The Modern Housewife or, Ménagère. Soyer Alexis
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