• 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 6%ap, V: swj^titr.___ 
 
 UNITED STiTES OF AMERICA. 
 
 
 
Cooking and Castle-Building. 
 
 BY 
 
 EMMA P. EWING. 
 
 .r 
 
 BOSTON: 
 JAMES K. OSGOOD AND COMPANY. 
 
 1880. 
 
^+^ 
 
 / 
 
 £?.-■ 
 
 A-': 
 
 x^ 
 
 01^^' 
 
 Copyright, 1880, 
 By JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Stereotyped bt 
 
 HEYMER & AMORY, 
 
 Boston. 
 
 Printed by Wright <fc Potter Printixg Compant, 18 Post Office Sq., Boston. 
 
PEEFACE AND DEDICATION. 
 
 To GRACE GREEKWOOD : 
 
 My Dear Friend, — To you who so nearly fill my ideal of 
 a true American woman, I would like to inscribe this little 
 volume; Lut as it is more especially w^ritten for younger 
 women than you and I, the proper thing, I presume, is to ask 
 you to permit me to dedicate it to your artlessly charming 
 daughter. 
 
 I know right well you will cheerfully grant the request. 
 But before doing so, I fancy you quizzically inquiring, and 
 myself gravely informing you, about the nature of the volume, 
 somewhat in this wise : — 
 
 " Is the book a novel ? " 
 
 " A little like a novel." 
 
 " Or, is it a cook-book ? " 
 
 " A good deal like a cook-book ? " 
 
 " Or, a volume of sermons ? " 
 
 " Very like a volume of sermons." 
 
 " Ah, well ! then it must be a good book." 
 
 " O yes ! a remarkably good book." 
 
 Therefore, in the hope that she will find pleasure in its 
 perusal, 
 
 "COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING" 
 
 IS 
 
 Bttrtcattti 
 
 To ANKIE LIPPIKCOTT. 
 
 No woman of her age, I am very confident, can read it with- 
 out profit. And no housewife, I flatter myself, can carefully 
 follow its directions and advice without doing something to 
 aid on the cause so dear to your and my heart, by haviug her 
 table supplied with well-prepared food ; and thus helping to 
 secure for herself, her family, and her friends, that most 
 desirable of earthly attainments — a pleasant home. 
 
 [3] 
 
00]S[ TEK"TS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED. 
 
 In New York. — Plans and Projects Ventilated. — Cooks and 
 Cook-books Discussed. — Where shall wo Spend the Summer ? 
 — The Question Settled. — Off to Maplewood, . . 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW WE MADE BREAD. 
 
 Alice Makes Yeast. — The Way She Made it. — About 
 Yeast. — Setting the Ferment. — Preparing the Sponge. — 
 Working the Dough. — Letting it Rise. — Miss Beecher on 
 Bread. — Making the Loaves. — Baking Bread. — French 
 Twist. -- Care of Bread, . 16 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 
 
 Graham Bread. — Rolls. — Egg Rolls. — Bread without Po- 
 tato. — When to Set Ferment. — Soda Denounced. — Cream 
 Biscuit. — Strawberry Shortcake. — Maryland Biscuit. — 
 Alice as Cook. — Her First Breakfast. — What She Pre- 
 pared, and How She Prepared it, 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FOOD AND FANCY. 
 
 Fried Chicken. — Graham Gems. — English Muffins. — Gra- 
 ham Cakes. — Mushes. — Directions for Cooking them. — Oat- 
 meal. — Crushed and Cracked Wheat. — Hominy or Grits. — 
 Stewed Chicken. — Stewed Meats. — Alice's Adventure. — 
 
 Alice's Dream. — Gerald Douglas, 49 
 
 [5] 
 
b CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 
 
 At Breakfast. — Cliat about Cakes, Griddles, and Greasers. 
 
 — Bread Cakes. — Waffles. — Flannel Cakes. — Muffins. — 
 Buckwheat Cakes. — Corn Bread. — Dodgers. — Muffins. — 
 Slappers. — Something about Ghosts, .... 66 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 
 
 Coffee. — How to Roast Coffee. — How to Make Coffee. — 
 A Bachelor's Letter. — English Breakfast Tea. — Black and 
 Green Teas. — Mandarin Tea. — How to Make Toast. — Fan- 
 ny's Letter. — Pease. — Asparagus. — Green Beans. — Dried 
 Beans. — Pork and Beans. — Stewed Corn. — Corn Oysters. — 
 About Potatoes, 83 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT DINNER. 
 
 A Dissertation on Soup. — About Roasting Meats. — Searing 
 Meats. — Dry Roasting. — How to Sear and Roast Meat. — 
 Boiled Meats and Fowls. — Salt Meats. — To Boil Ham. — 
 Beets, Onions, Cabbage, and other Vegetables. — Suitability 
 of Food. — Things that Eat Well Together. — Rice Pudding. 
 
 — Butter. — Boiled Rice. — Steamed Rice. — A Visit to Mrs. 
 Douglas's Rooms. — Susannah's Story. — Family Portraits. 
 
 — Mysteries, 104 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 
 
 Chicken. — Beefsteak. — Lamb Chops. — Mutton Chops. — 
 Broiling without a Gridiron. — How to Broil. — Broiled Quail. 
 
 — Canvas-back Ducks. — Terrapin. — Mrs. Rose's Omelet. — 
 Her Trials and Failures. — Her Final Success. — How the 
 Omelet was Made. — Chicken Salad. — Salad Dressing. — 
 Frizzled Beef. — Mrs. Douglas's Letter. — Emeline An- 
 noyed, 123 
 
CONTENTS. 7 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 Moralizing. — The Prince of Fruits. — Cooked Apples. — 
 Sugar and Spice. — The Flavor of Fruits. — Canned Fruits. 
 
 — Fruit Mushes. — Jams and Jellies. — Apple Pie. — Cousiu 
 Kate V. Parson Beecher. — Cambric Tea. — Linen Pie. — 
 Baked Apples. — Stewed Apples. — Tapioca Pudding. — 
 Fruit at Meals. — Sugaring Berries. — On the Veranda. 
 
 — Gerald's Musings, 140 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 
 
 Egg-Plant. — Fried Squash. — Fried Oysters. — Scalloped Oys- 
 ters. — Fish-Balis. — Hashes. — Scrapple. — A Stew. — Per- 
 sonal Matters. — Cousin Kate's School Project. — Boarding- 
 Houses. — Homes. — The Professor's Story. — Beds and 
 Blankets. — House- work. — Drudgery.— "A Shy" at Re- 
 formers. — The Reform Most Needed. — Proper Home-Train- 
 ing of Girls, 1C5 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 About Cake. — Bread Cake. — Buns. — Doughnuts. — Pickled 
 Cabbage. — Tomato Sauce. — Cucumber Catsup. — Cucumber 
 Pickle. — Spiced Peaches. — Spiced Damsons. — On the Ver- 
 anda after Tea. — An Interchange of Thoughts. — Cousin 
 Kate on Little Things. — Good-by to Maplewood, . . 190 
 
COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED. 
 
 My cousin Emeline, after a two years' sojourn 
 in Europe with her only child, Alice, had returned, 
 and was loitering in New York, undecided as to 
 where they should spend the summer. 
 
 Abroad, Alice had devoted herself assiduously 
 to French, German, and music, while her mother 
 had employed much of her time in writing a 
 novel. 
 
 One day in early June, a fortnight after their 
 arrival in the American metropolis, Emeline, 
 looking up from the book she had been reading, 
 exclaimed,— 
 
 " ' O for a lodge in some vast wilderness ! ' 
 Another week of this horrible din and confusion 
 will be the death of me. Day and night it is one 
 unceasing uproar. Kate, where can we hide our- 
 selves for three months and enjoy uninterrupted 
 rest, while I revise that book of mine?" 
 
 I answered her by asking, "Would you mind 
 going to Westfield ? " 
 
10 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " I feel just now as if I would not mind going 
 to the ends of the earth, if necessary, in search of 
 undisturbed quiet. But why go to Westfield?" 
 
 " Because my friend Jennie Douglas has a beauti- 
 ful place there, which has been shut up for a year, 
 and will so remain for a year longer. The place 
 is left in care of the gardener ; but I have leave 
 to go there when I will, and stay as long as I see 
 fit, — why not bury ourselves there? AYe might 
 bribe the gardener and his wife to keep our pres- 
 ence a secret as much as possible." 
 
 "The very thing," responded Emeline. "Let 
 us start to-morrow. But where shall ^XG get our 
 rations while there, and who will cook them for 
 us? If we install a retinue of servants in the 
 house, w^e may as w^ell abandon all thought of 
 rest or comfort." 
 
 "I have a plan," I said, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion, " which will help me carry out a pet project 
 of my own, and at the same time enable us to 
 dispense with servants." 
 
 " My adorable Kate ! proceed, divulge, explain. 
 I am all eagerness to know what pet project of 
 yours can be subserved by our burying ourselves 
 for three months in some out of the way place. I 
 fail to see how that will do aw^ay with the evils of 
 intemperance, or give the sufirage to woman." 
 
 " Emeline, in my wandering to and fro upon 
 the earth, I have been in a great many houses, 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED. 11 
 
 and have eaten of the labors of a great many 
 cooks. But the houses that deserved to be called 
 homes, wherein genuine comfort and cheerful hap- 
 piness dwelt peacefully together, — I could count 
 them all on my ten fingers. In searching for the 
 cause of this great lack, I cannot attribute it 
 entirely to the tyranny of man, or the servitude 
 of woman. I am forced to the conclusion that 
 women fail to appreciate the importance of the 
 Home. That in their just rebellion against lives 
 of drudgery and toil, they fail to see how much 
 of this drudgery is self-imposed, and what a grand 
 work each woman might do in her circumscribed 
 sphere if she could make the home attractive and 
 desirable above other places, to husband, sons, 
 and brothers. I have an idea that if the women 
 who are wives and mothers would bring all their 
 powers to bear in the right direction — making it 
 their first object to see that the home is comfort- 
 able and attractive, — a place where the husband 
 can rest, and the sons find pleasure, — that these 
 wives and mothers would constitute the most 
 efiective temperance crusaders ; that the labors 
 of the women who go forth to pray with and con- 
 vert the rumseller, would, in comparison with 
 their labors, count as nothing." 
 
 " Kate, I protest against being forced to listen 
 to your lecture on moral reform. Come to the 
 point. What is your pet project? " 
 
12 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 "Why, this: you see, Cousm Emeline, no 
 home can be what it ought to be, unless there is 
 a good cook in the establishment. A great many 
 of the sins of the world are traceable to bad food. 
 A carnal stomach has often more to do with crime 
 than a carnal heart. A popular writer says, 'you 
 may make houses enchantingly beautiful, hang 
 them with pictures, have them clean, airy, and 
 convenient ; but if the stomach is fed with sour 
 bread and burnt meats, it will raise such rebellion 
 that the eyes will see no beauty an3^where.' In- 
 deed, I cannot conceive of a man being a Christian 
 husband or father who is fed regularly upon half- 
 baked bread, burnt or raw beef, and vile tea and 
 coffee. Comfort with most of us is essential to 
 happiness. And I have seen the peace of a whole 
 family destroyed for the day by having muddy 
 coffee for breakfast. Now, Emeline, I'm coming 
 to the point. For years this matter has been a 
 burden upon my mind, day and night. I have 
 been longing to reach the ears and hearts of my 
 countrywomen upon this subject. At last the 
 longing has taking shape and form, and I see now 
 in what way I can approach them. As so much 
 of wealth and happiness, as well as enjoyment, is 
 dependent upon the food we eat, and as no home 
 can deserve the name without a- well-ordered table, 
 I have concluded to write a cook-book." 
 
 "Write a cook-book! W^eli, why in the name 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED. 13 
 
 %of all that is sensible, didn't you say so? But I 
 can't for the life of me sec how your writing a 
 cook-book will remedy the evils of which you 
 complain, or enable us to dispense with servants 
 at AVestfield. We have n perfect library of cook- 
 books already, and of making them there appears 
 to be no end. It requires an ordinary lifetime, 
 almost, to even glance at the thousands and tens 
 of thousands of recipes our numberless cook- 
 books contain, many of them proved perfect, and 
 handed down from generation to generation, along 
 with the family china and silver. Don't do it, 
 Kate." 
 
 " Cousin Emeline, you fail to comprehend my 
 purpose. I'm not going to add another to the list 
 of abominations miscalled cook-books, in which it 
 is impossil)le to find a recipe whereby an unskilled 
 or inexperienced housewife can make a loaf of 
 bread equal to that made by our best bakers. In 
 this one, which I pick up at random, I find only 
 eleven recipes in any way touching bread, — not 
 one of them minute and careful in detail, — while 
 I find in it sixty for cake, and fifty-eight for pies 
 and puddings. From glancing over our popular 
 cook-books, one Avould be apt to conclude the 
 leading praA^er of their writers Avas, ' Give us this 
 day our daily pastry.' In my cook-book I will 
 deal with the essential articles of food. I will 
 dilate upon the charms of bread, meats, and vcge- 
 
14 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 tables, at their best ; and omit those ncn-essential^ 
 and indigestible messes and mixtures, that have 
 been heretofore thrust so prominently forward. 
 Cook-booJ^ makers seem to take it for granted 
 that everybody knows how to make bread, broil a 
 steak, cook a potato, etc., etc. Yet these are the 
 very things that are almost universally spoiled, 
 and rendered unlit to eat, by the average house- 
 keeper. There are plenty of women — ten to one 
 I might say truthfully — who can make nice cakcj, 
 — but can't bake good bread, or broil a beefsteak 
 or mutton-chop properly. It is said : ^ A fair 
 Charlotte-Russe is easier to gain than a good cup 
 of coffee ; and you shall find a sparkling jelly to 
 to your dessert where you sighed in vain for so 
 simple a luxury as a well-cooked potato.' In this 
 retreat of ours, w^e will have undisturbed sway in 
 the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and I will do 
 the cooking in order to illustrate the perfection 
 of my recipes and methods." 
 
 "And a sorry time we Avill have, I fear, in eat- 
 ing the results of your experiments," retorted 
 Emeline ; " but no matter ; anything is preferable 
 to this horrid New York life. Let us call Alice, 
 and see if she consents to our plan." 
 
 Alice not only consented, but was greatly de- 
 lighted at the prospect of this nofel summer in 
 the country ; and still more that she would have 
 an opportunity of penetrating the mysteries of 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED. 15 
 
 the kitchen, or, as she expressed it, of " dabbling 
 in dough." 
 
 So the question was speedily settled. And 
 jvmed and equipped with chintz wrappers, linen 
 aprons, and rubber gloves, we arrived in due sea- 
 son at Maplewood, where, in the grand old 
 kitchen, Alice and I were to be found, morning and 
 evening, with rare exceptions, all through that 
 delightful summer, learning our lessons in the 
 science of cookery. 
 
16 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 HOW WE MADE BREAD. 
 
 I WAS indulgent to Alice, and for three days 
 allowed her to wander at will about the grounds 
 and through the maple forest near by, — to sit upon 
 the verandas, where clambering roses and sweet 
 honeysuckle scattered perfume on every breeze 
 that stole into the house, — to drink in the song of 
 birds until her heart overflowed with music. 
 Then, one morning, interrupting her in a trill, 
 which, for low, sweet melody, rivalled the robin's 
 song, I said quietly, — 
 
 "Alice, my child, come to the kitchen and make 
 the yeast, for to-morrow we bake." 
 
 Stifling a half sigh, Alice ran after me, whirl- 
 ing and dancing as she went ; and this is the way 
 she made the yeast : 
 
 She put her small hand into the bag of hops, 
 and brought it out full of the dried blossoms. 
 These she placed in a tin stew-pan, and pouring 
 upon them a quart of boiling water, left them to 
 boil five minutes, while she stirred to a smooth 
 paste a gill of flour with a little cold water. 
 Then, through a tin strainer, she poured the boil- 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 17 
 
 iiig hop-water slowly upon the paste, stirring con- 
 tinuously that it might grow thin by degrees, and 
 perfectly mix with the hop-infusion. She boiled 
 this thin starch for a few minutes, stirring it while 
 on the range, lest it should settle and burn on the 
 bottom of the pan. Then she returned it to the 
 bowl, adding a large spoonful of salt and the same 
 of white sugar. When this mixture had cooled 
 to blood heat — or say 98° Fahrenheit — she 
 added a gill of yeast procured from the baker. 
 Stirring all well together, she covered the bowl 
 closely, throwing over it several folds of blanket 
 to protect it from draughts of air, and left it to 
 ferment or rise. Five or six hours later, finding 
 it getting light, she gave it a good beating, which 
 caused it to settle ; and this she repeated several 
 times during the day, until the yeast was " quiet " 
 enough to be poured into a glass jar, covered, and 
 set away in the cellar. 
 
 Each week during the summer this process of 
 making yeast should be repeated, always reserv- 
 ing a gill of the old yeast to start the new, and 
 always washing and scalding the glass jar with 
 care. If at any time your old yeast should be 
 unfit to start the new with, and you are unable to 
 procure any of a baker, yeast cakes will answer 
 the purpose. 
 
 It is less trouble to make yeast and keep it on 
 hand, than to send to the baker's for it when 
 
18 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 required ; besides, yeast made in this manner is 
 superior to that used by most bakers. In winter 
 it will keep two weeks. Glass is better than 
 stone for keeping yeast, being less porous, more 
 easily handled, and more readily cleansed. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the eveninsr we set the fer- 
 ment for the next day's baking. Into a large 
 earthen bowl we put four medium-sized potatoes, 
 — pared, boiled, and mashed, the same as for the 
 table. The water in which they boiled, we 
 drained carefully away. Many cooks use this 
 potato- water to set the ferment ; but " the potato, 
 nutritious and harmless as it appears, belongs to a 
 family suspected of very dangerous traits. It is 
 a family connection of the deadly nightshade, and 
 other ill-reputed gentry, and sometimes shows 
 strange proclivities to evil, — now breaking out 
 uproariously, as in the noted potato-rot, and now 
 more covertly in various evil affections. For this 
 reason, scientific directors bid us beware of the 
 Avater in which potatoes are boiled — into which it 
 appears the evil principle is drawn off; and they 
 caution us not to shred them into stews without 
 previously suffering the slices to lie for an hour or 
 so in salt and water." 
 
 To the potato we added a pint of flour, and, 
 gradually, two quarts of boiling water, stirring 
 the mixture constantly meanwhile. When all the 
 water was in, the contents of the bowl resembled 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 19 
 
 thin starch. When the temperature of the fer- 
 ment had cooled to blood-heat, we added a gill of 
 our new yeast, stirred it well, and covered it 
 closely, that it might retain its warmth unchilled 
 till morning. 
 
 Upon entering the kitchen next morning, I 
 found Alice already there. 
 
 "Have you looked at the ferment?" I asked. 
 
 "No, Cousin Kate, I dare not touch anything in 
 3^our absence, lest I do mischief; but, pray, let 
 me see it. Why, it looks like sea-foam. How 
 very lovely ! " 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "and were you to taste it, you 
 would find it not unpleasant, but a little sweet and 
 biting to the tongue. And now, from this pan of 
 flour, which we first sift and warm, we Avill add to 
 the ferment a handful at a time, stirring and beat- 
 ing it well meanwhile, until it is thick as batter; 
 then covering, leave it to rise. When light again, 
 and fairly dancing with life (or is it the dance of 
 death ?) , give it more flour and a good beating. 
 This whipping seems to take all the life out of the 
 batter, but you will find that the dough quickly 
 recovers its old spirits, and is all the lighter for 
 the heavy strokes given it. You will observe, 
 Alice, that I put no salt in the bread, there being 
 enough in the yeast to prevent it from tasting fresh 
 or flat. No one, I think, can like to taste salt in 
 bread." 
 
20 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " Cousin Kate, why do you set the ferment to 
 rise in an earthen bowl instead of a tin pan or 
 wooden tray ? " 
 
 " Tin does not protect the ferment from cold air 
 as does this thick earthenware ; and w^ooden ves- 
 sels are clumsy to handle, and difficult to keep 
 clean and sweet. Bear in mind, Alice, that you 
 cannot have perfect success in bread-making, if 
 you allow the ferment or sponge to change tem- 
 perature, alternating from cold to heat: you must 
 not permit it to take a chill, and then force it into 
 a fever by means of hot-air baths. Such treat- 
 ment will utterly demoralize any bread-sponge. 
 Start the bread at blood-heat, then keep it well 
 covered ; and whenever you add flour, let it be of 
 a moderately warm temperature. 
 
 " When the sponge is too stiff to be stirred and 
 beaten in this manner, put your hand into it, and 
 work it very thoroughly, adding flour slowly until 
 the douo^h clins^s too-ether and seems to have a 
 decided character of its own. The sides of the 
 bowl will then be clean of dough, and you can lift 
 the mass all together, and place it on the bread- 
 board, where you will knead it for half an hour 
 longer, adding flour only as is necessary to keep 
 the dough from sticking to the board or hands. 
 
 " When it works clean on the board, and seems 
 lively and spirited, it is well moulded ; but test 
 its temper in this way : give the dough a deep 
 
HOW WE MADE BllEAD. 21 
 
 poke with your fist, and if it takes the iusult 
 meekly and settles down on the board, it is not 
 v/orked sufficiently; but if, on the contrary, it 
 seems to resent the assault, and springs back after 
 your retreating hand, it is all right. 
 
 "Instead of kneading a large mass of dough on 
 the moulding-board, it is better to divide it, work- 
 ing the several parts alternately. Not only 
 because it is easier to mould in small parcels, but 
 because fermentation during the interval of rest 
 softens and renders it lighter than if contin- 
 uously moulded. 
 
 "We will divide this dough into two parts, one 
 of which we will place in this earthen bowl, 
 which has been warmed and well greased, you 
 perceive, and, covering closely, set aside to make 
 into French twist after it has again risen. The 
 remaining half we will subdivide into four parts, 
 making each into a round mass ; then by rolling it 
 back and forth under the hand, bring it into a form 
 resembling these bread-pans, which are four or five 
 inches wide, eight or ten long, and six deep ; and 
 made, you observe, of sheet-iron, not tin. But 
 for the weight, I would prefer to have them of 
 cast-iron. 
 
 "Having v/armed and greased the pans, put the 
 loaves in, and set them on the table close together, 
 covering them first with a towel, then with sev- 
 eral folds of woollen blanket or other cloth, reach- 
 
22 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ing to the table on all sides, thus excluding the 
 air from the pans. Bread covered in this way 
 rises evenly, and never has a dried, stifi' surface 
 before it is leaked. 
 
 " This bread will need to stand in the pans to 
 rise about an hour, perhaps longer, the exact time 
 required depending upon the quantity of flour 
 added at the last kneading, the temperature of the 
 bread when put in the pans, the state of the 
 atmosphere of the room, the size of the loaves, 
 and other circumstances. To decide when bread 
 is just light enough is a very nice point, and not 
 less important than difficult ; for, if you put it to 
 bake a moment too soon, you fail to realize all 
 the good which your labor has entitled you to ; 
 while, if you permit it to pass the point of perfect 
 lightness, you lose the bcbt results of your toil. 
 
 "Here, Alice, read what Miss Beecher says 
 upon the subject of bread, in the 'American 
 Woman's Home.'" 
 
 " The true housewife makes her bread the sov- 
 ereign of her kitchen — its behests must be at- 
 tended to in all critical points and moments, no 
 matter what else be postponed. She who attends 
 to her bread only when she has done this, and 
 arranged that, and performed the other, very 
 often finds that the forces of nature will not 
 wait for her. The snowy mass perfectly mixed. 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 23 
 
 kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beau- 
 tiful perfection till the moment comes for fixing 
 the air-cells by baking. A few moments now, 
 and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the 
 whole result be spoiled. ^lany bread-makers 
 pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and 
 mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in 
 it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to 
 some other of the so-called higher branches of 
 cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into 
 the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready 
 to attend to it, they lind that it has been going its 
 own way ; it is so sour that the pungent smell is 
 plainly perceptible. Now, the saleratus-bottle is 
 hauled down and a quantity of the dissolved alkali 
 is mixed with the paste, — an expedient sometimes 
 making itself too manifest by greenish streaks and 
 small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we 
 have a beautiful article spoiled, — bread without 
 sweetness, if not absolutely sour. 
 
 "In the view of many, lightness is the only 
 property required in this article. The delicate, 
 refined sweetness, which exists in carefully 
 kneaded bread, baked just before it passes to 
 the extreme point of fermentation, is something 
 of Avhich they have no conception ; and thus 
 they will even regard this process of spoiling 
 the paste by acetous fermentation, and then rec- 
 tifying that acid by effervescence with an alkali, 
 
24 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 as something positively meritorious. How else 
 can they relish baker's loaves, such as some pro- 
 duce, drugged with ammonia and other disagree- 
 able things; light, indeed, — so light that they 
 seem to have neither weight nor substance, but 
 with no more sweetness than so much cotton 
 wool ? 
 
 " Some persons prepare bread for the oven by 
 simply mixing it in the mass, without kneading, 
 pouring it into pans, and suffering it to rise there. 
 The air-cells in bread thus prepared are coarse 
 and uneven ; the bread is as inferior in delicacy 
 and nicety to that which is well kneaded, as a 
 raw servant to a perfectly educated and refined 
 lady. The process of kneading seems to impart 
 an evenness to the minute air-cells, a firmness of 
 texture, and a tenderness and pliability to the 
 whole substance, that can be gained in no other 
 way. 
 
 " The divine principle of beauty has its reign 
 over bread as wxll as over all other things ; it has 
 its laws of aesthetics ; and the bread which is so 
 prepared that it can be formed into separate 
 and well-proportioned loaves, each one carefully 
 worked and moulded, will develop the most 
 beautiful results. 
 
 " After being moulded, the loaves should stand 
 usually not over ten minutes, — just long enough 
 to allow the fermentation going on in them to 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 25 
 
 expand each little air-cell to the point at which it 
 stood before it was worked down, and then they 
 shonld be immediately put into the oven. 
 
 "Many a good thing, however, is spoiled in 
 the oven. One thins: should be borne in mind 
 as a prhiciple : that the excellence of bread in all 
 its varieties — plain or sweetened — depends on 
 the perfection of its air-cells, whether produced 
 by yeast, ogg, or effervescence ; that one of the 
 objects of baking is to fix these air-cells ; and 
 that the quicker this can be done through the 
 whole mass, the better will the result be. When 
 cake or bread is made heavy by baking too quickly, 
 it is because the immediate formation of the top 
 crust hinders the exhaling of the moisture in the 
 centre, and prevents the air-cells from cooking. 
 The weight, also, of the crust pressing down on 
 the doughy air-cells below, destroys them, — pro- 
 ducing that horror of good cooks, a heavy streak. 
 The problem in baking, then, is the quick appli- 
 cation of heat, rather below than above the loaf, 
 and its stead}^ continuance till all the air-cells 
 are thoroughly dried into permanent consistency. 
 Every housewife must watch her own oven to 
 know how this can be best accomplished." 
 
 "Cousin Kate, Miss Beecher says that after 
 being put in the pans, the bread should stand 
 not more than ten or fifteen minutes to rise, but 
 you say an hour." 
 
26 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " Miss Beecher referred to bread which is al- 
 lowed to rise in mass, after all the flour is in ; 
 and which is kneaded the last» time only just 
 enough to shape it into loaves ; but in this bread 
 which we are now baking, we dispense with this 
 last moulding, as I think the bread sweeter with- 
 out it. In the earlier stages of the process there 
 is no danger of working bread too much ; but, 
 after all the flour is in, and has been well worked 
 and perfectly fermented, the less it is manipulated 
 and the sooner it is put to bake, the better." 
 
 "Cousin Kate, why do you prefer these small 
 pans for baking, to a large pan, which would hold 
 all four of the loaves ? " 
 
 "For the reason given in the extract just read, 
 that ' the excellence of bread depends on the per- 
 fection of its air-cells, that one of the objects of 
 baking is to fix these air-cells, and that the quicker 
 this can be done through the whole mass, the bet- 
 ter will the result be.' 
 
 " Therefore, bake in small loaves, and let the 
 loaf touch the pan at all points, — not another loaf. 
 I have another reason, because it gives more 
 crust ; and crust is not only palatable, but a 
 physiological necessity. Remember that many a 
 good thing is spoiled in the oven, and when you 
 put the bread in the pans to rise, look after the 
 ransje fire." 
 
 "Cousin Kate, to return to the bread which is 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 27 
 
 rising, how am I to know when that critical 
 moment of perfect and exact lightness has come? 
 You have warned me against putting it to bake 
 too soon, and cautioned me not to allow it to stand 
 too long. Miss Beecher has also discoursed elo- 
 quently upon this fine point ; but neither you nor 
 she has explained the signs and signals that shall 
 proclaim, 'Behold, this bread is at the supreme 
 moment of its existence ; it has risen to its best 
 and highest point of perfection.'" 
 
 " That, Alice, is a difficult thing to do, so much 
 depends upon the close observation and fine dis- 
 crimination of the baker. But when you put 
 bread in the condition of this into the pans, notice 
 the size of the loaf, and allow it in rising to double 
 its bulk. When light, if you press your finger 
 gently upon the top of the loaf it will feel soft and 
 spongy beneath. Press it away slightly from the 
 side of the pan in such manner that you can see 
 the texture or grain, and, if it looks light, put it 
 into the oven ; for 1 would have it bake while 
 rising toward perfection unattained, rather than 
 after having fallen from grace. The taste of the 
 first suggests a better state as possible ; while 
 that of the last is hopelessly flat, stale, and un- 
 profitable. 
 
 "The bread should be in the oven ten or fifteen 
 minutes before it shows any little brown spots on 
 its surface ; and 'if these appear too soon, lessen 
 
2S COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 the heat, — not by opening the oven-cloor, but by 
 regulating the clamper and draughts of the range. 
 If the bread is not over light when put in the 
 oven, it had better bake too slowly at first than 
 too quickly ; and the heat should be greatest 
 under the loaf. 
 
 "It is highly important that the heat of the 
 oven should be just right when the bread is put in 
 it ; for if it bakes too quickly, it will not rise 
 properly, and if it bakes too slowly it will lack 
 character and sweetness. Close observation, how- 
 ever, will very soon enable any one to decide 
 when the oven is at right heat. 
 
 " When the bread is baked, the heat of the oven 
 should decrease gradually, so that the last of the 
 baking may be done very moderately. Be careful 
 not to remove the bread from the oven until it is 
 well done, or perfectly * soaked,' as the Southern 
 cooks say. When done, the crust should be 
 firm, and equally brown all over. It should ])e a 
 rich russet-gold, on the verge of a browner tinge, 
 — not that pale, sickly hue suggesting a dull fire, 
 and general dilapidation. To determine if bread 
 is done, wet your finger, and touch the bottom of 
 the pan outside ; if it hisses, the bread is done, 
 unless it has baked too rapidly. 
 
 " My grandmother's test was to touch the bottom 
 of the loaf to the end of her nose ; if it burned 
 her nose, the bread w\as not done. But you can 
 
HOW WE MADE BREAD. 29 
 
 judge best from the length of time it has been in 
 the oven, and from its lightness, whether or not 
 bread is thoroughly baked. A loaf six inches 
 thick should bake an hour, and thinner loaves in 
 proportion ; and a loaf of bread is much lighter 
 after than before it is well-baked. Always bake 
 small, thin loaves, unless forced to economize 
 oven-room, as they are sweeter than larger ones. 
 For this reason braided bread, or French twist, is 
 a desirable form of loaf. 
 
 " For the twist, take a piece of dough the size 
 of a small loaf, and bring it into a long loaf shape, 
 pointing it at the ends by giving them an extra 
 pressure or rolling ; then, with a rolling-pin, flat- 
 ten it like a pie-crust, rolling back and forth 
 lengthwise, as it must be much longer than it is 
 wide. Leave it an iuch*iu thickness, and, with a 
 a sharp knife, cut it lengthwise into three strips of 
 equal width. Leave these strips unseparated at 
 the end farthest from you, aud carefully plait or 
 braid them, pinching the ends well together. 
 Lift the twist with care, and place it in a pan 
 large enough to hold it without crushing or mar- 
 ring its form. If the dough is not allowed to get 
 cold and is properly covered, such twists will rise 
 in fifteen or twenty minutes ; but rememl)er, they 
 should be lighter than bread. If not baked too 
 brown, they will heat over nicely, by being placed 
 for a few minute^ in a hot oven and allowed to 
 
30 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 heat thoroughly, to the extent of taking on a 
 browner tinge. A twist reheated I think better 
 than one newly baked ; but a twist dried for half 
 an hour in a warm oven is another thing. Many 
 cooks bake twists too lightly ; all bread is more 
 digestible well baked. 
 
 "Upon removing bread from the oven, take it 
 out of the pans and tilt it against something upon 
 the table, leaving as much of the surface exposed 
 to the air as possible. Turn it after a few minutes, 
 lest it sweat and soften where it rests. Cover it 
 with nothing so long as it is too hot to be molested 
 by flies ; and, as it cools, if necessary, throw over 
 it a very light bread-cloth. When quite cold, put 
 it into a bread-box, which should be of tin, or 
 wood lined with zinc, — in a square form, and with 
 a convenient cover. Da not keep bread in the 
 cellar or other damp place, nor in a closet where 
 there is the odor of preserves or pickles. Taken 
 care of in this way, bread will keep perfectly for 
 several days, and I think is better the second or 
 third day after baking than the day it is baked. 
 Never allow loaves of bread to be cut while warm ; 
 for such use, bake in rolls or French twists, and 
 be very careful to have the bread-box emptied of 
 all stale pieces or crumbs, and perfectly clean and 
 dry when the new bread is put away. But this 
 will suffice for our lesson to-day." 
 
STILL DiVBBLING IN DOUGH. 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 
 
 "To-day, Alice, we will make rolls and Gra- 
 ham bread. Let us begin with Graham bread. 
 Having set the ferment last night, we noAV divide 
 it, pouring a portion into a separate bowl, into 
 which we stir Graham flour, adding more or less 
 sugar, according to taste, and a little salt. Add 
 flour, in small quantities at a time, and allow the 
 sponge to rise during the intervals. When too 
 stifi" to stir readily, work well with the hand until 
 the dough seems very elastic and clinging. Add, 
 at this working, all the flour required. When 
 stifi* enough, the dough will w^ork free from the 
 sides of the bowl ; but Graham bread should be 
 made less stiff* than white bread. Leave it in the 
 bowl to rise ; and, when light, knead it upon the 
 board only enough to shape into loaves, and 
 then put it in pans to rise. 
 
 " It is well to gash all loaves of bread with a 
 sharp knife, after they are in the pan. This in- 
 cision should be an inch deep, and extend nearly 
 the length of the loaf. This prevents binding, 
 and allows the loaf, in rising, more freedom to 
 
32 COOiaNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 shape itself gracefully. Put into warm pans, well 
 covered, in a warm room, these Graham loaves 
 will rise in twenty or thirty minutes ; possibly fif- 
 teen. Graham bread does not require quite so 
 hot an oven as white bread, but should bake a 
 longer time. 
 
 " For rolls we have here a quart or three pints 
 of ferment, into which we stir flour, the same as 
 for bread. In every case be careful to have the 
 flour warm, so that the fermentation may not be 
 checked. Should you, at any time, find the fer- 
 ment or sponge has received a chill, and is slow 
 in its action, add the necessary warmth, not by 
 placing it over a hot range, or close to the stove, 
 where the heat will be extreme at some points, 
 but by putting the bowl containing the sponge in 
 a pan of warm water, and stirring it until the 
 whole mass of dough becomes of an even temper- 
 ature. When this roll-sponge is thick enough to 
 be worked by the hand, add to it an ounce of but- 
 ter, or lard, for each pint of ferment. If you desire 
 to have rolls light and spongy, work them at least 
 half an hour in the bowl, adding flour very grad- 
 ually. Then place the dough upon the moulding- 
 board and knead it well, adding flour only as is 
 necessary to prevent it from sticking to the board 
 and hands. The appearance of blisters upon the 
 dough is an indication that it is well worked. 
 Havinir washed and warmed the bowl, and greased 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 33 
 
 it with sweet lard or butter, return the dough to 
 it, and let it rise. When light, loosen the dough 
 from the edge of the bowl and it will come out 
 clean. If the greasing is omitted, the dough ad- 
 heres, and must be scraped from the bowl and 
 then rubbed from the fingers by means of flour. 
 This covers the moulding-board with little hard 
 w^•lds, unfit to be worked into bread at this 
 stage. 
 
 " Bring the dough quickly, with a few pressures, 
 into a compact roll, and lay it aside. Cut from it 
 a piece the size of a small loaf, and divide this 
 into eight or ten parts ; mould each in a round 
 shape ; and then, by rolling quickly back and 
 forth under your hands, bring it into a long roll- 
 form. Give the ends an extra roll, which points 
 them slightly. Place at one end of the bread-pan, 
 and proceed in like manner to fill the pan with 
 rolls. It is well to flour the sides of the rolls 
 where they touch each other, as that will keep 
 them from running together ; and, when baked, 
 they are easily separated. Cover, and when very 
 light, bake the same as twist. They are nice re- 
 heated. To ascertain if they are done, test them 
 the same as bread ; and if you are still in doubt, 
 separate one from its fellows and press the finger 
 against the soft part. If it retain the impression 
 of the finger, it is not done. When baked suffi- 
 ciently, all bread, when the finger is pressed 
 
34 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 against it, will rebound as soon as the pressure is 
 withdrawn. 
 
 " When you wish to astonish your friends with 
 a marvel of delicate lightness in rolls, add to the 
 dough, when worked nearly enough to go on the 
 moulding-board, the whites of three or four eggs, 
 beaten to a stiif froth, and an additional half-ounce 
 of butter for each egg. The butter should be 
 worked in first ; the eggs later, and a little at a 
 time, alternating with flour. If eaten the same 
 day they are baked, these rolls are more delicate, 
 being lighter, more spongy, and whiter, than 
 without the egg ; but they are also richer, and do 
 not keep so well. In making egg-rolls, work 
 them almost entirely in the bowl, for they must 
 remain too soft to l)e long worked on the board. 
 The bread we have already baked is the kind pre- 
 ferred by most people, being light, spongy, and 
 sweet. For eating when fresh, for making into 
 milk toast, bread puddings, or griddle-cakes, and 
 for crumbs with which to scallop or fry oysters, 
 perhaps it is better for the spongy quality ; but to 
 a lover of bread and butter, pure and simple, 
 bread made in the same manner, without potato, 
 is best. It is light, but firmer and more compact 
 in texture, and has a crisp sweetness excelling the 
 other. In dry toast it is far better, having none 
 of that husky emptiness which is a characteristic 
 of dry toast made from spongy bread. Good 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 35 
 
 bread may be made without potato, with very 
 little labor. Beating it for a moment whenever 
 flour is added, it need receive no other attention 
 until stiff enough to be worked vrith. the hand, 
 when all the flour required can be worked in, dur- 
 ing fifteen minutes' kneading, and the bread be 
 placed immediately in the pans to rise. Make in 
 this manner, and given only this small amount of 
 time and labor, it will be found vastly supe- 
 rior to the bread at present disgracing a large pro- 
 portion of American tables." 
 
 " Cousin Kate, why do you scald the flour with 
 which you set the ferment for bread ? " 
 
 "After trying various methods, I obtained the 
 best results from so doing. Eising more slowdy 
 at first, the ferment appears to be quicker and 
 more active, when its strength is most required to 
 lighten the mass of flour. The scalding also pre- 
 vents the ferment from souring; and it can, after 
 becoming light, stand for hours without acquiring 
 that yeasty smell and taste which spoil so much 
 bread. But I have found, Alice, that to add flour, 
 or remould just before the ferment or sponge at- 
 tains its lightest stage, is always best; for if it 
 passes that stage a moment, and ' falls ' or * settles,' 
 something of sweetness and perfection is lost, that 
 no care or labor cau restore." 
 
 " Why do you use the wooden stick or spatula, 
 instead of a spoon, for beating the sponge?" 
 
36 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 "For several reasons. One is, that it is lighter ; 
 and the handle being round and smooth, does not 
 fret the hand like metal. Then, it cuts through 
 the dough more effectually than a spoon. My 
 grandmother's hasty-pudding stick was the model 
 after which this was made. It is well to have 
 several of these in a house. They should be made 
 of various sizes, of hickory, ash, or other hard 
 wood, and should be from a foot and a half to two 
 feet lonsr. The blade should be from one and a 
 half to two and a half inches in width, and four or 
 five in length, thickest in the middle, gradually 
 growing thin toward the edges, and square at the 
 bottom. This stick is preferable to a spoon for 
 beating cake or stirring mushes, and is quite indis- 
 pensable in the fruit season, to keep small fruits 
 stirred from the bottom of the preserving-kettle 
 while cooking." 
 
 "Cousin Kate, all the cook-books that I have 
 seen agree that milk is better than water for mak- 
 ing bread. Why do you not use it?" 
 
 "For the reason that I differ in opinion from 
 those who think milk best. Milk that stands and 
 ferments, usually acquires an unpleasant smell and 
 taste. Sponge made with milk is more likely to 
 sour ; and bread made with milk, at the same time 
 that it is less sweet in flavor, dries sooner, and 
 does not keep so Avell. Lastl}^, water is cheaper, 
 and within the reach of all. The ferment for next 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 37 
 
 day's baking can be set at any time during the 
 afternoon or evening, except in hot weather, when 
 it is better to start it about eight or nine o'clock 
 in the evening." 
 
 *'You don't seem to have much faith in the 
 efficacy of soda in baking and cooking ? " 
 
 " Soda, as used in many househokls, is one of 
 the greatest abominations of the kitchen. It is a 
 malion intruder in all mixtures where an acid is 
 wanting ; and even where an acid is present, it 
 should be used with great care and discretion. 
 The introduction of baking-powders is a good 
 thing; for in these the acid and the alkali are 
 more accurately proportioned than by careless 
 cooks. Whenever I speak of a measure of bak- 
 ing-powder, I mean to designate the amount which 
 the maker of the powder directs to be used in a 
 given quantity of flour. Those baking-powders 
 which are put up in separate parcels — the one 
 containing the alkali, the other the acid — are 
 perhaps preferable, but should only be used by 
 cooks who believe in careful and exact measure- 
 ments. In some cases, tin measures accompany 
 the powder ; in others, a teaspoon is the measure 
 desimiated. To attain exactness in these measure- 
 ments, place a portion of the powder on the mould- 
 ing-board, and, with a knife, mash it smooth; 
 then, fill the measure heaping full, and, with the 
 knife, strike oif all above the rim. Where exact- 
 
38 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 
 
 ness is indispensable, make even (never heaping) 
 measures. Mix the quantity to be used with a 
 small portion of flour by repeated siftings, which 
 can be easily and quickly accomplished by the use 
 of two pieces of strong soft paper. Place the 
 sieve on one of these, and empty the flour from 
 the other into it ; shake through, and repeat as 
 often as desirable. In all batter-cakes or soft 
 dough, where baking-powder is used, mix it in 
 this manner with a small quantity of flour, which 
 add near the close of the mixing process ; but in 
 biscuit and stiff dough, sift the baking-powder 
 through all the flour used. Some cooks are 
 affected with soda mania. On general principles, 
 as it seems, they put soda in all breads and cakes. 
 If not required to sweeten or make light, they 
 confidently assert it will make tender. So the 
 greens are plagued, the string-beans tormented, 
 and the young pease cursed, by this evil spirit, 
 the exorcism of which would be a blessing to 
 thousands. 
 
 "For lunch to-day, Alice, you shall make some 
 cream biscuit which will take your mamma cap- 
 tive, and charm her as completely as any material 
 substance can, if the biscuits you produce rival, 
 as I hope the}^ may, the puffy things made by my 
 rosy-cheeked friend, Sally. Sally and I were girls 
 together, and much of my summer rest was found 
 at the old farm-house, where she and her sisters 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 39 
 
 grew up, blossomed, and faded, as the years went 
 by, in which I served my State as instructor of 
 its youth. Through all my life, in which, I am 
 sorry to say, hot biscuits have been a not infre- 
 quent event, I have never found any that quite 
 equalled Sally's. She, however, was the only 
 one in the family who invariably made them just 
 ri«:ht. If her mother or one of her sisters under- 
 took the task, the cakes often came out of the 
 oven yellow, and smelling of soda because of an 
 overdose; or white and *sad,' because too little 
 had been used ; for the exact amount required 
 depended upon the acidity of the cream. Sally 
 had the knack of guessing just right. Taking the 
 bowl of sour cream in her hand, she would stir 
 and taste it with a critical air ; and giving a w^iso 
 little nod, as if she had solved the riddle, proceed 
 to measure a teaspoon, half full, even full, or heap- 
 ing full, of soda, which she placed in a cup, and 
 poured on it a spoonful of boiling water. Let- 
 ting this stand, she made room in the middle of 
 the flour for the cream; and, with., her fingers, 
 mixed the flour nearest the cream lightly in, add- 
 ing a pinch of salt. While it was still a soft 
 batter, she drained into it the soda, leaving any 
 sediment there might be in the cup. Then her 
 hands danced here and there through the dough, 
 mixing it rapidly until stifi* enough to roll out on 
 the bread-board, cut into round cakes, and place 
 
40 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUn^DING. 
 
 immediately Iq a quick oven. In twenty minutes 
 these cakes came out of the oven four times as 
 thick as they went in, the most delicate, puJSy 
 things imaginable ; but i/oicr cream biscuit, Alice, 
 must be made with sweet milk and a little butter, 
 instead of cream. 
 
 " To a quart of flour, add a measure of baking- 
 powder, sifting the whole three or four times, and 
 two ounces of butter, so carefully rubbed through 
 the flour that you cannot find a particle the size 
 of a pin-head. Add cold sweet milk, to make a 
 soft dough; roll out, cut into cakes, and bake in 
 a quick oven." 
 
 At lunch. Cousin Emeline praised the biscuits 
 as she ate them with strawberries, which had been 
 sprinkled with sugar, and set in the refrigerator 
 for half an hour. The sugar, with its sweet art, 
 had coaxed enough juice from the berries to dis- 
 solve itself; and, wrapped in this delicious syrup, 
 the berries were far more palatable than when 
 eaten sharpl}^ acid, with a portion of dry sugar. 
 Alice was pleased with the praise her mother 
 bestowed upon the biscuit, until it occurred to her 
 that even a higher achievement had been possible. 
 Then she asked, half reproachfully, — 
 
 " Cousin Kate, why did you not have me make 
 a strawberry shortcake, — or don't you know 
 how?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. You would make the shortcake just 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 41 
 
 like these biscuits ; roll the dough quite thin, not 
 much thicker than pie-crust, and baking on pie- 
 pans, the size of the pan. When baked, with a 
 fork and your fingers separate the upper and 
 under crust of the cake, spread the inside with 
 butter, and laying one-half of the cake on a plate, 
 cover it thickly with berries, well sprinkled with 
 susrar. Then add another half cake and another 
 layer of berries, till the pie is thick enough, fin- 
 ishing with fruit. If you desire to disguise, and, 
 in a measure, destroy the flavor of the berry, 
 serve strawberry shortcake Avith sweet cream 
 poured over it. The cream also renders it more 
 indigestible. My opinion is, that any one, after 
 eating sweet, crisp loaf-bread, a day old, with 
 strawberries served lilvc these, will never volun- 
 tarily run the risk of dyspepsia, for the sake of 
 hot biscuit or strawberry shortcake. 
 
 "Belonging to the bread family, and a very 
 genuine, respectable member thereof, is our round, 
 chubby little travelling companion, known as 
 'Maryland Biscuit.' Although rarely met with 
 outside the State whose name it bears, it is a very 
 desirable acquaintance for travellers who provide 
 their own lunches ; for picnic parties, and for 
 ladies who desire always to have the pantry well 
 stored with good things. The Maryland biscuit 
 occupies that happy medium state between a 
 cracker and an ordinary biscuit or roll, and is by 
 
42 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 many preferred to either. To bring these cukes 
 out of the oven perfect specimens of their kind, 
 requires some labor, as it is necessary not only to 
 knead, but also to pound qv beat them with a 
 heavy hammer or mallet. ' To four pints of flour 
 add three ounces of lard, a teaspoonful of salt, 
 and a pint.of cold water. Rub the lard and salt 
 through the flour until perfectly mixed, before 
 adding the water. This proportion of w\ater may 
 not be the exact quantity in all cases, as some 
 flour requires more, some less ; but the dough 
 must be very stiff", and rendered soft and pliable 
 by working and pounding. When light, and well 
 w^orked, the dough will ^ blister,' and pulling off 
 a small piece quickly will cause a sharp, snapping 
 sound. When these signs appear, rest from the 
 labor of pounding ; gather between your fingers a 
 little ^vad of the dough, pull it suddenly from the 
 main lump, and, moulding it into a round mass, 
 lay aside, face downward. In like manner fashion 
 enough to fill the bread-pan. Then, one by one, 
 pick up these round balls, and hold each for an 
 instant in the hollow of your left hand. While 
 nestled there so cozily, place your right thumb 
 squarel}' in its face, enlarging equally its surface, 
 and leaving a hollow in the centre ; place in the 
 bread-pan, not allowing the biscuits to touch each 
 other. Prick them with a fork. Bake at once in 
 a hot oven until done, and of a light brown color. 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 43 
 
 If the cakes are * sad,' or heavy inside, when cold, 
 they are not sufficiently baked, as they should be 
 light, and of a fine, even grain. AYlien most per- 
 fect, these biscuits crack at the edges or sides, the 
 upper and under crust being forced apart, in order 
 to give a hint of the lightness and whiteness 
 within. When your oven is sufficiently hot, 
 twenty minutes is about the average time required 
 to bake them properly. ^ 
 
 " No Maryland supper-table is in company order 
 without these modest, unpretending little fellows, 
 who are quite at home with fried oysters, and fit 
 company for cold turkey and broiled chicken." 
 
 One morning at breakfast, Alice asked, " When 
 m!iy I be queen of the kitchen for a whole week, 
 and do all the cooking without any supervision. 
 Cousin Kate? I shall not feel really certain that 
 I know how to cook so long as you have to over- 
 see me. Besides, when are you to write that 
 lecture on 'The Proper Rearing and Training of 
 Children,' if you devote all your time to me and 
 the kitchen?" 
 
 After reflecting a moment, I replied, "Your 
 suggestion is a good one, Alice, and this plan 
 occurs to me : For one week I will do the cooking, 
 and you shall observe and help as heretofore ; and, 
 during the week, you shall note the bill of fare at 
 each meal, and make such memoranda as you 
 
44 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 think necessary. Then, the v/cek following, you 
 niay repeat or duplicate my week of cooking." 
 
 "I like that proposition," said Alice : andEme- 
 Ime added, "I hope you'll make a judicious selec- 
 tion, Kate, if w^e are to repeat the bill of fare, — 
 good, bad, or indifferent." 
 
 The next day I began on the preparatory week, 
 and on the evening of the seventh day thereafter, 
 I abdicated in favor of Alice, who brought her 
 note-book, and, while finding the place, mur- 
 mured, " For breakfast one w^eek ago to-morrow 
 morning, we had — ^oh, here it is — oatmeal 
 mush, picked-up codfish cooked with cream, baked 
 potatoes, French twist reheated, coffee. Mem. 
 — At seven o'clock, when I entered the kitchen. 
 Cousin Kate stood by the long table, knife in 
 hand, bending over a codfish. She stripped off 
 large pieces of the fish, then cut them across the 
 grain, into pieces an inch long. As these were 
 two or three inches wide, she picked them into 
 small bits, throwing out the bones, and letting the 
 fish fidl into a pan of cold water. In a few 
 minutes she had thus prepared enough for break- 
 fast. Stirring it about in the water, she left it to 
 freshen, while she prepared the oatmeal mush. 
 Into a tin-lined stew-pan she put two pints of 
 water and half a teaspoonful of salt. When the 
 water boiled, she sprinkled in, slowly, half a pint 
 of oatmeal, stirring it with the mush-stick. The 
 
STILL DABBLIXG IN DOUGH. 45 
 
 water was boiling quite rapidly. In two minutes 
 the meal was all in, but she continued to stir, 
 letting it boil for two or three minutes longer, 
 when it appeared about the consistency of thick 
 gruel or thin batter. Then she placed the stew- 
 pan back on the range, where the heat was only 
 enough to keep it simmering. Removing the stick 
 and covering closely, she left it undisturbed till 
 breakflist. Next, she took six potatoes of medium 
 size, and, washing them very clean, placed them 
 in a pan ready for the oven. Then she ground 
 the coffee and put it to steep, not boil. She 
 allowed a tablespoonful of coffee for each cup ; 
 and, placing it in the pot, added a cup of cold 
 water, and set it back on the range to steep. If 
 it chanced to boil, she added more cold water. 
 Just before serving breakfast, she added as much 
 boiling water as was needed, and allowed it to 
 boil for a minute ; then she lifted the pot to the 
 kitchen table, and with a spoon removed the 
 grounds which adhered to the inside of the pot, 
 near the top. Rinsing these off, she poured out 
 part of a cup, which she put inmiediately back, 
 added a spoonful of cold water, and sent the coffee 
 to the breakfast-table. When mamma poured it, 
 three minutes later, it was clear as amber. Cousin 
 [p^ate selected a bowl-shaped iron kettle holding 
 about two quarts, and not a shallow pan or spider, 
 in which to cook the codfish. She stirred the fish 
 
46 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 about in the water, and drained it in a tin strainer, 
 then placed it in the kettle with half a pint of 
 fresh water, covered it close, and let it boil for 
 ten minutes, or until the water was all evaporated, 
 and the fish well cooked. At this stage she added 
 a pint of thin cream ; and when it boiled, two 
 spoonfuls of flour stirred to a smooth paste in a 
 little cold milk, let it boil for a minute or two, 
 peppered it lightly, and served it. About ten 
 minutes before breakfast, she put the twist into 
 the oven ; and, from time to time, looked at it to 
 be sure it was not burning. When the potatoes 
 were baked, breakfast was served immediately. 
 Cousin Kate lifted the pan containing them to the 
 kitchen table ; then, one by one, picked up the 
 potatoes in a cloth, which she held to protect her 
 hand, gave each a gentle squeeze, imtil opened its 
 mouth, whence issued a pufi' of hot air ; then 
 placing them in a dish, sent them to the table." 
 
 When Alice had finished reading these notes 
 from her memorandum book, I said, " Correct, to 
 the minutest particular." She smilingly answered, 
 as she bade me good-night, " Then let not your 
 heart be troubled about breakfast, nor have a 
 thought of care or responsibility. I shall ring 
 the dressing-bell at half-past seven, and woe be- 
 tide you and mamma, if you spoil my first break- 
 fast by your tardiness." 
 
 Cousin Emeline and I were on time next morn- 
 
STILL DABBLING IN DOUGH. 47 
 
 ing, and presented our queen of the kitchen with 
 a bouquet of freshly-gathered flowers, in the 
 arrangement of which we had spent some anxious 
 moments. As I served the codlish (white, creamy, 
 and tempting), I said, "Now iJds fills the spoon in 
 a plump and satisfactory manner. I am very 
 fond of codfish when properly cooked ; and I find 
 it terribly trying, sometimes, to have so appetiz- 
 ing a dish fraudulently represented by bits of fish 
 half-cooked, and salt as brine, straying forlornly 
 about in a sloppy gravy. But this is just right ; 
 neither too thick nor too thin. In this artistic 
 combination, it is difficult to decide where the fish 
 ends, and where the gravy begins." 
 
 Here Emeline interrupted my rhapsody over 
 the fish, by asking, "Where is the boiled milk 
 for Kate's coffee, Alice ? " 
 
 " There ! I've for<2:otten the milk. But how did it 
 happen that it was not down in my memoranda ? " 
 
 "For the reason, I dare say, that boiling milk 
 in a milk-boiler requires very little attention. 
 You fill the inner boiler Avith milk and the outer 
 one with water, and set it back on the range, 
 where it simmers and sings to itself, until needed ; 
 and I suppose you neglected to make note of so 
 trifling a matter." 
 
 "I am very sorry, indeed. Cousin Kate ; for to 
 weaken your coffee with water will spoil it." 
 
 " Not at all, when I have cream like this. But 
 
48 COOKmO AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 isn't it strange, Emeline, that so indispensable a 
 thing as a milk-boiler should be so rarely found 
 in the kitchen? — and that the mistress of the 
 house should go on, year after year, boiling milk 
 in all sorts of pots and pans, — often scorching it 
 so that it is unfit for use, wasting the milk, and 
 spoiling her temper, all for the want of a milk- 
 boiler which costs a dollar ? " 
 
 "But supposing, Kate, she hasn't got the dollar, 
 and if she asks her husband for it, he answers 
 wdth contempt, ^Milk-boiler, indeed ! My mother 
 was one of the best cooks in the world, and she 
 never heard of a milk-boiler ! ' What would you 
 do in such a crisis, Kate?" "I don't know; but 
 I have serious thoughts now, of writing a lecture, 
 as soon as the one about children is finished, 
 entitled, ' The Abuse of Power, or the Cause and 
 Cure of Domestic Infelicity.' Here Alice laughed 
 outright, saying, "Excuse me. Cousin, but it 
 seems so funny that you who never had husband 
 or child, should write upon these subjects." 
 
 " For that very reason, Alice, may I not be an 
 impartial and unprejudiced observer? Commend 
 me to an old maid or an old bachelor for true 
 wisdom on these subjects." 
 
 Thus, in idle talk we whiled away an hour over 
 Alice's first breakfast, which Emeline and I pro- 
 nounced a success, notwithstanding the forgotten 
 milk. 
 
FOOD AND FANCT. 49 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 FOOD AND FANCY. 
 
 Emeline passed her plate for a second piece of 
 chicken, remarking, as she did so, "These chick- 
 ens that you and Alice fry must be a new kind, 
 for so far as I can discover, they have neither 
 backs, necks, legs, nor wings. Truly a valuable 
 breed this must be, which runs entirely to breast 
 and second joints ; the frying kind, I suppose. 
 But seriously, Kate, what do you do with the 
 remainder of these fowls, and how do 3^ou cut 
 such plump, compact little pieces, each one of 
 which is a delicious surprise on a near acquaint- 
 ance?" 
 
 I was thinking about another matter, and 
 replied, " Cousin Emeline, in this cook-book 
 of mine, I mean to devote one whole chapter 
 to the consideration of suitability. I have a 
 friend, the charming Mrs. Eose ; you used to 
 know her ; a woman of fine native talent, rare 
 culture, easy, afiable manner, and great personal 
 beauty. But her one charm, which with me out- 
 shines all others, is tact. She has tact more per- 
 fectly developed than any one I ever knew. 
 
50 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 Prince or beggar feels alike at ease in her pres- 
 ence ; but she would never think of inviting them 
 to her house on the same occasion. If she is 
 going to have a little supper-party of ten or a 
 dozen, and her guests are invited to meet a friend 
 who may be staying with her, she says to herself, 
 * Now here is Fanny, with such and such tastes. 
 She is this order of person. I will invite those 
 people to meet her who are harmonious ; such as 
 will call out her peculiar powers ; some sharp con- 
 trasts. She goes to work in an artistic manner 
 and selects her guests, having reference mainly to 
 suitability. This same tact is called into exercise 
 in deciding what her dinner or supper shall be. 
 The principal dish determines what shall be its 
 companions. But many w^omen seem to lose sight 
 entirely of this suitability of things, especially in 
 eating. Such are just as likely to have griddle- 
 cakes and fish for breakfast, as griddle-cakes and 
 stewed chicken, or griddle-cakes and beefsteak." 
 
 " But to. return to this chicken," said Emeline. 
 "In all my travels, at home and abroad, I never 
 tasted its equal. How is it prepared? " 
 
 "Why, you see, mamma," said Alice, "having 
 fried chicken for dinner necessitates having stewed 
 chicken for breakfast, either before or after, in 
 order to use the other parts. But this is true 
 economy. Cousin Kate says ; for wdiile the breast 
 and second joints are best fried, the other parts 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 51 
 
 are much better stewed, From the breast we get 
 three nice fiying pieces, so nearly alike that you 
 can scarcely tell them apart. Having decided 
 where to cut it, histead of sawing and haggling 
 with a dull knife, and in the stru2:o:le mutilatinor 
 the pieces so that they remind you of ' the ragged 
 edge of despair,' Cousin Kate puts the breast of the 
 chicken on the meat-board, and placing the knife 
 just where she wishes to cut, strikes it a blow that 
 sends the blade through the chicken at one clean 
 stroke. Having washed the pieces and dried them 
 on a soft towel, while the lard, of which there 
 should ))e a lil)cral supply, is heating, we rub each 
 piece of chicken lightly, with salt and pepper, 
 which has l^een mixed together in suitable propor- 
 tions, and just l)cforc dropping into the boiling 
 lard, dust it with flour. To ascertain if the lard 
 is hot enough, slip into it a slice of raw potato, 
 and when the potato is brown, the lard is suffi- 
 ciently heated. Drop into the boiling lard one 
 piece of chicken at a time, and let the bubbling 
 and tunmlt, incident to its reception, somewhat 
 subside before adding another. AVhen the pieces 
 are of a rich brown color, they will be found 
 well-cooked, and may be placed on a tin or wire 
 strainer in a warm oven, until ready to serve. 
 Chicken fried in this manner is much less gieasy 
 than when cooked in a small quantity of lard. 
 Xearlv all kinds of fresh fish are l:)est fried in the 
 
52 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDIXG. 
 
 same way. To parboil a chicken before frying, 
 Cousin Kate sa^^s, is barbarous treatment, not of 
 the chicken but of the people who eat it after it 
 has been robbed of its best juices." 
 
 "Now, Alice, tell me how you make these 
 Graham 'gems,' for I really tliink they deserve 
 the name." 
 
 "To a pint each of cold, sweet milk and pure 
 water, add a teaspoonfiil of sugar, a salt-spoonful 
 of salt, and three pints of Graham flour. Sprinkle 
 in the flour slowl}^ stirring tjie mixture rapidly, 
 and when all is added beat the dough briskly for 
 a minute or two before an open window or door ; 
 for Cousin Kate says, pure air is very essential to 
 the life of bread, especiallj' bread which is made 
 light by beating. Bake the gems in iron gem- 
 pans or pulf-pans, half filling the cups which must 
 be well heated and greased. Bake in a quick 
 oven, the greatest heat beiug applied to the bot- 
 tom when first put in the oven. 
 
 "Fine flour gems, or English muffins, are made 
 in the same manner as Graham, omitting the sugar, 
 and adding a pint more of flour. Gems are good 
 made with water instead of milk and water. 
 
 "Very excellent Graham cakes are made by 
 putting a teaspoonful of sugar and a salt-spoonful 
 of salt into a quart of Graham flour, and pouring 
 upon it boiling water, stirring it meanwhile until 
 all is wet and soft enough to be worked into a 
 
FOOD AND FANCY, 53 
 
 mass resembling a large roll, or small loaf of 
 bread. Work it as little as possible, and when 
 brought into this shape, cut it with a sharp knife, 
 dipped in flour, into slices half an inch thick. 
 Place these in a bread-pan and bake in a hot oven 
 for half an hour, or until brown. There, Cousin 
 Kate, haven't I said my lesson well?" 
 
 " Perfectly. And having induced you, Alice, to 
 make and taste these kinds of Graham bread, I am 
 content, well knowing that you will push your 
 investigations, and find by experiment that the 
 varieties of delicious bread which can be made of 
 Graham flour and water are almost numberless." 
 
 After a moment's pause Emeline renewed the 
 conversation by saying, "Kate, I hope you will 
 devote some space in your book to mushes ; for, 
 although not a lover of them myself, I discover a 
 great difference in the appearance of oatmeal pre- 
 pared by your method, and that usually served. 
 And I notice that Alice eats your oatmeal with a 
 relish, whereas heretofore she has seemed to eat 
 all kinds of mushes from a sense of duty because 
 they were recommended by her physician." 
 
 "What a close observer you are, mamma ! " laugh- 
 ingly rejoined Alice. " But I own to liking Cousin 
 Kate's hygienic mushes rather better than those 
 which taste so decidedly of water. Hominy grits, 
 as often served, in a half-raw state, taste as I 
 imagine chicken-feed does. Crushed wheat when 
 
54 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 half cooked seems all bran. And underdone oat- 
 meal is as disagreeable a mixture as I care to par- 
 take of." 
 
 "The misnomers of the past," I said, in reply 
 to these observations, "cause us a great deal of 
 suffering. For instance, some careless, slovenly 
 cook, years ago, may have qnickly boiled corn 
 meal in water and named it "hasty pudding," and 
 unthinking people, judging it is so called because 
 little time is required to prepare it, go on from 
 generation to generation eating half-boiled mush, 
 or hasty pudding, without discovering that it is 
 best when made in a manner the very reverse of 
 hasty. Indeed, I know of no mush that is not 
 better for much cooking ; and slow cooking is also 
 preferable, after all the meal has been stirred in. 
 Many persons object to mushes because of the 
 trouble of preparing, as the general opinion is that 
 they require a special boiler, or must l)e constantly 
 stirred. This, however, is a mistake. The double 
 or jacketed boiler is no doubt most convenient for 
 cooking mushes in ; but a smooth, bowl-shaped, 
 iron kettle, and a wooden stick or spatula Avill 
 answer every purpose, and the process of making 
 need not be at all laborious. 
 
 For oatmeal, and crushed or cracked wheat, I 
 use the same proportions, — one measure of meal to 
 four of water, — sprinkling the meal slowly into the 
 water, Avhich must be boiling, and stirring con- 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. * 55 
 
 stantly. I continue the boiling and stirring, after 
 the meal is all in, until the mush thickens enough 
 to jump up and hop about in a lively manner. 
 Then I remove the stick, cover the vessel closely, 
 and set it where it will only simmer. An hour of 
 this slow boiling or simmering renders oatmeal 
 and crushed w^heat mushes far superior to those 
 made hastily by rapid boiling. ]Not only is the 
 grain and texture different ; but flavors, delicious 
 and not discovered in mushes made rapidly, seem 
 to be elicited from the grain by this quiet undis- 
 turbed simmering — especially is this the case 
 with crushed wheat. And by the way, I think it 
 is a mistaken impression that crushed wheat should 
 only be eaten hot. To my taste, it is far more 
 delicious cold, or nearty so. 
 
 " Many cooks complain of fine hominy or grits 
 being troublesome to cook, because of its tendency 
 to stick to the kettle, unless constantly stirred. 
 But I find that greasing the kettle with lard or 
 butter before putting the water in, seems to 
 obviate the difiiculty materially. Fine hominy 
 requires five measures of water to one measure of 
 hominy. It should be put into cold water, and 
 allowed to swell for half an hour, before the water 
 boils. While swelling it should be stirred every 
 few minutes. As soon as it begins to boil, place 
 it w^here it will boil rapidly for ten or fifteen 
 minutes, or until it becomes the proper consist- 
 
56 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ency, which should be the same as that of other 
 mushes, wheu it can bo set back, covered closely, 
 and allowed to simmer for an hour. All kinds of 
 mushes should be salted very slightly, and I think 
 it better to put tlie salt in the water before stirring 
 in the grain or meal. A majority of cooks spoil 
 mushes by over-salting them." 
 
 " It must be to get rid of their briny taste that 
 people who eat mushes generally destroy all their 
 flavor by adding immense quantities of sugar or 
 syrup," observed Emeline. "The idea never 
 struck me before." 
 
 At breakfast next mornins: the stewed chicken 
 was a failure, at which Alice was much mortified. 
 She said, deprecatingl}^ : 
 
 " Cousin Kate, it is not at all like yours, yet I 
 was very careful to read up my notes, which said : 
 *Two chickens, minus the frying pieces, are equal 
 to one whole chicken. To stew them, add one- 
 half pint water, cover closely, and boil gently 
 or simmer smartly, until very tender. Then drain 
 from them the water, add a piece of butter, or the 
 oil from the water you have drained out, let them 
 brown nicely, turning the pieces when necessary.' 
 That is what is the matter ; I didn't brown the 
 chicken. Who would suppose so small a thing 
 would make so vast a difference ? " 
 
 "This browning, Alice, changes the whole char- 
 acter of the dish, and makes rich and appetizing 
 what is otherwise weak and vapid." 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 57 
 
 " Go on, Alice," said her mother ; "give me the 
 rest of the recipe." 
 
 "When browned, lift the chicken, and pour 
 into the stew-pan the water previously drained 
 out, having removed any surplus oil. When it 
 boils, thicken with flour, stirred to a smooth 
 paste in a little cold milk, or sweet cream. 
 Make it- thick enough to deserve the name of 
 gravy, season with salt 'and pepper, and return 
 the chicken to it, letting it remain in the stew- 
 pan long enough to become thoroughly saturated. 
 Dish chicken and gravy together." 
 
 "Kate," remarked Emeline, " I have been preju- 
 diced all my life against stewed chicken, because 
 the gravy was so inefficient, — such a wretchedly 
 demoralized mixture, tasting a little of chicken 
 and very much of water and raw flour. But stewed 
 chicken, a la Cousin Kate, has my hearty ap- 
 l^roval. In England we sometimes found stewed 
 chicken that was very nice. It was as this would 
 be if you left out the cream and added some 
 pickled mushrooms. Mushrooms give a deli- 
 cious flavor to the dish." 
 
 "Beef, veal, and lamb, are all delicious when 
 stewed in the same manner," I said to Alice. 
 Then Emeline continued : 
 
 "Kate, I wonder why it is that women abhor 
 the kitchen, and so detest pottering among pots 
 and pans ? You open this subject to me in a new 
 
58 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 light, and I lose sight of the drudgery and un- 
 pleasant work in my interest about results, and 
 my inquiries after the cause. When we consider, 
 there is nothing of greater importance than this 
 question, What shall we eat, and how shall it be 
 cooked ? For what order of men and women we 
 are, depends very much upon the food we eat. 
 The world seems divided mainly into those who 
 live to eat, and those who regard eating a trouble- 
 some and expensive necessity, but a nuisance. 
 There are very few who eat to live in the truest 
 sense." 
 
 "The trouble, Emeline, is, that people don't 
 think; they go stumbling and groping through 
 life because they haven't found out that their 
 brains are for use. They never consider or 
 think about these things. If mothers realized 
 that the food their children eat has a positive 
 quality ; that it actually contains the principle 
 of life or death, health or disease, they could 
 not be so indifferent. Did they realize the 
 vital importance of this matter, they would no 
 sooner trust to a slovenly, unskilled cook the 
 preparation of their children's food, than they 
 would the washing of their expensive laces. Do 
 they care more for their Honitons and Valen- 
 ciennes than for their Toms and Marys ? I think 
 not. But one washing of a fine lace by a care- 
 less Bridget, reduces it to useless rags, whereas 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 59 
 
 these living and breathing jewels are destroyed 
 more slowly, and the mother does not see the 
 wear and tear of bad food so palpably." 
 
 One evening Emeline and I were sitting on the 
 western veranda watching the sunset, when Alice 
 ran lightly up the steps. Her hat was in her 
 hand, and her beautiful hair, unconfined by comb 
 or plait, floated at will in wavy splendor. Her 
 cheeks were glowing and her eyes sparkling as 
 she spoke excitedly, 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I've had an adventure this even- 
 ing. The air was exhilarating, the birds sang so 
 gayly, and all nature seemed so blithe and happy, 
 that I, too, took wing, and flew, rather than 
 walked, this way and that, unheeding, in truth 
 not caring, where the lovely crooked ways led 
 me ; until suddenly I came upon a small cottage 
 by the roadside. It w\as nestled just under the 
 hill, and was a very bird's-nest for coziness. I 
 came upon it from the rear, through a garden all 
 aglow Avith red roses and carnation-pinks, and had 
 almost walked into the house before I realized 
 what I was doing. The door stood open, and 
 looking out at me amazed, as well they might be, 
 were a pair of large brown eyes. So earnest and 
 beseeching was their gaze that I stood spell-bound, 
 like one dazed or in a dream. The owner of these 
 marvellous eyes was a young girl who seemed an 
 
60 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 invalid, as she reclined on a lounge beside which 
 the small supper-table was placed. Another lady 
 sat at the table with her back toward me. A look 
 or low-spoken word from the sick girl directed 
 this lady's attention to me, and she came out and 
 invited me in to rest. I didn't care to rest, but I 
 did care to learn something of this brown-eyed 
 beauty who seemed sick and sad. But no, I 
 think I am wrong there ; her eyes only had a 
 wistful look, as if asking, pleading for some- 
 thing they dared not hope to gain ; but her 
 voice was cheerful and her laugh free and joy- 
 ous. Yet she suffers a great deal, and has been 
 for years confined to her lounge by some affection 
 of the spine. Mamma, I think you made a mis- 
 take in writing your novel before I discovered 
 this lovely heroine." 
 
 Emeline responded — 
 
 "By the way, Kate, did I tell you of ^My lord' 
 and his mother whom we met last summer in 
 Switzerland ? We talked with them upon several 
 occasions, yet did not learn tlieir name or the 
 land of their nativity. I thought them Ameri- 
 cans from their manners and speech, but Alice 
 insisted that they were English. She imagined 
 him to be an English lord, Hhe last of his race,' 
 and that, she thought, accounted for their deep 
 mourning and great dejection." 
 
 "No," I answered, while a vague suspicion 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 61 
 
 crossed my mind, "you have never spoken of 
 them to me, but I am interested. Describe them 
 more fully. What Avere they like in personal 
 appearance ? " 
 
 " Very much like each other,' both having the 
 same dark, deep eyes — eyes that remind you of 
 bottomless wells of pure water, with shadows 
 lingering about them hinting of sunshine. He 
 was twenty-live or thirty years of age, and she 
 old enough to be his mother. His hair was dark, 
 and rippled or waved back from his forehead, 
 while hers was so white that it reminded one of 
 a fleecy cloud floating about her foce." 
 
 "Was she slightly lame?^' I asked. 
 
 "Yes," answered Emeline ; "how came you to 
 guess that grace belonged to her ? " 
 
 " Perhaj)s my question was the ofi'spring of your 
 remembrance," I answered, evasively. "And Alice 
 thought him a hero, did she? And in her visions 
 of romance she has no doubt visited his ancestral 
 home, his lordly domain? How is it, my dear, 
 do you dream of him still ? " 
 
 A rosy flush swept over her fair face as she 
 answered : 
 
 "Indeed, Cousin Kate, I never dreamed of him 
 but once in my life, and that was the first night I 
 slept in this house. You remember it was after 
 dark when we arrived, and to me it did seem a 
 little weird and dismal for three lone women to 
 
62 COOiaNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 take possession of a roomy old mansion like this, 
 and although I wouldn't own it then, I was nerv- 
 ous and fidgety, starting at every sound all the 
 evening. That I should dream strange dreams 
 that night was a matter of course." 
 
 " But I never heard you mention this fact be- 
 fore, Alice," said her mother. "Pray tell us this 
 strange dream." 
 
 "I would rather not," said Alice, blushing more 
 deeply, " lest you think me a silly girl, and vain 
 as foolish." 
 
 By this time Alice had really aroused our curi- 
 osity, and Cousin Emeline and I both protested 
 that dreams were only dreams, and that we should 
 not think of attaching any imj)ortance whatever to 
 hers. Finally, we induced her to tell us her 
 dream, in which she said she rehearsed the scene 
 of our arrival at Maple wood, with this variation: 
 she had lost sight of her mother and me, and 
 entered the wide, gloomy hall alone. As she 
 stepped timidly forward, she heard the great door 
 close with a clang behind her, shutting her, like a 
 prisoner, within. A wild terror seized her, and 
 she was about to cry out for help, when a voice of 
 exceeding sweetness said gently, " Welcome home, 
 my darling." "I knew the voice," said Alice, 
 'and looking up, beheld 'My lord' descending 
 the hall stair. But the curious part of the dream 
 was that he bore in his arms a beautiful child, 
 laughing and crowing with delight." 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 63 
 
 "Could that have been the boy Cupicl, I won- 
 der?" said I, teasingly; but Emeline seemed 
 interested, and asked, 
 
 " What happened next, Alice ? What did 3^ou 
 say or do ? " 
 
 " I guess I ran away, for I remember no more." 
 
 A few days after this conversation, I stood by 
 a table in the large old kitchen beside Alice, who 
 was earnestly engaged writing out my recipe for 
 buns. The summer breeze played idly with her 
 brown curls, while the delicious odor of the 
 freshly-l)aked buns, mingled with that of the wild- 
 rose and honeysuckle, making a confusion of 
 sweet perfumes. At length, laying down the pen, 
 she said, 
 
 " Cousin Kate, I want to take some of these airy 
 things (the buns) to tTessie ?Tames this evening, 
 with a basket of the brightest, sweetest strawber- 
 ries Mike can find in the garden. May I?" 
 
 I bowed assent, and she went on, 
 
 "Jessie knows all about your friends, the Doug- 
 lases, and has promised to tell me about his beau- 
 tiful young wife, whose sudden death almost broke 
 the heart of her husband." 
 
 Looking up from my work, I said, 
 
 " Whose beautiful young wife ? What are you 
 talkins: about, Alice ? " 
 
 " About Gerald Douglas, whose wife died so 
 suddenly just before they went abroad. Jessie 
 
64 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 says that was the reason of their going, and that 
 his mother is devoted to him, and Avould go with 
 him to the ends of the earth, if he desired." 
 
 "Very likely," I replied ; " most mothers would 
 do the same." 
 
 " But why, Cousin Kate, did you never tell me 
 of this only son of your old friend ? " 
 
 " Why, bless me, child, when and why, pray, 
 should I have told you the history of this particu- 
 lar young man ? Have you not been for years 
 abroad, and before that, close shut within the walls 
 of the '■ Sacred Heart,' conning your lessons ever 
 since you were a child? Never, until now, Alice, 
 did I realize what a fearful responsibility rests 
 upon a maiden lady whose old friend and school- 
 mate happens to have a terrible only son. Ah, 
 woe is me ! " 
 
 "Now Cousin Kate, please don't laugh at me, 
 but shut up here Avith ouly your cook-book and 
 mamma's novel to think about, is it strange that I 
 like to hear Jessie tell of these people? Indeed, 
 I think it would be very ungrateful not to be 
 interested in them, since we've taken possession of 
 their beautiful home and all their lovely things, 
 just as if they belonged to us. Jessie saj^s that 
 the family portraits are in the drawing-room, and 
 that the suite of rooms in the north wing belonged 
 to his wife, and were fitted up according to her 
 taste when she came here a bride ; and that they 
 
FOOD AND FANCY. 65 
 
 are kept just as she left them. Would you mind 
 asking Susannah to show them to us some time, 
 Avhen she opens to air and dust them ; or do you 
 think she would object?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! Susannah will be only too glad to 
 show you all her treasures, and I will ask her 
 some day. But we must give some attention to 
 the realities of the culinary department before we 
 wander into the fields of romance." 
 
66 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 
 
 "Kate, I wonder if we shall be permitted to go 
 on in this quiet, restful way all summer? I never 
 enjoyed anything so much ; but am all the while 
 haunted by the fear that some prowling interloper 
 will discover our retreat. Do you not think Alice 
 wanders about too unguardedly, and is making 
 too many acquaintances ? " 
 
 I had barely time to respond "Nonsense, Eme- 
 line," when the little silver bell tinkled a summons 
 to breakfjist. Leaving the roses ungathered, we 
 went in, to tind a vase of them already upon the 
 breakfast-table, mingling their sweet odors with 
 those of more substantial things . 
 
 When Alice, Avith a little air of pride, passed 
 the cakes to me — such perfectly formed, dainty- 
 lookinsr thinsfs — the sig-ht of them somehow called 
 from their graves a spectral army of ghostly cakes, 
 the cakes of other days, and of less careful cooks 
 than our charming Alice. Haunted by their mem- 
 ory, I said to Emeline, "What an abomination 
 the griddle is in most houses, filling them with 
 stifling atmospheres and unsavory odors. And 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 67 
 
 yet it is easy to avoid both smoke and smell. 
 Cakes may be baked in the kitchen, and no one 
 up-stairs be wiser or sadder therefor, if the cook 
 knows how to tend the griddle. But if she floods 
 it with grease, which is allowed to burn before 
 the cakes are placed upon it, not only is the house 
 filled with smoke, but the cakes are blackened, 
 and to a great extent spoiled, coming to the taljle 
 with lacerated edges, bruised and torn, in their 
 fierce conflict with fat and fire. Many cooks seem 
 to take a special delight in causing the smoke of 
 their torment, the griddle, to ascend unceasingly ; 
 and to this end they deluge it with grease, wdiich, 
 by the time it is filled with cakes, has been 
 crowded close to the edges, where it hisses and 
 bubbles, sputtering angrily all through the baking. 
 Here and there on the griddle are drops of batter, 
 impromptu little cakes undesigned by the cook, 
 to which she pays no heed, unless, when lifting 
 their more important kindred, she gives them an 
 impatient push into the gutter of grease at the 
 edge of the griddle, where they fry and burn 
 uncared for. Sometimes it happens that these 
 vagrants, black and dismal as they appear, are 
 caught up accidentally and mixed with the cakes 
 sent to the table. But oftener they are pushed 
 ofl" the griddle upon the range, where their illegit- 
 imate lives end in smoke." 
 
 "But, Kate, how is this nuisance to be pre- 
 vented?" 
 
68 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 "By using a suitable greaser in a proper man- 
 ner. A good greaser may be made of pure lard 
 placed just where it is required, by means of a linen 
 swab, fastened to the end of a stick fashioned for 
 the purpose ; but the best greaser is a piece of fat 
 pork, two inches square and an inch thick, with 
 tiie rind covering one of its broadest surfaces. 
 Slip this piece of pork on a fork in such a manner 
 as to bring the tines of the fork close to the rind, 
 leaving the greaser below. With this rub the 
 griddle where the cakes are to be placed, wiping 
 it well with a dry cloth after each baking. A 
 griddle so treated will annoy no one, not even the 
 cook, with smoke. Griddles and bread-pans 
 should be used for nothing but the purpose for 
 which the}^ are specially designed, and should 
 very rarely be washed Avith soap. If kept clean, 
 they need little washing at any time, as a brisk 
 rubbing with a diy cloth when they are warm is 
 all-sufficient, and keeps them in more perfect con- 
 dition than frequent washing." 
 
 "Using soapstone, and other griddles which 
 require no gi'ease, is the most sensible way of 
 abating the griddle nuisance, I think," said Eme- 
 line. 
 
 " No doubt you are right," I replied. " Still, 
 there are people who will cling to the old ways, 
 notwithstanding the new have been proven to be 
 best." 
 
GRIDDLE-a\KES AND OTHER THINGS. 69 
 
 " Buckwheat-cakes are perhaps more universally 
 eaten in this country than any other kind, and at 
 the same time are more invariably and unmitigat- 
 cdly bad. A mean buckwheat-cake suggests the 
 idea of total depravity in cakes. Imagine a 
 (Jiiristian gentleman breakfasting on those tawny, 
 leaden things, — leathery, gritty, sour, and half 
 raw. In eating them, he forfeits a good share of 
 self-respect, and goes his way after breakfast with 
 a heavy heart in his bosom and a bitter taste in his 
 mouth. If he did not know he was the victim of 
 buckwheat-cakes he would be morally certain the 
 whole world was against him, and his best friend 
 had become his worst enemy. 
 
 "A buckwheat-cake at its best is certainly queen 
 of the griddle, a very princess among cakes, — 
 light, brown, crisp. It has no ragged edge, no 
 tawny, leaden-gray color, streaked with black. 
 Sour? Why, the smoke of it is as grateful as 
 sweet incense. You pat it tenderly with your 
 knife, then spread it daintily with the sweet butter 
 waiting to be gracious, adding syrup just to make 
 the honeycomb illusion complete. I never knew 
 a man after breakfasting on such cakes to contem- 
 plate suicide, or grumble even if his wife asked 
 him for money." 
 
 Here Emeline interrupted me w^ith, — 
 "Kate, why don't you have Alice keep pencil 
 and paper at hand to jot down such little ira- 
 
70 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 promptu speeches for your cook-book ? My opin- 
 ion is that some of the best thoughts and choicest 
 sayings of writers never get into their books. 
 They come and go, with the passing moment of 
 inspiration, known only to the fortunate few who 
 happen to be at table, or in the drawing-room. 
 But are you aware, that at the beginning of break- 
 fast I asked you what kind of cakes these are that 
 we are eatinir?" 
 
 " Is it possible you don't know ? " 
 
 "All things are possible, it seems, when you and 
 Alice ]Dlay your witcheries in the kitchen ; but, 
 although I'm not sure, I think they are rice-cakes. 
 Rice-cakes are my favorite cakes, and these are 
 certainly very nice." 
 
 Here Alice's musical laugh rippled into the 
 conversation with, — 
 
 "Rice-cakes, indeed, mamma; you ought to 
 have seen the stale old bread that went to make 
 up these little brown beauties." 
 
 Emeline answered with indignation, not unmixed 
 with disgust, — 
 
 "Bread-cakes, Alice, are my particular detesta- 
 tion, — soft, sticky, and disagreeable." 
 
 " Oh fie, mamma ! how shocking ! But I hasten 
 to heap coals of fire on your head, by giving you 
 the exact recipe, for these delicate, delicious 
 cakes : Pour over a pint of bread-crumbs, the 
 same measure of boilino: milk. If the milk has 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 71 
 
 been skimmed, a small piece of butter must be 
 added. Cover closely, and let stand over night. 
 In the morning mash to a smooth paste, and beat 
 thoroughly with it the yolks of two eggs. Then 
 gradually add half a pint of cold milk, beating 
 meanwhile, and half a pint of flour with which a 
 measure of baking-powder has been sifted. Lastly, 
 add the wdiites of the eggs, beaten to a stiff froth. 
 These cakes require longer baking than batter- 
 cakes, and should be baked of a small size, as they 
 are tender and easily torn, and, when served, 
 should be spread over the plate, and not piled one 
 upon the other." 
 
 "Kice-cakes, Alice, maybe made in the same 
 manner as bread-cakes, substituting well-boiled 
 rice for bread-crumbs." 
 
 "And how are waffles made. Cousin Kate?" 
 asked Alice. 
 
 " This is an excellent recipe for a simple raised 
 waffle : One quart of milk, one ounce of butter, 
 three pints of flour, and half a gill of yeast. Let 
 rise over night. In making waffles, or batter- 
 cakes that rise over night, I think it best to heat 
 the milk to boiling point, adding to it, while hot, 
 the butter or lard to be used. When cool enousfh 
 to not scald the flour, add that ; then the eggs, 
 Avell beaten ; and lastly the yeast. Give all a 
 thorough beating. As soon in the morning as con- 
 venient, give the batter a good beating. This 
 
72 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 will add to the lightness and excellence of the 
 cakes. 
 
 "The proportion of three pints of flour to a 
 quart of milk, which you see is a measure and a 
 half of flour to a measure of milk, I find to be the 
 average proportions required in all kinds of batter- 
 cakes ; but the exact quantity of flour ijiust be 
 determined by the number of eggs and the amount 
 of butter used. Where many eggs are used, less 
 flour is needed, unless a great quantity of butter 
 or lard, also, is used. 
 
 "Now, I will give you two more recipes for 
 waffles, both excellent, which illustrate my mean- 
 ing : One quart of milk, three pints of flour, four 
 ounces of lard, four ounces of butter, six eggs, 
 half a gill of yeast. In this recipe I should make 
 no deduction of flour on account of the eggs used, 
 because of the quantity of butter and lard. But 
 in this : One quart of milk, three pints of flour, 
 four esrars, and four ounces of butter, I should 
 take light measure of flour. Flour should always 
 be sifted before it is measured, and the measure 
 should not be heaped. These last waffles are very 
 nice, and are made in this manner : Add the flour 
 to the cold milk, and beat thoroughly. Melt the 
 butter, and add by degrees. Separate the eggs, 
 adding one yolk at a time, and beating it thor- 
 oughly into the batter, before adding another. 
 Lastly, add the whites, beaten to a stifi* froth. 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THIXGS. 73 
 
 Bake immediately. If well beaten, these are good 
 either as waffles or griddle-cakes. This recipe is 
 also very nice when made over night, and raised 
 with a gill of yeast. In that case, add butter and 
 eggs in the morning. And you can also vary, by 
 sometimes using baking-powder. As a general 
 rule, in making all kinds of batter-cakes, beat the 
 yolks of the eggs with the batter, and the whites 
 separately, adding them last. 
 
 " Here is a flannel-cake that is simple, but very 
 nice. Take equal portions of fine corn meal and 
 wheat-flour. To a quart of w^arm water add three 
 pints of meal and flour mixed, a pinch of salt, and 
 half a gill of yeast. Let rise over night. 
 
 "For mufiins, take a quart of milk, two quarts 
 of flour, and a measure of baking-powder. Beat 
 all thoroughl}^ together, and bake in muffin-rings, 
 or pufi'-pans, in a quick oven. 
 
 " The varieties of waffles, griddle-cakes, muf- 
 fins, etc., are very numerous. But any one know- 
 ing how to make a few, can, without a cook-book, 
 find out, by a little reflection, hoAv to make num- 
 berless others." 
 
 "But Kate," said Emeline, "I wish to know 
 how those queenly buck^vheat cakes are made. 
 Most housekeepers have difficulty with their 
 * buckwheats.' They are either too thick or too 
 thin ; and when not actually sour, have a strong, 
 rank taste. I have never found in anv cook-book 
 
74 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 the proportions of flour and water to be used in 
 making buckwheat cakes. This important item 
 is left to the judgment or discretion of the cook. 
 Do you know the exact proportions ? " 
 
 " My favorite buckwheat cakes are made in this 
 manner : Make two quarts of gruel, by adding 
 to two quarts of boiling water half a pint of corn 
 meal, wet with a little cold water ; boil well. 
 Then cool to lukewarmness and add half a pint of 
 wheat flour, three pints of buckwheat flour, one 
 gill of yeast, and salt to taste. Set in a mod- 
 erately warm place until perfectly light. 
 
 " Buckwheat cakes should be set to rise at noon, 
 for the next morning, and by eight or nine 
 o'clock they will be light, when they should be 
 well beaten and set in a cool place through the 
 night. 
 
 " Just before baking, add a little soda if needed, 
 and thin by adding a little warm water if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 "I observe," said Alice, "that in these buck- 
 wheat cakes which have no eggs, you use only 
 a measure of flour to a measure of water, while 
 in wheat flour cakes, you use a measure and 
 a half of flour. Why is that ? " 
 
 " The nature of the grain is different ; buckwheat 
 swells more than wheat ; but it is always difficult 
 to get the exact proportions required by measure- 
 ment ; for different grades of flour require diflfer- 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 75 
 
 ent proportions of water for the same thickness 
 of batter ; and I find that in all ])atter cakes and 
 muffins raised with yeast it is better to stir them 
 a little too thick than too thin ; for just before 
 baking they can be made thinner without injuring 
 their quality ; whereas, if you thicken by adding 
 more flour, it destroys somewhat of their light- 
 ness." 
 
 " I think, Kate," observed Emetine, " there is 
 one serious objection to your method of making 
 buckwheat cakes. The average cook won't take 
 the trouble to make gruel for her buckwheat 
 cakes." 
 
 "I know," I replied, "that women hate to be 
 painstaking about these things ; and I have a friend, 
 an admirable housekeeper, who insists that her 
 buckwheat cakes are just as good as mine ; and her 
 method is much simpler. She sets her cakes to 
 rise the first thing after breakfast, using only cold 
 water, buckwheat flour, yeast, and a little salt. 
 
 " She sets them to rise on a table in the kitchen, 
 or some moderately warm room, and next morn- 
 ing thins them with a little warm milk or water, 
 adding a little soda if necessary. After first 
 starting her cakes, she never adds fresh yeast, 
 but uses the batter left ; to which she adds flour 
 and water enousrh for the next mornins:. In 
 my cook-book. Emetine," I went on to say, "I 
 mean to make very emphatic this idea ; that 
 
76 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 however cooks may make buckwheat cakes, they 
 must be careful to give them abundant time to 
 thoroughly ferment and rise ; for. I think a great 
 many buckwheat cakes are baked before they have 
 risen to their best estate." 
 
 "Kate, do you know how to make good corn- 
 bread?" asked Emeline. "I am especially fond 
 of it. But I am so heartily sick of ' Indian bread,' 
 and ^ Indian cakes,' as IN^orthern and Eastern cooks 
 persist in calling the wretched preparations of 
 corn meal they manufacture, that I hope you will 
 devote a chapter of your book to the considera- 
 tion of corn-bread." 
 
 "Thank you, Emeline, for the suggestion. 
 Corn-bread being a Southern institution or spe- 
 cialty, is very much neglected by Northern and 
 Southern cooks ; or, when made by them, is so 
 * doctored,' as a general rule, that a genuine lover 
 of the article scarcely recognizes it in the vile 
 mixture of grease, soda, eggs, milk, and sugar, 
 thickened with poor corn meal ground so fine as 
 to be destitute of character or sweetness. South- 
 ern corn is as much superior to that grown at the 
 North, as a Hubbard squash is to a yellow 
 pumpkin ; but Southern corn, ground as fine as 
 the meal that is generally used at the North, loses 
 much of its excellence. Southern cooks undoubt- 
 edly excel in the art of making corn-bread of 
 various kinds, among which the pone and hoe- 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 77 
 
 cake used to take first rank. But since open fires, 
 Dutch ovens, and bake-kettles, have been super- 
 seded by ranges and cooking-stoves, pone and 
 hoe-cake have been superseded by ' dodgers,' and 
 other varieties of corn-bread, baked upon the 
 griddle, or in the oven, as convenience dictates. 
 The pone, in the old time, was made of meal, 
 warm water, yeast, and a little salt ; and after 
 becoming light by fermentation, was baked,-*- a 
 large loaf, in a Dutch oven, for five or six hours. 
 The hoe-cake was still more simple, being corn 
 meal mixed with warm water and a little salt, into 
 a stifi" dough, fashioned by the hands into cakes 
 an inch thick, and baked on a board, tilted before 
 the fire, or, in the negro cabins, upon the hoe, 
 which no doubt gave it the name. The dodger is 
 a legitimate descendant of the hoe-cake, and I 
 think deserves precedence in the corn-bread ranks. 
 To make it, take a quart of corn meal, a teaspoon- 
 ful of sugar, and a salt-spoonful of salt. Scald 
 with boiling water, leaving the paste so thick that 
 when moulded into cakes in the hand it retains its 
 form, or if placed upon the griddle with a spoon, 
 will remain heaped and not spread into thin cakes. 
 Put a piece of butter, half the size of a pea, just 
 where the dodger is to be placed on the griddle, 
 and when melted, lay the cake upon it. In like 
 manner fill the griddle. When brown, turn them 
 over ; but just before turning, place a small bit 
 
78 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 of butter on each cake, and when turned, press it 
 gently in the centre to flatten the rounded surface, 
 and bring the cake close to the griddle at the 
 edsres. These cakes should be an inch thick ; and 
 they require half an hour to bake, The heat 
 must, of course, be moderate, and the cakes may 
 be turned several times if necessary. After being 
 turned .on the griddle and browned on both sides, 
 they can be transferred to a pan and a hot oven, 
 to finish baking ; or they can be baked altogether 
 in a hot oven, if desirable. Although these dodg- 
 ers are very good baked in this manner for only 
 thirty or forty minutes, they are much better 
 when baked a longer time. An hour's baking in 
 a moderate oven gives them a crisp sweetness, 
 quite irresistible to lovers of corn-bread; and 
 when properly made and baked, they are such 
 delicious l^reakfast-cakes that I do not wonder one 
 accustomed to them, turns in disgust from the 
 messes often presented under the name of corn- 
 bread, in which grease and soda bear so promi- 
 nent a part, that the stuff smells and tastes like 
 soap, 
 
 " Corn-muffins are very fine, made in this way : 
 To a quart of corn meal add an ounce of butter, 
 a teaspoonful of sugar, and a salt-spoonful of salt. 
 Scald with boiling water, pouring the water on 
 slowly, and stirring the mixture until all the meal 
 is moistened. When cool, add the yolks of three 
 
GRIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 79 
 
 eggs, and beat well through the dough ; then add 
 cold, sweet milk, a small portion at a time, beat- 
 ing thoroughly, until the batter is of proper thick- 
 ness. Beat the whites to a stiff froth, and add 
 half at a time, alternating with a measure of bak- 
 ing-poAvder mixed with a small quantity of meal. 
 Bake in muffin-rings, gem cups, or shallow pans, 
 in a quick oven. Made a little thinner, this bat- 
 ter may be baked upon the griddle as thin griddle- 
 cakes, — although the Southern griddle-cakes, or 
 *slappers,' as the colored people call them, are 
 made in a somewhat different manner. I stood by 
 Aunt Nancy, a colored woman, who made them 
 deliciously, and saw just how she did it. She put 
 a quart of meal in a bowl, and in the centre made 
 a nest or hole, into which she dropped a lump of 
 lard as large as a hickory nut, a pinch of salt, and 
 a small teaspoonful of sugar. Then she poured 
 boiling water on slowl}^ stirring the meal until all 
 was moistened, when, pressing it compactly 
 together in the bottom of the bowl, she * lef it to 
 swell, honey,' while she brought out the griddle 
 and greaser, and got things ready for the baking. 
 This done, she returned to the cakes, and having 
 ascertained that the dough was not too warm, she 
 broke into it three eggs, stirring them briskly, with 
 a spoonful or two of cold milk, through the dough. 
 From time to time she added cold milk in small 
 
80 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 quantities, continuing the stirring until the batter 
 was quite thin, when she announced, — 
 
 " 'Dem's done ready, now, miss.' " 
 
 " * But you've forgotten the soda, Aunt Nancy,'" 
 I said. 
 
 "'Forgot de sody,' she repeated, with infinite 
 disgust, ' what for should I go spile dem slappers 
 with sody?'" 
 
 "In answer to my question why she didn't beat 
 the eggs before she put them in the batter, she 
 said emphatically, ' Better dis yere way, honey. 
 You take my 'vice, and don't go trying* no 'speri- 
 nients wid dese yere slappers.' I did, however, 
 try the experiment of beating the eggs separately, 
 after which I agreed with Aunt Nancy that they 
 were better ' dis yere way.' 
 
 " This same ' slapper ' batter, left a little stiffer, 
 baked in the oven in shallow pans, cut in squares 
 and served hot, is a very fine specimen of corn- 
 bread, sometimes called Cape May bread." 
 
 " Cousin Kate, do you know why the * slappers ' 
 are better for having the eggs beaten only in and 
 with the batter?" 
 
 "I think I do. But I don't mean to tell you, 
 Alice, for the reason that I wish you to solve 
 those riddles yourself, the reading of which re- 
 quires onl}'' a little mild thinking." 
 
 " Speaking of riddles, reminds me of some- 
 thing," said Alice, "I intended mentioning to 
 
GKIDDLE-CAKES AND OTHER THINGS. 81 
 
 you half an hour ago. Have you or ma seen the 
 absurd article in the ' Democrat ' ? " 
 
 "No," exclaimed both Emeline and myself, in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 "Then listen to this," was Alice's reply, as she 
 unfolded the Westfield "Democrat," and read to 
 us the following : — 
 
 "About Ghosts. — For some weeks it has been 
 the current report that ghostly visitants have 
 taken possession of the Douglas mansion, which 
 is in charge of the gardener during the absence of 
 the family, and hold private seances there, on 
 which occasions they materialize or assume the 
 forms they wore while tarrying in this mundane 
 sphere in years gone by. Although we have but 
 little faith in either the ghosts or the reports, 
 many of our readers appear to be deeply inter- 
 ested in both, and wish us to give them all the 
 information that can be obtained upon the subject. 
 We have therefore detailed a special reporter, in 
 whom we have the utmost confidence, to work up 
 the case, and give us the benefit of his investiga- 
 tions, and we hope shortly to lay before the read- 
 ers of the ' Democrat,' a full account of the ghosts 
 and their doings. Our reporter has been on duty 
 several days, but has not as yet made much 
 progress. The gardener, he says, * doesn't inter- 
 view worth a cent,' and he adds, very emphatically, 
 
82 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 'the old fellow's wife is more secretive than a 
 clam.' He is busily engaged reading up on the 
 literature of ' spooks,' and hobgoblins generally, 
 so as to be equal to the emergency, and fully pre- 
 pared to tackle any sort of a ghost that may pre- 
 sent itself. The facts he has gathered are very 
 few and unsatisfactory, but we have high hopes of 
 his giving us something racy in a short time, for 
 he is willing to swear that he has had frequent 
 glimpses of a creature, not of the earth earthy, 
 flittinsr about the fi^arden and veranda in the twi- 
 light, with hair floating about her shoulders, and 
 dressed in the traditional white robes that ghosts 
 are said to assume when they appear to mortal 
 eyes." 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 83 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 
 
 "Kate, do I understand you to say that this 
 coffee, which is so perfectly clear, has nothing 
 used for settling it, but a spoonful of cold water?" 
 
 As I took the coffee she handed me, I answered, 
 "At the time of making, nothing but water is 
 added to the coffee ; but at the time of browning, 
 one egg is mixed with a pound of coffee. Coffee 
 can be settled perfectly with a spoonful of cold 
 water ; but it stays settled better, and is not so 
 easily disturbed or roiled, where egg is used. A 
 cup of first-rate coffee, Emeline, is something 
 rarely found on the average American table ; nor 
 is it surprising, perhaps, when we consider that 
 making coffee is a delicate matter, and that the 
 beverage is so easily spoiled, at any point from 
 the beginning to the end of the process. Sev- 
 eral things are requisite in order to have good 
 coffee. First, the coffee must be of good quality-, 
 carefully picked over, and cleaned by rubbing in 
 a dry towel. Next, it must be properl}^ roasted. 
 There are very perfect mechanisms for browning 
 coffee ; but any woman can roast it perfectly in the 
 
84 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUHiDrnG. 
 
 oven, if she attends to it. In a medium-sized 
 dripping-pan a pound can be roasted at a time. 
 The person roasting the coffee should give it her 
 undivided attention while it is in the oven, other- 
 wise she will often forget, and the coffee be 
 spoiled. Coffee should roast slowly at first, an 
 occasional shaking to change the position of the 
 grains being all the attention it requires. After 
 remaining ten or fifteen minutes in the oven, the 
 heat may be increased, and the shaking must be 
 done more frequently. Towards the last it must 
 be looked at every few minutes, lest unawares it 
 surprise you with too dark a browning. But how 
 brown it should be, depends somewhat upon the 
 taste of the drinker and the kind of coffee used. 
 Eio will bear a browner tinge than Java. If the 
 coffee, when made, is pale in color, and tastes of 
 the bean, — that is, has a raw taste, — it is not suffi- 
 ciently roasted. If it is black, and tastes bitter 
 and burnt, it is overdone. It is a good plan to 
 keep a spoonful of coffee unground, from one 
 roasting till the next, in order to compare the 
 newly roasted with it. When the coffee is roasted, 
 pour it into an earthen dish to cool ; and when so 
 cool that you can clasp a handful of it tightly in 
 your palm and feel it only warm — not hot — add 
 to it a fresh egg, and with a fork stir it until per- 
 fectly mixed and each kernel has a share of the 
 egg. The warmth of the coffee should be just 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 85 
 
 sufficient to dry the egg adliering to it, and not 
 cook it. When diy, the egg does not interfere 
 with the irrindinff. Eofff used in this manner is 
 neither so troublesome nor expensive as when 
 added at the time of making the coffee. Another 
 convenient, inexpensive method is to wash eggs 
 before breaking, and preserve the shells for set- 
 tling coffee. 
 
 "The grinding of coffee is an important consid- 
 eration. If ground very coarse, much of the 
 strength remains in the grounds, some of which 
 are often seen floating about in your cup, in an 
 independent manner, and an isolated condition. 
 If ground too fine, it will be muddy in spite of 
 everything. Of course a happy medium is right. 
 Some ladies have coffee prepared in one pot and 
 poured into another before sending to tal3le ; but 
 this is a bad practice, for every time coffee is 
 exposed to the air it loses some of its aroma and 
 excellence. When I have a fragrant perfume of 
 coffee in my chamber while dressing, I take it for 
 granted that I shall miss at breakfast the delicious 
 aroma that has been so freely exhaled all over the 
 house. If it is borne to me on the wings of the 
 morning up three flights of stairs, how can I hope 
 to find it concentrated in my cup at breakfast? 
 Really excellent coffee can be made in various ways. 
 The most perfect method of making it, perhaps, is 
 by dripping the boiling water through the coffee. 
 
S6 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 But rare coffee may be made in the ordinary manner 
 of steeping, if it is not allowed to boil enough to 
 extract the bitter, or waste the aroma. There is 
 one thing you must insist upon, Cousin Emeline, 
 if you would have the best quality of coffee and 
 tea ; namely, the pots must be kept clean on the in- 
 side. If carefully washed every time they are 
 used, they wdll not become dark and coated Avith 
 deposits. Coffee made very strong, and diluted 
 with boiled milk instead of water, is liked by 
 many. That is a French style worthy of imita- 
 tion. Mixed coffees are also considered by many 
 finer in flavor than a single sort. I have tried 
 various combinations, and like Rio and Java in 
 equal proportions — or two parts Eio, two parts 
 Java, and one part Mocha. To be most perfect, 
 I think the different kinds should be roasted sep- 
 arately, and mixed afterAvard. But my advice to 
 housekeepers is, experiment. Find out for your- 
 selves what is best, and don't believe implicitly in 
 any cook-book, not even Cousin Kate's. Use 
 cook-books as helps, as hints, but not as infallible 
 guides, and Avork out your salvation in cookery 
 by the use of your OAvn brains. A week's supply 
 of coffee may be broAvned and ground at one time, 
 if it is kept in air-tight cans or canisters. 
 
 "Most cooks use too little coffee. I allow a 
 large tablespoon heaping full of ground coffee to a 
 medium-sized cup and a half of water. Measure 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 87 
 
 the coffee, and add to it a fresh egg, well beaten — 
 unless esfs: has been mixed with it at the time of 
 browning — and cold water enough to w^et the 
 whole. Beat it well together and, placing in the 
 pot, add cold water till the pot is a third full. 
 Set it where it will steep slowly, stirring it from 
 time to time. Watch it closely, and as soon as it 
 is about to boil, add more cold water. Keep 
 adding cold water from time to time, just before 
 the boiling takes place, until the pot is full. 
 Then let it boil up once, settle, and serve." 
 
 " But supposing," said Alice, "that you didn't 
 want a pot full of coffee, and that filling the pot 
 would make it too weak, would you still fill the 
 pot?" 
 
 " By no means," I replied. " But I would have 
 the coffee-pot the size required, for you can't make 
 a pint of coffee in a quart pot, and have it of per- 
 fect quality. If there is more room in the pot 
 than is required, air fills the space and deteriorates 
 the quality of the coffee. Beside, a pint of coffee 
 tumbling about in a two-quart pot is sure to be 
 unsettled in pouring. Alice, not long since I 
 made coffee for a young gentleman, who, w^hen 
 asked if it was good, answered, — and his voice 
 and fiice w^ere very grave and serious, — 'It is 
 simply divine.'" 
 
 "O Cousin Kate ! " laughingly exclaimed Alice ; 
 "I tremble when I think of the possible conse- 
 
SS COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 quences of your having made such a cup of coffee, 
 had that young man been twenty years older." 
 
 "Or Cousin Kate twenty years younger," I 
 rejoined. "But, nonsense aside, Alice, I'm 
 sure you would like to know just how that 
 coffee was made. It was mixed coffee — two 
 parts Eio, two parts Java, and one part Mocha, 
 all of the best quality. In strength, it was 
 made in the proportion of three heaping table- 
 spoonfuls of coffee to one and a half cups of 
 water. That, you see, is three times as strong as 
 the directions just given. It was made with cold 
 water, carefully steeped, and perfectly settled, 
 and, before pouring, the cup was two-thirds filled 
 with boiled milk, and then filled with the strong 
 coffee ; which made, in the estimation of that 
 young man, a ^ draught fit for the gods.' 
 
 "In boiling milk for coffee, Alice, do not let it 
 actually boil, but let it come just as near boiling 
 as possible and escape it, for it must be very hot. 
 But the flavor is finer in coffee if it is taken after 
 it is so heated as to be inflated with fine bubbles, 
 but not actually boiled. With a milk-boiler this 
 is easily managed ; for, just at the right moment, 
 it can be set back and kept hot for a long time." 
 
 While we were loitering over breakfast, discuss- 
 ing the merits of coffee, Tom, the gardener's son, 
 brought us the morning mail. Among various 
 and sundry letters, postal-cards, etc., I found the 
 
BREAKFAST-TAJ5LE GOSSIP. 89 
 
 following missives, the first from an old bachelor 
 cousin of mine, and the other from an intimate 
 lady friend. The old bachelor, who is very ab- 
 stemious in his habits, and exceedingly fond of 
 English breakfast tea and dry toast, wrote : — 
 
 " When do you expect to find leisure for that 
 long-promised cook-book? I do hope you will 
 write it soon, and will give such minute directions 
 in it for making both tea and toast, that no one 
 can fail to understand them. Strange as it may 
 seem, our best cook-books are ominously silent, 
 or hopelessly bewildering, about the methods of 
 making either ; and I pray you to step to the 
 front, and furnish the much-needed information. 
 It would appear, at first blush, as if any one might 
 make good tea or good toast without instruction ; 
 yet it is a singular fact, that at the average table 
 one is about as great a rarity as the other. I con- 
 fess to a weakness for Uhe cup that cheers but 
 does not inebriate,' for, to my taste, no other bev- 
 erage is so delicious as well-made tea ; but for the 
 sloppy, bitter, or smoky-tasting decoctions that are 
 foisted upon us at hotels, restaurants, and private 
 houses, under that name, I have the most inefiable 
 contempt. It is an insult to any decent stomach to 
 force into it the wretched slops so barbarously 
 extracted from the Chinese herb. I write feel- 
 ingly on this subject, for it has been my privilege 
 to drink tea properly made, and fragrant memo- 
 
90 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ries of the delicious flavor linger with nic, ellect- 
 iially spoiling my relish for the common, vile 
 decoction. 
 
 " As for dry toast, I dare say no woman w^ould 
 be willing to confess she did not know how to 
 toast bread ; yet my experience is, that good toast 
 is the exception. Bad bread, scorched or burned, 
 and sent to the table cold and tough, is as unin- 
 viting a dish as can be served ; while a, plate of 
 crisp, hot toast, properly prepared, is more appe- 
 tizing and tempting to the average man than the 
 danticst of hot cakes or muifins. Give me a cup 
 of nice coflce or tea, with a plate of crisp, richly- 
 browned toast, and firm, golden butter, for my 
 morning or evening meal, and I wdll be content 
 with ayiy relish you choose to add — even chipped 
 beef; or I will be satisfied with tea and toast 
 alone, if both are at their level best. 
 
 " Do make haste and enlighten the world about 
 tea and toast. For so doing, you will deserve its 
 everlasting gratitude, and shall have, at least, that 
 of Cousin John." 
 
 " Poor John ! it is too bad that a folorn old 
 bachelor can't have the small comfort to be found 
 in tea and toast," observed Emeline, as I finished 
 reading the letter. " I hope you will comply with 
 his requests. Your toast is always perfection 
 itself, and I think even Cousin John would be 
 quite satisfied with the English breakfast tea you 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 91 
 
 give US here, Kate ; for I never drank finer, even 
 in England. How long do you boil it, and how 
 do you manage always to liaA'e it just right ? " 
 
 " I do not boil it at all. And following precisely 
 the same method of makhig every time, why 
 should the quality of the tea vary ? I think it 
 would be safer for a careless, inattentive cook to 
 boil the tea, if it did not boil more than a minute, 
 for to make it without boiling, three requisites 
 must be faithfully observed. The pot must be as 
 hot, when the tea is put into it, as boiling water 
 can make it. The water must be boiling when 
 poured upon the tea, and the tea must stand, 
 before being poured, from five to ten minutes. 
 This is the recipe I shall give for making English 
 breakfast tea : Ten or fifteen minutes before mak- 
 ing the tea, fill the teapot with boiling water, and 
 the tea-kettle with cold water, freshly drawn. It 
 makes a vast difference with the quality of the tea 
 whether it is made of water freshly boiled or of 
 stale water that has stood in the kettle and been 
 re-boiled, until all the sparkle and life have gone 
 out of it. As soon as the kettle boils, empty the 
 tea-pot, rinsing it with boiling water. Put into it 
 a heaping teaspoonful of tea to each person, allow- 
 ing a cup and a half of water to the same. Cover 
 closely, letting it stand from five to ten minutes 
 before pouring. Cream is as essential to good tea 
 as it is to good coflee ; and in both cases is best 
 
92 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 when the hot liquid is poured upon it. When all 
 the tea is poured from the pot, boiling water may 
 be added to extract the remaininof strenofth from 
 the leaves." 
 
 " I suppose," said Emeline, "you make green tea 
 somewhat different ? Isn't it a general rule to boil 
 black, and to steep green teas ? " 
 
 "I believe so. But my practice is, when trying 
 a new kind or grade of tea, to experiment by 
 various methods of makhig, and ascertain which 
 method is best for the particular kind of tea. As 
 a general rule I find all black and English break- 
 fast teas of finest flavor, when made after the man- 
 ner I have just given. Occasionally I find a soil; 
 that is better boiled for two or three minutes ; 
 but I have never discovered any that was improved 
 by being boiled and stewed indefinitely. I think 
 all green teas best, steeped in a small quantity of 
 water ten or fifteen minutes — the bulk of the 
 water being added just before the tea is poured. 
 Mandarin tea, of which I am very fond, is much 
 better steeped for fifteen minutes with only a small 
 quantity of water. This tea, which is only sold 
 by the Woman's Tea Company, has a peculiar 
 flavor, decidedly individual, and not likely to be 
 mistaken for a common herb ; and those who make 
 it properly soon grow to like it very much." 
 
 " Do you use the same quantity of tea to the 
 same amount of water in all cases?" asked Alice. 
 
BREAKFAST -TABLE GOSSIP. 93 
 
 "By no means," I replied. "The quantity of 
 tea required depends upon the strength of the tea, 
 and the taste of the drinker. A greater bulk is 
 required of coarse, than of fine tea; and both 
 coarse and fine teas vary much in strength. In 
 making tea, as in most things relating to cookery, 
 good sense and discriminating care are essential 
 on the part of the cook. 
 
 " To make the meanest toast possible take bread 
 that is a little sour, a trifle raw, or not quite light, 
 and is not fit to eat untoasted. Lay it on a grid- 
 iron over a hot fire, where it will burn before it 
 even dries. When burned sufficiently to taste 
 bitter, spread, it with strong butter and pack the 
 slices one above the other, allowing it to become 
 cool before serving, and you have a dish that 
 would ruin the disrestion of an ostrich, and that no 
 sensible person should touch. The woman who 
 thinks good toast can be made of bad bread labors 
 under a terrible delusion. Most of the attempts 
 to improve bad bread or bad butter prove futile, 
 as no amount of doctoring can change their normal 
 condition. They generally retain all their original 
 badness in spite of their disguises and conversions. 
 To make the best quality of toast, the bread must 
 be good. If stale, it will toast quickly by being 
 held a short distance from a clear fire. If fresh, 
 lay the slices on a grate, or wire frame, in allot 
 oven until slightly dried. A toasting-fork is mucli 
 
94 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 better for toasting bread than a gridiron, as, held 
 by a fork, the entire surface of the bread is ex- 
 posed to the clear fire, and the distance between 
 the toast and the fire can be increased or lessened 
 at will. Serve toast hot in a toast-holder, or laid 
 singly on a plate. If the slices are piled one upon 
 another they sweat and become tough and clammy. 
 Most persons prefer to butter toast for themselves, 
 and many dislike it soaked with melted butter." 
 
 The letter from my lady friend Fanny, ran 
 thus : 
 
 " I hope you are making some progress in your 
 efibrts to ameliorate the unhappy condition of the 
 people who eat. Unfortunately, I'm in a position 
 to appreciate the need of 3^our labors, for, alas ! 
 I'm boarding. For dinner to-day we had spring 
 lamb and green pease, the first of the season, and 
 both were unfit to eat by reason of beino^ under- 
 done — that is, raAv. After tasting the pease, I 
 shoved them away in disgust, and with an injured 
 feeling v.^hich I think not conducive' to digestion, 
 I picked out bits of lamb so far cooked that the 
 squeaking sound it made while undergoing friction 
 from my teeth, in a very faint degree resembled 
 the far-oft' bleating of a lamb ; and that resem- 
 blance, I'm certain, was pure imagination, for I 
 have no doubt the lamb was dead, even if it was 
 not cooked. Had the pease been sufficiently 
 boiled, they would still have been nearly worth- 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 95 
 
 less, as our cook belongs to that class of idiots 
 Avho drain pease ; deliberately pour away their life 
 and sweetness, leaving for our nourishment only 
 the dry husks. I hope in your book you will cas- 
 tigate such cooks severely. Another senseless 
 practice is to boil i^ease in a bag, in a pot of water. 
 The only advantage this method has is, that soup 
 is sometimes made of the water — which is a very 
 questionable one ; for to eat soup in warm weather, 
 in order to save the juice of the pease, is like the 
 economy of taking medicine to prevent its being 
 wasted. I doubt if you can give a better receipt 
 for cooking green pease than this : To a quart of 
 green pease add a half-pint of boiling water, cover 
 closcl}^ and simmer gently until very tender, at 
 which time the water should be nearly evaporated. 
 Season lightly with salt and pepper, adding a little 
 l)utter, or sweet cream. I wish you to italicize 
 that word lightly, for most cooks ruin pease with 
 salt. And please suggest good taste requires 
 that pease should be moist enough to necessitate 
 being served at table in sauce-dishes, and eaten 
 with a spoon. I detest pease so hard and 
 dry that they roll and tumble about ni}^ plate, 
 when I make vain efforts to entice them on my 
 fork, and I usually soon abandon the fruitless 
 chase. And, Kate, don't forget the claims of 
 asparagus. For, next to pease, I think it suffers 
 most at the hands of stupid cooks. I have seen it 
 
96 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUII.DING. 
 
 served in all the intermediate stages between 
 asparagus soup and asparagus mush; and have 
 known it to be mixed with dandelions, mustard, 
 and lamb's quarter. In rinsing, it is not enough 
 to pour Avater over the asparagus. Each stalk 
 should 1)e held separately by the base, and swashed 
 back and forth in a large pan of water until free 
 from sand and dust. Then it should be tied in small 
 bunches, and laid carefully in a stewpan of boiling 
 water, slightly salted. Let the water barely cover 
 the vegetal)le. Simmer gently until very tender 
 and perfectly cooked. Have ready a platter, cov- 
 ered with small slices of dry toast. With a fork 
 lift a bunch of asparagus by means of the string 
 around it, let it drip for an instant, then place it 
 carefully upon a slice of toast. When all is so 
 placed, cut and remove the strings. Pour over it 
 drawn butter made with milk, or simply melted 
 butter. The toast is not only a palatable accom- 
 paniment, but is useful in serving the vegetable." 
 
 "I was reading the other day," said Alice, 
 "about the etiquette of high-toned society in New 
 York. Among other things, I learned that it is 
 there considered vulgar to eat the toast upon which 
 the asparagus is served." 
 
 " I know of no better method of cooking pease 
 or asparagus than those described by Fanny, and 
 shall certainly preserve her letter among my cook- 
 book scraps. String beans and green lima beans 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 97 
 
 should be cooked in the same manner as green 
 pease. Dried beans, a palatable, nutritious veg- 
 etable, are seldom seen upon our tables, save as 
 the old, time-honored, traditional baked pork and 
 beans, a dish which the average modern stomach 
 rejects as too strong. But why discard the bean 
 because pork and beans make too hearty a dish, 
 or because the discovery of trichina has spoiled 
 our relish for pork ? To cook dried beans, place 
 them on the back of the stove in a plentiful supply 
 of cold water. When swelled, drain the water 
 off and give them a fresh supply. Let them 
 simmer until parboiled. Drain again, adding 
 enough hot water to finish cooking. Boil gently 
 till soft, and, when done, season with salt, pepper, 
 and butter. Serve them at this stage as stewed 
 beans ; or, place them in a deep dish, and bake in 
 a hot oven, and you have baked beans, without 
 the addition of pork. Care should be taken to 
 always have beans thoroughly cooked, as other- 
 wise they are indigestible and unwdiolesome." 
 
 "Kate," said Emeline, "I can give you a better 
 method for baking beans. Pick and soak the 
 beans over nio'ht in cold water. In the mornino^ 
 put them into fresh cold water to boil, and simmer 
 gently till the skins break, and they seem about 
 to fall to pieces. Then season to taste with salt, 
 pepper, and butter; or, use pork, if preferred, 
 adding a tablespoonful of molasses to every two 
 
98 COOKING AKD CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 quarts of beans. Put the beans in a deep cro(.'k, 
 place them m a moderate oven, and let them bake 
 indefinitely, only it must be a long indefinitely. 
 Add water from time to time, if necessary, to 
 keep them from becoming too dry. When they 
 assume a reddish-brown tinge, something akin in 
 color to Boston brown bread, their perfect state is 
 approaching ; and they can be put into a baking- 
 dish, suitable to send to the table, and nicely 
 browned in the oven ; or they can be set aside 
 until next day and re-baked in time for dinner. 
 Now, Kate, if you can place beside this recipe one 
 for Boston brown bread, yoiiv cook-book will be 
 appreciated. By the way, I wonder if this admix- 
 ture of molasses in baked beans gave rise to the 
 assertion that Yankees eat pork and molasses." 
 
 "Are we," asked Alice, "to understand that 
 green vegetables are to be put to cook in hot 
 water, and dried ones in cold water? " 
 
 " All dried vegetables should certainly be put 
 into cold, or lukewarm, water; but there is a 
 difierence of opinion in regard to fresh vegetables. 
 Some cooks contend that it preserves their green 
 color to put them into boiling water, but as I fail 
 to see why vegetables are more desirable on 
 account of shades of colors, that suggestion has no 
 w^eight with, me. From experiments that I have 
 made, I fail to discover any material difference 
 between putting green vegetables to cook in cold, 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 99 
 
 warm, or boiling water; consequently, I use 
 whichever is most convenient." 
 
 "Cousin Kate," observed Alice, "as my favorite 
 vegetable is sweet corn, I should like to know 
 your pet method of cooking it." 
 
 "I prefer it stewed," I said, "as it retains all 
 its sweetness when cooked in that manner. Cut 
 the corn from the cob ; but be careful, in so doing, 
 not to cut any portions of the cob. Scrape off the 
 milk, also the eyes of the grains. When you have 
 prepared all your corn, put it in a stew-pan, 
 adding not more than half a pint of water to a 
 quart of corn. Cover closely and stew gently for 
 thirty or forty minutes, stirring frequently at first 
 to prevent it sticking to the kettle and burning. 
 By the time it is thoroughly cooked the water will 
 have evaporated, and you can se'ason to taste with 
 salt and butter; or you can use sweet cream, if 
 you prefer it to butter. Corn cooked in this way 
 is much sweeter than when steamed or boiled, and 
 it is much easier to cut it from the cob before than 
 after it is cooked. 
 
 "Corn oysters I think especially nice. They 
 are made in this manner : 8^311 1 each row of ker- 
 nels through the middle, while on the cob. Shave 
 off thinly, then again in the same way, and finally 
 scrape off the eyes and milk. This method of 
 preparing the corn is much nicer than grating it. 
 To the corn from eijrht or ten medium-sized ears. 
 
100 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 add the whites of three eggs, beaten to a stiff 
 froth, and three tablespoonfiils of flour. Add the 
 egg and flour alternately, first egg and then flour, 
 in two or three portions, stirring them in with a 
 fork. Season lightly with salt and pepper, and 
 fry the same as oysters, putting a spoonful at a 
 time on the griddle, or in the spider. Fry in a 
 small quantity of lard and butter mixed. Brown 
 on both sides and serve on a heated platter." 
 
 "Kate, / beseech you," Emeline said, as soon 
 as I paused, "that you deal justly with the potato 
 — the white potato that we eat at all meals, and 
 in all seasons, nearly every day of our lives. 
 What a sorry, sad-looking object it is as it comes 
 from the hands of some cooks, sent to the table in 
 its dingy jacket, or sallow and waxen, without its 
 jacket, that having been hastily removed just 
 before servino:. But served in either of these 
 styles it is preferable to that miserable mash, 
 bluish in color, full of lumps and cold stifiiiess, or 
 watery and rank in flavor." 
 
 "Your descriptions," I replied, "are perfect, 
 Emeline ; I recognize each as an old acquaintance. 
 The white, or Irish potato, when full grown, I 
 think, is always better pared before cooking. 
 Not only pared, but well pared. Having carefully 
 removed all the dark eyes and dingy spots, let the 
 potatoes lie for an hour or two in a plentiful sup- 
 ply of cold water, and then put them to boil, in a 
 
BREAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 101 
 
 large quantity of boiling water. They should boil 
 moderate^, and as soon as tender at the heart, be 
 drained, partly covered and set to dry on the back 
 of the stove. Every minute or two give them a 
 gentle shake, so that they roll over and change 
 positions, until they are perfect snowballs of pow- 
 dery whiteness. If served in this state, you will 
 find them the perfection of boiled potatoes. I 
 think very few would pass them by untasted. If 
 mashed, the potato should be made fine and free 
 from all lumps, before cream, milk, or butter is 
 added. After the seasoning is in, beat well with 
 a wooden spoon, or potato-beater, until light. 
 Serve hot. 
 
 " This is a general rule for boiling potatoes ; but 
 like all rules it has exceptions. Diiferent varieties 
 of the vegetable require diiierent methods of cook- 
 ino-. Some may be better placed to boil in cold 
 water and allowed to heat gradually, as the water 
 heats ; others in a small quantity of water ; while 
 others — the peach-blow, for instance — should 
 never be boiled at all, but should be either baked 
 or steamed. When baked in a hot oven, the peach- 
 blow is dry, mealy, and white, and always satis- 
 ftictory. It is also the same steamed. But boiled, 
 it is worse than a disappointment. It is a hard- 
 hearted thing widi all its tenderness on the surfiice ; 
 and boil it as you will, the result is unsatisfactory 
 
102 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 — usually hardness at the core, while the- outside 
 is cooked into a mush or gruel. To drain and dry 
 properly under these circumstances is difficult. 
 But no woman should rest content with an imper- 
 fect dish of potatoes. If one method of cooking 
 fails she should try another. 
 
 "An agreeable companion to fried chicken is fried 
 potato, done in this way : Slice very thin, soak 
 for an hour or two in cold water, changing the 
 water once or twice. Drain the slices in a strainer, 
 and dry them on towels, by rolling and tumbling 
 them from one towel to another. Have the slices 
 separate, not packed together, when put into the 
 boiling lard.- Fry the same as chicken. When 
 of a light brown, lift, by means of a wire skimmer 
 
 — an indispensable thing in every well-ordered 
 kitchen — and drain in a wire or tin sieve. Serve 
 hot. The last water in which the slices lie may 
 be slightly salted, or a very slight sprinkling of 
 salt given them when served. 
 
 " Stewed potato, a nice breakfast dish, is easily 
 prepared. Cut the potato in slices about an 
 eighth of an inch in thickness. Boil gently until 
 tender, but not quite done. Drain the water away, 
 adding sweet cream and seasoning. Cover closely 
 and stew very gently for a few minutes. A little 
 minced parsley, if liked, may be added. 
 
 "Browned potatoes are very nice for dinner, with 
 
BKEAKFAST-TABLE GOSSIP. 103 
 
 a, roast. Pare and place them in the dripping-pan 
 around the meat. Tarn them over when partly 
 done, that they may brown evenly. Potatoes of 
 medium size require an hour to cook in this 
 manner." 
 
104 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT DINNER. 
 
 "I THINK, Cousin Emeline, there is no dish 
 more usually detestable in America than soup. 
 Were I to descri1:)e most truthfully what T have 
 usually found passing under that name, I should 
 call it greasy water, well seasoned with pepper and 
 salt, and having in it macaroni, rice, or stringy 
 bits of vegetables, — a mixture both unwholesome 
 and unpalatable. In my cook-book I mean to 
 insist that one of the cardinal virtues of good 
 cooking is, that food shall be so prepared as not 
 to taste watery. I have often dined where every 
 article of food upon the table could have been 
 properly labelled ' watery,' for the soup was 
 watery, the roast was watery, the vegetables were 
 watery, and even the pies and puddings were 
 watery. But this soup which Alice has served us 
 to-day, would silence the complaints of the most 
 inveterate grumbler. It is lovely to look at, being 
 of a rich color, between amber and ruby, and the 
 flavor is like a mingling of many good things, 
 whereby something far better has been produced, 
 than is concealed in any single ingredient. You 
 
AT DINNER. 105 
 
 taste neither water, meat, vegetables, herbs, nor 
 spices. You cannot be sure this, that, or the 
 other went to make up the delicious whole. You 
 relish it. It is appetizing, satisfying, and worthy 
 of being called soup. The cook who serves a 
 soup like this is an artist, with fine tastes and 
 keen perceptions ; and although neither Alice nor 
 I could give the exact recipe, the general rules for 
 making soup are easily laid down, and each cook 
 must put in the delicate finishing touches accord- 
 ing to taste and fancy. 
 
 " In the first place a soup-kettle must be a soup- 
 kettle, and nothing else. And unless made with 
 a false bottom it should stand on a rest that raises 
 it from the stove, so that its contents shall not be 
 in danger of burning. Let the cover fit closely. 
 Put into it a beef bone, carefully washed and 
 broken ; the trimmings of beefsteak, veal cutlets, 
 lamb chops ; the refuse pieces of cold meat of all 
 sorts, roasted, boiled or fried ; also game, fresh 
 fish, the skeletons of roast chicken or turkey, 
 beefsteak bones, and all scraps that are good for 
 nothing else, — bearing in mind always that they 
 must be cleaned and not burned. Never allow 
 the soup-kettle to boil, but let it simmer unceas- 
 ingly. When all the desirable qualities are 
 extracted from the bones and meat by this long- 
 continued simmering, strain the contents of the 
 kettle into an earthen bowl. Cover, and set aside. 
 
106 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 In cold weather, soup ^ stock,' as this preparation 
 is called, may be kept for many days, especially 
 if the surface covering of grease is not removed ; 
 but in warm weather it should only be kept, 
 and then in a cool place, from one day until the 
 next. Before returning the stock to the soup- 
 kettle, carefully remove all the grease, and add 
 barley, rice, macaroni, vermicelli, vegetables, or 
 such ingredients as desired, according to the sort 
 of soup to be made. The carrot I consider one 
 of the most important vegetables for soup, as it 
 has a good taste and a rich color, and is whole- 
 some. Tomatoes and onions come next in order ; 
 but the latter should be used only for flavoring, 
 and sparingly. The soup which has inspired my 
 observations was, I think, made in this manner : 
 To two quarts of soup stock, two carrots, ten 
 tomatoes, one onion, and a pinch of thyme or 
 sweet marjoram were added. When the veg- 
 etables were simmered to pieces, the soup was 
 strained, the shreds of vegetables thrown away, 
 and the soup returned to the kettle. A table- 
 spoonful of flour, stirred to a smooth paste with a 
 little butter, was added when the soup came to a 
 boil, also a little salt and pepper. Care was taken 
 not to overdo the seasoning, but to blend every- 
 thing perfectly. And just before serving, Alice 
 put into the soup-tureen diced toast ; that is, dry 
 toast, very crisp, cut in small square bits. These 
 
AT DINNER. 107 
 
 bits of toast are best when added to the soup by 
 the hostess just before serving, as then they reach 
 the mouth in a dry, or less soaked condition, and, 
 requiring some mastication, assist the digestion of 
 the soup. Instead of toast, bread maybe cut into 
 small bits and fried in butter, until brown and 
 crisp, or carrots cut in the same form and stewed 
 until tender, may be added in place of either, or 
 the soup may be served clear. When carrots, 
 tomatoes, and browned bits of meat and bones 
 are not used in preparing soup, a tablespoonful 
 each of flour, butter, and sugar, browned together 
 and added to the soup, gives it a rich color and 
 fine flavor. Pure broths of beef, mutton, or 
 chicken, delicately seasoned with salt and pepper, 
 and having no other ingredients than rice or bar- 
 ley, are always good, and in many respects better 
 than more elaborate soups. But broths, as well 
 as soups, should have their distinct flavors, and 
 should not be mere sloppy or greasy gruel, fero- 
 ciously salted and peppered. 
 
 "This leg of lamb, Alice, is done to a turn, 
 which cannot truthfully be said of the average 
 roast. Meat should be put to roast in as hot an 
 oven as it will bear without burning. After the 
 outside is browned and crusted over, imprisoning 
 the juices within, the heat may be somewhat 
 lessened. But I recommend roasting all meats as 
 quickly as possible. The roast should be placed 
 
108 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 in the pan without water or drippings. When 
 cooked, it may be sprinkled with salt and pepper, 
 if desired. The practice, so much in vogue, of 
 slopping water over meat to MDaste' it, is very 
 objectionable. It brings out the juices, and 
 toughens and injures the quality of the meat. 
 Salt, for the same reasons, should not be sprinkled 
 over the meat before, or while, roasting. Yeal is 
 an exception to the general rule. Being a dry, 
 tasteless meat, I think it is improved by frequent 
 bastings with a well-seasoned gravy, to which a 
 piece of butter and a teaspoonful of sugar have 
 been added. Veal should be cooked more thor- 
 oughly than any other kind of meat except pork, 
 — in fact should be cooked to death. Roast veal 
 is best when cold. 
 
 "A roast of beef is much improved by searing 
 the cut sides just before putting it in the oven. 
 This is done by laying it in a hot pan or spider, 
 over a bright fire, for two or three minutes. As 
 soon as one side is brown, turn it over in the 
 spider and brown the other, and place in a hot 
 oven immediately. In roasting meat it is custom- 
 ary to allow fifteen minutes to each pound of beef, 
 and twenty-five minutes to each pound of lamb or 
 mutton. But when it has been seared before it is 
 placed in the oven, at least half an hour can be 
 deducted from the usual time allowed an ordinary 
 roast of eight pounds. The advantage of the 
 
AT DINNEK. 109 
 
 searing process is not, however, so much in saving 
 time in roasting, as in saving the juices of the 
 meat by the instant forming of crusts on the out- 
 side. I feel confident that no sensible woman, 
 after a fair trial of the method of roastins: meats 
 by placing them dry in the pan, will ever return 
 to the old way of basting them with water or drip- 
 pings. It is a prevalent idea that meat will burn 
 in roasting, if not basted, or wet w^ith drippings ; 
 but the fact is, meat will bear all the heat neces- 
 sary to roast it in the most perfect manner, and 
 not burn. Eesting dry upon the bottom of the 
 pan, upper and under sides brown evenly at the 
 same time ; and not only is the process of roasting 
 shortened, but nearly all the trouble of changing 
 the positions of the meat in the oven is avoided. 
 "To boil meats or fowls, put them in boiling 
 water and simmer smartly, until tender. Never 
 allow them to boil fast or furiously, as so doing 
 toughens the meat, and at the same time robs it 
 of its juices. The smallest quantity of water 
 possible should be used in boiling meats, and no 
 salt should be added until the meat is nearly 
 done. The fowl or joint should be covered 
 closely, and frequently turned in the pot while 
 boiling. Ham is best put in cold water and sim- 
 mered gently until well done. The ham should be 
 placed in the boiler with the skin down, and with 
 sufficient water to cover it. After it begins to boil, 
 
110 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 fifteen minutes to each pound it weighs is not too 
 much time to give it for thorough boiUng. When 
 removed from the water it should be allowed to 
 cool before it is skinned. After skinning, place 
 it in a pan, cover the outside thickly with white 
 sugar, saturate with wine or vinegar, and brown 
 richly in a moderate oven. Smoked ham should 
 always be soaked over night in cold water, scraped 
 and well washed before boilinsr. 
 
 "Salted meats, such as corned beef, tongue, etc., 
 if too salt to be boiled in a small quantity of 
 water, should be soaked in cold water, which 
 extracts the salt without injuring the meat." 
 
 "Kate, in your cook-book do you mean to con- 
 sider the whole bill of fare from besrinnino: to 
 end; or will you select from it here and there, 
 taking only such articles and subjects as seem to 
 you most needing consideration ? " 
 
 " To discuss, or even glance at our whole bill 
 of fare would require more time than I could give 
 were I to live to threescore and ten. All I hope 
 to do is to call attention to the importance of the 
 subject, and to suggest such improvements in 
 methods of cooking as have come under my per- 
 sonal observation. I shall not lumber up my 
 cook-book with numberless untried recipes, but 
 will endeavor to give the general principles that 
 underlie them all ; so that by its aid any woman 
 with an ordinary quantity of brains will be en- 
 
AT DINNER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 abled to prepare all kinds of food in a proper and 
 healthful manner. 
 
 "How delicious these onions are, Alice, — ten- 
 der and sweet, without being overdone into a 
 tasteless mush. I seldom find beets, onions, or 
 cabbage cooked to my liking. Beets are usually 
 underdone, while onions and cabbage are over- 
 done, and served with a supply of water quite 
 unnecessary. Onions, cabbage, turnips, and all 
 greens should be gently pressed in a colander 
 until free from water; then placed in a heated 
 dish, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and butter. 
 Young dandelions and spinach are delicious so 
 served." 
 
 "Kate, in France, I found a very nice dinner- 
 dish, which I wish you would put into your book. 
 It has three recommendations: It is palatable, 
 ornamental, and inexpensive. Take a piece of 
 beef, where lean and fat are mixed, — a rib cut is 
 nice, if not too fat ; boil gently until very tender, 
 in well salted water. INIake tomato sauce by 
 stewiu": tomatoes and straininsr out the seeds. 
 Place the tomatoes in a saucepan over the fire and 
 season with butter, salt, pepper, and a little 
 sugar ; lastly, add a spoonful of arrowroot or 
 corn-starch, wet with water. Boil. The tomato 
 sauce should be of the consistence of thick gravy, 
 and perfectly smooth. Serve, by placing the meat 
 on a hot platter and pouring the sauce over it. 
 
112 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 A beef tongue cooked and served the same way is 
 delicious." And Emeline continued: "Kate, I 
 incline to the opinion that enjoyment of a meal 
 depends in great measure upon the suitability of 
 the things composing it. One can, no doubt, 
 acquire a taste for almost any kind of food ; but 
 while some kinds appear to be divorced by nature, 
 other kinds seem to be designed expressly to go 
 together." 
 
 " You are right," I replied. " White potatoes, 
 for instance, are suitable with nearly everything. 
 Baked potatoes are universally acceptable Avith 
 cold meats for dinner ; and with beefsteak, chops, 
 or picked-up codfish for breakfast. They are 
 especially good with all kinds of fresh fish, and 
 also with fried or scalloped oysters. Mashed or 
 plain boiled potatoes should be served with stewed 
 chicken, and roast meats or fowls with which 
 gravies are served. Sweet potatoes seem most at 
 home with roast beef, lamb, and fowls. Turnips 
 and cabbages are appropriate with mutton and 
 corned beef. Onions with beefsteak, roast beef, 
 and roast fowls. Tomatoes are good with fish, 
 flesh, or fowl ; but are especially good with fat 
 meats or poultry. This is also the case with sour 
 baked or stewed apples. Sour baked apples are 
 also nice with hash, for breakfast. 
 
 "But the suitability of food is a fruitful theme, 
 and should be as much a subject of study as the 
 
AT DINNER. 113 
 
 suitability of sounds or colors. The idea has 
 somehow obtained that it is improper or undigni- 
 fied for intelligent men and women to make a 
 study of gastronomy. The cultivated stomach, 
 however, appreciates contrast and harmonies in 
 taste as keenly as the cultivated eye or ear does 
 in color or sound ; and I am satisfied, in my own 
 mind, that the stomach is as much jarred and dis- 
 arranged by inharmonious tastes as either eye or 
 ear by inharmonious sights or sounds. The stom- 
 ach is the most important, as well as the most 
 delicate, organ in a human being. It is not 
 merely a receptacle for stufi* that has tickled the 
 palate, or for food that will sustain life. It is the 
 workshop in which are prepared all the materials 
 essential to the building up of body and l)rain, 
 and its needs and demands should be treated with 
 thou2rhtful consideration." 
 
 o 
 
 " Cousin Kate, don't forget our rice pudding," 
 said Alice. 
 
 "Ah, no ! Let me help 3^our mother. See, as 
 the spoon cuts through the light brown skin, a 
 rich, creamy substance appears ; not of a pure 
 white, but with a faint tinge of salmon. Each 
 grain of rice is perfect in form and of large size, 
 as if expanded to its utmost capacity ; yet so soft 
 that the slightest pressure is sufiicient to crush it. 
 This pudding is made of milk, rice, and sugar. It 
 contains no raisins, butter, or water. The pro- 
 
114 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 portions are these : Eight measures of new milk, 
 one measure of rice, one measure of sugar. If 
 desired, it may be flavored with lemon, vanilla, or 
 nutmeg, and a small pinch of salt should be added. 
 Place it on the range, where it will heat slowly. 
 Stir occasionally while the rice is swelling, and 
 when the milk is boiUng hot, place the pudding in 
 a moderate oven and bake for one hour, or until 
 the rice is quite soft. Do not stir the pudding 
 after placing it in the oven, but try to ascertain if 
 the rice is done before removing it. Serve cold. 
 This simple pudding, I think, nine persons out of 
 ten would prefer to those messes and mixtures 
 compounded of boiled rice, eggs, fruit, and but- 
 ter, and served warm with sauce. Yet the aver- 
 age cook takes extra pains to make the expensive, 
 indigestible dish, while this simple, wholesome, 
 and delicious dish seems to be almost unknown. 
 The error of supposing that nearly every kind of 
 food is improved by the addition of butter seems 
 to be as wide-spread as it is damaging and false. 
 While some dishes are improved for most tastes, 
 by the judicious use of good butter, a vastly 
 greater number are spoiled by the injudicious use 
 of bad butter. And here I wish to say emphati- 
 cally, that I know of no judicious use to which bad 
 butter can be applied by a housewife, except that 
 of making it into soap. To put bad butter into 
 pastry, puddings, and vegetables, does not make 
 
AT DINNER. 115 
 
 the butter good. It simply spoils the pastry? 
 puddings, and vegetables. Many dishes are over- 
 dosed with sweet butter ; while others in which it 
 it is usually found are much better without it. 
 American cooks have entirely too much faith in 
 the virtue and potency of grease." 
 
 " In looking over the ' American Woman's 
 Home ' the other day," observed Alice, " I came 
 across a paragraph on butter, that I presume you 
 would endorse. I will read it to you : ^ A matter 
 for despair as regards bad butter is, that at the 
 tables where it is used it stands sentinel at the 
 door to bar your way to every other kind of food. 
 You turn from your dreadful half slice of bread 
 which fills your mouth with bitterness, to your 
 beefsteak, which proves virulent with the same 
 poison. You think to take refuge in vegetable 
 diet, and find the butter in the string-beans, and 
 polluting the inuocence of early pease. It is in 
 the corn, in the succotash, in the squash. The 
 beets swim in it ; the onions have it poured over 
 them. Hungry and miserable, you think to solace 
 yourself at dessert, but the cake is acrid and the 
 pastiy is cursed with the same plague.'" 
 
 " But to change the subject, Kate, have you 
 noticed," interrogated Emeline, " on how few 
 tables you find rice that is properly cookeel ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have noticed with sorrow the ignorance 
 and stupidity exhibited in the preparation of so 
 simple an article of food. 
 
116 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " There are several excellent methods of cooking 
 rice. This is one of them : After the rice has been 
 carefully picked and wasiied, add three measures 
 of warm water to one measure of rice, and soak 
 for an hour. Then cook it in the same water, by 
 setting the dish containing it in a steamer, and 
 steaming it for one hour. When put to steam add 
 a small quantity of salt, and stir two or three times 
 with a fork during the first fifteen minutes. Rice 
 cooked in this manner will be white and dry, with 
 each grain separate and distinct, yet soft and 
 palatable. If desired, part of the water can be 
 left out, and its equivalent in milk added, when 
 the rice is nearly done cooking. One advantage 
 of this method is, that rice can be boiled in a china 
 bowl, or any vessel preferred. 
 
 " If you wish to cook rice quickly, I know of 
 no better way than this : Put one measure of rice 
 in five measures of boiling water. Cover closely 
 and boil rapidly, twenty or twenty-five minutes, 
 till tender. Drain, partly cover, and set fifteen 
 minutes, where it will keep hot, and dry off." 
 
 Ahce seemed to be growing restless and im- 
 patient about something ; but she gave no expres- 
 sion to her feelings except by a quick, nervous 
 tapping of the toe of her kid slipper upon the 
 carpet, and by a frequent pushing back of the stray 
 curls whicli rested against her cheek. At last she 
 sprang up joyfully, exclaiming: "Oh, Susannah, 
 
AT DINNER. 117 
 
 what a deal of work you must have had to do this 
 niornmg. Where shall we go first? Up stah-s, 
 down stairs, or to the lady's chamber?" 
 
 " I always do her room first, and the drawing- 
 room last," replied Susannah, adding : " Will you 
 come too. Miss Kate? and perhaps the Madam 
 wouldn't object. " 
 
 Upon this invitation we all followed her up- 
 stairs, and through the dimly-lighted passage, to 
 the suite of rooms heretofore mentioned as having 
 been occupied by the late Mrs. Douglas. The 
 main room was large, air};-, and well-lighted. 
 Opening out of this were two smaller ones — a bed- 
 chamber and a dressing-room. The walls were of 
 a soft gray tint, and were hung with paintings, 
 engravings, and chromos. The carpet had a gray 
 ground, covered with vines of the trailing arbutus, 
 so perfect that, as our feet pressed them, we almost 
 expected the delicious fragrance of the cruslied 
 flowers to come stealing up from their mossy bed. 
 Window draperies, easy-chairs, and lounges were 
 of gray cretonne, relieved by glowing vines and 
 bright blossoms. All the furniture was of rose- 
 wood, massive and delicately carved. At the foot 
 of the bed stood a small crib, the lace curtains of 
 which were looped back with rose-colored ribbons. 
 By the side of the crib Alice paused, and, with 
 trembling voice, asked, "Did the baby die too?" 
 " O ves. Miss, before the mother. And it was the 
 
118 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 shock that killed her, I've no manner of doubt," 
 answered Susannah. " You see that she was just 
 hanging, sort of even balance between life and 
 death, when the nurse announced thoughtlessly 
 that the child was dead. At that she gave a little 
 cry, and stretched out her arms, begging for her 
 baby ; and from that time she sank rapidly, sob- 
 bing and sighing, until she breathed her last. 
 Now, I think if her baby had lived, she wouldn't 
 have died." Susannah paused a moment, wiped 
 her eyes with the corner of her check apron, and 
 continued: "These bureau drawers. Miss Alice, 
 are packed full of the handsomest baby things you 
 ever saw. There are heaps and heaps of gossamer 
 flannels, tiny socks and dainty night-dresses, and 
 other things, all tucked and puffed with lace. 
 Poor, dear lamb, she used to sit there in the sun- 
 shine sewing and singing day after day — singing 
 in a low sweet voice a war])le of some sort, just fit 
 for a lullaby. And more than once I said to her, 
 ' ]\Iiss Helen, I vrouldn't make so many of those 
 little things. It isn't a good sign?" Then she 
 would reply, with a blush, 'AVhy, I think it is a 
 very good sign indeed, Susannah. But go away 
 with your superstitions. I put no faith in signs 
 and omens.' And I don't think she believed a 
 word in any of the signs ; but, bless her dear 
 heart, they came true all the same. And I sup- 
 pose it was all for the best. For it matters little 
 
AT DINNER. 119 
 
 to any of us whether we die to-day, or to-mor- 
 row, or in a few years. The end soon comes any- 
 how." 
 
 " Cousin Kate, w^hat is this?" interrupted Alice, 
 holding up a small, beautifully bound volume, on 
 the back of which, in letters of gold, was the 
 name — "Helen Douglas." 
 
 "That," I answered, ''is a memorial — a tribute 
 to the dead wife, written by the husband during 
 the first weeks of his liereavement. It contains 
 some beautiful things. Wouldn't you like to look 
 it over at your leisure?" 
 
 "Indeed, I should," was the reply; and Alice 
 tucked the l)ook under her arm, hugging it closely 
 to her side, as if she regarded it as a rare treasure, 
 while we followed Susannah to the drawinsr-room. 
 
 No sooner were the windows opened, and the 
 room filled with light and sunshine than Alix:e ex- 
 citedly exclaimed : 
 
 "Mamma, look at those pictures — 'My lord' 
 and his mother. Cousin Kate, w^hat does it all 
 mean ? Who are these people ? " 
 
 "That," I answered, quietly, "is the portrait of 
 my old school-mate Jennie Douglas, and this a 
 very good likeness of her son Gerald ; while this 
 is an idealized but faithful picture of his wife. 
 Wasn't she a beautiful w^oman ? " 
 
 "She is beautiful," said Alice. "I can't bear to 
 hear to hear you say she loas beautiful, as if her 
 
]20 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 life was ended. tiad I known her, I could 
 never think of her as dead, I am sure." 
 
 "Kate," asked Emelnie, "did you suspect that 
 our Switzerland acquaintances were your friends, 
 the Douglases ? " 
 
 "I did suspect, in fact was sure of their identity 
 from your very accurate descriptions. Quite a 
 romance, isn't it, Alice? And that you should 
 have dreamed of this man the first night you slept 
 under his roof, not knowing of his association with 
 these scenes, seems to me a singular coincidence. 
 But there is no accounting for dreams, or the 
 strange happening of events. The most unlooked 
 for, as well as most unwished for circumstances, 
 sometimes turn our lives into a new channel, and, 
 in after days, we see what we thought at the time 
 a great calamity, was, after all, for our best 
 good." 
 
 "Yes," said Emeline, reflectively, "this life 
 seems a sad muddle. We go groping about in 
 the dark, seeing strange shapes of evil, and 
 stumbling over neglected graves, longing for 
 light, and praying for mists and fogs to roll away ; 
 and sometimes catching glorious glimpses of the 
 evil shapes changing to friendly faces, and the 
 sad graves becoming mounds of bloom and green- 
 ness. But, Kate, w^e have been here more than a 
 month, and you have not devoted one hour to my 
 novel. Now, on the first rainy day, I shall ex- 
 
AT DINNER. 121 
 
 pcot you and Alice to come to my room and 
 spend the entire morning in listening to portions 
 of it. I want your opinion about so many things 
 — even about deciding. upon a title for it. To 
 name my first-born- and only child, I found an 
 easy matter compared with determining what to 
 call this fledgling of my imagination. I think a 
 title should be attractive, and at the same time give 
 a hint, at least, of the contents of the ])Ook, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, that is well enough in a novel. But in 
 the case of my cook-book I have a different opin- 
 ion. That I intend to slip into libraries and on 
 centre-tables, as well as into kitchens, and have 
 it read by thousands, who would otherwise never 
 look at it, by selecting a title that suggests pleas- 
 ant light reading rather than a dry dissertation 
 upon cookery. Won't I steal a march upon many 
 an unsuspecting damsel, and teach hundreds how 
 to cook before they realize they are reading a 
 cook-book ? " 
 
 " I never saw a more spiritual face," said Alice, 
 still wrapt in contemplation of the portrait of 
 Helen Douglas. As represented by the artist, 
 she appeared a blonde with delicate features, 
 whose large eyes and full mouth might have had 
 in them a hint of voluptuousness, but for the pure, 
 Madonna-like expression of the whole face. A 
 flowing robe of fleecy white added to the effect. 
 
122 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 Her hands were folded upon her bosom, one of 
 them touching a large cross suspended from her 
 neck by a tiny gold chain. This was the only 
 ornament she wore. Her eyes were raised as if 
 in prayer, and her light, wavy hair floated uncon- 
 fined over her neck and shoulders. 
 
 "It is, indeed, very lovely, and it will be a 
 wicked shame if the second Mrs. Douglas banishes 
 it to the attic," was Emeline's response to her 
 daughter. 
 
 A slight flush appeared on Alice's cheek, as she 
 replied, "Mamma, Gerald Douglas looks to me 
 like a man who, loving once, would love forever ; 
 but perhaps I can judge better vrhat manner of 
 man he is, after reading this memorial." And 
 Alice left us, to peruse in her own room, the small 
 gilt-edged volume dedicated to the memory of 
 Helen Douglas. 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 12^ 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 
 
 " Beoiled chicken for breakfiist — how nice ! '' 
 said Cousin Emeline, as she lifted the cover from 
 the dish before me. "What a pity so few cooks 
 can broil well I I've had more difficulty in the 
 broiling department than in any other." 
 
 "Broiling, Emeline, when properly done, is a 
 very satisfying method of cooking steaks, chops, 
 chicken, etc., — satisfying to the eater thereof, I 
 mean. But the poor housewife who broils herself 
 as well as her meats, in the laborious effort to 
 attain perfection, does not perhaps enjoy it to the 
 same extent. AYith a suitable fire and other con- 
 veniences, broiling is not at all difficult. But 
 with the average range or cooking-stove it is no 
 easy matter, as the fire is seldom in right condi- 
 tion at the important moment. And my recom- 
 mendation to women who toil and suffer to bring 
 the broiled steak or chop to the table in perfec- 
 tion, is to try this method : At the time of placing 
 the steak over the fire, put into the oven a drip- 
 ping-pan large enough to hold the steak without 
 foldins:. As soon as the steak is lightly browned 
 
124 COOKmO AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 on one side, turn and brown it on the other ; then 
 transfer it instantly to the hot pan and oven, 
 where, if it be thick, it will need to remain from 
 five to ten minutes, according to the state in which 
 it is to be served. Serve on a heated platter, and 
 season after removinc: from the oven. This 
 method relieves the cook, saves all the juices of 
 the meat, and prevents it from burning on the 
 outside while it remains raw within. No one can 
 tell a steak so cooked from one finished on the 
 gridiron ; and those who have tried both methods, 
 find the hot-oven finish far superior. But it will 
 not answer to have the oven warm merely. It 
 must be hot. Or, steaks, chops, etc., may be 
 broiled — literally broiled — in this way : Set your 
 spider on the stove, and let it get smoking hot. 
 Put in no butter nor any kind of grease. Have 
 your meat previously prepared by trimming oft' 
 all pieces of bone, gland, superfluous suet, and 
 tissue that will bind the edge and make it turn up. 
 Lay it carefully and smoothly in the spider. It 
 will stick fast at first, but as soon as browned it 
 can be loosened with a knife. When juice begins 
 to appear turn it over, and let the other side 
 brown the same as the first. Press closel}'- to the 
 pan when turned, and turn as often as is necessary 
 to save the juices and cook the steak properly. 
 "Lamb or mutton chops are very nice, dipped in 
 beaten egg, covered with bread-crumbs rolled fine, 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 125 
 
 and fried like chicken, in a quantity of boiling 
 lard. When broiled, they should always be done, 
 like steak, in a hot pan, unless they are very 
 much trimmed ; that is, unless the small piece of 
 lean tenderloin is separated entirely from the bone 
 and fat, which should be rejected. These trimmed 
 chops may be broiled over a clear tire in a wire 
 gridiron, such as is used for oysters ; and, when 
 so cooked, are delicious. The rejected bone 
 and fat can be saved in a stew, or in the soup- 
 kettle. But it would be no more wasteful to 
 throw them away, than to retain and broil alto- 
 gether, as is usually done. For in the latter case 
 the result is generally a badly damaged chop, 
 smoked and burned from the dripping of grease 
 — an unsightly, awkward piece, from which nine 
 persons out of ten select and cat the small bit 
 only, leaving the rest upon their plates to be 
 thrown out with the scraps from the table. But 
 in my cook-book, in connection Avith this recipe 
 for broiling, I intend to put in staring capitals. 
 Keep the broiling-pan piping hot all the time 
 
 THE MEAT IS cooking." 
 
 "Your labor-saving expedients," remarked 
 Emeline, "may do well enough with chops and 
 steaks, and may probably prevent them from being 
 burned or underdone. But by no substitute for 
 the gridiron, or by no make-believe method of the 
 sort you recommend, could a broiled chicken be 
 
126 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 produced that would begin to approach this in 
 excellence." 
 
 "Ah, ha ! " said Alice, gayly, "you are in error 
 there. This chicken has never touched a gridiron, 
 nor seen live coals. It was done entirely in a hot 
 oven, after one of Cousin Kate's labor-saving 
 methods. This is the way it was cooked : The 
 chicken was prepared for broiling by being opened 
 down the back, washed in cold water, and wiped 
 dry with a soft cloth. The breast-bone was flat- 
 tened with a mallet, the wings were twisted back, 
 to leave the breast exposed, and the chicken was 
 placed, skin up, in a dripping-pan, and pressed 
 close to the pan, to make it lie as flat as possible. 
 After being thus fixed, I put it into a hot oven and 
 shut the door. In about five minutes I heard a 
 sputtering inside, iind bcgcUi to think something 
 was wrong ; but Cousin Kate dissipated my fears 
 by assuring me that it was cooking nicely. From 
 time to time I peeped into the oven, just to see 
 that it was not burning, and at the expiration of 
 twenty or twenty-five minutes I placed the chicken 
 on a heated platter, seasoned it with pepper, salt, 
 and butter, and here it is before us." 
 
 " Incomparable as a broiled chicken ! " was 
 Emeline's response. 
 
 " So thinks my fiistidious mamma ? But would 
 you have thought so had you^ known before you 
 tasted it that it was oven-cooked ? " 
 
03IELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 127 
 
 "I do not think my prejudice in favor of ])roil- 
 ing could prevent my appreciating so perfectly 
 cooked a chicken as you have served us this morn- 
 ing, Alice. Bat why do you not season, and 
 baste it with butter, before 3^ou put it in the 
 oven ? I would do so ; and Avould also put water 
 in the pan, to keep it from burning." 
 
 "There you would make a great mistake," said 
 Alice, decidedly. " The pan must be dry, so that 
 the chicken will brown on the bottom ; and the 
 chicken must be dry, so it may broil, instead of 
 steam and stew. Besides, if the chicken was 
 basted with ])utter it Avould brown with less heat ; 
 and Cousin Kate says the secret of success in 
 this method, is in having the oven just as hot as 
 the chicken will ]:)ear without burning. It would 
 by no means be the same, in appearance or taste, 
 if done in a slow, or even a moderate oven." 
 
 "All birds that are good broiled, are better 
 Vv^hen cooked in a hot oven in the manner Alice 
 has just described," I remarked ; when the appear- 
 ance of Tom with the mail interrupted the conver- 
 sation. Among my letters was one from my 
 friend Mrs. Rose, containing some hints for my 
 cook-book. In. regard to quail, she wrote : 
 
 " ' I think there is no bird more delicate than 
 a quail broiled in this manner : Lay the bird on 
 a gridiron, and, when it begins to brown, dip it 
 into butter, seasoned with salt and pepper. Con- 
 
128 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 tinue to broil and dip, until it is done brown — a 
 nice yellow brown all over. Serve hot.' " 
 
 "You don't approve of that, Kate, do you?" 
 interrupted Emeline ; " it seems to clash with some 
 of your theories." 
 
 "At all events, Emeline, I shall not condemn 
 without trying it. And perhaps the use of the 
 butter here to hasten the browning, may be a 
 good thing, as otherwise the bird might be too 
 much done before it was properly browned. But 
 to return to the letter. 
 
 "^Wild ducks should be cooked as soon as 
 possible after they are shot. I know that large 
 quantities are sent to gentlemen in London, by 
 their friends in this country. But by the time 
 they reach them, I doubt not the English gen- 
 try think very much as Mrs. M. did, especially if 
 their ducks are cooked in the same manner hers 
 were. Her husband's brother sent her from 
 Washington a pair of canvas-backs for which he 
 paid $10 ; but she didn't think them as good as a 
 pair of tame ducks she could buy in her own 
 town for ten shillings. I asked her how she 
 cooked them. She said she stuffed them with 
 bread dressing, seasoned with onion, and baked 
 them an hour and a half. Now this is my recipe : 
 Draw out the entrails, and rinse the ducks ; but 
 don't soak them, as some ignorant cooks do, or 
 you will lose the juices. Kub inside with salt and 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 129 
 
 pepper, and put in each duck a piece of butter 
 the size of an egg, and a teaspoonful of red wine. 
 Eoast twenty or twenty-five minutes. By no 
 means allow the birds to be moved while roasting, 
 lest their juices be spilled. When done they will 
 be full of a bright red gravy. Kemove carefully 
 to, and serve on, a hot dish. 
 
 "'Terrapin gladdens the heart of an epicure, 
 w^hen prepared according to this recipe : Put the 
 terrapins in a pot of boiling water. Let them 
 boil gently two hours, or until you can pick off 
 the skin with ease. Then lift from the water, 
 take off the under shell, pick the skin from the 
 feet, and remove the gall and sand-bag, and, if 
 you choose, the entrails. Pick the meat from the 
 bones. Cut in small pieces. Mash the eggs and 
 livers in the water that runs from the terrapin 
 while picking it up, and mix with the meat. 
 Place in a stew-pan or chafing-dish, season to 
 taste with butter, salt, pepper, and Madeira 
 wine, and stew for a few minutes — just long 
 enouo'h to heat thorouo-hlv. About an ounce of 
 
 O Of 
 
 butter and a Avine-glass of wine to a pint of pre- 
 pared meat are the proper proportions.' " 
 
 "I presume Mrs. Eose's recipes are excellent, 
 as she lived several years on the eastern shore of 
 Maryland, w^here they are famous for serving such 
 epicurean luxuries as canvas-back and terrapin, in 
 the most approved manner. But let us get on 
 
130 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 with the letter : ^ I hope you will devote a chapter 
 in your book to omelets. Did I ever tell you, it 
 took me seven years to learn how to make an 
 omelet? Now, I don't mean you to understand 
 that I devoted my undivided time and attention to 
 the study of omelets alone, during that period ; 
 but as. occasion offered, during seven years, I 
 tried various and varying recipes from at least a 
 score of cook-books. As directed, I beat the eo-o^s 
 together at one time, and beat them separately at 
 another time. I put cream in some, and in some 
 I minced ham, parsley, or onion. I made omelets 
 as light as a puff and dry as a husk. I produced 
 omelets soft and frothy, as well as omelets flabby 
 and leathery. I concocted omelets that were cer- 
 tainly first cousin to scrambled eggs ; and omelets 
 more nearly related still to baked custard. But 
 the omelet I was striving for, — the omelet I had 
 found in my girlhood days at first-class hotels, and 
 tables where I could not take the cook aside and 
 ask how it was made, — this ideal omelet was not 
 to be evolved from all the materials prescribed by 
 these cook-books. Discouraged and disappointed 
 I rested from my labors ; and Harry and I ate 
 eggs boiled, poached, and scrambled. But at last 
 I obtained the object of my endeavors. One 
 morning I found upon the table of an intimate 
 friend Uby omelet. ^' Did you make this ? " I asked, 
 eagerly. " Tell me exactly how you did it. Begin 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 131 
 
 at the beginning, and let me know every twist 
 and turn of the process." " Why," she answered, 
 with a complaisant smile, "it's the easiest thing in 
 the Avorld. For my family I take five eggs. I 
 break them into a bowl, and beat them with a 
 sjDoon, lightly, until I can dip up a spoonful. I 
 beat them only enough to break them up, and 
 render them manageable. I have ready a little 
 minced parsley, salt, and pepper. I place my 
 omelet-pan, which is never used for any other 
 purpose, with an ounce of sweet butter in it, on 
 the stove ; and as soon as the Initter is hot, — be 
 careful not to let it brown, — I pour the omelet, 
 rinse the egg from the bowl with three teaspoon- 
 fuls of sweet milk — cream is better — and pour 
 it over the omelet in the pan. I then sprinkle in 
 salt, pepper, and minced parsley, and set it to 
 cook where it will have moderate heat. While 
 cooking I stir it gently with a fork, and when 
 almost done, place it for a moment where the heat 
 is a little quicker, so it may brown lightly on the 
 bottom. When ready to serve, I slip a knife- 
 blade under one side, holding the pan slightly 
 tipped, and fold the omelet over, leaving half the 
 pan naked, and the omelet in the shape of a turn- 
 over pie. And now comes the only difficult part 
 of the operation — that of turning the omelet from 
 the pan upon the platter. Don't forget to heat 
 the platter, — a cold omelet isn't fit to eat. Hold 
 
132 COOIQNG AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 the pan close to, and partly over it. Give it a 
 sudden dip — the pan, I mean — and a gentle 
 flop, and there lies your omelet, just where you 
 desired,— a neatly shaped, plump little thing, 
 about three inches thick, moist, light, and, in my 
 judgment, the best omelet that can be made." 
 
 " ' I went home happy, intending to surprise 
 Harry next morning with my ideal omelet — the 
 dainty dish he had heard me talk about, and sigh 
 for so often. But, alas, for human expectations ! 
 I made the omelet, and hesitated not until the time 
 to stir it came. Then a score of perplexing ques- 
 tions arose. "Stir gently two or three times," 
 was what my friend had said. But Avhat is stir- 
 ring gently? Does to stir gently mean to stir 
 slowly ? And how soon should I begin to stir ? 
 And why stir with a fork ? As no one was present 
 to answer these and the other questions that sug- 
 gested themselves, I seized a fork and began 
 stirring slowly, round and round. But the tines 
 of the fork scratched over the bottom of the spi- 
 der, and that seemed the only rcsidt of my labor. 
 After waiting awhile, I stirred again. This time 
 I found the egg adhering to the pan, and stirred 
 more vigorously, thinking by so doing to accom- 
 plish the desired object. But when I attempted 
 to turn the omelet, it stuck fast, and wouldn't 
 fold ; so I worried over and scraped at it, until 
 all form and comeliness were lost, and it was 
 
OMELET AND DAIXTY DISHES. 133 
 
 nothing but a shabby specimen of scrambled eggs. 
 Then I generously left it all* for Bridget's break- 
 fast. 
 
 " 'In despair I went to my friend, who was sur- 
 prised at my failure ; but, to my great delight, 
 she said, " Stay to lunch, and I will make an ome- 
 let so that you may see just how it is done." I 
 watched carefully every movement, and kept say- 
 ing, "/did precisely so," until stirring time came. 
 Then my interest grew intense. Placing the 
 omelet in the pan, she set it over moderate heat, 
 and waiting just about a minute, dipped in the 
 fork. Finding the egg had set, or slightly 
 cooked upon the bottom of the pan, she lifted or 
 picked it up, here and there, at various points, — 
 each time raising her fork entirely out of the 
 omelet, and dipping it in at another point. Light 
 dawned. I saw the secret of the whole thing was 
 in this peculiar moving of the omelet as it cooked ; 
 and in my amazement, I exclaimed, "And that 
 performance you call stirring ? I might have tried 
 till doomsday, from your directions, and wouldn't 
 have cooked the omelet properly." "AYell, if it 
 isn't stirring — what is it? AVhat would you call 
 it ? " " Lifting would express the idea more cor- 
 rectly," I replied. "It is lifting the cooked egg 
 that adheres to the pan, so that the uncooked egg 
 may take its place. The egg forms a thin layer 
 or cake on the pan, and dipping the fork in here 
 
134 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 and there at various points and lifting, loosens the 
 whole mass. The eflects produced by stirring and 
 liftmg are very different, and in the manfacture of 
 an omelet are Very apparent." When a second 
 layer had cooked, the lifting operation was re- 
 peated, and so on until the cooked egg filled the 
 pan, and there was no more to be let underneath. 
 In this delicate process of lifting lies the whole 
 secret of the operation. Done in this manner, 
 the butter is not stirred away from the bottom of 
 the pan, and enough remains to allow the omelet 
 to brown nicely, and prevent it from sticking. 
 Since that memorable day I have never failed in 
 makins: an omelet that o'ave me entire satisfac- 
 tion.' " 
 
 "I had no idea," interrupted Emeline, "such 
 m3^steries Avere hidden away in an omelet. Few 
 of us, I fear, Avould labor as Mrs. Rose did to dis- 
 cover them." 
 
 ■* No," I replied, " the most of us are too lazy 
 or too careless to do so. We accept the indiffer- 
 ent food that is placed before us, and grumble at 
 the cook for selecting such unpalata])le dishes ; 
 but never dream the wretched preparations can be 
 improved upon. Mrs. Hose is an exceptional 
 woman, who never rests satisfied with a dish that 
 she thinks she can in any way improve. Pier 
 omelets, I know, from having seen and tasted 
 many of them, are unsurpassable. And I am not 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 135 
 
 willing to believe any woman such a natural 
 stupid as to be capable, after reading the' minute 
 description given in these graphic exiieriences, 
 of makins: a failure of an omelet. Her letter con- 
 tinues : 
 
 " ^ What do you think of this for salad dressing ? 
 I have copied it from a recently published cook- 
 book by a very popular writer. Plere is the dress- 
 ing for " two full grown chickens and three launches 
 of celery": "Two cups boiling water, two table- 
 spoonfuls of corn-starch w^et with cold Vv^ater, two 
 tablcspoonfuls of oil, one cup of vinegar, two tea- 
 spoonfuls of made mustard, one great spoonful of 
 fat, skimmed from the liquor in which the fowls 
 were boiled, three raw eggs, three hard-boiled 
 eggs, one teas2:)oonful powdered sugar, one tea- 
 spoonful salt, one teaspoonful pepper, and one tea- 
 spoonful AYorcestershire sauce." I prefer my 
 salad with a less elaborate dressing. But there is 
 no accounting for tastes, and there are persons, 
 perhaps, who would relish such a concoction. 
 This is the best recipe I know for oil dressing for 
 chicken or other salad : For three chickens take 
 the yolks of eio-ht fresh e£r2:s. Put them in an 
 earthen bowl, and Avith a silver spoon stir gently 
 and slowly, round and round. Don't beat them. 
 Drop in oil, drop by drop at first, then in small 
 quantities, and very slowly, until in the course of 
 an hour you have used the whole bottle of oil. 
 
136 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 At last add three tablespoonfuls of vinegar, two 
 of mad'e mustard, a teaspoonful of salt, and cay- 
 enne pepper to taste, continuing the stirring 
 slowly all the while. Prepare the chickens by 
 boiling whole. Salt the w^ater in which they boil, 
 yevy slightly. Cut the chickens when cold into 
 small bits, half an inch in length, and reject tlie 
 skin and fibrous pieces. Cut the celery in pieces 
 the same size, and have two-thirds as much celery 
 as chicken. Put the chicken and celery, when 
 thus prepared, in an earthen bowl, and mix well 
 w^ith a fork. Add the dressing just before serv- 
 ing.' " 
 
 " I have no doubt Mrs. Pose's recipe for salad 
 dressing is very nice, and for those Avho like oil, 
 unexceptionable. In my cook-book, in connec- 
 tion with hers, I will give the following recipe : 
 Take the yolks of eight fresh eggs, and one gill 
 each of strong cider-vinco-ar and water. Heat, to 
 boiling, the vinegar and water, and pour slowly 
 over the beaten yolks, continuing to beat while 
 adding the hot liquid. Put the mixture in an 
 earthen bowl, and set on the range or stove, in a 
 pan of boiling water. Let the water boil around 
 the bowl until the contents are cooked. Stir fre- 
 quently, and after it begins to thicken, continu- 
 ously, until done, when remove at once, and con- 
 tiaue the stirring for a minute, while cooling. Do 
 not cook it enough to curdle it. Add mustard, 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 137 
 
 pepper, and salt, to taste. When cold, thin to the 
 consistency desired with sweet cream. If cream 
 cannot be had, Tidd an ounce of butter while the 
 dressing is hot ; and use sweet milk to thin it 
 when cold. This dressing may be kept in a cool 
 place several days. But when so kept, the cream 
 or milk must not be added till wanted for use. It 
 is excellent for cold slaw, lettuce, etc. 
 
 "Kate, don't forget to give a recipe for frizzling 
 beef, in your book," said Emeline, as I laid down 
 Mrs. Eose's letter. " Frizzled beef is a dish much 
 used in warm weather, especially by country 
 people, and, although so simple, it is often unfit 
 to eat by reason of being badly prepared. Instead 
 of being shaved, the beef is cut in thick slices or 
 chunks, and the outer rind left on, which gives it, 
 when cooked, a strong, rank taste. It is then 
 boiled in a quantity of water until all the juice is 
 extracted, and the meat rendered touo-h and in- 
 sipid, and flour and strong butter is added to make 
 gravy ; or the water is allowed to boil away, and is 
 replaced Avith skimmed milk. As fond as I am of 
 frizzled beef, I confess I have no relish for it when 
 prepared in the ordinary slip-shod method. 
 
 " I am glad you mentioned this delicious l)reak- 
 fast dish. You shall have some in a few days, 
 cooked according to my recipe. Here it is : Cut 
 away all the rind, or dried skin, from as much of 
 the meat as you wish to use. It can then be 
 
138 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 shaved or sliced easily, and as thin as desired, if a 
 sharp, thin-hladed knife be used. Put a piece of 
 butter in the pan in which it is to be cooked ; and 
 when the butter is boiling hot, throw in tl>e shaved 
 beef. Place over a quick fire, and with a fork 
 stir it constantly, to prevent burning. As soon 
 as it looks frizzled or cooked, remove to a cooler 
 place. Dash in a spoonful of flour. Mix well by 
 stirring'. Then add a little svv'eet milk. The 
 amount of butter and milk used must be regulated 
 by the c[uantity of meat, as in frizzled beef one 
 wants no grav}^ independent of beef — the beef 
 and gravy should be so assimilated as to render a 
 separation almost impossible. Beef will cook or 
 frizzle l)y this method in two minutes. Dried 
 mutton, veal, etc., are very -nice when cooked 
 this way. Many persons think a little dried Hver, 
 shaved in the same manner as the beef, and cooked 
 with it, improves the dish. Be careful to have 
 all mould and outside skin pared or scraped off 
 before putting the meat in the pan, as a very little 
 mould will impart a disagreeable flavor to a large 
 dish of frizzled beef." 
 
 "But, Cousin Kate," interrupted Alice, "ma 
 appears to take so much interest 'in culinary mat- 
 ters this morning, that Pm afraid, unless some one 
 makes a move, the greater part of the day will 
 pass before we finish breakfast." . And she left us 
 and tripped lightly up stairs to her room. 
 
OMELET AND DAINTY DISHES. 139 
 
 After her dcpiirture, I said to Emeline, "I 
 have a letter here from my old friend Jennie — I 
 mean Mrs. Douglas — in which she writes : ' Be 
 not startled if we should surprise you somq. fine 
 morning, by dropping in upon you at Maplewood. 
 How charming it will be to find you in the old 
 home to welcome us. Don't think of going sooner 
 than you intended because of our anticipated re- 
 turn. Gerald joins me in insisting that you and 
 your friends shall remain, as 3^ou proposed, till 
 autumn. You mention these friends simply as 
 " oMrs. Eichmond and dau2:hter." Have I ever met 
 them ? The name has a familiar sound ; and yet 
 I can't recall them.'" 
 
 "How annoying!" said Emeline. "To be 
 tiir^.cd out of such comfortable quarters before we 
 get fi^irly started at our literary labors, is really 
 too bad. But, of course, we must go. I couldn't 
 think of remaining, under all the circumstances." 
 
 Questioning in my mind what m^^stic meaning 
 might be hidden in the latter part of her sentence, 
 I replied : " Don't decide upon anything hastily ; 
 and say nothing to Alice, at present, about the 
 matter. Because, as Jennie writes, Gerald's 
 moods may change, — he is so restless and un- 
 happy, — and with them, all their plans. If they 
 decide positively to come home, she promises to 
 give ample notice before they sail. I dare say, 
 however, they'll remain abroad another year." 
 
140 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN THE ORCHARD. 
 
 We were in the orchard looking for apples to 
 eat, to bake, and to make into pies ; and with 
 baskets well tilled with Sweets, and Codlings, and 
 Queens, Emeline and I sat under the shade of a 
 tree, while Alice wandered farther on in search of 
 fruit that was rosier-cheeked, or more golden, than 
 any we had gathered. 
 
 " Did it ever occur to you, Kate," said Emeline, 
 breakhig the silence into which we had fallen, 
 "that" there is a universal disposition among all 
 classes of people to wait on the future, and make 
 little account of the present? Most of us fail to 
 enjoy the present, we are so occupied in preparing 
 for the future. In consequence of this feeling we 
 store our closets with preserved fruits, which are 
 in a measure dead fruits, the life, the pure air and 
 sunshine havinsr been crushed and cooked out of 
 them in the process of canning and preserving. 
 When winter comes our cellars are filled with 
 fragrant, delicious apples ; so full of goodness that 
 they make the atmosphere, even of a close, damp 
 cellar, redolent of sweetness. But, in our blind 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 141 
 
 stupidity, we pass by, with a careless word of 
 commendation, the very prince of fruits, the apple, 
 leaving it to wither and decay, while we feed on 
 the husks of the past, the cherries and berries 
 and peaches and plums that we have canned and 
 preserved and pickled. How foolish it does seem 
 to neglect the apple, when it is in its very prime, 
 through the fall and winter months, for these 
 fussed-up favorites, which are far less nutritious ; 
 and Vv'hich we ate far too sparingly in their natural 
 state, and while in season, during the sultry sum- 
 mer-time." 
 
 "Yes, Emeline, it often seems to me that in 
 caring for the future we waste much of the present. 
 Do you know, by the way, some wise people 
 hold that apples contain all forms or kinds of 
 nutriment essential to sustain and nourish our 
 bodies, and that we can live and thrive upon apples 
 alone, if we use them cooked and uncooked, as 
 food ? For the past week I have been thinking 
 about the best methods of canning, preserving, 
 and cooking fruits, and the very thoughts you ex- 
 press have occurred to me. If people were wise 
 enough to eat plentifully of the different kinds of 
 fruits in their proper season, there would be com- 
 paratively little need of canning and preserving, 
 in many sections of our country." 
 
 "You may be correct in your views, Kate ; but 
 since people will can and preserve fruits for some 
 
142 COOKING AND CASTLE- BUILDING. 
 
 generations yet, I hope you will tell them how to 
 do it according to the best methods. Many per- 
 sons care little for cooked apples, I' think, for the 
 simple reason that they are generally cooked so 
 wretchedly. Sometimes we get them half-baked, 
 and at others w^e have them in a wishy-washy, 
 watery sauce, so overdosed with sugar and nut- 
 meg, or other heavy spices, that they nauseate 
 delicate stomachs." 
 
 " Thank you, Emeline. You give me a hint for 
 my book : Never sj^ice fruits lest you destroy their 
 flavor, I always detested nutmeg, allspice, and 
 cinnamon, in apple-pies. I now see the reason. 
 Rich spices and delicate-flavored fruits form an 
 unsuitable and inartistic combination. Heavy 
 spices belong legitimately to heavy sweetness, such 
 as cake, custard, and pumpkin-pie. But the line, 
 delicate flavor of fruits should be preserved as 
 perfectly as possible ; and for this reason they 
 should never be cooked in tin, or stirred with a 
 metal spoon less pure than silver. A wooden 
 spoon or spatula is the best for the purpose. 
 
 "These are the directions I shall give : If it is 
 desirable to add to the flavor of the fruit you are 
 cooking, add the flavor of another fruit. For 
 instance, flavor apples with either pineapple, 
 strawberry, raspberry, quhice, lemon, or orange, 
 etc. Even the perfume of flowers, like, rose- 
 water, may add to the dellciousness of a dish of 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 143 
 
 fruit. But to bury roses in cake, seems as inap- 
 propriate and unnatural as to clcaclen fruit with 
 spices. In cooking fruits of all sorts, whether for 
 present or future use, aim to preserve the flavor of 
 the fruit as far as possible ; and to this end, avoid 
 all contact with tin or base metal, and all needless 
 exposure to the air. Cook as soon as possible 
 after the fruit is in proper condition. Cook in 
 small quantities. Simmer gently, instead of boil- 
 ing rapidly. The flavor of some fruits is pre- 
 served better bv cannins: them without su^^ar. 
 Peaches and blackberries' are finer flavored when 
 canned without sugar. At the time of opening 
 and serving, sugar can be added, if desired. 
 Currants and raspberries, when made into jams 
 and jellies, should be simmered until nearly 
 cooked before the sugar is added. 
 
 ' " There is a general impression that sugar is 
 required for canning fruit. This is a mistake. 
 The conveniences for canning are so perfect now- 
 adays that it is not necessary to add sugar to fruit 
 for the purpose of preserving, but only to render 
 it palatable. All fruits wdll keep perfectly w^ell 
 without sugar, v/hcn properly canned. They 
 should be put up boiling hot, in air-tight glass 
 cans; and, unless placed in a dark closet, should 
 l)e wrapped in thick brow^n or dark paper, to 
 exclude the light, which changes the color of 
 some fruits, and injures the flavor of others. 
 
144 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 Strawberries, and perhaps some other very acid 
 fruits, are best when sugar is added at the time of 
 cooking. Emeline, have you ever seen in any 
 cook-book a recipe for making mushes or jellies 
 of fruit b}^ the addition of arrowroot, corn-starch, 
 or wheat flour ? " 
 
 "No, I never heard of such a thing until you 
 served us those delicious strawberry, raspberr}^ 
 and blackberry mushes, as you called them. And 
 you have never yet given us the method of pre- 
 paring them. Will you repeat it for my benefit?" 
 
 "To a quart of berries, fresh or canned, add a 
 joint of water, and sugar to taste. Boil slightly, 
 just enough to cook the fruit ; and when nearly 
 done, add corn-starch, arrowroot, or wheat flour, 
 w^et with cold water, to thicken the juice and 
 form a mush or jelly of the fruit. Serve cold, 
 with sweet cream." 
 
 "Kate, I never ate a more delicate, delicious 
 dessert than these fruit mushe?, and they alone 
 ought to render your book popular. What a 
 charming dish for children and invalids, either 
 strawberr3\ raspberry, or blackberry mush must 
 make ! I am surprised I never heard of fruit- 
 mush before this summer."' 
 
 "Emeline, I think currant jam very much 
 nicer than currant jell^^ It has a fresher, better 
 flavor, which I presume is on account of its not 
 bcim^ beaten and bruised, and then squeezed 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 145 
 
 through a rag. For jam, bruise the fruit in an 
 earthen bowl, just enough to break the skins and 
 set the juice free. Put in a preserving-kettle. 
 Simmer gently for twenty minutes, skimming 
 carefully, after it begins to boil. At the expira- 
 tion of the twenty minutes add three-fourths of a 
 pound of white sugar to each pint of crushed 
 currants. Simmer two or three minutes lonfirer, 
 and put in glass cans or jars. One part red rasp- 
 berries to four parts currants, changes, and, for 
 many persons, improves the flavor." 
 
 "A great many ladies," observed Emeline, 
 " have trouble in making jelly ; and I hope you 
 will be able to make clear the reason why it some- 
 times is jelly and sometimes is not, when precisely 
 the same method is folloAved." 
 
 " The same method might be followed in mak- 
 ing," I replied, " and yet very different conditions 
 exist. For instance, the fruit might have been 
 gathered at the w^rong time, or the sugar have 
 been imperfect. Currants should be gathered for 
 jelly before they are full}' ripe ; as soon as red, 
 and soft enough for the juice to run freely. 
 Bruise the currants and squeeze through a strong 
 cloth. Measure the juice, and put not more than 
 five pints in the preserving-kettle at once. Sim- 
 mer gently for twenty minutes after it begins to 
 simmer, skimming it meanwhile. Then add one 
 pound of best loaf sugar for each pint of juice. 
 
146 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 Stir, and as soon as perfectly dissolved, and the 
 jelly has boiled up once, remove and put into 
 glasses. Cover when cold. It is well to warm 
 the sugar while the juice is simmering, as that 
 hastens the process. AVhen the fruit is gathered 
 at the right time, and the sugar perfect in quality, 
 this method will always insure perfect jelly, of a 
 beautiful color." 
 
 "Kate, as your skill is to be tested to-day in 
 making my favorite among pies, I shall, when we 
 go into the house, read you what Beecher, in 
 'Eyes and Ears,' says on the subject of apple-pie." 
 
 When our pie was placed on the table at dinner, 
 Emeline got her book and read, — 
 
 "There is, for example, one made without 
 under-crust, in a deep plate, and the apples laid 
 in in full quarters; or the apples, being stewed, 
 are beaten to a mush and seasoned and put be- 
 tween the double paste ; or they are sliced thin 
 and cooked entirely within the covers ; or they are 
 put, without seasoning, into their bed, and when 
 baked, the upper lid is raised and the butter, nut- 
 meg, cinnamon, and sugar are added, the whole 
 w^ell mixed, and the crust returned as if nothing 
 happened. But oh, be careful of the paste ! Let 
 it be not like putty, nor rush to the other extreme, 
 and make it so flaky that one holds his breath while 
 eating, for fear of blowing it away. Let it not be 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 147 
 
 plain as bread, nor yet rich like cake. Aim at that 
 glorious medium in which it is tender, without 
 being too fugaciously flaky ; short, without being 
 too short; a mild, sapid, brittle thing, that lies 
 npon the tongue, so as to let the apple strike 
 through and touch the papilloe w^th a more afiluent 
 flavor. But this, like all high art, must be a 
 thing of inspiration or instinct. A true cook will 
 understand us, and we care not if others do not ! 
 " Do not sir[:)pose that we limit the apple-pie to 
 the kinds and methods enumerated. Its capacity 
 in variation is endless, and every diversity discov- 
 ers some new charm or flavor. It will accept 
 almost every flavor of every spice. And yet 
 nothing is so fatal to the rare and higher graces 
 of apple-pie as inconsiderate, vulgar spicing. It 
 is not meant to be a mere vehicle for the exhibi- 
 tion of these spices, in their own natures ; it is a 
 glorious unity, in which sugar gives up its nature 
 as sugar, and butter ceases to be butter, and each 
 flavorsome spice gladly vanishes from its own full 
 nature, that all of them, by a common death, may 
 rise into the new life of apple-pie ! Not that 
 apple is longer apple ! It, too, is transformed ; 
 and the final pic, though born of apple, sugar, 
 butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, lemon, is like none of 
 these, but the compound ideal of them all, re- 
 fined, purified, and by fire fixed in blissful per- 
 fection." 
 
148 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 "Now," remarked Emeline, "let us see if this 
 is equal to H. W. B.'s ideal pie ! " 
 
 As she pressed the upper-crust gently with the 
 pie-knife, the merest drop of candied juice appeared 
 between its parted lips ; and, although she lifted 
 a piece to another plate with a quick, dexterous 
 movement, a spoon was needed to dip from the 
 pie-dish some juice, unavoidably spilled in the 
 operation. Helping each of us in a similar man- 
 ner, Emeline ate a minute in silence, and then 
 said, with a satisfied air, — 
 
 "Had brother Beecher eaten one of your pies, 
 Kate, before he wrote that essay on apple-pie, he 
 would not for the world have mentioned nutmeg, 
 allspice, or cinnamon, in connection with apple- 
 pie. He would have known they were of the 
 earth earthy, mere 'inconsiderate, vulgar spic- 
 ing; 'good enough, perhaps, for uncultivated or 
 depraved tastes ; but not like this, hinting of 
 oranofe-srroves and fairer climes, — a combination 
 of flavors and fragrance unknown to common 
 mortals, who have never enjoyed such a perfect 
 pie as the one now before us. Do tell us how this 
 was fashioned, created, built up into such com- 
 pleteness ? " 
 
 "Then, I suppose you wish to know, in the first 
 place, how the crust is made?" 
 
 " Certainly. That is the body or flesh of a pie. 
 The fruit is the heart, soul, and spirit. I wish to 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 149 
 
 know how the crust and the fruit are compounded ; 
 how dough and apple are metamorphosed mto a 
 perfect apple-pie." 
 
 " To make pie-crust, one pound of flour, a 
 quarter pound of lard, a quarter pound of butter, 
 a glass of cold water, a cool pantry or room, and 
 quick movements, are essential. Place half the 
 flour in a little heap on the moulding-board. Cut 
 the lard into, and through, it, until quite fine. 
 Add cold water, and stir with the knife. When 
 wet and quite soft, scrape from the board to one 
 side. Sift from the other half of the flour upon 
 the board, till well covered. Lay the dough on 
 it. Eoll it out, but be careful not to get it too 
 thin. Spread half the butter over it, and then 
 cover the butter with flour. Fold, and roll out. 
 Put on the remaining butter, and cover witli flour. 
 Fold, and roll quite thin. Sift flour lightly on it. 
 Fold, or roll up, and lay it aside. Take a little 
 more than a fourth of the whole for one crust. 
 Flour the board and dough, and roll to the size 
 required. Place upon the tin or dish, shaping to 
 the same, and cut ofi" around the edge with a sharp 
 knife. Fill the pie with quarters ; or, if the 
 apples are large, with eighths, of tart apples. 
 Poll an upper-crust, and lay it over the apples. 
 Trim it around the edges as before, but do not 
 pinch the two crusts together. If you wish to 
 ornament the crust, let the cuts or marks be upon 
 
150 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 the upper surface only. Do not cut through so 
 as to make holes at which the steam can escape. 
 Place the pie in a hot oven, so that the paste will 
 bake quickly. When thoroughly baked, if the 
 apples are not perfectly cooked, which can be 
 easily ascertained by lifting the upper-crust at 
 one side and peeping in, lessen the heat, or trans- 
 fer to a cooler oven, until done. If necessary, you 
 can protect the crust, with paper, from becoming 
 too brown." 
 
 "Don't you put water in to cook the apples?" 
 interrupted Alice. 
 
 "No. The apples are sufficiently juicy to cook 
 themselves, if the steam and juice are kept con- 
 fined in the pie, as they will be, if no holes are 
 cut or pricked in the upper-crust. While the pie 
 is baldng, put in a cup or small stew-pan the 
 suo-ar required for it, two or three ounces if the 
 apples are tart, as they should be, a small piece of 
 butter, and the juice of an orange, with a very 
 little of the outside grated, if you like it. Melt 
 all together ; and, when the pie comes from the 
 oven, slip it from the tin or dish on which it was 
 baked, to the warmed plate on which it is to be 
 served. Lift off the upper-crust. Pour your 
 seasoning over the apple, distributing it evenly ; 
 replace the upper-crust, press it gently, and, in 
 one hour the pic is at its best. A pie baked in 
 this manner does not, however, lose its goodness 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 151 
 
 within an hour. The next clay, and the day after 
 even, you. will find it something more than 'a 
 corpse of an apple-pic.' For four pies, if the 
 apples are not very tart, and you like a rich pie, 
 use the juice of one lemon with that of two oranges 
 and a little grated peel, adding sugar in propor- 
 tion. Most delicious apple-pies are made by 
 using one grated pineapple to four pies. Place 
 the grated pineapple with the butter and sugar 
 in the stew-pan, and heat to boiling, then 
 add as befoi*e, laying it lightly and evenly over 
 the apple, which is permeated by the mixture, 
 without being stirred." 
 
 "Mamma," said Alice, "you have heard of 
 cambric tea. Did you ever hear of linen pie ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. I have heard people call hot water, 
 with cream and sugar to taste, by that name. 
 They say Horace Greeley used to consider cambric 
 tea a delightful beverage. I drink it sometimes 
 myself; but I believe I have never tasted linen 
 pie. How is it made ? " 
 
 " Cousin Kate makes it in this way. Instead of 
 filling her pie-crust with apple, or other fruit, she 
 fills it with pieces of old white linen, and bakes. 
 Meanwhile, on the range she prepares the fruit, if 
 it is desirable to cook it ; and, when the crust is 
 baked, she slips it on a plate, lifts ofi* the upper- 
 crust, takes out the rags, and fills their place with 
 the juicy fruit, which couldn't possibly be baked 
 
152 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 in the pie, without losing a large portion of the 
 juice, and spoiling the looks, as well as the taste 
 of the pie. At dinner every one who doesn't un- 
 derstand the trick wonders how so juicy a pie was 
 so perfectly baked. And no one can imagine how 
 the upper-crust was baked so rich and brown, 
 without being stained with juice, and the under- 
 crust so crisp, without being soaked or heavy. 
 To the uninitiated it is no doubt as great a marvel 
 as the apple inside the dumpling was to the be- 
 wildered king, who asked, amazed, ' How got the 
 apple in ? ' " 
 
 "There is another advantage, Alice," I said, 
 " in baking these linen pies. Several crusts may 
 be baked and put away for a day or two unfilled ; 
 and an hour or two before serving, if placed for a 
 few minutes in a hot oven, until warmed tlirough, 
 and then filled with fresh fruit, they can scarcely 
 be distinguished from freshly baked pies. These 
 linen pies are just the things to fill with straw- 
 berries or other fruit which is good uncooked. 
 
 "To change the subject a little, Emeline, I 
 agree fully with the remark you made this morn- 
 ing, that few persons care for cooked apples, be- 
 cause they are, as a general thing, so poorly 
 cooked. Tlie apple, although it contains so many 
 elements of goodness, is one of our most abused 
 fruits. As a general rule, it is shabbily treated 
 in every process of cooking it is compelled to 
 
IN THE ORCHAED. 153 
 
 undergo. It is badly ])aked, and wretchedly 
 stewed. It is diluted with water, or dosed with 
 sugar, or doctored with spices, until all the orig- 
 inal flavor is lost, or spoiled. But, in spite of all 
 this bad usage, the apple has retained a place in 
 the culinary department, and is destined, as soon 
 as we learn how to cook it properly, to grow into 
 universal favor, and become a prominent article 
 of diet at every well-ordered table." 
 
 "Many persons," observed Emeline, "are of 
 opinion that only sweet apples are good for bak- 
 ing. I, however, like a tart apple, when baked, 
 much better than I do a sweet one. Which do 
 you prefer, Kate ? And what is your method of 
 baking apjjles ? " 
 
 " I very much prefer sour apples. And this, I 
 think, is the best way of baking them : Take 
 large, juicy sour apples. Pare them, and remove 
 the cores, leaving the apples whole ; place them 
 in a deep earthen dish ; add to them one table- 
 spoonful of water ; put them in a hot oven, and 
 bake until perfectly soft and tender. A fcAV min- 
 utes before removing from the oven, sprinkle 
 them lightly witli white sugar. They will then 
 brown richly, and have a delicious flavor. Serve 
 warm, hot, or cold, according to taste. Most 
 people soon grow so fond of them as to eat them 
 with their meats and vegetables ; and also to take 
 
154 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUTLDINO. 
 
 them, garnished with sugar and cream , for dessert, 
 in preference to either pudding or pie. 
 
 "To bake apples whole, remove all imperfect 
 spots or specks ; pierce the skins in sundry places 
 with a fork ; place in an earthen pan or dish, and 
 bake in a hot oven. An apple baked quickly, 
 with all the heat it can bear, is very different from 
 one baked in a moderate oven. The' former is 
 spicy and full of spirit, while the latter tastes as 
 if all life had been worried out of it by slow tor- 
 ture. 
 
 "Apple sauce, as usually made, is scarcely fit 
 to eat ; yet, when properly prepared, it is one of 
 the most delicious dishes of which I have any 
 knowledge. Apples should always be stewed in 
 a porcelain-lined kettle, — never in a vessel made 
 of tin. Very little water should be added to 
 them ; and they should not be stirred, if possible 
 to avoid it, while cooking. They should be cov- 
 ered closely, and cooked quickly ; and should be 
 watched all the time while cooking, lest they burn. 
 When done, the sugar required should be put into 
 an earthen bowl, and the apple poured over it, 
 and covered closely until served. Stewed apple 
 that is continually stirred while cooking, is not 
 spicy and high-flavored, like that quickly and 
 quietly cooked. If desired to flavor apple sauce 
 with lemon, slice the lemon and put in the dish 
 with sugar, and pour the hot sauce upon it. 
 
IN THE OECIIAKD. 155 
 
 Stewed prunes, flavored in the same way with 
 lemon, I think are much improved. Cooking 
 lemon damages the flavor. As a usual thing, too 
 much sugar is used ; so much, in fact, that all 
 apple flavor is lost in the heavy sweetness. To 
 preserve the perfect flavor of stewed apples, or 
 apple sauce, great care is required in the judicious 
 use of sugar or spices." 
 
 "By the way," said Emeline, "I have some- 
 where eaten a pudding made of apples and tap- 
 ioca, that I thought very nice. Have you ever 
 made it?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," I replied. " Such a pudding, when 
 properly made, and served cold, is a very delicate 
 dessert. I think to serve it warm, however, as it 
 is often served, is as poor taste as to serve a cus- 
 tard pudding warm. To make tapioca pudding, 
 use five measures of cold water to one measure 
 of tapioca. Let it soak over night, or for several 
 hours ; then cook it until it looks clear and trans- 
 parent. While the tapioca is cooking, pare and 
 core some large greenings, or other tart apples. 
 Leave the apples whole. Place them close to- 
 gether in a deep earthen dish, and pour the tap- 
 ioca over them. Bake thoroughly, until the 
 apples brown ovei* the top. When quite cold, 
 serve with sugar and sweet cream. 
 
 " Another tapioca pudding which is very nice, 
 is made by soaking half a pint of tapioca over 
 
156 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 night in two quarts cold water. In the morn- 
 ing drain, and boil until cooked in two quarts 
 sweet milk. Salt slightly. Remove from the fire, 
 and add slowly the well-beaten yolks of eight 
 eggs. Stir rapidly while adding the egg. Lastly, 
 sweeten to taste. When cool, flavor with vanilla, 
 lemon, or wine. Beat the whites of the eggs stiff, 
 add pulverized sugar, and serve with the pud- 
 ding." 
 
 "Kate, I notice people eat much more fruit than 
 they used to, with their meals. A few years ago 
 one never saw melons, peaches, grapes, berries, 
 or any kind of fruit at meal-time, except as 
 dessert for dinner. Now, a great many families 
 make the principal part of their breakfast of such 
 articles, and also eat liberally of them at their 
 other meals." 
 
 "Yes, I am glad to see the improvement in 
 this respect. Nearly all, perhaps all classes of 
 people crave green food ; and it seems to me the 
 craving ought to be gratified, by their making 
 fruits and vegetables a part of their regular daily 
 diet. When people eat freely of fruits, at their 
 regular meals, as they do other articles of diet, 
 they have little disposition to indulge in the in- 
 jurious habit of eating between meals ; while, on 
 the other hand, in families where such things are 
 seldom served at meal-time, men, women, and 
 children hanker after unripe fruit even ; and ren- 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 157 
 
 der themselves liable to all manner of diseases by 
 eating green apples, half-ripe cherries and berries, 
 and trash generally. 
 
 "In one of her letters to me, Mrs. Eose writes : 
 * I never put sugar on berries for tea. It spoils 
 the shape of the berries to let them lie in or under 
 sugar.' Now, there is no doubt it spoils the shape 
 of berries to sugar them ; but, for most persons, 
 it improves the flavor to sprinkle them with sugar 
 ten or fifteen minutes before the berries are served. 
 No one disputes the orthodoxy of Mr. Beecher's 
 opinions on gustatory matters, however much they 
 may differ from him on theological subjects, and 
 he approves of mashing them even. He says : 
 'Put ripe berries in a dish, add a little cold water, 
 break them down with a spoon to a jelly, adding 
 just enough sugar and water to make them half 
 liquid, and you shall find many another dish less 
 delicious.' This disposition to preserve the shape 
 of articles of food is quite prevalent among house- 
 wives ; and the taste of many a dish is sacrificed, 
 in order that it may make a handsome appearance 
 on the table. Fruits, grains, and vegetables are 
 too often purposely sent to table half cooked, so 
 that the shape may not be spoiled. In all such 
 cases the eye is gratified at the expense of the 
 stomach. The idea that these articles, when ready 
 for the table, should present the same form and 
 appearance as when uncooked, is, in my judgment, 
 
158 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 a very erroneous one. Food of every kind should 
 be thoroughly cooked — even though in the oper- 
 ation all form and comeliness be destroyed — as it 
 is then more palatable and nutritious to healthy 
 stomachs. There is, however, a vast difference 
 between thorousfh cookino: and too much cookino:. 
 Food is as effectually spoiled by too much as by 
 too little cooking ; and any one wishing to excel 
 in culinarj^ science must note carefully the dis- 
 tinction, and strike the happy medium. If veg- 
 etables were properly cooked, and fruits properly 
 prepared for the table, they could scarcely fail to 
 be always acceptable to the average appetite, and 
 would soon force themselves into general use. I 
 may be too enthusiastic ; but I look forward hope- 
 fully to the time when they will be so cooked and 
 prepared ; and when cartloads of vegetables will 
 be consumed where an occasional mess is now 
 deemed sufficient ; and when fruits, cooked and 
 uncooked, v^ill be considered as essential to a 
 meal as bread or meat." 
 
 After dinner Emeline and I were on the veranda, 
 chatting in an indolent, indifferent way, on various 
 topics, when Alice aj^peared with the small gilt- 
 edged volume, and interrupted us by saying, — 
 
 " Mamma, I've brought this * Memoir of Helen 
 Douglas,' to read you some extracts. I have 
 always detested memoirs, and thought them the 
 stupidest of books, calculated only to bore amia- 
 
m THE ORCHAED. 159 
 
 ble and wcll-clisposed people. But this differs in 
 that respect from the usual memoir. I have 
 marked some passages that I think suggestive as 
 well as beautiful. Shall I read them to you ? " 
 
 " By all means, if Cousin Kate doesn't object," 
 was Emelinc's reply. 
 
 "Cousin Kate," I said, "will be delighted to 
 hear them." 
 
 Alice then read : — 
 
 " ' To the average mind the idea of immortal life 
 presents itself simply as a continuation, after 
 death, of the life we hav6 lived in this world, 
 extending through eternity; free, however, from 
 all the cares and sorrows, all the pains and infirm- 
 ities, of this mortal existence. But if we retain 
 our personal consciousness in eternity, will we 
 not retain also the faculties that were essential to 
 our development jn time? Or will all our emo- 
 tions, passions, feelings, be sloughed off with our 
 flesh by death ? How will we recognize beyond 
 the grave those whom we loved so fondly here ? 
 Will my lost Helen meet me years hence the same 
 gentle being that went from my sorrowing gaze ? 
 Or will she be changed, re-created, formed anew? 
 How slyill I know her 
 
 " in the land that keeps 
 
 Tlie disembodied spirits of the dead " ? 
 
 Or what assurance have I that our love shall not 
 
160 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 change with a change of existence? O God, 
 why am I tormented with these painful question- 
 ings ? ' 
 
 "'Whence do w^e come, or whither do we go? 
 No one can answer satisfactorily. It is an unsolv- 
 able riddle. All guesswork, speculation. Joy 
 and happiness are mere illusions — the flickering 
 sunshine of a moment. Pain is a reality. The 
 only tangible thing in life is suflering, sorrow.' 
 
 "'Since Helen died, all things seem changed. 
 When she was alive I looked eagerly forward. 
 The future seemed bright and beckoning. So full 
 of great hopes, of grand possibilities. My hours 
 were crowded with work. The days were too 
 short to satisfy me, I had so much to do. Now I 
 dare not look backward, I care not to look for- 
 ward. To do either seems like .peering into the 
 gloom of a winter's night. The present is full of 
 heaviness. I cannot set myself to any task, and 
 thus escape from my great grief, for nothing now 
 seems worth the doing.' 
 
 " ' Will the days ever come when I can realize — 
 
 " 'Tis better to bare loved and lost, 
 Thau never to liave loved at all " ? 
 
 Life is poor and barren without love ; but how 
 painfully desolate it becomes after the loss of the 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 161 
 
 one loved better than fill else on earth ! I was the 
 victim of unrest before love entered, and took 
 possession of my heart ; nevertheless, I was nega- 
 tively happy. Now, my days and nights are filled 
 to overflowing with sorrow. A weary life is mine 
 to bear.' 
 
 "'Now that Helen has been torn from me, after 
 so short a season of unalloyed happiness, I tremble 
 at the thought of annihilation, and refuse to be- 
 lieve the gloomy doctrine. Yet, I can find no 
 satisfying evidence of the solil's immortality, — 
 nothing to convince my mind, beyond a doubt, 
 that there is a world and a life beyond the tomb. 
 Love, however, uproots disbelief. Selfishness is 
 more satisfying than reason. The yearning to be 
 again with Helen dispels doubt, and overturns 
 argument. We must, we will, meet again. But 
 is this life to be projected into the next, with all 
 its hates, as well as all its loves ? If with the one, 
 why not with the other? And why should a con- 
 tinuation of such a mutual love as ours be vouch- 
 safed to us, if thousands are doomed to go wailing 
 through eternity, sorrowing for an unrequited or 
 a hopelessly lost afiection? Oh, Helen, Helen, 
 why did we ever love ? ' 
 
 "'The death of Helen was so sudden, so unex- 
 pected, that I was nearly bereft of reason by the 
 
162 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 terrible blow. I was sometimes saddened by the 
 thought of dying and leaving her alone in the 
 ■world ; but I had never thought of death in con- 
 nection with Helen. It is ever thus in life. The 
 evils we apprehend, and most dread, are seldom 
 the ones that befall us. Fate seems to delight in 
 taking us by surprise, — in tripping us suddenly 
 into an unseen abyss.' 
 
 " ^ Oh, my lost, loved one ! Is there anything 
 in life that can compensate for the agonies I have 
 suffered since yourii-ail, inanimate form w%as car- 
 ried to the snow-covered graveyard? The world 
 may be full of beauty, but I neither see nor enjoy 
 it without you. Why was I permitted to love 
 you with such an all-absorbing love, that when 
 you went out of life you took with you all its sun- 
 shine and fragrance ? Can it be that "He doeth 
 all things well ? " Though my lips give utterance 
 to the expression, my heart refuses to acknowl- 
 edsre His 2:oodness. Wherein lies the c^oodness 
 of the blow that has so cruelly deprived me of my 
 earthly treasure ? Does such merciless sorrow as 
 mine benefit me, or the world? Is it essential to 
 the happiness of a future life, that this one should 
 be so full of suffering ? ' 
 
 "* To-day I gazed down from the mountain-tops 
 upon a scene of surpassing loveliness. And I 
 
IN THE ORCHARD. 163 
 
 asked, How many men and women within the 
 whole scope of my vision are capable of enjoying 
 this glorious prospect? Not the weary laborers, 
 who are toiliniir and sweatini2: in the fields to earn 
 a bare subsistence ; not the wealthy possessors of 
 all these fiirms and houses, who are insanely strug- 
 o:lin<2: to amass more and more wealth ; nottheaimless 
 wanderers, with bli2:hted or broken lives, vainlv 
 endeavoring to flee away from their own Avretch- 
 edness. A favored few there may be, perhaps, 
 who enjoy it in a measure. But even they have 
 no lease of happiness, and no security for their 
 enjoyment continuing beyond the passing moment. 
 Those who are happiest to-day may to-morrow be 
 overwhelmed with grief as crushing and poignant 
 as mine. Why, then, do we exist? Or why 
 were we created ? Why are the vast majority of 
 the earth's inhabitants born only to struggle and 
 toil, to sufi*er and weep ? Can it be that we are 
 born for a brief life, filled mostly with unhappi- 
 ness, or, at the best, with only negative happi- 
 ness, and that we then drop out of existence for- 
 ever ? ' 
 
 " ^ This morning the preacher took for a text, " It 
 is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 
 God." And his sermon seemed to me like blas- 
 phemy. Are we not always in God's hands? 
 Does he "ever let any one drop out of his protect- 
 
1G4 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ing arms ? Can it be that we slip from his grasp 
 when death overtakes us? Banish the thought. 
 I will not entertain it. The preacher did not 
 realize what he said. It would be a fearful thing 
 to fall out of the hands of the living God. Only 
 in his loving embrace do we rest secure.'" 
 
 " ' The Meditations of Gerald Douglas,' it seems 
 to me," interrupted Emeline, " would be a more 
 appropriate title for the volume than ^ A Memoir 
 of Helen Douoflas.' " 
 
 "O no, ma," said Alice, "I have only read you 
 some of the reflections suggested to his mind while 
 preparing the memoir of his dead wife. Let me 
 read you a portion of the memoir itself." 
 
 " Not now, Alice," was the quiet reply of her 
 mother ; " it is no doubt beautifully written, but I 
 think you have read enough for the present. Let 
 us take a ramble." 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 165 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 
 
 " Egg-plant ? " interrogatively remarked Cousin 
 Emeline, as we took our seats at the table. "Tliis 
 must be a new and early variety ? " 
 
 ''Yes," I replied, as I passed her a slice of the 
 fried vegetable. "I wish your opinion as to 
 whether it is equal in quality to that which comes 
 later in the season." 
 
 There was a merry twinkle in Alice's eye, which 
 her mother did not notice, as she answered, — 
 
 " Whv, this is delicious ! I never ate finer esrsf- 
 plant. Indeed, I think this has a delicacy of flavor 
 I never before observed in the vegetable. Have 
 you some new process of cooking it, by which you 
 extract that peculiar flavor which renders egg-plant 
 obnoxious to many persons ? " 
 
 "No," I said, giving Alice a silencing glance. 
 " This was fried in the same manner in w^hich I 
 usually fry egg-plant. Cut in slices a quarter of 
 an inch in thickness, rubbed lightly with salt, and 
 piled one slice upon another that some of the water 
 might be drawn from the plant, it was allowed to 
 stand for half an hour. The slices were then 
 
166 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 wiped dry, dusted very lightly with pepper, and 
 freely with flour, and fried until thoroughly done, 
 and nicely brown, in a small quantity of fat. For 
 frying nearly everything of this sort, a thick cast- 
 iron pan or spider is much better than one made 
 of lighter metal. Equal proportions of lard and 
 butter I And better for frying than either lard or 
 butter alone. A small quantity should be first 
 placed in the pan or spider, and, when hot, the 
 slices of veo'etaJ^les should be laid in. AVhen 
 nicely browned they should be turned, and more 
 of the butter and lard added. Egg-plant will soak 
 a great deal of fat, if permitted to do so. I there- 
 fore put in at first only enough to fry one side ; 
 and add sparingly, from time to time, as is neces- 
 sary. It is well to have a cup "of this butter and 
 lard mixture at hand, melted and hot, so that you 
 can put it in the pan when required. To prevent 
 the slices soaking fat, some cooks coat them with 
 egg and bread-crumbs ; but I can't see that any- 
 thing is gained by the operation, as the coating 
 absorbs a good deal of grease, which is eaten with 
 the egg-plant ; and when cooked in this way it is 
 lial)le to be underdone, as it requires much more 
 cooking with, than without the coating of crumbs. 
 I also think it far more palatable without the 
 crumbs ; but as tastes difler, there is no harm in 
 trying both methods." 
 
 " I am exceedhigly fond of egg-plant fried with- 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 1G7 
 
 out egg and crumbs," observed Emeline, ''and 
 think it one of the best of breakfast-dishes. With 
 me it takes the place of meat. May I trouble you 
 for another slice ? " 
 
 " Give ma fried squash this time, Cousin Kate," 
 said Alice, adding in a mock tone of pity, " Poor 
 mannna ! to be victimized in this way, and made 
 to praise fried squash so enthusiastically, all for 
 the sake of Cousin Kate's horrid cook-book, is too 
 bad ! It is positively cruel, I declare ! " 
 
 " Fried squash ! " interrupted Emeline. " What 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " AYhy simply this," I explained. "That sum- 
 mer squash, or cymlin, when fried in the same 
 manner as egg-plant, is a good substitute — " 
 
 "And not always detected as a substitute," 
 interrupted Alice, mischievously. " In fact, is 
 sometimes mistaken for the genuine article by 
 those very fond of egg-plant." 
 
 "Which means, I suppose," said Emeline, "that 
 this delicious dish I have been eating and praising, 
 is fried squash, — something I never heard of 
 before." 
 
 " Exactly," I rejoined ; " and by many preferred 
 to egg-plant, on account of being a less hearty 
 food, and having a more delicate flavor. Toma- 
 toes, not over-rij)e, cut in thick slices, and fried 
 in the same manner, are very nice. The tomato 
 should ho sliced, seasoned, dusted with flour, and 
 
168 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 fried immediately. The skin should be left on, to 
 prevent the slices from coming to pieces." 
 
 "Kate," said Emeline, "you certainly excel as 
 a fryer, — or, fryist, or whatever the proper term 
 may l3e. From fried chicken down to fried squash, 
 all your fries are admirable ; and if your methods 
 were generally adopted, such a revolution would 
 take place in that sadly abused mode of preparing 
 food, that the frying-pan would again come into as 
 general use as in the days of our grandmothers. 
 Oysters fried after your recipe I always forget to 
 praise, in my eagerness to enjoy." 
 
 "And yet, Emeline, I have in several instances 
 given my exact method of frying oysters to friends, 
 and w^ien the black, greasy things came upon the 
 table, althousfh I could not recoo-nize them as the 
 legitimate result of my method at all, the hostess 
 invariably insisted that my directions had been 
 followed to the minutest particular. This is a 
 somewhat discouraging experience for one contem- 
 plating writing a cook-book. Nevertheless, I 
 suppose I shall go on telling people how to cook, 
 and hopefully look to the future for better results. 
 
 "For frying oysters, I like cracker-crumbs 
 rolled very fine and sifted, so that you have almost 
 cracker-flonr. The oysters should be taken singly, 
 and well rinsed in tlieir own liquor, or in cold 
 water, so that no particle of shell shall adhere to 
 them, and laid upon a sieve or folded napkin, to 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 169 
 
 drain. While the oysters are draining, season the 
 cracker-crumbs with salt and cayenne pepper. 
 Mix the seasoning very thorough!}^ with the 
 cracker-dust ; dip each oyster in well-beaten egg, 
 and roll it freely in the cracker. Lay it on a 
 plate, or board, convenient to handle. Prepare 
 in this way all the oysters before you begin to fry. 
 A thick dripping-pan or deep griddle answers well 
 for frying them in. When everything is ready, 
 place in the pan an ounce or two of lard. The 
 exact quantity required depends upon the size of 
 the pan and the number of oysters. When the 
 lard is boiling hot, add to it an equal quantity of 
 butter. As soon as the butter is melted and 
 mixed with the lard, fill the pan with oysters, 
 laying them close together. Let the heat be 
 enough to fry quickly, but not so great as to burn. 
 When brown on one side, turn the oysters ; and 
 when nicely brown on both sides, lift to a heated 
 platter, and serve immediately. Fried oysters, 
 chicken, potatoes, etc., are supposed to be nicer 
 served on a napkin. 
 
 "Ifc is well to let the lard get hot in the pan 
 before the butter is added, as the butter is not so 
 likely to scorch as when put in the pan at first. 
 Place enough of the mixture in the pan before you 
 begin frying, to fry the oysters on both sides ; 
 but if a second panful is to be fried, the pan must 
 be washed, and all the ])urnt grease removed, or 
 
170 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 the oysters will be badly damaged by it. When 
 properly cooked, the oyster comes to the table of 
 a light brown color, thinly coated all over Avith 
 crumbs, — not warm, greasy, and leathery, but 
 hot and juicy, and tasting precisely like — a fried 
 oyster ! 
 
 "For scalloped oysters, prepare the crumbs by 
 drying bread very thoroughly in a cool oven. 
 Broken pieces and crusts will answer as well as 
 whole slices, if the bread is of good quality and 
 the crusts not brown. Several hours will be re- 
 quired to dry the bread sufficient!}^ ; and it will 
 not be injured if lightly browned in the process. 
 When dried, roll it very fine, rejecting whatever 
 will not crush into fine crumbs. Season the 
 crumbs w^ell with salt, pepper, and butter, rubbing 
 all between the hands until thoroughly mixed. 
 Rinse and drain the oysters the same as for frying. 
 The dish in which scalloped oysters are cooked 
 should be shallow, — holding not more than three 
 or four layers of oysters and crumbs. Scatter a 
 thin layer of crumbs over the bottom of the dish, 
 and place a layer of oysters upon them. Over 
 these scatter a thin layer of crumbs, and lay in 
 more oysters. So fill the dish, covering each 
 layer of oysters with a layer of crumbs. Over 
 the top, place the crumbs thickly, so as to form a 
 coating or crust, which will protect the oysters 
 from exposure. It requires three-quarters of an 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 171 
 
 hour to cook scalloped oysters three or four layers 
 deep. The oven should be hotter than for bread 
 
 — hot enough to cook as quickly as possible TV'ith- 
 out burning the crumbs. The dish should be of a 
 rich brown all over the top, before it is moved 
 from the oven ; and when served, the oysters 
 should be plump and juicy. The juice, however, 
 should be found inside the oysters, — while on the 
 outside they should be so dry as to roll and 
 tumble about on the plate. They should not be 
 wet, sticky, and packed together ; nor shrunken, 
 leathery, and sloppy, from too much moisture, 
 and from slow cooking or over-cooking. Oysters 
 
 — whether stewed, fried, scalloped, or broiled, — 
 should never be cooked long enough to collapse 
 and become tough and juiceless." 
 
 "Kate, in the matter of food, my sympathies 
 are with country people," observed Emeline. 
 "They usually cook their food in sucii a careless, 
 slovenly manner, and have so little variety in it, 
 that but for their active out-door lives they would 
 certainly lose all appetite, and die of starvation. 
 It is hard to imagine how people manage to sur- 
 vive, who, day after day, for years, drink the 
 sloppy tea and coffee, and eat the sour, heavy 
 bread, and badly cooked meat and vegetables one 
 is treated to at the average country house ! But 
 the worst of it all is that they worry through life 
 on such fare, and never realize the fact that it is 
 
172 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 possible to prepare food in any better way. Your 
 cook-book will give them some useful hints on 
 preparing frizzled beef, picked-up codfish, and 
 many other staple dishes of plain, wholesome food. 
 And I trust you will also' tell them how to make 
 decent fish-balls. There is such a vast difterence 
 between a perfect fish-ball and a fish-ball as ordi- 
 narly made and cooked, that I think the subject 
 deserves special mention." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "the difiTerence between an 
 ordinary and a perfect fish-ball, is as marked and 
 appreciable as between any other properly and 
 improperly prepared article of food. To make 
 perfect fish-balls requires care and attention. 
 Salt fish should be soaked for several hours in 
 cold water, then boiled slowly until very tender. 
 The potatoes should be well boiled, dry, and 
 mealy. Take measure for measure of fish picked 
 clean from skin and bones, and potatoes. Add a 
 fresh egg, a small piece of butter, Cayenne pepper, 
 and a little sweet milk. Work these ingredients 
 so perfectly together that the fish and potato are as 
 indivisible as are two drops of water run together. 
 In this thorough mixing consists the chief art of 
 makins^ fish-balls. Eoll this mixture into round 
 balls between the hands, dust with flour, and fry 
 in boiling lard. If the balls crack and come to 
 pieces in the lard, it is because the lard is not hot 
 enough or the balls are too soft. These round 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 173 
 
 balls, fried in a quantity of boiling lard, will be 
 found far superior, for most tastes, to flat cakes 
 made of the same fish and fried in a small amount 
 of grease. When nicely brown, the ball should 
 be lifted from the lard in a wire skimmer, dried 
 on a napkin, and served hot. When boiled 
 fish, with drawn butter, has been served for din- 
 ner, what is left can be made into balls, and the 
 gravy used instead of butter and milk. Delicious 
 balls can also be made of fresh fish, either .baked 
 or boiled, and a proportion of light bread soaked 
 in sweet milk may be used in place of potato." 
 
 "Can't you also suggest," asked Emeline, " some 
 improvement in hashes and warmed-up meats and 
 potatoes ? They are so often found upon break- 
 fast-tables, in both city and country, that every 
 one should be acquainted with the best manner of 
 preparing them." 
 
 "All cold fresh meats, when properly hashed 
 and served, make nice, palatable breakfast-dishes. 
 In preparing them, great care should be taken to 
 throw out all gristle, tough skin, and dry, chippy 
 portions. The meat should then be hashed fine, 
 and mixed either Avith hashed potato or bread 
 crumbed and soaked in sweet milk. Ordinary 
 hash, made of equal proportions of corned beef 
 and potato, can be much improved and made 
 really delicious, by adding bread-crumbs soaked 
 in milk, or sweet milk or cream without the 
 
174 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 crumbs, find working it well with the hand, then 
 forming it mto rolls, and browning in the oven. 
 Or, it ma}' be placed in a well-buttered bread-pan 
 of medium size, and put in a hot oven until it is 
 brown on the bottom and sides, and perfectly 
 heated. When ready to serve, turn it from the 
 pan on a heated platter. Yery nice hashed meat- 
 balls or cakes are made by mixing with hashed 
 meat, bread crumbed and soaked in sweet milk, 
 and a fresh ecfo:. Season to taste with salt and 
 pepper, and sweet herbs, if liked. If the meat is 
 mostly lean, sweet cream or a little butter must be 
 added. Make into round cakes, and fry quickly 
 in a small quantity of hot fat. When brown on 
 both sides, serve hot. For frying all these meat- 
 and-potato cakes, the fat fried out of salt pork 
 is much nicer than fresh lard. 
 
 "'Scrapple,' made in the following manner, is 
 both palatable and nutritious. Instead of pork, 
 which is generally used for making scrapple, take 
 a piece of beef, or a beef-bone with meat on it, 
 and boil slowly till very tender. Strain the 
 liquor into an earthen bowl, and set aside. Sepa- 
 rate the bone from the meat, and when cold, hash 
 the meat fine and put it in a kettle with the liquor 
 and half of the fat that has risen on it. Season 
 with salt and pepper ; and when it boils, thicken 
 with corn meal. Stir in the meal as in making mush 
 or hasty pudding. When thick enough, or .as 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 175 
 
 thick as mush, pour into a pan to cool ; and when 
 cold, cut in slices and fry in a skillet, or on a hot 
 griddle. In cool weather scrapple will keep sev- 
 eral days, and is a convenient breakfast-dish. 
 
 "Plashed potato warmed, I think much nicer 
 than that which is coarsely sliced. This is my 
 method of preparing it : Place a small piece of 
 butter in the kettle or pan to be used for warm- 
 ing, and when melted, add milk, or thin cream 
 (which is better) , with salt and pepper to taste ; 
 and lastly, add the hashed potato. Cover closely 
 and set where it will heat slowly. The milk 
 should boil up through and over the potato, and 
 have time to soak into it pretty thoroughly. It 
 should be stirred very little, and when served no 
 milk should be visible. Hashed potato warmed 
 in this manner is very nice w4th beefsteak, ham, 
 or cold meat. 
 
 " Chicken croquettes are very nice for breakfast, 
 lunch, or supper. Do you know how they are 
 made, Kate?" asked Emeline. 
 
 "There are more elaborate methods, but this is 
 very nice : Take a chicken, boiled as for salad, or 
 cold roast chicken will answer. Chop fine and 
 place in a stew-pan, with a gill of chicken broth. 
 Season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir to a 
 smooth paste an ounce of butter and tablespoon- 
 ful of flour, which add to the chicken when boil- 
 ing. Lastly, add the well-beaten yolks of two 
 
176 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 eggs, stirring rapidly. Eemove at once from the 
 fire. When cold, add minced parsley; mix well. 
 Scatter fine bread-crumbs on the bread-board, and 
 taking a spoonful of chicken roll into any shaj^e 
 desired, rolling in some of the crumbs. When 
 shaped, dip in beaten egg, roll in bread-crumbs, 
 lay in a wire basket, and fry in hot lard the same 
 as chicken, potatoes, etc. The wire basket is 
 also nice for frying potatoes. 
 
 " A simple stew that is relished occasionally as 
 a breakfast dish, by most persons, is made in this 
 manner : Put a piece of butter and two or three 
 sliced onions in the stew-pan. Cover, and cook 
 slowly until brown. Add cold meat, roast or 
 boiled, cut in small pieces, and gravy, if you have 
 any; also a quart of ripe tomatoes, fresh or 
 canned, with pepper and salt to taste. Cover 
 closely and simmer gently for two hours ; when, if 
 too thin, thicken with a mixture of flour and but- 
 ter, or flour and sweet cream. Cover the top of the 
 stew with pieces of stale bread, half an inch thick, 
 and two inches square. Simmer a few minutes, 
 and serve on a heated platter, placing the pieces 
 of bread at the bottom, and dishing the stew over 
 it." 
 
 "But, as you and I, Kate," said Emeline, rising, 
 " are to go for the mail to-day, isn't it about time 
 to stop our gossip ? " 
 
 In the afternoon Emeline and I took a long 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 177 
 
 walk to the village post-office, and, on our way- 
 home, sat down to rest under the grand old oak 
 that stands, like a faithful sentinel, at the entrance 
 to MapleAvood. Absorbed with my own medita- 
 tions, I gazed in silence at the beautiful landscape, 
 until my attention was arrested by an impatient 
 exclamation from Emeline,' who, in looking over 
 the village paper, which was among our mail- 
 matter, had been irritated by the following 
 paragraph ; — 
 
 " Personal. — The readers of the ' Democrat ' 
 will be glad to learn that our reporter, after 
 thoroughly investigating the affair, has come to 
 the conclusion that there are no 'spooks* in or 
 about the Douglas mansion ; and that the story of 
 ghosts and goblins having been seen and heard 
 there, originated with a nervous old lady, who one 
 evening happened to see some fairy-like garments 
 ornamenting a clothes-line in the garden, and per- 
 mitted her imagination to get the better of her 
 judgment. The facts in the case, as far as our 
 reporter has been able to gather them, are simply 
 these : Three lady friends of the Douglas family, 
 who are said to belong to the class known as 
 'strong-minded women,' have been spending the 
 summer at Maple wood, and doing the principal 
 part of their own housework for the sake of privacy 
 and seclusion. Rumor has it that they have been 
 
178 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 making experiments in cookery, etc., and intend 
 getting up a book, in which instructions will be 
 given for preparing food in a practical manner. 
 We hope this latter report may prove true ; for 
 the cook-book has yet to be written in which con- 
 cise directions are given for plain cooking ; and 
 improvements in the cooking of the average Amer- 
 ican housewife are certainly greatly to be desired. 
 It is said the Douc^lases intend comino' home 
 shortly ; and it is also whispered among gossips 
 that one of the present occupants of their mansion 
 is a beautiful young lady, who, travelling with her 
 mother in Switzerland last summer, fell in with the 
 Douglas party ; that a sudden attachment sprung 
 up between the young people ; and that, ere many 
 months, a new mistress will occupy the old manse." 
 
 " Kate," she said, after I had finished reading the 
 obnoxious article, " I'd much rather Alice wouldn't 
 see that. I think it would annoy and vex her ex- 
 ceedingly. And if it did not do that, it might 
 start her on a new^ train of thought more objection- 
 able than the one she is now pursuing. Do you 
 know the child's behavior astonishes me. Edu- 
 cated in a convent, and always accustomed to the 
 strict formalities of the church, one would natu- 
 rally suppose she would have been shocked at the 
 doubts and sentiments expressed by Gerald in his 
 ravings about his dead wife. But the other day, 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 179 
 
 when I said something of the sort to her, she 
 simply answered, ^Why so, mamma? I've had 
 very similar thoughts myself. Quite as wicked, I 
 dare say ; but I never could have given them such 
 beautiful expression.' I confess to you, Kate, I'm 
 becoming seriously annoyed. I don't like this 
 hero-worship she is evidently indulging in. Why, 
 the child is only twenty ; and I should prefer to 
 have her keep clear of love's entangling alliances 
 until she is twenty-five, at least." 
 
 " True," I replied, " but you know ' Satan finds 
 some mischief still for idle hands to do.' And 
 that which is true of hands is equally true of brains 
 and hearts. If you don't wish Alice to think about 
 Gerald, and fall in love before her time, give her 
 something else to think about, and something to 
 do. Now, if you were to become heartily enlisted 
 in this school project of mine, who knows but she 
 might join in the work also, and become so enthu- 
 siastically interested in it, that love would be put 
 away from her thoughts forever." 
 
 "No, — not forever, I hope," said Emeline ; 
 " that would be too long. But what is this school 
 project you speak of? Do you seriously contem- 
 plate taking charge of a school for girls ? " 
 
 "Seriously, I do," was my reply. "Hereto- 
 fore, as you know, I have done a good deal of 
 talking ; hereafter, I propose doing some honest 
 work. It seems to me of vital importance that 
 
180 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 girls should be thoroughly instructed in the domes- 
 tic arts. Of these, I consider the culinary 
 department the most important. But a practical 
 knowledge of all of them is essential to the comfort 
 and well-being of a household. Glance over the 
 homes to which you have free entrance. Look at 
 the slack, slovenly way in wdiich most of them 
 are ordered. Housework is considered drudgery 
 of the meanest sort, and is pushed aside whenever 
 possible ; or, if not, is done in a fretful, com- 
 plaining spirit. Servants, as a class, are poorly 
 educated in their department ; but the average 
 servant who professes to do general housework, 
 is fully up to the capacity of the average mistress. 
 Where a servant haloitually makes poor bread, 
 serves badly cooked food, or does her work gen- 
 erally in a sleazy, slipshod manner, you will find 
 the mistress powerless to correct the evils, be- 
 cause of her ignorance of the proper methods. 
 Here, emphatically, ^knowledge is power' ; and 
 Bridget misrules the household, because her igno- 
 rance is less dense than the ignorance of the 
 mistress. Now, in this school of mine the girls 
 are to be taught home duties and domestic work ; 
 and, at the same time, to be inspired with a love 
 of them." 
 
 "How?" asked Emeline, all attention. 
 
 " Insensibly, in a thousand ways," I continued. 
 " In the first place, the school is to be a home ; 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION". 181 
 
 and is to be as charming and attractive as it 
 can be made. Everything about it will be con- 
 venient, comfortable, cosy. The housekeeping 
 department will be administered with great care ; 
 and the girls will see, every day and all the time, 
 housework properly performed. The table will 
 be abundantly supplied with the best food, pre- 
 pared in the most careful manaer, after the most 
 approved methods. In short, my ideas are, that 
 study, under proper conditions, is conducive to 
 thorouofh health ; that the hio^hest mental culture 
 is productive of the most perfect physical develop- 
 ment ; and that young women, Avhile being qual- 
 ified for the duties of life, can be developed 
 mentally and physically, and inspired with a 
 genuine, abiding love of domestic as well as intel- 
 lectual pursuits. Emcline, you may consider me 
 an enthusiast : but I expect to live long enough 
 to see these theories of mine, if you choose to call 
 them such, demonstrated as facts at this Home- 
 School, or home and school combined." 
 
 "But, Kate, after you get through with cook- 
 ing, I don't see what will remain for your girls to 
 learn in the housekeeping department. Every 
 woman of sense knows how to do general house- 
 work, — to wash and iron, make beds, sweep, etc." 
 
 "No, Emeline ; I think very few women know 
 the best ways of doing any of these things. I 
 expect to deliver a lecture, at least once a week, 
 
182 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 to the girls in the domestic department, on such 
 subjects as — how to make fires, with the special 
 treatment of coal fires ; how to manage draughts 
 and dampers ; how to keep a coal fire at a low ebb, 
 yet ready to be forced to a quick heat in a few 
 minutes ; how to sweep with a common broom 
 without raisins: a dust ; how to make and use 
 bakins: and ironino' holders ; how to make beds ; 
 and so on, indefinitely. And in this connection let 
 me give you a little story, just in point. One 
 day, when travelling in the West, I fell into con- 
 versation with a gentleman who occupied the seat 
 next to mine in the cars. Our talk was rambling 
 and desultory. He, I learned, was President of 
 an Eastern college, who had been spending his 
 vacation in Minnesota. He had a lot of guns and 
 fishing-tackle with him, and had evidently been 
 having a good time. 'What a perfect place,' he 
 said, ' Minnesota is for a summer vacation. The 
 climate is delightful during July and August. 
 How pure and bracing the atmosphere is on the 
 hottest days. And the nights are so delightfully 
 cool, that no one thinks of sleeping without 
 blankets, — double blankets at that.' And here 
 an expression of pain clouded his genial face. 
 After a moment's hesitation, however, he con- 
 tinued : ' I wish something could be done — but I 
 suppose nothing can — to cure chambermaids of 
 a stupid habit they have, which has caused me 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 183 
 
 more serious annoyance during my life, I think, 
 than any other one thing. I've been tempted sev- 
 eral times to write a newspaper article upon the 
 subject, and call attention to it as a public and 
 general nuisance, but I have never done so. You 
 may look upon it as a tritie ; but I assure you I 
 found it a very serious matter the other night at 
 a hotel in St. Paul. I had been out tramping all 
 day, and came in very tired. The evening was 
 cool ; and when I crawled under the blankets at 
 bedtime, I had no presentiment of coming evil. 
 But after a sound sleep, I awoke, sweltering in 
 torments, loaded with blankets. Upon a careful 
 examination I discovered I had been sleeping 
 under two heavy blankets in August. I attempted 
 to turn one away, but found they would not be 
 separated. Both would go, or both would stay. 
 It was dark, and I had no matches ; so I tugged, 
 and labored, and toiled ; but my efforts to sepa- 
 rate the blankets were ineffectual. Eventually I 
 discovered the cause of failure : the stupid cham- 
 bermaid had put the open ends of the double 
 blankets at the foot, instead of at the head, of the 
 bed. I tried in vain to turn and riirht them. 
 They were in coils and twists innumerable, and 
 would not be righted. Finally, I slept, from 
 sheer exhaustion ; and this horrible cold that 
 annoys me so much, is the result. But that 
 night I swore a solemn oath, never, so long as I 
 
184 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 live, to go to bed again without having first ex- 
 amined the bed, to see if the blankets are put on 
 right.' The lives of most of us are made up of 
 trifles, that vitality afiect our happiness ; and the 
 wretched experience of my travelling acquaint- 
 ance, the Professor, while showing the results of 
 a seemingly trivial matter, forcibly illustrates the 
 importance of knowing how to properly do so 
 small a thing as put blankets on a bed ! " 
 
 "Indeed, Kate," said Emeline, "I think beds 
 generally, outside of first-class hotels, are an 
 abomination. People spend about one-third of 
 their lives in bed ; and what should be a couch of 
 rest, where sleep comes unbidden, is more often a 
 sack of torture, — a humpy, bumpy, sliding, roll- 
 ing, tormenting thing, so badly made up that you 
 roll and toss, the night through, seeking vainly 
 either rest or sleep. And the sickening odors of 
 'spare rooms,' or 'guest-chambers,' as they are 
 termed, where weary visitors are put to spend the 
 night on such beds ! Bah ! they linger in one's 
 memory for years. You will do a good thing in 
 your school, if 3^ou impress upon your pupils the 
 necessity of comfortable, well-made beds, and 
 thoroughly aired spare-rooms and parlors." 
 
 "Emeline, our pupils will be taught to live in 
 their homes — to occupy their parlors and spare- 
 rooms every day ; and to keep them swept and 
 garnished for themselves, and not for occasional 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 185 
 
 guests. Self-respect is one of the first things that 
 should be developed in a boy or girl. And by 
 self-respect I mean the high and honorable feeling 
 that prevents men and women from being mean 
 and narrow to themselves in their daily home life. 
 People w^ho have genuine respect and considera- 
 tion for themselves, never fail to treat other 
 people with respect and consideration. To learn 
 to be just and respectful to our fellow men and 
 women, we must tirst learn to be just and respect- 
 ful to ourselves. I have but little iiiith in re- 
 formers who go about endeavoring to reform 
 society, while they neglect, or are, ignorant of, 
 the duties they owe to themselves and their fami- 
 lies. Think you, women who consider household 
 work menial and degrading, and whose houses are 
 nurseries of disorder and ill-training, are likely to 
 elevate and advance humanity by their etlbrts? 
 The true reformer must begin at home, and work 
 outward. And until the average home is reformed 
 and made Avhat it should be, the reformatory move- 
 ments of our age will mostly end in failure. Here 
 among my letters is one from Mrs. Wheaton, a 
 woman of wealth and culture, who feels that sJie 
 was created for something better than to be *aj 
 household drudge.' She asks, 'Can 3^ou suggest 
 an.y way whereby the wife and mother can make 
 home happy and attractive to husband and sons, 
 without giving her life to the work ? — devoting 
 
186 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 all her powers of mind and body to it ? In short, 
 without bringing her mind down to the level of 
 that of a common cook and drudge ? ' Now, the 
 idea that certain kinds of labor are deOTadini^r, 
 while other kinds are refining and elevating, is, I 
 think, a stumbling-block to many. People of 
 education and intelligence seem to lose sight of 
 the fact that it is the heart we put into labor of 
 any kind — the motive that underlies it — that 
 makes its performance either elevating or degrading 
 in its effects. It seems strange to me that people 
 w^ho profess to believe in the dignity of labor, 
 should make such absurd distinctions. And I am 
 unable to see how the ordinary labor of the farmer, 
 merchant, doctor, or lawyer, can be any more 
 pleasant, interesting, or refining to them, than 
 ordinary housework is to the wife and mother. 
 Is there not as wide a field for the use of brains in 
 her department as in each, or any, of their depart- 
 ments? And is it a small matter — a low ambi- 
 tion — to devote one's time and energies to making 
 a pleasant and attractive home ? Do not thou- 
 sands of men toil uncomplainingly, day after day, 
 all their lives, to give their wives and daughters 
 the means to render home comfortable and attract- 
 ive ? For my part, I can conceive of no nobler 
 aim in life for any woman than that of making a 
 perfect home. Is there any higher or holier ob- 
 ject to which she can * devote all her powers of 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 187 
 
 mind and body'? I know of none. Hence, my 
 desire to aid in establishing this home-school, 
 where girls can be taught to perform thoroughly 
 all life's homely household duties." 
 
 " Kate, good men and women everywhere should 
 lend a helping hand to your enterprise," said Eme- 
 line, earnestly, after listening attentively to my 
 sermonizing. "The subject assumes a new aspect 
 to mo ; and I begin to realize that the wives and 
 mothers who allow their daughters to grow up with- 
 out being educated in all the branches of house- 
 keeping, or who spend their lives in boarding- 
 houses for the purpose of escaping domestic du- 
 ties, are among the worst foes of society." 
 
 "Emeline, your language is forcible, but just," 
 was my reply. "Boarding-houses may be neces- 
 sary ; but they are necessary evils. They destroy 
 all domestic privacy, and are demoralizing society 
 by eating out the heart of our home life. Girls 
 whose traininsr in household duties has been nes:- 
 lected, flee, after marriage, to these places of 
 refuge, to escape the penalty of their bad or neg- 
 lected training, and the oppression of ignorant, 
 insolent servants ; and thus boarding-houses per- 
 petuate the system of which they are the legiti- 
 mate result, — that wretched system under Avhich 
 women are reared without a knowledge of house- 
 work, and are taught to shirk the cares and respon- 
 
188 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 sibilities— thereby losing all the joys and comforts 
 — of a home ! " 
 
 "But this school you speak of," interrupted 
 Emeline, "is not to be solely a training-school for 
 gh-ls in these domestic matters, — is it, Kate?" 
 
 "By no means," I answered. "The aim of its 
 projectors is to make it a model school for girls, 
 where they may enter at an early age, and con- 
 tinue as long as they please. I have no expecta- 
 tion that any of our girls will linish their educa- 
 tion at school. They will be taught that education 
 is a life-work; that self-development and self- 
 restraint are the primary objects of education ; 
 and that, until they have perfectly developed all 
 their faculties, and are capable of restraining their 
 appetites and passions, their education vrill 1)c 
 incomplete. Instruction will be given in all the 
 branches usually taught in a lirst-class school for 
 young women, and in many more, as well as in 
 domestic or household economy. In short, Eme- 
 line, the object is to establish a home-school 
 worthy of the name, worthy of the nineteenth 
 century, and worthy of the women of America." 
 
 " Kate, notwithstanding the slur of the ' Demo- 
 crat,' you know I've never had any affiliation with 
 ' strong-minded women.' On the contrary, I have 
 been decidedly opposed to most of their move- 
 ments ; but I like this school project of yours. 
 It seems to me a great deal better for women to 
 
EDIBLES AND EDUCATION. 189 
 
 go to work to correct our social evils in some such 
 practical way, than to go aboirt clamoring for the 
 ballot, and scolding men generally for depriving 
 them of their rights. Have you ever talked Avith 
 Alice about it? Perhaps it would strike her 
 favorably. And if it should — " 
 
 " Why not go into it heart and soul yourself. 
 Cousin Emeline?" I interrupted, eagerly. "Why 
 not put your life and fortune into it ? Believe me, 
 it would pay a great deal better than writing 
 novels." 
 
 " Pay ? " answered Emeline, interrogatively. " I 
 never thought of making money out of my novels." 
 
 " No, no, Emeline ; you misunderstand me. I 
 think it will pay better than writing novels, in 
 other ways than in money. It will pay in some- 
 thins^ more endurins; than dollars and cents. I 
 think it will pay in — " 
 
 " But," interrupted Emeline, "the sun is setting 
 — how beautiful ! — and Alice will be wondering^ 
 what has become of us. Let us go home." 
 
190 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Cousin Kate, are you going to ignore cake 
 entirely in your cook-book?" asked Alice, one 
 evening at tea, as she passed me the loaf-cake she 
 had made a week before. "Even you sometimes 
 indulge in eating cake." 
 
 "Very true, Alice," I replied; "I enjoy this 
 bread-cake, for instance ; and quite delight in 
 o'ood srino-er-cake at times. But I am so dis- 
 gusted with the prominence given in cook-books 
 to cake over bread, and I everywhere see so much 
 time and attention bestowed upon cake, and so 
 little upon bread, that I am strongly tempted, in 
 my cook-book, to treat cake of all kinds with 
 silent contempt." 
 
 "But," said Emeline, "since people will eat 
 cake, why not tell them how to make a few varie- 
 ties that are inexpensive and comparatively harm- 
 less? This loaf or bread cake is, to my taste, 
 better than the average fruit-cake, for it has a 
 cleaner taste. Yet it doesn't cost quarter as 
 much as the fruit-cake, and is easier made, isn't 
 it, Alice?" 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 191 
 
 "Yes, mamma, this cake gave me no more 
 trouble to make than would a loaf of bread. 
 From the bread, when perfectly light and ready 
 for the last moulding, I took three cups of dough, 
 to which I added two cups of white sugar, one 
 cup of butter, two eggs well beaten, one cup 
 chopped raisins, one teaspoonful cinnamon, and 
 half a teaspoonful of soda. As the dough was 
 very light I pressed it into tlie cup, measuring it 
 as full as possible. Placing these ingredients 
 together in an earthen bowl, I worked them with my 
 hand for half an hour. The mixture became quite 
 soft, after being worked awhile. I put it into a 
 well-buttered baking-dish, lined with white paper, 
 and, placing it upon the table covered, let it stand 
 two hours to rise. When light — which w^as 
 shown by little bubbles of air dotting its surface, 
 more than from its having risen — I placed it in a 
 very moderate oven, not nearly so hot as bread 
 requires, and every few minutes I opened the 
 oven door just enough to peep in and see how it 
 was baking. To my joyful surprise, — for it being 
 my lirst attempt at bread-cake, I scarcely looked 
 for success, — each time I peeped, I found it ris- 
 ing, rising, rising, slowly, and at last I shut the 
 door, satisfied that I could leave it to bake un- 
 watched. It was in tlie oven an hour and a half, 
 and you see it came out very nice." 
 
 "And how well it keeps," observed Emeline. 
 
192 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " Indeed, I think age improves it, as it does many 
 things." 
 
 "And people also," I answered. "Did it ever 
 occur to you, Emeline, how many men and women 
 ripen and mellow — growing sweeter and more 
 tender, as the autumn of life come on? This 
 bread-cake," I continued, "when baked in suit- 
 able form, makes a very nice pudding, if steamed, 
 and served hot, with wine or fruit sauce. To my 
 taste it is more palatable than the ordinary plum- 
 pudding, while it is much less indigestible. 
 Bread-cake, doughnuts, and buns—" 
 
 "No buns for me," said Emeline. "I detest 
 the whole rusk family. INIany people like that 
 half-and-half sort of food — a something between 
 one thing and another — a link joining this thing 
 to that ; but my taste is different. If I eat bread, 
 I want it to be bread ; if cake, cake ; not a com- 
 bination of both, resulting in neither." 
 
 " But mamma," said Alice, " l)uns are bread ethe- 
 realized ; light, airy things that I delight in eat- 
 ing, because of their very daintiness. M}^ recipe 
 for buns reads in this manner : Whip together 
 three ounces of sugar and three eggs, until well 
 broken and mixed ; then pour upon them slowly, 
 continuing the beating meanwhile, a pint of boil- 
 ing milk. Add a pint of flour, and when luke- 
 warm, a half-gill of yeast; Beat all well together, 
 cover closely, and let stand over night. In the 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 193 
 
 morning add a handful of flour, and beat them 
 soundly. When again light, work well with 
 the hand, adding three ounces of butter and flour 
 very gradually. The excellence of these buns 
 consists mamly in their being soft and elastic or 
 spongy. When the dough is stifl* enough to cling 
 together and work away from the sides of the 
 bowl, sufiicient flour has been added. Work ten 
 or fifteen minutes longer, cover closely, and leave 
 to rise. When very light, mould into small round 
 cakes, and place in a pan, not allowing the cakes 
 to touch each other. Let them rise in the pan 
 till light ; then bake in a moderate oven. Is that 
 right. Cousin Kate ? " 
 
 "You have omitted flavoring and citron," I 
 said. 
 
 " So I have," answered Alice ; "I forgot to men- 
 tion that at the time of adding the butter, lemon 
 or other flavoring may be used according to taste ; 
 and that a slice of citron, placed in each bun at 
 the time of forming, gives them a nice flavor, and 
 causes a delightful surprise to the uninitiated 
 eater. By the way, how will this do for dough- 
 nuts ? Put into a pan three pints of sifted flour. 
 Make a well in the centre, into which put a half 
 pound of sugar, a gill of buttermilk or thick sour 
 milk, two eggs, two ounces of butter, a teaspoon- 
 ful of soda, and flavoring to taste. With the 
 hand mix these ingredients well together, work- 
 
194 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ing in the flour gradually, until the dough is very- 
 smooth. It must not, however, be made stiff. 
 Eoll upon the moulding-board half an inch thick, 
 cut in form, and fry in boiling lard. When cool, 
 dust the doughnuts with pulverized sugar. Dough- 
 nuts made according to this recipe are the nicest 
 I ever ate." 
 
 " The next time you make buns, Alice, when 
 the dough is ready to shape, roll it on the mould- 
 ing-board, cut into doughnuts and fry in boiling 
 lard; and you will, I think, decidedly give 
 them the preference over those made according to 
 your recipe." 
 
 " When the flavoring is omitted, and the dough- 
 nuts are dusted with pulverized sugar and cinna- 
 mon, they suit my taste much better," said 
 Emeline. "And Kate," she added, "a good 
 doughnut isn't a bad thing with a cup of coffee 
 for breakfast." 
 
 "A doughnut and a cup of coffee," I answered, 
 "may be well enough for breakfast, sometimes. 
 But, in my opinion, a nice roll, or a slice of good 
 bread, with sweet, rich butter, far outranks dough- 
 nuts or cake as an accompaniment of coffee." 
 
 "Cousin Kate," said Alice, "my one accom- 
 plishment in the culinary art, before I came under 
 your instruction, was the making of delicate cake. 
 I think I was mistress of that. AYon't you put 
 my recipe in your book ? I use the largest sized 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 195 
 
 stone-china coffee-cup for measure ; and to one 
 cup of butter, add three cups of granulated sugar, 
 work to a cream with the hand. Then use a 
 wooden spoon and stir in, a little of each at a 
 time, alternating, one and one-third cups of sweet 
 milk, and four cups of flour in which three tea- 
 spoonfuls baking powder have been mixed. Beat 
 well, the more the better. Lastly, add the 
 whites of ten eggs, creamed; that is, beaten to 
 the consistency of cream and not stiffly. Stir in 
 the eggs very carefully, and bake at once." 
 
 "In return, Alice, for your nice recipe, which 
 you have so carefully learned, I will add one for 
 sponge cake ; for the two ought to go together as 
 being harmonious in delicacy and contrasting 
 prettily in color. 
 
 " Weigh ten eggs and take their weight of sugar 
 and half their weight of flour. Reject the yolks 
 of two, and beat whites and yolks separately 
 until perfectly light ; then mix and beat together, 
 and by degrees add the sugar and the juice and 
 grated rind of a lemon. Lastly add flour, stirring 
 in carefully. Bake in square pans." 
 
 "Alice," said her mother, "while listening to 
 your recipe for delicate cake, I wanted to ask how 
 you measure a third of a cup of milk ?" 
 
 "I doubt not, mamma, there are better ways of 
 arriving at the solution, but this was mine. I dis- 
 covered a large iron spoon, and found by measur- 
 
196 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ing, that the cup held just twelve spoonfuls; 
 therefore four gave me the desired one-third." 
 
 " Kate, what sort of pickles do you like best, 
 with fried or scalloped oysters?" asked Emeline, 
 turning suddenly from contemplation of sweet 
 things to things sour. 
 
 " Cold-slaw," I replied ; " cabbage crisp and 
 sweet, with a simple salad dressmg. I like it a 
 thousand times better than any pickle that ever 
 was made. Next to eating such quantities of 
 cake and pastry, I think Americans are most 
 absurd in their free use of pickles and condiments. 
 When people can have sliced tomatoes, fresh and 
 delicious, or cool, crisp cabbage, or sour baked 
 apples full of tart spiciness, it is a marvel to me 
 that they should crave mustard, catsup, and 
 pickles. Pickles may be useful, and entitled to a 
 place on our tables in the late winter, or early 
 spring, when fresh vegetables and acid fruits are 
 hard to obtain, and I shall give a few recipes for 
 making them; for it is a pity that housewives 
 should buy, at an exorbitant price, what, with a 
 little trouble, they can make much better for them- 
 selves. First among pickles, I shall give chopped 
 cabbage. Select cabbage crisp and sweet ; chop 
 it moderately fine ; season to taste with white 
 mustard-seed, salt, and pepper. Put it in a jar 
 and cover with cold vinegar. Scatter whole 
 cloves over the top, to prevent mould. Do you 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 197 
 
 know, Emeline, it is said that cloves scattered 
 over any pickle, sweet or sour, will effectually 
 prevent mould? and, so far as I have tested, I 
 have found it to be true. If preferred, sweet 
 peppers may be chopped with the cabbage, instead 
 of using ground pepper." 
 
 "It occurs to me, Cousin Kate," said Alice, 
 "this seems a very loose sort of a recipe for you 
 to give who are so particular about weights and 
 measures. You say, ^season to taste.' I think 
 you should designate the amount of salt and 
 pepper." 
 
 " Not at all," I replied. " Spicing and flavoring 
 are matters of taste. Some like much, others 
 less ; and I think every housewife should use her 
 own discretion, and decide for herself about such 
 matters. Besides, Alice, what I desire above all 
 things is to induce women to think and experi- 
 ment for themselves in the matter of cooking — to 
 seek out many new ways and inventions, so as to 
 secure improvements upon the old methods. Just 
 as soon as women become convinced that this 
 question of how best to prepare the food we eat, 
 is a momentous one, and that she who excels in 
 answering it deserves high rank among women, — 
 and not only among women, but among public 
 benefactors, — good cooks will abound." 
 
 " But when will they become convinced ? " asked 
 Emeline, with a sigh. 
 
198 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 " Not so long, at least," I answered, " as mothers 
 allow their tables to be furnished with hotly spiced 
 chow-chow and other such abominations, when it 
 is so easy, by taking a little trouble, to substitute 
 this mild tomato sauce : Take twelve ripe toma- 
 toes ; f)eel and slice them. Chop fine, four sweet 
 peppers, ripe or green, and two onions. Place all 
 together in a preserving-kettle, adding two table- 
 spoonfuls of salt, two of sugar, and a pint of 
 vinegar. Simmer two hours, or until quite thick ; 
 then bottle for use. Or this green tomato sauce : 
 Take a peck of green tomatoes and ten onions ; 
 slice and sprinkle lightly with salt. Let stand 
 over night. In the morning drain the brine or 
 water away from it, and put in a preserving-kettle, 
 with three half gallons of vinegar, three sweet 
 peppers, chopped fine, a quarter of a pound of 
 white mustard-seed, and an ounce of cloves. Boil 
 slowly three or four hours, stirring frequently. 
 Half an hour before removing from the fire add 
 one pound of sugar. Or this cucumber catsup, 
 which is simple and easily made, yet full of pun- 
 gency : Grate six green cucumbers and three 
 onions. Add to the grated mixture a teaspoonful 
 of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper. Drain 
 oflf the juice, and, after measuring, throw it away, 
 adding to the catsup the same quantity of vinegar. 
 Mix well and bottle for use." 
 
 "But," said Emeline, " many people prefer cu- 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 199 
 
 cumber pickles, pure and simple, to all mixtures, 
 and fancy preparations. Do you know the best 
 method of making them ? " 
 
 "Perhaps not. But this is a very excellent 
 method : Put the freshly gathered cucumbers in 
 a jar, sprinkle lightly with salt, and when the jar 
 is full of cucumbers pour on as much boiling 
 water as it will hold. After the water becomes 
 cold, remove the cucumbers to a preserving-kettle, 
 cover with weak vinegar, and heat to boiling point. 
 Remove, drain, and i3ut in a jar, distributing 
 among them pieces of sweet pepper. Cover with 
 strong vinegar, in whJch a few cloves and a small 
 quantity of sugar have been heated. If you wish 
 to improve the color of the pickles, line the kettle, 
 before placing them in it, with green cabbage or 
 grape leaves, and put a small piece of alum in the 
 vineo^ar." 
 
 " But how many cloves and how much sugar do 
 you put in them?" asked Alice. 
 
 " An ounce of cloves and a pound of sugar to a 
 gallon of vinegar, is what / should use," I re- 
 plied ; "but that is a matter of taste, and, as I said 
 before, I prefer, in such cases not to give weights 
 or measures. I will also add, Alice, that when I 
 speak of vinegar I always mean good, strong 
 cider vinegar, and not the weak, watery, insipid 
 stuff that is often used by housewives, with the 
 almost certain loss of the pickles on which it is 
 
200 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 used. Yet I notice that people whose pickles 
 spoil from want of good vinegar, generally attri- 
 bute their having spoiled to some other cause." 
 
 "Cousin Kate, I hope you will give some nice 
 methods of sweet pickling, or spicing fruits. 
 Among pickles, sweet or spiced ones are my 
 favorites, although mamma, no doubt, would ob- 
 ject to them as occupying neutral ground between 
 pickles and preserves, as being too undecided, not 
 Ijositive enough, in character to suit her." 
 
 "Spiced peaches and damsons are both very 
 nice," I answered. " The former I prepare in this 
 manner : Selecting hard free-stone peaches, I 
 cut in halves, and remove the stones before par- 
 ing, as I find them much easier to remove before 
 than after paring. For seven pounds of fruit I 
 use three pounds of sugar, a quart of vinegar, and 
 a half ounce each of cloves and cinnamon. I put 
 the sugar, with three pints of water, into a preserv- 
 ing-kettle, and when it boils, cook as many of the 
 peaches at a time as the kettle will hold without 
 their being piled one upon another. I cook 
 slowly, turning them over and shaking them about, 
 that they may cook evenly ; and when tender, re- 
 move by means of a wire skimmer, and place in a 
 jar. When all the fruit is cooked, I simmer the 
 syrup until quite thick, then add vinegar and 
 spice, simmer all together a few minutes, and pour 
 over the peaches. 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 201 
 
 "Damsons I treat diflfercntly. ^electing large, 
 fair plums, I puncture the skins with a fork, and 
 lay them in a stone jar. Then I heat to boiling, 
 four pounds of sugar and a quart of vinegar, with 
 s-pice, the same as for peaches. When boiling hot 
 I pour the liquor upon the plums, cover closely, 
 and set aside until next morning; then I drain 
 from the plums all the juice, heat to boiling, and 
 pour over them as at first. I repeat this every 
 morning for a week, or until the damsons are soft 
 and tender. I then put all in the kettle together, 
 simmer gently for a few minutes, skim out the 
 fruit and put it in a jar, simmer the s}Tup twenty 
 or thirty minutes, or until it seems rich and suffi- 
 ciently thick, then pour it over the fruit, and 
 consider the process of spicing damsons completed. 
 But here comes Tom with our letters and papers." 
 
 Our trunks were packed and our arrangements 
 all completed for leaving Maple wood ; and as we 
 sat on the piazza in the September twilight after 
 tea, listening to the chirpings of the katydids, 
 Alice observed, — 
 
 " Cousin Kate, I would like to linger on here in- 
 definitely. I have never passed a pleasanter sum- 
 mer ; and I w4sh we could stay through October 
 and November, at least, to watch the autumn 
 foliage as it brightens and fades." 
 
 " If I had known before making other arrange- 
 
202 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 ments," replied Emeline, " that Mrs. Douglas had 
 concluded to remam abroad, I could have been 
 satisfied to stay several months longer; for the 
 summer here has been to me very restful. True, 
 I have not made much progress with my novel ; 
 but I think my time has been spent to good ad- 
 vantaofe. I have looked at life from a difierent 
 stand-point than ever before, and begin to feel a 
 deep interest in everything that concerns our com- 
 mon humanity. I know I do not realize, as Kate 
 does, its needs and wants ; but I accept the fact 
 that no true woman ought to remain idle, or take 
 to novel- writing merely for amusement, or to kill 
 timo. The great majority of men and women 
 know so imperfectly how to do the little everj^- 
 day duties of life, the aggregate of which makes 
 up the sum of human happiness, that they go 
 stumbling and blundering through the world, 
 hoping that somehow, somewhere in the far-off 
 future, they will come up with and enjoy the good 
 time, which through ignorance and laziness they 
 fail to grasp and make for themselves here." 
 
 "Ma," interrupted Alice, "you accused me of 
 being unorthodox when I told you that Gerald's 
 musings were such fancies as I frequently indulged 
 in myself, and were not 'wild ravings' as you 
 termed them. It seems to me you are stepping 
 off the orthodox platform when you condemn 
 people for hoping and expecting to have a good 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 203 
 
 time prepared for them by some unseen power 
 hereafter, when they are too stupid or lazy to 
 make it for themselves here, where they have the 
 materials for so doing lying all about them." 
 
 "Alice," I interposed, "you and your mother 
 seem to me to differ about non-essentials only. 
 You both admit that your views of life have 
 changed within the past few months ; and you 
 both agree that an idle, selfish, aimless life is the 
 lowest possible form of human existence. It is 
 very evident, therefore, that you have both changed 
 positions : and if orthodoxy means remaining sta- 
 tionary, — always of the same belief, — it must be 
 conceded that both of you are less orthodox than 
 you were a few months ago. People who use 
 their eyes and brains learn to see and do things 
 differently, and of course to think differently about 
 them, nearly every day. And until they do use 
 these organs, it is folly to expect much progress 
 or improvement to be made in the world. The 
 great majority of people, as you say, do not know 
 how to do the little every-day duties of life that 
 lie all about them. Why do they not? Is it 
 from ignorance, stupidity, or laziness? It seems 
 scarcely credible that men and women with ordi- 
 nary sense can go through the world without 
 noticing the thousands of little things that are 
 component parts of their every-day life. It is 
 hard to believe that a girl could grow up in a 
 
204 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 house where three meals are prepared every day, 
 and when she arrives at womanhood have no 
 knowledge of how to prepare a breakfast, dinner, 
 or supper. Yet I presume each of us is person- 
 ally acquainted with fifty young women who do not 
 know how to broil a beefsteak, or bake a potato ; 
 and haven't the faintest idea of the first principles 
 of bread-making. It is a burning shame to our 
 sex that so many of us are content to grow up thus 
 ignorant, and no wonder women have not obtained 
 the ballot. But while men sneer at us, and with 
 justice too, for such shiftlessness and inefiicien*cy, 
 they are, in respect to using their eyes and brains, 
 not one whit better than women. I know scores 
 of great, hulking fellows who have warmed them- 
 selves by coal fires all their lives, and yet can't 
 kindle a coal fire in a grate or stove ; or can't, 
 wdienit is kindled, keep it burning two consecutive 
 days. It is the rule, and not the exception, to 
 forget and neglect life's every-day duties. The 
 world sufiers more from heedlessness than from 
 criminality; and we wrong ourselves and others 
 as much by w^ant of thought as by want of heart. 
 We are continually worrying and annoying our- 
 selves and all who are intimately associated with 
 us by neglecting, or forgetting to do, 'our every- 
 day duties. Our eyes and brains were given us 
 for a beneficent purpose ; but most of us fail to 
 discover their use, or to use them to much practi- 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 205 
 
 cal advantage. A great portion of life is wasted, 
 and much vital force consumed, in correcting the 
 evil results of ignorance, negligence, and forget- 
 fulness ; or in doing labor that could be avoided 
 by a moderate use of common-sense. Why should 
 any housewife sufier her fires to go out every few 
 days in midwinter through carelessness, and thus 
 endanger the health of some member of the family, 
 as well as waste the time of some one in rebuilding: 
 them? Or, why should she induce dyspepsia, dis- 
 comfort, and general disgust in the household, by 
 making bad liread, bad butter, or bad food of any 
 kind, when she could have the best of everything 
 by a little care and attention? Or why should 
 men and w^omen w^ho have homes, permit things 
 in and about them to get out of order and remain 
 so for weeks and months, to the almost hourly 
 annoyance and discomfort of every one in the 
 family ? Go among the homes all over our land, 
 and in a majority of them you Avill find the occu- 
 pants suffering discomfort and inconvenience from 
 a dozen triflino: thino-s that they do not seem to 
 observe, or are too stupid and inefiicient to 
 remedy. For instance, a door sags on account of 
 a loose screw in one. of its hinges, and causes extra 
 labor every time it is opened or closed ; or, its 
 hinges squeak for need of a few drops of oil, and 
 disturb every one in the house a dozen times a 
 day ; or a ^.vindow-shutter bangs and flaps for want . 
 
206 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 of a fastening, till it eventnallj tumbles off and is 
 broken ; or a pump gets out of order, and, for want 
 of a slight repair, has to be labored with every time 
 a bucket of water is needed. And so I could go 
 on and on, and mention a thousand similar things 
 that any one of thought and observation can see 
 almost daily, and on every one of which extra 
 labor and strength are wasted, week after week, 
 and month after month, when a few moments' 
 thoughtful, intelligent effort would put any one of 
 them in perfect condition. Yet people endure 
 such extra labor and discomfort without seeming 
 to realize that they can avoid them by removing 
 the cause. Through all the various departments 
 of society, the disposition to forget, neglect, over- 
 look, or remain ignorant how to do minor things, 
 as they are termed, is so apparent that it is rather 
 difficult to oret a correct idea of what the average 
 man and woman conceive to be the chief end of 
 existence. I am old-fashioned enough to think 
 that people who endeavor to escape the so-called 
 drudgeries of life, by shirking and neglecting its 
 ever-present duties and responsibilities, soon be- 
 come incapable of appreciating and enjoying its 
 purest delights and satisfactions, and fritter away 
 their time, vainly searching for a sphere in which 
 they can labor to the best advantage ; or spend it, 
 avariciously striving to get up ^ a corner' on the 
 fruits of the future, and monopolize the whole 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 207 
 
 stock of happiness supposed to be garnered up in 
 the storehouse of the 'good time coming.'" 
 
 "Kate, it seems to me you are right, in the 
 main," said Emeline. "But you wouldn't have 
 people give too much time to little things, would 
 you ? " 
 
 "Too much time ! Why, Emeline, the more I 
 think upon this subject, the more I am impressed 
 with its magnitude and importance. What do 
 people mean Avhen they talk of being so engrossed 
 with great things that they forget, or neglect, 
 little ones? Great and small are but relative 
 terms ; and great things are simply the aggregate 
 of many small ones. Who can determine where 
 the dividing line between big and little should be 
 drawn ; or exactly how many little things are re- 
 quired in the composition of one big thing? Is 
 the size of things, their importance or unimpor- 
 tance, their bigness or littleness, accurately com- 
 puted by the amount of time, labor, care, strength, 
 or intellect bestowed upon them ; or by the effect 
 they produce upon the world ? Or is it carelessly 
 measured by an imaginary standard for whose cor- 
 rectness no one is responsible? Are the great 
 things of life those that give society at large 
 the greatest amount of happiness ; or those that 
 yield a few persons the greatest amount of money ? 
 Does the surgeon who performs a dangerous 
 operation on a patient do a great thing, and the 
 
208 COOKING AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 nurse who faithfully watches and ministers to that 
 patient do a small thing? Does the preacher who 
 delivers a learned doctrinal discourse do a great 
 thing, and the layman who, by a fcAv kind words, 
 encourages some weak or wayward brother or 
 sister to live a purer and better life, do a little 
 thing? Does the lawyer who, for a heavy fee, 
 defends and acquits a criminal, do a great thing, 
 and the ^peace-maker,' who, without pay, protects 
 the property, or saves the life of a neighbor, do a 
 little thing ? Does the stock-jobber who amasses 
 a million in a month by obtaining control of a 
 corporation, and by watering or skilfully manipu- 
 lating its stock, do a big thing, and the mechanic 
 who toils faithfully a lifetime, and earns only his 
 daily bread, do a little thing? Does the specu- 
 lator who buys up the products of a thousand 
 farms or workshops, and, by thus controlling the 
 market, makes a fortune in a week, do a big 
 thing ; while the owners of those farms and work- 
 shops, who toiled diligently for months, and ob- 
 tained but small gains, did little things? Does 
 the man of wealth who buys a tract of land for a 
 few thousand dollars, and holds it unimproved till 
 it increases in value to millions, do a bis: thins:; 
 and do the thousands of men of humble means, 
 who buy of him at the increased price,, and im- 
 prove and beautify their i:)urchases w^ith pleasant 
 homes, do little things ? Who shall say that the 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 209 
 
 woman who remains quietly at home, doing daily, 
 and with systematic neatness, the housewifely 
 duties that render all within her influence con- 
 tented and happy, is not teaching her sister women 
 as wisely, and doing as much for the world's moral, 
 social, and political advancement, as the one who 
 travels from the Atlantic to the Pacific, eloquently 
 l)leading the right of her sex to larger liberty or 
 wider privileges? Or, which one of us is able to 
 decide that a little poem, wrought out in obscurity, 
 and for which its author received a few dollars 
 only, has not effected a greater good in the world 
 than the gigantic enterprise, inaugurated with 
 ostentatious display and applause, that has put 
 millions in the pocket of its projector? 
 
 "If, then, we accept the principle that it is the 
 duty of every man and woman to be engaged in 
 work that is useful in some way to the world, why 
 is it not as well to make beds, sweep rooms, and 
 cook dinners, as it is to plough fields, build houses, 
 and buy and sell corn and cotton ? And when a 
 woman's duty lies in the way of the former, rather 
 than of the latter occuioations, why should it be 
 distasteful to her to acquaint herself with all the 
 details of housekeeping? Or, why should she 
 consider it drudgery to spend her time in doing, 
 in the most perfect manner, those little household 
 economies that add so much to the comfort and 
 happiness of life ? 
 
210 COOKINa AND CASTLE-BUILDING. 
 
 "To teach their children self-re stramt, — the 
 control of their appetites and passions, — should 
 be a iDaramount consideration with all parents ; 
 for people who simply live to eat, or, as the poet 
 puts it, — 
 
 * who creep 
 Into the world to eat and sleep, 
 And know no reason why they're born 
 But merely to consume the corn, 
 Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish, 
 And leave behind an empty dish,' — 
 
 are vagabonds and drones, who steal and consume 
 the substance of those who labor and produce. 
 Nevertheless, we must all eat to live ; and the 
 food we eat should be prepared in the best man- 
 ner. Men and women are the most perfect crea- 
 tions of the Maker of the universe, and are de- 
 signed for the performance of labor of the highest 
 order : but unless the conditions of their existence 
 are complied with, and the materials that are 
 required to keep them in working order are pre- 
 pared with skilfulness and care, it is impossible 
 for them to do the best work and lead the truest 
 lives. 
 
 "The sum of the whole matter, then, is this: 
 That the great things of life' are composed of, and 
 dependent on, its little things ; and the more care 
 and attention that are bestowed upon necessary 
 little things, the more successful will be the en- 
 deavor, and the greater the result, of all human 
 effort." 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 211 
 
 "Cousin Kate," said Alice, "as you commenced 
 your discourse without a text, you might appro- 
 priately terminate it with one. For instance, 
 
 ' Little drops of water, 
 Little grains of sand, 
 Make the miglity ocean 
 And the pleasant land.* 
 
 And since you appear to be able to preach almost 
 as well as you can cook, you might, in case you 
 relinquish your idea of publishing a cook-book, 
 favor the world with a volume of sermons. But, 
 jesting aside, I think I have learned more this 
 summer than ever before in the same length of 
 time ; and I am sure I have been more contented 
 and happy." 
 
 "Alice, you express my sentiments, also," said 
 Emeline. "Therefore, if my novel should remain 
 forever unfinished, and Cousin Kate's cook-book 
 never be written — even should our expectations 
 fail to be realized in the Home-School — still the 
 lives of us three will be richer and sweeter, for 
 having spent our summer at Maplewood, although 
 much of our time has been spent in Cooking and 
 Castle-Building." 
 
II5"DEX. 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Yeast, .... 
 
 . 16 
 
 Buckwheat cakes. 
 
 . 74 
 
 Bread 
 
 . 19 
 
 Buckwheat cakes. No. 2, 
 
 . 75 
 
 Graham bread, . 
 
 . 31 
 
 Corn dodgers, 
 
 . 77 
 
 Rolls, .... 
 
 . 32 
 
 Corn muffins. 
 
 . 78 
 
 Egg rolls, . 
 
 . 34 
 
 Corn griddle-cakes, 
 
 . 79 
 
 Cream biscuit, 
 
 . 38 
 
 Corn slappers. 
 
 . 79 
 
 Strawberry shortcake, . 
 
 . 40 
 
 Cape May bread, . 
 
 . SO 
 
 Maryland biscuit, 
 
 . 41 
 
 Coffee, .... 
 
 . 83 
 
 Pickcd-up codfish, 
 
 . 44 
 
 Black tea, . 
 
 . 91 
 
 Oatmeal mush, . 
 
 44 
 
 Green tea, . 
 
 . 92 
 
 Baked potatoes, . 
 
 44 
 
 Toast 
 
 . 93 
 
 To boil milk. 
 
 47 
 
 Green pease, . 
 
 . 95 
 
 Fried chicken, . 
 
 50 
 
 Asparagus, . 
 
 . 96 
 
 Fried fish, . 
 
 . 51 
 
 String beans, 
 
 . 96 
 
 Graham gems, . 
 
 52 
 
 Lima beans, . 
 
 . 96 
 
 Fine flour gems, . 
 
 52 
 
 Stewed beans. 
 
 . 97 
 
 Graham cakes, . 
 
 52 
 
 Baked beans. 
 
 . 97 
 
 Hasty pudding, . 
 
 54 
 
 Boston baked beans, . 
 
 . 97 
 
 Cracked wheat, . 
 
 54 
 
 Stewed corn, 
 
 . 99 
 
 Hominy grits, 
 
 55 
 
 Corn oysters. 
 
 99 
 
 Stewed chicken, . 
 
 56 
 
 Boiled potatoes, . 
 
 100 
 
 Stewed chicken with mush- 
 
 
 Mashed potatoes, . 
 
 . 101 
 
 rooms. 
 
 57 
 
 Fried potatoes. 
 
 102 
 
 Stewed beef, . 
 
 57 
 
 Stewed potatoes, . 
 
 102 
 
 Stewed veal, . 
 
 ,57 
 
 Browned potatoes. 
 
 102 
 
 Bread cakes. 
 
 70 
 
 Soup, .... 
 
 104 
 
 Rice cakes, . . . . 
 
 71 
 
 Broth, .... 
 
 107 
 
 Waffles, 
 
 71 
 
 Roast lambj . . . . 
 
 107 
 
 Waffles, No. 2, . . . 
 
 72 
 
 Roast veal, . . . . 
 
 108 
 
 Waffles, No. 3, . . . 
 
 72 
 
 Roast beef, . . . . 
 
 108 
 
 Flannel cakes, 
 
 73 
 
 Boiled meats. 
 
 109 
 
 :Muffiiis, . . . . 
 
 73 
 
 Boiled fowls. 
 
 109 
 
 [218J 
 
^iX-i 
 
 X£SU 
 
 Page 
 
 tUJ\., 
 
 Page 
 
 Boiled ham, . 
 
 109 
 
 Applesauce, 
 
 154 
 
 Boiled onions, 
 
 111 
 
 Tapioca pudding, . 
 
 155 
 
 Boiled beets, 
 
 111 
 
 Tapioca pudding, No. 2, . 
 
 155 
 
 Boiled cabbage, . 
 
 111 
 
 Serving berries, . 
 
 157 
 
 Boiled turnips, . 
 
 111 
 
 Eggplant, . . . . 
 
 165 
 
 Boiled dandelion. 
 
 111 
 
 Fried tomatoes, . 
 
 167 
 
 Boiled spinach, . 
 
 111 
 
 Fried oysters, 
 
 168 
 
 Beef and tomato sauce, 
 
 111 
 
 Scalloped oysters, 
 
 170 
 
 Rice pudding. 
 
 113 
 
 Fish-balls, . 
 
 172 
 
 Boiled rice, . 
 
 116 
 
 Fresh-fish balls, . 
 
 173 
 
 Boiled rice, No. 2, 
 
 116 
 
 Hash, .... 
 
 173 
 
 Broiled steak, 
 
 123 
 
 Hashed-meat cakes, . 
 
 174 
 
 Broiled chops, 
 
 124 
 
 Scrapple, 
 
 174 
 
 Fried mutton chops, . 
 
 124 
 
 Hashed potato, . 
 
 175 
 
 Broiled lamb chops, . 
 
 125 
 
 Chicken croquettes, 
 
 175 
 
 Broiled chicken, . 
 
 126 
 
 Tomato stew, 
 
 176 
 
 Broiled quail, 
 
 127 
 
 Loaf cake, . 
 
 190 
 
 Jloast wild duck, . 
 
 128 
 
 Steamed fruit pudding, 
 
 192 
 
 Stewed terrapin, . 
 
 129 
 
 Buns, .... 
 
 192 
 
 Omelet, .... 
 
 130 
 
 Doughnuts, . 
 
 193 
 
 Salad dressing, . 
 
 135 
 
 Raised doughnuts, 
 
 194 
 
 Chicken salad, 
 
 136 
 
 Delicate cake, 
 
 . 194 
 
 Salad dressing, No. 2, . 
 
 136 
 
 Sponge cake, . . •:_ 
 
 . 195 
 
 Frizzled beef. 
 
 137 
 
 Cold slaw, ... 
 
 196 
 
 Berry mush, . 
 
 . 144 
 
 Pickled cabbage, . 
 
 196 
 
 Currant jam, 
 
 144 
 
 Mild tomato sauce, 
 
 . 198 
 
 Currant jelly, 
 
 . 145 
 
 Green tomato pickle, . 
 
 . 198 
 
 Pastry, .... 
 
 149 
 
 Cucumber catsup, 
 
 . 198 
 
 Apple pie, . 
 
 . 149 
 
 Cucumber pickle, 
 
 . 199 
 
 Linen pie. 
 
 . 151 
 
 Spiced peaches, . 
 
 . 200 
 
 Baked apples, 
 
 . 153 
 
 Spiced damsons, . 
 
 . 201 
 
 Baked apples, No. 2, . 
 
 . 154 
 
 
 
CLASSIFIED INDEX. 
 
 BREAKFAST DISHES. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Beef, frizzled, . 
 
 137 
 
 Fish, fried, 
 
 51 
 
 Cakes, bread, . 
 
 70 
 
 Gems, Graham, 
 
 52 
 
 " buckwheat, 
 
 74 
 
 " fine flour, 
 
 52 
 
 " " No. 2, 
 
 75 
 
 Grits, hominy, 
 
 55 
 
 " corn, . 
 
 76 
 
 Hash, . . . . 
 
 173 
 
 " flannel. 
 
 73. 
 
 Hasty pudding. 
 
 54 
 
 " hashed meat, 
 
 174 
 
 Mush, oatmeal, 
 
 44 
 
 " rice, . 
 
 71 
 
 Omelet with parsley, . 
 
 131 
 
 Chicken, broiled, . 
 
 126 
 
 Oysters, corn, . 
 
 99 
 
 " fried, 
 
 50 
 
 Potatoes, baked, . 
 
 44 
 
 " croquettes, 
 
 175 
 
 " fried. 
 
 102 
 
 Chops, broiled lamb, . 
 
 125 
 
 " hashed, . 
 
 175 
 
 " *' mutton,. 
 
 125 
 
 stewed, . 
 
 102 
 
 " fried 
 
 124 
 
 Scrapple, 
 
 174 
 
 Cracked wheat. 
 
 54 
 
 Slappers, corn. 
 
 79 
 
 Dodgers, corn. 
 
 77 
 
 Stew, tomato, . 
 
 176 
 
 Egg-plant, fried, . 
 
 165 
 
 Wafaes, . . . . 
 
 71 
 
 Fish-baUs, 
 
 172 
 
 " No. 2,. 
 
 72 
 
 " of fresh fish, . 
 
 173 
 
 " No. 3, . 
 
 72 
 
 DINNER 
 
 DISHES. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Asparagus, 
 
 96 
 
 Cabbage, boiled, . 
 
 111 
 
 Beans, baked, . 
 
 97 
 
 Chicken, plain stewed 
 
 56 
 
 " Boston baked, . 
 
 97 
 
 " stewed with 
 
 
 " lima, . 
 
 96 
 
 mushrooms. 
 
 57 
 
 " stowed, 
 
 97 
 
 Dandelions, boiled. 
 
 111 
 
 " string, . 
 
 96 
 
 Duck, wild, roasted, 
 
 128 
 
 Beef, boiled with toma- 
 
 
 Fowls, boiled. 
 
 109 
 
 to sauce, . 
 
 HI 
 
 Ham, boiled, . 
 
 109 
 
 " roasted, 
 
 108 
 
 Lamb, roasted, 
 
 107 
 
 " stewed. 
 
 57 
 
 Onions, . 
 
 111 
 
 Broth 
 
 107 
 
 Oysters, scalloped, . 
 
 . 170 
 
 [216] 
 
216 
 
 CLASSIFIED INDEX. 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Pease, green, . 
 
 95 
 
 Spinach, . 
 
 . Ill 
 
 Potatoes, boiled, . 
 
 100 
 
 Terrapin, stewed, . 
 
 . 129 
 
 " browued, 
 
 102 
 
 Tomatoes, fried. 
 
 . 167 
 
 •' mashed, . 
 
 101 
 
 Turnips, boiled. 
 
 . Ill 
 
 Eice, 
 
 116 
 
 Veal, roasted, . 
 
 . 108 
 
 " No. 2, . 
 
 116 
 
 " stewed, . 
 
 . 57 
 
 Soup, 
 
 104 
 
 
 
 RELISHES AKD PICKLES. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Cabbage, pickled, . 
 
 196 
 
 Peaches, spiced. 
 
 . 200 
 
 Catsup, cucumber, 
 
 198 
 
 Salad dressing. 
 
 . 135 
 
 Cold slaw, 
 
 196 
 
 " No. 2, . 136 
 
 Damsons, spiced, . 
 
 201 
 
 Tomatoes, pickled green, 198 
 
 Mild tomato sauce, 
 
 198 
 
 
 
 DESS 
 
 ERTS. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Coffee, . 
 
 86 
 
 Pudding, steamed fruit, 192 
 
 " No. 2, . 
 
 88 
 
 " tapioca, 
 
 . 155 
 
 Mush, fruit, . 
 
 144 
 
 " " N 
 
 0. 2, 155 
 
 Pastry, . 
 
 149 
 
 Shortcake, strawberry,. 40 
 
 Pies, 
 
 146 
 
 Tea, black, . 
 
 . . 91 
 
 Pie, apple. 
 
 149 
 
 " green, . 
 
 . . 92 
 
 Pudding, rice, 
 
 113 
 
 
 
 TE 
 
 [A D 
 
 ISHES. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Apples, . 
 
 . 141 
 
 Doughnuts, No. 2, 
 
 . 194 
 
 Berries, . 
 
 . 143 
 
 Jam, currant, . 
 
 . 144 
 
 " serving. 
 
 . 157 
 
 Jelly, " 
 
 . 145 
 
 Biscuit, cream, 
 
 . 38 
 
 Muffins, corn, . 
 
 . 78 
 
 " Maryland, . 
 
 . 41 
 
 " wheat. 
 
 . . 73 
 
 Bread, Cape May corn. 
 
 . 80 
 
 Oysters, fried. 
 
 . 168 
 
 Buns, . . . 
 
 . 192 
 
 Quail, broiled. 
 
 . 127 
 
 Cake, delicate, 
 
 . 194 
 
 Rolls, plain, . 
 
 . 32 
 
 " loaf, . 
 
 . 190 
 
 " with egg, 
 
 . 34 
 
 " sponge, . 
 
 . 195 
 
 Salad, chicken. 
 
 . 136 
 
 Doughnuts, . 
 
 . 193 
 
 Toast, 
 
 . 93 
 
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