Salads, sandwiches, and savouries

Croutes il la Burlington. — Wash, bone, and fillet some anchovies, season each fillet with oil and vinegar, and season some slices of hard-boiled egg in the same way. Place one of these on a round of biscuit-crisp fried bread, the anchovy fillets rolled in the centre, and serve garnished with seasoned lettuce, choosing the small inner leaves of a nice cabbage lettuce. # E CHAPTEE IV. The taste for “ savouries,” as the little dishes that nowadays end almost all well-arranged dinner menus are called, is by no means so novel as some may fancy, and has the further merit (if merit it be) of being “ so British, quite British you know ! ” It dates back from the old hard-drinking days, and represents the appetisers taken by men at the end of a repast to clear their palates for the due consumption of the wine which in those days was such an integral part of the meal. Pickled, kippered, or smoked herring, anchovies, “ sardinias,” “ kaviar,” hotargo (the pressed roe of the Mediterranean mullet), &c., were as popular a couple of centuries ago as they are to the fashionable Englishman of to-day, though the latter has altered the spelling of their names in many cases. Grilled and devilled bones, anchovy toasts, and cheese toasted, stewed, or baked, were the contemporaries of the previously mentioned savouries, and enjoyed a reputation that has not faded even yet. Such dainty trifles form a great addition, and often make all the difference to a simple menu. As a matter of fact, a careful and capable cook should be able to present a different savoury for every day of the year without materially, if at all, increasing the housekeeping books, if she will take a little pains in collecting her material. The bones sent in weekly by most careful mistresses for the benefit of the stock-pot will often supply marrow enough for a delicate little dish of marrow toast ; the last layer of an opened tin of sardines, too few to reappear at the breakfast table, will provide sardines d la diable ; the remains of last night’s cauliflower may make a second appearance as choufleur au gratin ; whilst the rest of the shrimp sauce which accompanied the previous day’s dory, will afford material for a pretty little dish of Gaisses d la Normande, if reheated, seasoned with some lemon juice and cayenne, curry powder or paste, and poured boiling hot into tiny caisses or canots of fried bread. In short, all sorts of odds and ends can be used up for this part of the dinner, and round off the menu daintily at little or no cost. But, of course, this is only to be accomplished by the cook and the mistress who will devote thought and a minimum of trouble to the contents of their larder ; yet, as they are intrinsically anything but expensive either in cost, time, or labour, it might be almost reckoned a disgrace to the cook who does not produce them in variety. Anchovies and sardines, of course, occur first to one’s mind on these occasions. So try Canapes d’A.nchois. — Have ready some neat fingers of fried or toasted bread (liberally buttering E 2 this latter), dust these with minced parsley and chives (or finely minced shallot), and lay on each a well-washed and boned anchovy, seasoned with freshly ground black pepper and a little lemon juice, place a morsel of butter or a little good salad oil on each, and set in the oven till hot.