Cassell's Vegetarian Cookery. A. G. Payne
argument being that the more work the stomach had to do the stronger it would become, on the same principle that the arm of a blacksmith is more powerful in consequence of hard work. Of one thing we are certain, and that is, there will always be rival physicians and rival sects; but the present work will simply be a guide to those who require, from whatever cause, a light form of diet. Perhaps the greatest benefit vegetarians can do their cause—and there are many who think very strongly on the subject—is to endeavour to take a dispassionate view. Rome was not built in a day; and if we look back at the past history of this country, during the last half-century, in regard to food, we shall see that there have been many natural changes at work. Waves of thought take place backwards and forwards, but still the tide may flow. Some fifty years ago there was, undoubtedly, a strong impression (with a large number of right-minded people) that plenty of meat, beer, and wine were good for all, even for young children. The medical profession are very apt to run in flocks, and follow some well-known leader. At the period to which we refer, numbers of anxious mothers would have regarded the advice to bring up their children as vegetarians and teetotallers as positive cruelty. This old-fashioned idea has passed away.
One great motive for adopting a course of vegetarian diet is economy; and here we feel that we stand on firm ground, without danger of offending sincere opinions, which are often wrongly called prejudices. To a great extent, the majority of the human race are virtually vegetarians from necessity. Nor do we find feebleness either of mind or body necessarily ensues. We believe there are tens of thousands of families who would give vegetarianism a trial were it not for fear. Persons are too apt to think that bodily strength depends upon the nature of the food we eat. In India we have a feeble race, living chiefly on rice. On the other hand, in China, for bodily strength, few can compare with the Coolies. For many years in Scotland the majority lived on oatmeal, while in Ireland they lived on potatoes. We do not wish to argue anything from these points, but to bring them forward for consideration. Probably, strength of body and mind, as a general rule, depends upon breed, and this argument tells two ways—it does not follow that vegetarians will be necessarily strong, and will cease to be cruel; nor does it follow that those who have been accustomed all their lives to eat meat will cease to be strong should they become vegetarians. As we have said, the great motive that induces many to give vegetarianism a trial is economy; and if persons would once get rid of the idea that they risk their health by making a trial, much would be done to advance the cause.
Another great reason for persons hesitating to make a trial is the revolution it would create in their households. Here again we are beset by difficulties, and these difficulties can only disappear gradually, after long years of patience. We believe the progress towards vegetarianism must of necessity be a very slow one. No large West End tradesman could possibly insist upon his whole establishment becoming vegetarians because he becomes one himself. We believe and hope that the present work will benefit those who are undergoing a slow but gradual change in their mode of living. This is easiest in small households, where no servants are kept at all, where the mistress is both cook and mother. It is in such households that the change is possible, and very often most desirable. In many cases trial will be made gradually. The great difficulty to contend with is prejudice, or, rather, we may say, habit. There are many housekeepers who feel that their bill of fare would instantly become extremely limited were they to adopt vegetarian ideas. There are few better dinners—especially for children—than a good basin of soup, with plenty of bread; yet, as a rule, there are few housekeepers who would know how to make vegetarian soup at all. In our present work we have given a list of sixty-four soups. At any rate, here is no lack of variety, as small housekeepers in this country are not famed for their knowledge of soup making, even with gravy-beef at their disposal.
On looking down this list it will be observed that in many cases cream—or, at any rate, milk—is recommended. We can well imagine the housekeeper exclaiming, “I don’t call this economy.” This is one point about which we consider a few words of explanation necessary. We will suppose a family of eight, who have been accustomed to live in the ordinary way, are going to have a vegetarian dinner by way of trial. Some soup has to be made, and one or two vegetables from the garden or the greengrocer’s, as the case may be, are going to be cooked on a new method, and the housekeeper is horrified at the amount of butter she finds recommended for the sauce. People must, however, bear in mind that changes are gradual, and that often, at first starting, a degree of richness, or what they would consider extravagance, is advisable if they wish to reconcile others to the change. In our dinner for eight we would first ask them how much meat would they have allowed a head? At the very lowest computation, it could not have been decently done under a quarter of a pound each, even if the dish of meat took the economical form of an Irish stew; and had a joint, such as a leg of mutton, been placed upon the table, it would probably have been considerably more than double. Supposing, however, instead of the meat, we have three vegetables—say haricot beans, potatoes, and a cabbage. With the assistance of some really good butter sauce, these vegetables, eaten with bread, make an agreeable meal, which, especially in hot weather, would probably be a pleasant change. Supposing, for the sake of argument, you use half a pound of butter in making the butter sauce. This sounds, to ordinary cooks, very extravagant, even supposing butter to be only one shilling per pound. Suppose, however, this half a pound of butter is used as a means of going without a leg of mutton? That is the chief point to be borne in mind in a variety of recipes to follow. The cream, butter, and eggs are often recommended in what will appear as wholesale quantities, but, as a set-off against this, you have no butcher’s bill at all. We do not maintain that this apparently unlimited use of butter, eggs, and occasionally cream, is necessary; but we believe that there are many families who will be only able to make the change by substituting “nice” dishes, at any rate at first starting, to make up for the loss of the meat. It is only by substituting a pleasant kind of food, that many will be induced even to attempt to change. Gradually the living will become cheaper and cheaper; but it is unwise to attempt, in a family, to do too much at once.
There are many soups we have given in which cream is recommended; for instance, artichoke soup, bean soup, cauliflower soup, and celery soup. After partaking of a well-made basin of one of these soups, followed by one or two vegetables and a fruit pie or stewed fruit, there are many persons who would voluntarily remark, “I don’t seem to care for any meat.” On the other hand, were the vegetables served in the old-fashioned style, but without any meat, there are many who would feel that they were undergoing a species of privation, even if they did not say so—we refer to a dish of plain-boiled potatoes and dry bread, or even the ordinary cabbage served in the usual way. Supposing, however, a nice little new cabbage is sent to table, with plenty of really good white sauce or butter sauce, over which has been sprinkled a little bright green parsley, whilst some crisp fried bread surrounds the dish—the cabbage is converted into a meal; and if we take into account the absence of the meat, we still save enormously. The advice we would give, especially to young housekeepers, is, “Persuasion is better than force.” If you wish to teach a child to swim, it is far easier to entice him into shallow water on a hot summer’s day than to throw him in against his will in winter time.
Another point which we consider of great importance is appearances. As far as possible, we should endeavour to make the dishes look pretty. We are appealing to a very large class throughout the country who at all cost wish to keep up appearances. It is an important class, and one on which the slow but gradual march of civilisation depends. We fear that any attempt to improve the extreme poor, who live surrounded by dirt and misery, would be hopeless, unless they still have some lingering feeling of this self-respect. For the poor woman who snatches a meal off bread-and-dripping, which she eats without a table-cloth, and then repairs to the gin-shop to wash it down, nothing can be done. This class will gradually die out as civilisation advances. This is seen, even in the present day, in America.
Fortunately,