragrant, and savoury, at another is regarded as deformed and disgustful.[51-*]

"Ask a toad what is beauty, the supremely beautiful, the TO KALON! He will tell you it is my wife,—with two large eyes projecting out of her little head, a broad and flat neck, yellow belly, and dark brown back. With a Guinea negro, it is a greasy black skin, hollow eyes, and a flat nose. Put the question to the devil, and he will tell you that BEAUTY is a pair of horns, four claws, and a tail."—VOLTAIRE'S Philos. Dict. 8vo. p. 32.

"Asafoetida was called by the ancients 'FOOD FOR THE GODS.' The Persians, Indians, and other Eastern people, now eat it in sauces, and call it by that name: the Germans call it devil's dung."—Vide POMET on Drugs.

Garlic and clove, or allspice, combined in certain proportions, produce a flavour very similar to asafoetida.

The organ of taste is more rarely found in perfection, and is sooner spoiled by the operations of time, excessive use, &c. than either of our other senses.

There are as various degrees of sensibility of palate as there are of gradations of perfection in the eyes and ears of painters and musicians. After all the pains which the editor has taken to explain the harmony of subtle relishes, unless nature has given the organ of taste in a due degree, this book will, alas! no more make an OSBORNE,[52-*] than it can a REYNOLDS, or an ARNE, or a SHIELD.

Where nature has been most bountiful of this faculty, its sensibility is so easily blunted by a variety of unavoidable circumstances, that the tongue is very seldom in the highest condition for appreciating delicate flavours, or accurately estimating the relative force of the various materials the cook employs in the composition of an harmonious relish. Cooks express this refinement of combination by saying, a well-finished ragout "tastes of every thing, and tastes of nothing:" (this is "kitchen gibberish" for a sauce in which the component parts are well proportioned.)

However delicately sensitive nature may have formed the organs of taste, it is only during those few happy moments that they are perfectly awake, and in perfect good humour, (alas! how very seldom they are,) that the most accomplished and experienced cook has a chance of working with any degree of certainty without the auxiliary tests of the balance and the measure: by the help of these, when you are once right, it is your own fault if you are ever otherwise.

The sense of taste depends much on the health of the individual, and is hardly ever for a single hour in the same state: such is the extremely intimate sympathy between the stomach and the tongue, that in proportion as the former is empty, the latter is acute and sensitive. This is the cause that "good appetite is the best sauce," and that the dish we find savoury at luncheon, is insipid at dinner, and at supper quite tasteless.

To taste any thing in perfection, the tongue must be moistened, or the substance applied to it contain moisture; the nervous papillae which constitute this sense are roused to still more lively sensibility by salt, sugar, aromatics, &c.

If the palate becomes dull by repeated tasting, one of the best ways of refreshing it, is to masticate an apple, or to wash your mouth well with milk.

The incessant exercise of tasting, which a cook is obliged to submit to during the education of her tongue, frequently impairs the very faculty she is trying to improve. "'Tis true 'tis pity and pity 'tis," (says a grand gourmand) "'tis true, her too anxious perseverance to penetrate the mysteries of palatics may diminish the tact, exhaust the power, and destroy the index, without which all her labour is in vain."

Therefore, a sagacious cook, instead of idly and wantonly wasting the excitability of her palate, on the sensibility of which her reputation and fortune depends, when she has ascertained the relative strength of the flavour of the various ingredients she employs, will call in the balance and the measure to do the ordinary business, and endeavour to preserve her organ of taste with the utmost care, that it may be a faithful oracle to refer to on grand occasions, and new compositions.[53-*] Of these an ingenious cook may form as endless a variety, as a musician with his seven notes, or a painter with his colours: read chapters 7 and 8 of the Rudiments of Cookery.

Receive as the highest testimonies of your employers' regard whatever observations they may make on your work: such admonitions are the most unequivocal proofs of their desire to make you thoroughly understand their taste, and their wish to retain you in their service, or they would not take the trouble to teach you.

Enter into all their plans of economy,[53-+] and endeavour to make the most of every thing, as well for your own honour as your master's profit, and you will find that whatever care you take for his profit will be for your own: take care that the meat which is to make its appearance again in the parlour is handsomely cut with a sharp knife, and put on a clean dish: take care of the gravy (see No. 326) which is left, it will save many pounds of meat in making sauce for hashes, poultry, and many little dishes.

MANY THINGS MAY BE REDRESSED in a different form from that in which they were first served, and improve the appearance of the table without increasing the expense of it.

COLD FISH, soles, cod, whitings, smelts, &c. may be cut into bits, and put into escallop shells, with cold oyster, lobster, or shrimp sauce, and bread crumbled, and put into a Dutch oven, and browned like scalloped oysters. (No. 182.)

The best way TO WARM COLD MEAT is to sprinkle the joint over with a little salt, and put it in a DUTCH OVEN, at some distance before a gentle fire, that it may warm gradually; watch it carefully, and keep turning it till it is quite hot and brown: it will take from twenty minutes to three quarters of an hour, according to its thickness; serve it up with gravy: this is much better than hashing it, and by doing it nicely a cook will get great credit. POULTRY (No. 530*), FRIED FISH (see No. 145), &c. may be redressed in this way.

Take care of the liquor you have boiled poultry or meat in; in five minutes you may make it into EXCELLENT SOUP. See obs. to Nos. 555 and 229, No. 5, and the 7th chapter of the Rudiments of Cookery.

No good housewife has any pretensions to rational economy who boils animal food without converting the broth into some sort of soup.

However highly the uninitiated in the mystery of soup-making may elevate the external appendage of his olfactory organ at the mention of "POT LIQUOR," if he tastes No. 5, or 218, 555, &c. he will be as delighted with it as a Frenchman is with "potage a la Camarani," of which it is said "a single spoonful will lap the palate in Elysium; and while one drop of it remains on the tongue, each other sense is eclipsed by the voluptuous thrilling of the lingual nerves!!"

BROTH OF FRAGMENTS.—When you dress a large dinner, you may make good broth, or portable soup (No. 252), at very small cost, by taking care of all the trimmings and parings of the meat, game, and poultry, you are going to use: wash them well, and put them into a stewpan, with as much cold water as will cover them; set your stewpan on a hot fire; when it boils, take off all the scum, and set it on again to simmer gently; put in two carrots, two turnips, a large onion, three blades of pounded mace, and a head of celery; some mushroom parings will be a great addition. Let it continue to simmer gently four or five hours; strain it through a sieve into a clean basin. This will save a great deal of expense in buying gravy-meat.

Have the DUST, &c. removed regularly once in a fortnight, and have your KITCHEN CHIMNEY swept once a month; many good dinners have been spoiled, and many houses burned down, by the soot falling: the best security against this, is for the cook to have a long birch-broom, and every morning brush down all the soot within reach of it. Give notice to your employers when the contents of your COAL-CELLAR are diminished to a chaldron.

It will be to little purpose to procure good provisions, unless you have proper utensils[55-*] to prepare them in: the most expert artist cannot perform his work in a perfect manner without proper instruments; you cannot have neat work without nice tools, nor can you dress victuals well without an apparatus appropriate to the work required. See 1st page of chapter 7 of the Rudiments of Cookery.

In those houses where the cook enjoys the confidence of her employer so much as to be intrusted with the care of the store-room, which is not very common, she will keep an exact account of every thing as it comes in, and insist upon the weight and price being fixed to every article she purchases, and occasionally will (and it may not be amiss to jocosely drop a hint to those who supply them that she does) reweigh them, for her own satisfaction, as well as that of her employer, and will not trust the key of this room to any one; she will also keep an account of every thing she takes from it, and manage with as much consideration and frugality as if it was her own property she was using, endeavouring to disprove the adage, that "PLENTY makes waste," and remembering that "wilful waste makes woful want."

The honesty of a cook must be above all suspicion: she must obtain, and (in spite of the numberless temptations, &c. that daily offer to bend her from it) preserve a character of spotless integrity and useful industry,[55-+] remembering that it is the fair price of INDEPENDENCE, which all wish for, but none without it can hope for; only a fool or a madman will be so silly or so crazy as to expect to reap where he has been too idle to sow.

Very few modern-built town-houses have a proper place to preserve provisions in. The best substitute is a HANGING SAFE, which you may contrive to suspend in an airy situation; and when you order meat, poultry, or fish, tell the tradesman when you intend to dress it: he will then have it in his power to serve you with provision that will do him credit, which the finest meat, &c. in the world will never do, unless it has been kept a proper time to be ripe and tender.

If you have a well-ventilated larder in a shady, dry situation, you may make still surer, by ordering in your meat and poultry such a time before you want it as will render it tender, which the finest meat cannot be, unless hung a proper time (see 2d chapter of the Rudiments of Cookery), according to the season, and nature of the meat, &c.; but always, as "les bons hommes de bouche de France" say, till it is "assez mortifiee."

Permitting this process to proceed to a certain degree renders meat much more easy of solution in the stomach, and for those whose digestive faculties are delicate, it is of the utmost importance that it be attended to with the greatest nicety, for the most consummate skill in the culinary preparation of it will not compensate for the want of attention to this. (Read obs. to No. 68.) Meat that is thoroughly roasted, or boiled, eats much shorter and tenderer, and is in proportion more digestible, than that which is under-done.

You will be enabled to manage much better if your employers will make out a BILL OF FARE FOR THE WEEK on the Saturday before: for example, for a family of half a dozen—

Sunday Roast beef (No. 19), and my pudding (No. 554).

Monday Fowl (Nos. 16. 58), what was left of my pudding fried, and warmed in the Dutch oven.

Tuesday Calf's head (No. 10), apple-pie.

Wednesday Leg of mutton (No. 1), or (No. 23).

Thursday Do. broiled or hashed (No. 487), or (No. 484,) pancakes.

Friday Fish (No. 145), pudding (No. 554).

Saturday Fish, or eggs and bacon (No. 545).

It is an excellent plan to have certain things on certain days. When your butcher or poulterer knows what you will want, he has a better chance of doing his best for you; and never think of ordering BEEF FOR ROASTING except for Sunday.

When the weather or season[56-*] is very unfavourable for keeping meat, &c. give him the choice of sending that which is in the best order for dressing; i. e. either ribs or sirloin of beef, or leg, loin, or neck of mutton, &c.

Meat in which you can detect the slightest trace of putrescency, has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed without delay; but before this period, which in some kinds of meat is offensive, the due degree of inteneration may be ascertained, by its yielding readily to the pressure of the finger, and by its opposing little resistance to an attempt to bind the joint.

Although we strongly recommend that animal food should be hung up in the open air, till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness; yet, let us be clearly understood also to warn you, that if kept till it loses its natural sweetness, it is as detrimental to health, as it is disagreeable to the smell and taste.

IN VERY COLD WEATHER, bring your meat, poultry, &c. into the kitchen, early in the morning, if you roast, boil, or stew it ever so gently and ever so long; if it be frozen, it will continue tough and unchewable.

Without very watchful attention to this, the most skilful cook in the world will get no credit, be she ever so careful in the management of her spit or her stewpan.

The time meat should hang to be tender, depends on the heat and humidity of the air. If it is not kept long enough, it is hard and tough; if too long, it loses its flavour. It should be hung where it will have a thorough air, and be dried with a cloth, night and morning, to keep it from damp and mustiness.

Before you dress it, wash it well; if it is roasting beef, pare off the outside.

If you fear meat,[57-*] &c. will not keep till the time it is wanted, par-roast or par-boil it; it will then keep a couple of days longer, when it may be dressed in the usual way, only it will be done in rather less time.

"In Germany, the method of keeping flesh in summer is to steep it in Rhenish wine with a little sea-salt; by which means it may be preserved a whole season."—BOERHAAVE'S Academical Lectures, translated by J. Nathan, 8vo. 1763, p. 241.

The cook and the butcher as often lose their credit by meat being dressed too fresh, as the fishmonger does by fish that has been kept too long.

Dr. Franklin in his philosophical experiments tells us, that if game or poultry be killed by ELECTRICITY it will become tender in the twinkling of an eye, and if it be dressed immediately, will be delicately tender.

During the sultry SUMMER MONTHS, it is almost impossible to procure meat that is not either tough, or tainted. The former is as improper as the latter for the unbraced stomachs of relaxed valetudinarians, for whom, at this season, poultry, stews, &c., and vegetable soups, are the most suitable food, when the digestive organs are debilitated by the extreme heat, and profuse perspiration requires an increase of liquid to restore equilibrium in the constitution.

I have taken much more pains than any of my predecessors, to teach the young cook how to perform, in the best manner, the common business of her profession. Being well grounded in the RUDIMENTS of COOKERY, she will be able to execute the orders that are given her, with ease to herself, and satisfaction to her employers, and send up a delicious dinner, with half the usual expense and trouble.

I have endeavoured to lessen the labour of those who wish to be thoroughly acquainted with their profession; and an attentive perusal of the following pages will save them much of the irksome drudgery attending an apprenticeship at the stove: an ordeal so severe, that few pass it without irreparable injury to their health;[58-*] and many lose their lives before they learn their business.

To encourage the best performance of the machinery of mastication, the cook must take care that her dinner is not only well cooked, but that each dish be sent to table with its proper accompaniments, in the neatest and most elegant manner.

Remember, to excite the good opinion of the eye is the first step towards awakening the appetite.

Decoration is much more rationally employed in rendering a wholesome, nutritious dish inviting, than in the elaborate embellishments which are crowded about trifles and custards.

Endeavour to avoid over-dressing roasts and boils, &c. and over-seasoning soups and sauces with salt, pepper, &c.; it is a fault which cannot be mended.

If your roasts, &c. are a little under-done, with the assistance of the stewpan, the gridiron, or the Dutch oven, you may soon rectify the mistake made with the spit or the pot.

If over-done, the best juices of the meat are evaporated; it will serve merely to distend the stomach, and if the sensation of hunger be removed, it is at the price of an indigestion.

The chief business of cookery is to render food easy of digestion, and to facilitate nutrition. This is most completely accomplished by plain cookery in perfection; i. e. neither over nor under-done.

With all your care, you will not get much credit by cooking to perfection, if more than one dish goes to table at a time.

To be eaten in perfection, the interval between meat being taken out of the stewpan and its being put into the mouth, must be as short as possible; but ceremony, that most formidable enemy to good cheer, too often decrees it otherwise, and the guests seldom get a bit of an "entremets" till it is half cold. (See No. 485.)

So much time is often lost in placing every thing in apple-pie order, that long before dinner is announced, all becomes lukewarm; and to complete the mortification of the grand gourmand, his meat is put on a sheet of ice in the shape of a plate, which instantly converts the gravy into jelly, and the fat into a something which puzzles his teeth and the roof of his mouth as much as if he had birdlime to masticate. A complete meat-screen will answer the purpose of a hot closet, plate-warmer, &c.—See Index.

It will save you infinite trouble and anxiety, if you can prevail on your employers to use the "SAUCE-BOX," No. 462, hereinafter described in the chapter of Sauces. With the help of this "MAGAZINE OF TASTE," every one in company may flavour their soup and sauce, and adjust the vibrations of their palate, exactly to their own fancy; but if the cook give a decidedly predominant and piquante gout to a dish, to tickle the tongues of two or three visiters, whose taste she knows, she may thereby make the dinner disgusting to all the other guests.

Never undertake more work than you are quite certain you can do well. If you are ordered to prepare a larger dinner than you think you can send up with ease and neatness, or to dress any dish that you are not acquainted with, rather than run any risk in spoiling any thing (by one fault you may perhaps lose all your credit), request your employers to let you have some help. They may acquit you for pleading guilty of inability; but if you make an attempt, and fail, will vote it a capital offence.

If your mistress professes to understand cookery, your best way will be to follow her directions. If you wish to please her, let her have the praise of all that is right, and cheerfully bear the blame of any thing that is wrong; only advise that all NEW DISHES may be first tried when the family dine alone. When there is company, never attempt to dress any thing which you have not ascertained that you can do perfectly well.

Do not trust any part of your work to others without carefully overlooking them: whatever faults they commit, you will be censured for. If you have forgotten any article which is indispensable for the day's dinner, request your employers to send one of the other servants for it. The cook must never quit her post till her work is entirely finished.

It requires the utmost skill and contrivance to have all things done as they should be, and all done together, at that critical moment when the dinner-bell sounds "to the banquet."

"A feast must be without a fault; And if 't is not all right, 't is naught."

But

"Good nature will some failings overlook, Forgive mischance, not errors of the cook; As, if no salt is thrown about the dish, Or nice crisp'd parsley scatter'd on the fish, Shall we in passion from our dinner fly, And hopes of pardon to the cook deny, For things which Mrs. GLASSE herself might oversee, And all mankind commit as well as she?"

Vide KING'S Art of Cookery.

Such is the endless variety of culinary preparations, that it would be as vain and fruitless a search as that for the philosopher's stone, to expect to find a cook who is quite perfect in all the operations of the spit, the stewpan, and the rolling-pin: you will as soon find a watchmaker who can make, put together, and regulate every part of a watch.

"The universe cannot produce a cook who knows how to do every branch of cookery well, be his genius as great as possible."—Vide the Cook's Cookery, 8vo. page 40.

THE BEST RULE FOR MARKETING is to pay READY MONEY for every thing, and to deal with the most respectable tradesmen in your neighbourhood.

If you leave it to their integrity to supply you with a good article, at the fair market price, you will be supplied with better provisions, and at as reasonable a rate as those bargain-hunters, who trot "around, around, around about" a market, till they are trapped to buy some unchewable old poultry, tough tup-mutton, stringy cow beef, or stale fish, at a very little less than the price of prime and proper food. With savings like these they toddle home in triumph, cackling all the way, like a goose that has got ankle-deep into good luck.

All the skill of the most accomplished cook will avail nothing, unless she is furnished with PRIME PROVISIONS. The best way to procure these is to deal with shops of established character: you may appear to pay, perhaps, ten per cent. more than you would, were you to deal with those who pretend to sell cheap, but you would be much more than in that proportion better served.

Every trade has its tricks and deceptions: those who follow them can deceive you if they please; and they are too apt to do so, if you provoke the exercise of their over-reaching talent.[61-*]

Challenge them to a game at "Catch who can," by entirely relying on your own judgment; and you will soon find that nothing but very long experience can make you equal to the combat of marketing to the utmost advantage.

Before you go to market, look over your larder, and consider well what things are wanting, especially on a Saturday. No well-regulated family can suffer a disorderly caterer to be jumping in and out to the chandler's shop on a Sunday morning.

Give your directions to your assistants, and begin your business early in the morning, or it will be impossible to have the dinner ready at the time it is ordered.

To be half an hour after the time is such a frequent fault, that there is the more merit in being ready at the appointed hour. This is a difficult task, and in the best-regulated family you can only be sure of your time by proper arrangements.

With all our love of punctuality, we must not forget that the first consideration must still be, that the dinner "be well done when 't is done."

If any accident occurs to any part of the dinner, or if you are likely to be prevented sending the soup, &c. to the table at the moment it is expected, send up a message to your employers, stating the circumstance, and bespeak their patience for as many minutes as you think it will take to be ready. This is better than either keeping the company waiting without an apology, or dishing your dinner before it is done enough, or sending any thing to table which is disgusting to the stomachs of the guests at the first appearance of it.

Those who desire regularity in the service of their table, should have a DIAL, of about twelve inches diameter, placed over the kitchen fireplace, carefully regulated to keep time exactly with the clock in the hall or dining-parlour; with a frame on one side, containing A TASTE TABLE of the peculiarities of the master's palate, and the particular rules and orders of his kitchen; and, on the other side, of the REWARDS given to those who attend to them, and for long and faithful service.

In small families, where a dinner is seldom given, a great deal of preparation is required, and the preceding day must be devoted to the business of the kitchen.

On these occasions a char-woman is often employed to do the dirty work. Ignorant persons often hinder you more than they help you. We advise a cook to be hired to assist to dress the dinner: this would be very little more expense, and the work got through with much more comfort in the kitchen and credit to the parlour.

When you have a very large entertainment to prepare, get your soups and sauces, forcemeats, &c. ready the day before, and read the 7th chapter of our Rudiments of Cookery. Many made dishes may also be prepared the day before they are to go to table; but do not dress them quite enough the first day, that they may not be over-done by warming up again.

Prepare every thing you can the day before the dinner, and order every thing else to be sent in early in the morning; if the tradesmen forget it, it will allow you time to send for it.

The pastry, jellies, &c. you may prepare while the broths are doing: then truss your game and poultry, and shape your collops, cutlets, &c., and trim them neatly; cut away all flaps and gristles, &c. Nothing should appear on table but what has indisputable pretensions to be eaten!

Put your made dishes in plates, and arrange them upon the dresser in regular order. Next, see that your roasts and boils are all nicely trimmed, trussed, &c. and quite ready for the spit or the pot.

Have your vegetables neatly cut, pared, picked, and clean washed in the colander: provide a tin dish, with partitions, to hold your fine herbs: onions and shallots, parsley, thyme, tarragon, chervil, and burnet, minced very fine; and lemon-peel grated, or cut thin, and chopped very small: pepper and salt ready mixed, and your spice-box and salt-cellar always ready for action: that every thing you may want may be at hand for your stove-work, and not be scampering about the kitchen in a whirlpool of confusion, hunting after these trifles while the dinner is waiting.

In one drawer under your SPICE-BOX keep ready ground, in well-stopped bottles, the several spices separate; and also that mixture of them which is called "ragout powder" (No. 457 or No. 460): in another, keep your dried and powdered sweet, savoury, and soup herbs, &c. and a set of weights and scales: you may have a third drawer, containing flavouring essences, &c. an invaluable auxiliary in finishing soups and sauces. (See the account of the "MAGAZINE OF TASTE," or "SAUCE-BOX," No. 462.)

Have also ready some THICKENING, made of the best white flour sifted, mixed with soft water with a wooden spoon till it is the consistence of thick batter, a bottle of plain BROWNING (No. 322), some strained lemon-juice, and some good glaze, or PORTABLE soup (No. 252).

"Nothing can be done in perfection which must be done in a hurry:"[63-*] therefore, if you wish the dinner to be sent up to please your master and mistress, and do credit to yourself, be punctual; take care that as soon as the clock strikes, the dinner-bell rings: this shows the establishment to be orderly, is extremely gratifying to the master and his guests, and is most praiseworthy in the attendants.

But remember, you cannot obtain this desirable reputation without good management in every respect. If you wish to ensure ease and independence in the latter part of your life, you must not be unwilling to pay the price for which only they can be obtained, and earn them by a diligent and faithful[64-*] performance of the duties of your station in your young days, which, if you steadily persevere in, you may depend upon ultimately receiving the reward your services deserve.

All duties are reciprocal: and if you hope to receive favour, endeavour to deserve it by showing yourself fond of obliging, and grateful when obliged; such behaviour will win regard, and maintain it: enforce what is right, and excuse what is wrong.

Quiet, steady perseverance is the only spring which you can safely depend upon for infallibly promoting your progress on the road to independence.

If your employers do not immediately appear to be sensible of your endeavours to contribute your utmost to their comfort and interest, be not easily discouraged. Persevere, and do all in your power to MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL.

Endeavour to promote the comfort of every individual in the family; let it be manifest that you are desirous to do rather more than is required of you, than less than your duty: they merit little who perform merely what would be exacted. If you are desired to help in any business which may not strictly belong to your department, undertake it cheerfully, patiently, and conscientiously.

The foregoing advice has been written with an honest desire to augment the comfort of those in the kitchen, who will soon find that the ever-cheering reflection of having done their duty to the utmost of their ability, is in itself, with a Christian spirit, a never-failing source of comfort in all circumstances and situations, and that

"VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD."

FOOTNOTES:

[46-*] A chapter of advice to cooks will, we hope, be found as useful as it is original: all we have on this subject in the works of our predecessors, is the following; "I shall strongly recommend to all cooks of either sex, to keep their stomachs free from strong liquors till after dinner, and their noses from snuff."—Vide CLERMONT'S Professed Cook, p. 30, 8vo. London, 1776.

[50-*] Meat that is not to be cut till it is cold, must be thoroughly done, especially in summer.

[51-*] See chapter XV. "Chaque Pays, chaque Coutume."—Cours Gastronomique, 8vo. 1809, p. 162.

[52-*] Cook to Sir JOSEPH BANKS, Bart., late president of the Royal Society.

[53-*] "The diversities of taste are so many and so considerable, that it seemeth strange to see the matter treated of both by philosophers and physicians with so much scantiness and defect: for the subject is not barren, but yieldeth much and pleasant variety, and doth also appear to be of great importance."—From Dr. GREW'S Anat. of Plants, fol. 1682, p. 286. The Dr. enumerates sixteen simple tastes: however, it is difficult to define more than six.—1st. Bitter as wormwood. 2d. Sweet as sugar. 3d. Sour as vinegar. 4th. Salt as brine. 5th. Cold as ice. 6th. Hot as brandy. "Compound tastes, innumerable, may be formed by the combination of these simple tastes—as words are of letters."—See also Phil. Trans. vol. xv. p. 1025.

[53-+] "I am persuaded that no servant ever saved her master sixpence, but she found it in the end in her pocket."—TRUSLER'S Domestic Management, p. 11.

[55-*] "A surgeon may as well attempt to make an incision with a pair of shears, or open a vein with an oyster-knife, as a cook pretend to dress a dinner without proper tools."—VERRALL'S Cookery, 8vo. 1759, p. 6.

[55-+] Many COOKS miss excellent opportunities of making themselves independent, by their idleness, in refusing any place, however profitable, &c. if there is not a kitchen maid kept to wait upon them.

There are many invalids who require a good cook, and as (after reading this book they will understand how much) their comfort and effective existence depends on their food being properly prepared, will willingly pay handsome wages, (who would not rather pay the cook than the doctor?) but have so little work in the kitchen that one person may do it all with the utmost ease, without injury to her health; which is not the case in a large family, where the poor cook is roasting and stewing all day, and is often deprived of her rest at night. No artists have greater need to "make hay while the sun shines," and timely provide for the infirmities of age. Who will hire a superannuated servant? If she has saved nothing to support herself, she must crawl to the workhouse.

It is melancholy to find, that, according to the authority of a certain great French author, "cooks, half stewed and half roasted, when unable to work any longer, generally retire to some unknown corner, and die in forlornness and want."—BLACKWOOD'S Edin. Mag. vol. vii. p. 668.

[56-*] "The season of the year has considerable influence on the quality of butcher-meat; depending upon the more or less plentiful supply of food, upon the periodical change which takes place in the body of the animal, and upon temperature. The flesh of most full-grown quadrupeds is in highest season during the first months of winter, after having enjoyed the advantage of the abundance of fresh summer food. Its flavour then begins to be injured by the turnips, &c. given as winter food; and in spring, it gets lean from deficiency of food. Although beef and mutton are never absolutely out of season, or not fit for the table, they are best in November, December, and January. Pork is absolutely bad, except during the winter."—Supplement to the Edin. Ency. Brit. p. 328.

[57-*] "LARDERS, PANTRIES, and SAFES must be sheltered from the sun, and otherwise removed from the heat; be dry, and, if possible, have a current of dry, cool air continually passing through them.

"The freezing temperature, i. e. 32 degrees of Fahrenheit, is a perfect preservative from putrefaction: warm, moist, muggy weather is the worst for keeping meat. The south wind is especially unfavourable, and lightning is quickly destructive; but the greatest enemy you have to encounter is the flesh-fly, which becomes troublesome about the month of May, and continues so till towards Michaelmas."—For further Obs. on this subject see "The Experienced Butcher," page 160.

[58-*] "Buy it with health, strength, and resolution, And pay for it, a robust constitution."

Preface to the Cook's Cookery, 1758.

See the preface to "The Cook's Cookery," p. 9. This work, which is very scarce, was, we believe, written to develope the mistakes in what he calls "The Thousand Errors," i. e. "The Lady's Cookery," i. e. Mrs. Glasse's, i. e. Sir John Hill's.

[61-*] "He who will not be cheated a little, must be content to be abused a great deal: the first lesson in the art of comfortable economy, is to learn to submit cheerfully to be imposed upon in due proportion to your situation and circumstances: if you do not, you will continually be in hot water.

"If you think a tradesman has imposed upon you, never use a second word, if the first will not do, nor drop the least hint of an imposition. The only method to induce him to make an abatement is the hope of future favours. Pay the demand, and deal with the gentleman no more: but do not let him see that you are displeased, or, as soon as you are out of sight, your reputation will suffer as much as your pocket has."—TRUSLER'S Way to be Rich, 8vo. 1776, p. 85.

[63-*] Says TOM THRIFTY, "except catching of fleas." See T. T.'s Essay on Early Rising.

[64-*] N.B. "If you will take half the pains to deserve the regard of your master and mistress by being a good and faithful servant, you take to be considered a good fellow-servant, so many of you would not, in the decline of life, be left destitute of those comforts which age requires, nor have occasion to quote the saying that 'Service is no inheritance,' unless your own misconduct makes it so.

"The idea of being called a tell-tale has occasioned many good servants to shut their eyes against the frauds of fellow-servants.

"In the eye of the law, persons standing by and seeing a felony committed, which they could have prevented, are held equally guilty with those committing it."—Dr. TRUSLER'S Domestic Management, p. 12, and Instructions to Servants.



TABLE OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES.

To reduce our culinary operations to as exact a certainty as the nature of the processes would admit of, we have, wherever it was needful, given the quantities of each article.

The weights are avoirdupois.

The measure, the graduated glass of the apothecaries. This appeared the most accurate and convenient; the pint being divided into sixteen ounces, the ounce into eight drachms. A middling-sized tea-spoon will contain about a drachm; four such tea-spoons are equal to a middling-sized table-spoon, or half an ounce; four table-spoons to a common-sized wine-glass.

The specific gravities of the various substances being so extremely different, we cannot offer any auxiliary standards[65-*] for the weights, which we earnestly recommend the cook to employ, if she wishes to gain credit for accuracy and uniformity in her business: these she will find it necessary to have as small as the quarter of a drachm avoirdupois, which is equal to nearly seven grains troy.

Glass measures (divided into tea and table-spoons), containing from half an ounce to half a pint, may be procured; also, the double-headed pepper and spice boxes, with caps over the gratings. The superiority of these, by preserving the contents from the action of the air, must be sufficiently obvious to every one: the fine aromatic flavour of pepper is soon lost, from the bottles it is usually kept in not being well stopped. Peppers are seldom ground or pounded sufficiently fine. (See N.B. to 369.)

N.B. The trough nutmeg-graters are by far the best we have seen, especially for those who wish to grate fine, and fast.

FOOTNOTES:

[65-*] A large table-spoonful of flour weighs about half an ounce.



RUDIMENTS OF COOKERY.



CHAPTER I.

BOILING.[66-*]

This most simple of culinary processes is not often performed in perfection. It does not require quite so much nicety and attendance as roasting; to skim your pot well, and keep it really boiling (the slower the better) all the while, to know how long is required for doing the joint, &c., and to take it up at the critical moment when it is done enough, comprehends almost the whole art and mystery. This, however, demands a patient and perpetual vigilance, of which few persons are capable.

The cook must take especial care that the water really boils all the while she is cooking, or she will be deceived in the time; and make up a sufficient fire (a frugal cook will manage with much less fire for boiling than she uses for roasting) at first, to last all the time, without much mending or stirring.

When the pot is coming to a boil there will always, from the cleanest meat and clearest water, rise a scum to the top of it, proceeding partly from the water; this must be carefully taken off as soon as it rises.

On this depends the good appearance of all boiled things.

When you have skimmed well, put in some cold water, which will throw up the rest of the scum.

The oftener it is skimmed, and the cleaner the top of the water is kept, the sweeter and the cleaner will be the meat.

If let alone, it soon boils down and sticks to the meat,[67-*] which, instead of looking delicately white and nice, will have that coarse and filthy appearance we have too often to complain of, and the butcher and poulterer be blamed for the carelessness of the cook in not skimming her pot.

Many put in milk, to make what they boil look white; but this does more harm than good: others wrap it up in a cloth; but these are needless precautions: if the scum be attentively removed, meat will have a much more delicate colour and finer flavour than it has when muffled up. This may give rather more trouble, but those who wish to excel in their art must only consider how the processes of it can be most perfectly performed: a cook, who has a proper pride and pleasure in her business, will make this her maxim on all occasions.

It is desirable that meat for boiling be of an equal thickness, or before thicker parts are done enough the thinner will be done too much.

Put your meat into cold[67-+] water, in the proportion of about a quart of water to a pound of meat: it should be covered with water during the whole of the process of boiling, but not drowned in it; the less water, provided the meat be covered with it, the more savoury will be the meat, and the better will be the broth.

The water should be heated gradually, according to the thickness, &c. of the article boiled. For instance, a leg of mutton of 10 pounds weight (No. 1,) should be placed over a moderate fire, which will gradually make the water hot, without causing it to boil for about forty minutes; if the water boils much sooner, the meat will be hardened, and shrink up as if it was scorched: by keeping the water a certain time heating without boiling, the fibres of the meat are dilated, and it yields a quantity of scum, which must be taken off as soon as it rises.

"104. If a vessel containing water be placed over a steady fire, the water will grow continually hotter till it reaches the limit of boiling, after which the regular accessions of heat are wholly spent in converting it into steam.

"Water remains at the same pitch of temperature, however fiercely it boils. The only difference is, that with a strong fire it sooner comes to boil, and more quickly boils away, and is converted into steam."—BUCHANAN on the Economy of Fuel, 1810.

The editor placed a thermometer in water in that state which cooks call gentle simmering; the heat was 212 deg., i. e. the same degree as the strongest boiling.

Two mutton chops were covered with cold water, and one boiled a gallop, and the other simmered very gently for three quarters of an hour: the chop which was slowly simmered was decidedly superior to that which was boiled; it was much tenderer, more juicy, and much higher flavoured. The liquor which boiled fast was in like proportion more savoury, and when cold had much more fat on its surface. This explains why quick boiling renders meat hard, &c., because its juices are extracted in a greater degree.

Reckon the time from its first coming to a boil.

The old rule of 15 minutes to a pound of meat, we think rather too little: the slower it boils, the tenderer, the plumper, and whiter it will be.

For those who choose their food thoroughly cooked (which all will who have any regard for their stomachs), twenty minutes to a pound for fresh, and rather more for salted meat, will not be found too much for gentle simmering by the side of the fire, allowing more or less time, according to the thickness of the joint, and the coldness of the weather: to know the state of which, let a thermometer be placed in the pantry; and when it falls below 40 deg., tell your cook to give rather more time in both roasting and boiling, always remembering, the slower it boils the better.

Without some practice it is difficult to teach any art; and cooks seem to suppose they must be right, if they put meat into a pot, and set it over the fire for a certain time, making no allowance whether it simmers without a bubble or boils a gallop.

Fresh-killed meat will take much longer time boiling than that which has been kept till it is what the butchers call ripe, and longer in cold than in warm weather: if it be frozen, it must be thawed before boiling as before roasting; if it be fresh-killed, it will be tough and hard, if you stew it ever so long, and ever so gently. In cold weather, the night before the day you dress it, bring it into a place of which the temperature is not less than 45 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer.

The size of the boiling-pots should be adapted to what they are to contain: the larger the saucepan the more room it takes upon the fire, and a larger quantity of water requires a proportionate increase of fire to boil it.

A little pot Is soon hot.

In small families we recommend block tin saucepans, &c. as lightest and safest. If proper care is taken of them, and they are well dried after they are cleaned, they are by far the cheapest; the purchase of a new tin saucepan being little more than the expense of tinning a copper one.

Let the covers of your boiling-pots fit close, not only to prevent unnecessary evaporation of the water, but to prevent the escape of the nutritive matter, which must then remain either in the meat or in the broth; and the smoke is prevented from insinuating itself under the edge of the lid, and so giving the meat a bad taste. See observations on Saucepans, in chapter 7.

If you let meat or poultry remain in the water after it is done enough, it will become sodden, and lose its flavour.

Beef and mutton a little under-done (especially very large joints, which will make the better hash or broil,) is not a great fault; by some people it is preferred: but lamb, pork, and veal are uneatable if not thoroughly boiled; but do not over-do them.

A trivet or fish-drainer put on the bottom of the boiling-pot, raising the contents about an inch and a half from the bottom, will prevent that side of the meat which comes next the bottom from being done too much, and the lower part of the meat will be as delicately done as the other part; and this will enable you to take out the contents of the pot, without sticking a fork, &c. into it. If you have not a trivet, use four skewers, or a soup-plate laid the wrong side upwards.

Take care of the liquor you have boiled poultry or meat in; in five minutes you may make it into excellent soup. (See obs. to No. 555 and No. 229.)

The good housewife never boils a joint without converting the broth into some sort of soup (read No. 5, and chapter 7). If the liquor be too salt, only use half the quantity, and the rest water. Wash salted meat well with cold water before you put it into the boiler.

An estimation of the LOSS OF WEIGHT which takes place in cooking animal food.—From Mr. TILLOCH'S Philosophical Magazine.

"It is well known, that in whatever way the flesh of animals is prepared for food, a considerable diminution takes place in its weight. We do not recollect, however, to have any where seen a statement of the loss which meat sustains in the various culinary processes, although it is pretty obvious that a series of experiments on the subject would not be without their use in domestic economy.

"We shall here give the result of a series of experiments which were actually made on this subject in a public establishment; premising that, as they were not undertaken from mere curiosity, but, on the contrary, to serve a purpose of practical utility, absolute accuracy was not attended to. Considering, however, the large quantities of provisions which were actually examined, it is presumed that the results may be safely depended upon for any practical purpose. It would, no doubt, have been desirable to have known not only the whole diminution of weight, but also the parts which were separated from the meat in the form of aqueous vapour, jelly, fat, &c.; but the determination of these did not fall within the scope of the inquiry.

lbs. oz. 28 pieces of beef, weighing 280 0 Lost in boiling 73 14

"Hence, the weight lost by beef in boiling was in this case about 26-1/2lbs. in 100lbs.

lbs. oz. 19 pieces of beef, weighing 190 0 Lost in roasting 61 2

"The weight lost by beef in roasting appears to be 32 per cent.

lbs. oz. 9 pieces of beef, weighing 90 0 Lost in baking 27 0

"Weight lost by beef in baking 30 per cent.

lbs. oz. 27 legs of mutton, weighing 260 0 Lost in boiling, and by having the shank-bone taken off 62 4

"The shank-bones were estimated at 4 ounces each; therefore the loss by boiling was 55lbs. 8oz.

"The loss of weight in legs of mutton in boiling is 21-1/3 per cent.

lbs. oz. 35 shoulders of mutton, weighing 350 0 Lost in roasting 109 10

"The loss of weight in shoulders of mutton by roasting, is about 31-1/3 per cent.

lbs. oz. 16 loins of mutton, weighing 141 0 Lost in roasting 49 14

"Hence, loins of mutton lose by roasting about 35-1/2 per cent.

lbs. oz. 10 necks of mutton, weighing 100 0 Lost in roasting 32 6

"The loss in necks of mutton by roasting is about 32-1/3 per cent.

"We shall only draw two practical inferences from the foregoing statement.—1st, In respect of economy, it is more profitable to boil meat than to roast it. 2dly, Whether we roast or boil meat, it loses by being cooked from one-fifth to one-third of its whole weight."

The loss of roasting arises from the melting out of the fat, and evaporating the water; but the nutritious matters remain condensed in the cooked solid.

In boiling, the loss arises partly from the fat melted out, but chiefly from gelatine and osmazome being extracted and dissolved by the water in which the meat is boiled; there is, therefore, a real loss of nourishment, unless the broth be used; when this mode of cooking becomes the most economical.[71-*]

The sauces usually sent to table with boiled meat, &c.

These are to be sent up in boats, and never poured over the meat, &c.

Gravy for boiled meat (No. 327.) Parsley and butter (No. 261.) Chervil (No. 264.) Caper (No. 274.) Oyster (No. 278.) Liver and parsley (No. 287.) Celery (No. 289.) Onion (No. 296, &c.) Shallot (No. 295.) Wow wow (No. 328.) Curry (No. 348.)

BAKING.

The following observations were written expressly for this work by Mr. Turner, English and French bread and biscuit baker.

"Baking is one of the cheapest and most convenient ways of dressing a dinner in small families; and, I may say, that the oven is often the only kitchen a poor man has, if he wishes to enjoy a joint of meat at home with his family.

"I don't mean to deny the superior excellence of roasting to baking; but some joints, when baked, so nearly approach to the same when roasted, that I have known them to be carried to the table, and eaten as such with great satisfaction.

"Legs and loins of pork, legs of mutton, fillets of veal, and many other joints, will bake to great advantage, if the meat be good; I mean well-fed, rather inclined to be fat: if the meat be poor, no baker can give satisfaction.

"When baking a poor joint of meat, before it has been half baked I have seen it start from the bone, and shrivel up scarcely to be believed.

"Besides those joints above mentioned, I shall enumerate a few baked dishes which I can particularly recommend.

"A pig, when sent to the baker prepared for baking, should have its ears and tail covered with buttered paper properly fastened on, and a bit of butter tied up in a piece of linen to baste the back with, otherwise it will be apt to blister: with a proper share of attention from the baker, I consider this way equal to a roasted one.

"A goose prepared the same as for roasting, taking care to have it on a stand, and when half done to turn the other side upwards. A duck the same.

"A buttock of beef the following way is particularly fine. After it has been in salt about a week, to be well washed, and put into a brown earthen pan with a pint of water; cover the pan tight with two or three thicknesses of cap or foolscap paper: never cover any thing that is to be baked with brown paper, the pitch and tar that is in brown paper will give the meat a smoky, bad taste: give it four or five hours in a moderately heated oven.

"A ham (if not too old) put in soak for an hour, taken out and wiped, a crust made sufficient to cover it all over, and baked in a moderately heated oven, cuts fuller of gravy, and of a finer flavour, than a boiled one. I have been in the habit of baking small cod-fish, haddock, and mackerel, with a dust of flour, and some bits of butter put on them; eels, when large and stuffed; herrings and sprats, in a brown pan, with vinegar and a little spice, and tied over with paper. A hare, prepared the same as for roasting, with a few pieces of butter, and a little drop of milk put into the dish, and basted several times, will be found nearly equal to roasting; or cut it up, season it properly, put it into a jar or pan, and cover it over and bake it in a moderate oven for about three hours. In the same manner, I have been in the habit of baking legs and shins of beef, ox cheeks, &c. prepared with a seasoning of onions, turnips, &c.: they will take about four hours: let them stand till cold, to skim off the fat; then warm it up all together, or part, as you may want it.

"All these I have been in the habit of baking for the first families.

"The time each of the above articles should take depends much upon the state of the oven, and I do consider the baker a sufficient judge; if they are sent to him in time, he must be very neglectful if they are not ready at the time they are ordered."

For receipts for making bread, French rolls, muffins, crumpets, Sally Lunn, &c., see the Appendix.

FOOTNOTES:

[66-*] "The process by which food is most commonly prepared for the table, BOILING, is so familiar to every one, and its effects are so uniform, and apparently so simple, that few, I believe, have taken the trouble to inquire how or in what manner those effects are produced; and whether any, and what improvements in that branch of cookery are possible. So little has this matter been an object of inquiry, that few, very few indeed, I believe, among the millions of persons who for so many ages have been daily employed in this process, have ever given themselves the trouble to bestow one serious thought on the subject.

"Boiling cannot be carried on without a very great expense of fuel; but any boiling-hot liquid (by using proper means for confining the heat) may be kept boiling-hot for any length of time almost without any expense of fuel at all.

"The waste of fuel in culinary processes, which arises from making liquids boil unnecessarily, or when nothing more would be necessary than to keep them boiling-hot, is enormous; I have not a doubt but that much more than half the fuel used in all the kitchens, public and private, in the whole world, is wasted precisely in this manner.

"But the evil does not stop here. This unscientific and slovenly manner of cooking renders the process much more laborious and troublesome than otherwise it would be; and, (what by many will be considered of more importance than either the waste of fuel or the increase of labour to the cook) the food is rendered less savoury, and very probably less nourishing and less wholesome.

"It is natural to suppose that many of the finer and more volatile parts of food (those which are best calculated to act on the organs of taste), must be carried off with the steam when the boiling is violent."—Count RUMFORD'S 10th Essay, pp. 3, 6.

[67-*] If, unfortunately, this should happen, the cook must carefully take it off when she dishes up, either with a clean sponge or a paste-brush.

[67-+] Cooks, however, as well as doctors, disagree; for some say, that "all sorts of fresh meat should be put in when the water boils." I prefer the above method for the reason given; gentle stewing renders meat, &c. tender, and still leaves it sapid and nutritive.

[71-*] The diminution of weight by boiling and roasting is not all lost, the FAT SKIMMINGS and the DRIPPINGS, nicely clarified, will well supply the place of lard and for frying. See No. 83, and the receipt for CHEAP SOUP (No. 229).



CHAPTER II.

ROASTING.

In all studies, it is the best practice to begin with the plainest and easiest parts; and so on, by degrees, to such as are more difficult: we, therefore, treated of plain boiling, and we now proceed to roasting: we shall then gradually unravel to our culinary students the art (and mystery, until developed in this work) of making, with the least trouble and expense, the most highly finished soups, sauces, and made-dishes.

Let the young cook never forget that cleanliness is the chief cardinal virtue of the kitchen; the first preparation for roasting is to take care that the spit be properly cleaned with sand and water; nothing else. When it has been well scoured with this, dry it with a clean cloth. If spits are wiped clean as soon as the meat is drawn from them, and while they are hot, a very little cleaning will be required. The less the spit is passed through the meat the better;[74-*] and, before you spit it, joint it properly, especially necks and loins, that the carver may separate them easily and neatly, and take especial care it be evenly balanced on the spit, that its motion may be regular, and the fire operate equally on each part of it; therefore, be provided with balancing-skewers and cookholds, and see it is properly jointed.

Roasting should be done by the radiant heat of a clear, glowing fire, otherwise it is in fact baked: the machines the economical grate-makers call ROASTERS, are, in plain English, ovens.

Count Rumford was certainly an exact economist of fuel, when he contrived these things; and those philosophers who try all questions "according to Cocker" may vote for baked victuals; but the rational epicure, who has been accustomed to enjoy beef well roasted, will soon be convinced that the poet who wrote our national ballad at the end of this chapter, was not inspired by Sir Benjamin Thompson's cookery.