In the above directions, recollect that there was some stock made. Now this stock, if it was required, would make a little soup in a few minutes ; the ad- dition of a little extract of meat, and a good pinch of vermicelli, being all that would be required. Suppose therefore your husband had committed that dreadfully thoughtless act, bringing home a friend unexpectedly to dinner — you would really have nothing to be ashamed of. The dinner would consist of some vermicelli soup, a dish of rissoles, a dish of mince and poached eggs, ornamented as we have described, and by simply ordering a savoury omelette to follow — very few men care about sweets — you would probably be rewarded after the guest’s departure with an inquiry as to where you got all those things for dinner from. On the other hand, think of the cold leg of mutton — such an inartistic thing when it has been cut into — or the dreadful dish of hash, which, somehow or other, 52 Common-sense Cookery. has got as bad a name as a cold shoulder, although properly- made hash is a very nice dish. How much better all this is than the ordinary course of proceedings — viz., the arrival of a telegram in the afternoon as follows : — “ Mr. A. B. to Mrs. A. B. — I shall bring home a friend to dinner — make dinner 6.30.” Mrs. A. B. instantly issues forth — the extravagance of the shilling telegram has its unconscious effect. She probably orders a pheasant, or any bird in season ; some gravy-beef to make gravy ; perhaps, in addition, a mould of jelly from the pastrycook’s, which is not cut after dinner at all. Ah ! Mrs. A. B., a little more pains taken to make things look nice as well as taste nice when alone, and a little less ostentation and extravagance when you receive visitors, would make your home more happy. Your husband should never feel that he is the only one in the world for whom anything is good enough. But if young ladies are ignorant of the first princi- ples of cooking, what shall we say about some of the men? I recollect at Cambridge, once, efforts made by two novices to make a sweet omelette. They thought that by breaking eggs into a saucepan, and adding sugar and jam, the result would be an omelette. With the slight contretemps of one or two of the eggs Cold Leg of Mutton. 53 falling outside the saucepan, instead of in, and landing all shaking — perhaps with laughing — among the ashes of the grate, they got the ingredients in at last, and stirred them over the fire. After repeated failures — as, of course, without any butter it burnt almost immediately — they gave up their attempts, after ex- hausting their supply of eggs — sixteen in number — and wasting a whole pot of jam. One of these novices is a great friend of mine, and on one occasion when in Scotland he was one of a party who, during the season when all the hotels and lodgings were full, were obliged to take refuge in a furnished house, where, however, there were no servants at all. The party, all of whom were young, were quite delighted at the idea of managing for themselves for a few days. Everybody did something, and though it was some years ago, I fortunately had sufficient knowledge of the culinary art to keep us from raw meat or starva- tion.

AI-modernized reading of the original text

In the above directions, recollect that there was some stock made. Now this stock, if it was required, would make a little soup in a few minutes ; the addition of a little extract of meat, and a good pinch of vermicelli, being all that would be required. Suppose therefore your husband had committed that dreadfully thoughtless act, bringing home a friend unexpectedly to dinner — you would really have nothing to be ashamed of. The dinner would consist of some vermicelli soup, a dish of rissoles, a dish of mince and poached eggs, ornamented as we have described, and by simply ordering a savoury omelette to follow — very few men care about sweets — you would probably be rewarded after the guest’s departure with an inquiry as to where you got all those things for dinner from. On the other hand, think of the cold leg of mutton — such an inartistic thing when it has been cut into — or the dreadful dish of hash, which, somehow or other, Common-sense Cookery. has got as bad a name as a cold shoulder, although properly- made hash is a very nice dish. How much better all this is than the ordinary course of proceedings — viz., the arrival of a telegram in the afternoon as follows : — “ Mr. A. B. to Mrs. A. B. — I shall bring home a friend to dinner — make dinner 6.30.” Mrs. A. B. instantly issues forth — the extravagance of the shilling telegram has its unconscious effect. She probably orders a pheasant, or any bird in season ; some gravy-beef to make gravy ; perhaps, in addition, a mould of jelly from the pastrycook’s, which is not cut after dinner at all. Ah ! Mrs. A. B., a little more pains taken to make things look nice as well as taste nice when alone, and a little less ostentation and extravagance when you receive visitors, would make your home more happy. Your husband should never feel that he is the only one in the world for whom anything is good enough. But if young ladies are ignorant of the first principles of cooking, what shall we say about some of the men? I recollect at Cambridge, once, efforts made by two novices to make a sweet omelette. They thought that by breaking eggs into a saucepan, and adding sugar and jam, the result would be an omelette. With the slight contretemps of one or two of the eggs Cold Leg of Mutton. falling outside the saucepan, instead of in, and landing all shaking — perhaps with laughing — among the ashes of the grate, they got the ingredients in at last, and stirred them over the fire. After repeated failures — as, of course, without any butter it burnt almost immediately — they gave up their attempts, after exhausting their supply of eggs — sixteen in number — and wasting a whole pot of jam. One of these novices is a great friend of mine, and on one occasion when in Scotland he was one of a party who, during the season when all the hotels and lodgings were full, were obliged to take refuge in a furnished house, where, however, there were no servants at all. The party, all of whom were young, were quite delighted at the idea of managing for themselves for a few days. Everybody did something, and though it was some years ago, I fortunately had sufficient knowledge of the culinary art to keep us from raw meat or starvation.

Common-sense papers on cookery