Take an onion, carrot, small head of celery, and some turnip, and boil them till they are tender in some stock. The water in which some rice has been boiled is very well suited for the purpose. Add also to every quart a brimming tablespoonful of mixed savoury herbs. Rub the whole through a wire sieve, thicken it with brown roux till it is as thick as cream; add a few drops of Parisian essence--(sold in bottles by all grocers)--to give it a dark colour. Add a wineglassful of sherry or Madeira, or, if the use of wine be objected to, the juice of a hard lemon. Flavour the soup with a little cayenne pepper, and serve some egg forcemeat balls in it, about the size of small marbles.
Ices are too often regarded as expensive luxuries, and show how completely custom rules the majority of our housekeepers. There are many houses where the dinner may consist daily of soup, fish, entrees, joint, game, and wine, and yet, were we to suggest a course of ices, the worthy housekeeper would hesitate on the ground of extravagance. It is difficult to argue with persons whose definition of economy is what they have always been accustomed to since they were children, and whose definition of extravagance is anything new. The fact remains, however, that there is many a worthy signor who sells ices in the streets at a penny each, and manages to make a living out of the profit not only for himself, but for his signora as well. Under these circumstances, the manufacture of these "extravagances" is worthy of inquiry. Ices can be made at home very cheaply with an ice machine, which can now be obtained at a, comparatively speaking, small cost. With a machine there is absolutely no trouble, and directions will be given with each machine, so that any details here, which vary with the machine, will be useless. Ices can be made at home without a machine with a little trouble, and, to explain how to do this, it is necessary to explain the theory of ice-making, which is exceedingly simple. We will not allude to machines dependent on freezing-powders, but to those which rely for their cold simply on ice and salt mixed. We will suppose we want a lemon-water ice, i.e., we have made some very strong and sweet lemonade, and we want to freeze it. It is well known that water will freeze at a certain temperature, called freezing-point. By mixing chopped ice and salt and a very little water together, a far greater degree of cold can be immediately produced, viz., a thermometer would stand at 32 degrees below freezing-point were it to be plunged into this mixture. An ice machine is a metal pail placed in another pail much larger than itself. The "sweet lemonade" is placed in the middle pail, and chopped ice and salt placed outside it. The proportion of ice to salt should be double the weight of the former to the latter. It is now obvious that if we have filled two pails, the one with "the sweet lemonade," and the other with the ice and salt, very soon our lemonade will be a solid block of ice. To prevent this it must be constantly stirred, and, as the lemonade would of course freeze first against the sides of the pail, these sides must be constantly scraped. Inside the inner pail, consequently, there is a stirrer, which, by means of a handle, continually scrapes the side of the pail. It is obvious that if the stirrer is fixed, and the pail itself made to revolve, that is the same as if the pail were fixed and the stirrer made to revolve. To make lemon-water ice, therefore, place the lemonade in the inner pail, surrounded with chopped ice and salt, two parts of the former to one of the latter, turn the handle, and in a few minutes the ice is made. Now, suppose you have not got a machine, proceed as follows: Take an empty, clean, round coffee-tin (the larger the better). [We mention coffee-tin as the most probable one to be in the house, but any round tin will do.] Get a clean piece of wood, the same width as the inside diameter of the tin, only it must be a great deal longer. We will suppose the tin rather more than a foot deep and five inches in diameter. Our piece of wood, which should be clean and smooth, must be nearly five inches wide, say a quarter of an inch thick, and about two feet long. Next get a small tub, say nine inches deep, place the round tin in the middle, with the sweet lemonade inside; next place the piece of wood upright in the tin, so that the wood touches the bottom. Next surround the tin with chopped ice and salt up to the edge of the tub, fill it as high as you can, and then cover it round with a blanket, i.e., cover the ice and salt. Now get someone to hold the wooden board steady; take the tin in your two hands, and turn it round and round, first one way and then another. In a very short time you will find the tin to contain lemon-water ice. The following hints, rather than recipes, for making ices, i.e., for making the liquid, which must be frozen as directed above, are given, not because they are the best recipes, but because cream, which is the basis of all first-class ices, is often too expensive to be used constantly. Of course, real cream is far superior to any substitute.
Melted butter, properly speaking, is rarely met with in this country, but is a common everyday sauce on the Continent. It is simply what it says. A piece of butter is placed in a little sauce-boat and placed in the oven till the butter runs to oil, and then sent to table with all kinds of fish with which in our present work we have nothing to do; but it is also sent to table with all kinds of vegetables, such as French artichokes, &c.; sometimes a spoonful of French capers is added to the oiled butter.
Sparghetti is a peculiar form of macaroni. Ordinary macaroni is made in the form of long tubes, and when macaroni pudding is served in schools, it is often irreverently nicknamed by the boys gas-pipes. Sparghetti is not a tube, but simply macaroni made in the shape of ordinary wax-tapers, which it resembles very much in appearance. In Italy it is often customary to commence dinner with a dish of sparghetti, and should the dinner consist as well of soup, fish, entree, salad, and sweet, the sparghetti would be served before the soup. Take, say, half a pound of sparghetti, wash it in cold water, and throw it instantly into boiling salted water; boil it till it is tender, about twenty minutes, drain it, put it into a hot vegetable-dish, and mix in two or three tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese; toss it about lightly with a couple of forks, till the cheese melts and forms what may be called cobwebs on tossing it about. Add also two tablespoonfuls of tomato conserve (sold by all grocers, in bottles), and serve immediately. This is very cheap, very satisfying, and very nourishing; and it is to be regretted that this popular dish is not more often used by those who are not vegetarians, who would benefit both in pocket and in health were they to lessen their butcher's bill by at any rate commencing dinner, like the Italians, with a dish of sparghetti.
Slice off the outside red part of two or three large carrots, and cut them up into small dice not bigger than a quarter of an inch square. Cut up also into similar size a young turnip, and the white, hard part of a head of celery. Fry these very gently in a little butter, taking care that the vegetables do not turn colour. Make some soup exactly in every respect similar to that described in Imitation Mock Turtle. Throw in these fried vegetables, and let the soup simmer gently by the side of the fire, in order for it to throw up its butter, which should be skimmed off. In flavouring the soup, add only half the quantity of wine or lemon juice that you would use were you making Mock Turtle.
The best lesson, if you wish to fry potatoes nicely, is to look in at the window of a fried fish shop, where every condition is fulfilled that is likely to lead to perfection. The bath of oil is deep and smoking hot, and in sufficient quantity not to lose greatly in temperature on the introduction of the frying-basket containing the potatoes. The potatoes must be cut up into small pieces, not much bigger in thickness than the little finger; these are plunged into the smoking hot oil, and as soon as they are slightly browned on the outside they are done. They acquire a darker colour after they are removed from the oil, and the inside will go on cooking for several minutes. It would be quite impossible to eat fried potatoes directly they are taken out of the fat, as they would burn the mouth terribly. It is best to throw the fried potatoes into a cloth for a few seconds.
A compote of fruit consists of a variety of fresh fruits mixed together in a bowl. Some may be stewed and some served in their natural state, or the whole may be stewed. When a large variety of fruits can be obtained, and are sent to table in an old-fashioned china family bowl, few dishes present a more elegant appearance, especially if you happen to possess an old-fashioned punch ladle, an old silver bowl with a black whalebone handle. Care should be taken to keep the fruit from being broken. The following fruits will mix very well, although, of course, it is impossible always to obtain every variety. We can have strawberries, raspberries, red, white, and black currants, and cherries, as well as peaches, nectarines, and apricots. We can also have stewed apples and stewed pears. Very much, of course, will depend upon the time of year. Those fruits that want stewing should be placed in some hot syrup previously made, and only allowed to stew till tender enough to be eaten. Tinned fruits, especially apricots, can be mixed with fresh fruits, only it is best not to use the syrup in the tin, as it will probably overpower the flavour of the other fruits. The syrup, as far as possible, should be bright and not cloudy. The fruit in the bowl should be mixed, but should not be stirred up. We should endeavour as much as possible to keep the colours distinct. If strawberries or raspberries form part of the compote, the syrup will get red. Should black currants be present, avoid breaking them, as they spoil the appearance of the syrup. In summer the compote of fruits is much improved by the addition of a lump of ice and a glass of good old brandy. Should the compote of fruits, as is often the case, be intended for a garden party, where it will have to stand a long time, if possible get a small bowl, like those in which gold and silver fish are sold in the street for sixpence, and fill this with ice and place it in the middle of the larger bowl containing fruit, otherwise the melted ice will utterly spoil the juice that runs from the fruit, which is sweetened with the syrup and flavoured with the brandy. If much brandy be added, old ladies at garden parties will be found to observe that the juice is the best part of it.
