One of the greatest mistakes in the use of wine for cooking is to think that any wine will do. I have known cases where people have ordered a few bottles of what they chose to call cooking sherry from the grocers, and filthy stuff it has been — enough to spoil anything. If you think turtle soup does not deserve a glass of good wine, my advice is, do not make any. It is no use adding a glass of some horrible concoction called sherry or madeira, and then tasting the soup and saying, “ Ah ! it is not a bit like what we had at Fran- catelli’s.” Of course it is not, and you have only your- selves to blame. The same thing applies to real mock- turtle. “ What does he mean by real mock-turtle ? ” I can imagine you saying. But we live and learn. This is exactly the question I asked a waiter many years ago. We were discussing the important subject of what I should have for dinner. “ Soup, sir ? yes, sir ; very nice mock-turtle, sir — real mock- turtle, sir.” This led to the disclosure — it was in the country — that it was made from calf’s head, not pig’s head. Now, more than three-parts of the mock-turtle soup sold in London — I do not mean in the better-class hotels or restaurants — is made from pig’s head, and very nice it is too. Were it really made from calf’s head, it could not possibly be sold for the money. We have already given the recipe for this in the chapter on ‘‘Little Extravagances of the Table” (p. 32). Half TURTLE SOUP. 165 a pig’s head can be bought for ninepence ; nine persons out of ten would not tell the difference between soup made from it and soup made from calf’s head. As the pieman said to Sam Weller, “ It’s the seasoning as does it.” In the above directions, I have only mentioned what I consider absolutely essential. When so many things are mentioned in recipes, people are apt to despair of trying them. However, there are several little things that might be added to the above stock dm-ing the period of making with advantage : some chicken-bones, bearing in mind that they must have no white sauce in connection with them, or the soup will never be clear. A mushroom would be another little improvement ; any odd scraps of meat, especially roast meat, may be added. The only differ- ence between clear turtle and thick is that the latter has some brown thickening added to it. But it is, in my opinion, a great mistake to begin dinner with a thick soup, which is a capital thing to lunch off in cold weather, but is apt to spoil the very best sauce — viz. appetite. The best recipe I know of for this sauce is exercise. Of course it is quite possible to have too much of a good thing, and this was the opinion of a certain gentleman, who once went out to dinner, as follows : — He was a short, middle-aged gentleman, with a waistcoat that conveyed the idea of having swallowed a water-melon. He was not, as may be imagined, fond of exercise as a rule, and consequently took a cab to go out to dinner. Unfortunately, the cab was old and rotten, and the bottom gave way and came clean out, seat and all. The unlucky man inside had consequently to trot the whole way through the mud, as the cabman, quite unconscious of what had happened, drove on at a brisk pace, the middle-aged gentleman i66 PRACTICAL HOME COOKERY.

AI-modernized reading of the original text

One of the greatest mistakes in the use of wine for cooking is to think that any wine will do. I have known cases where people have ordered a few bottles of what they chose to call cooking sherry from the grocers, and filthy stuff it has been — enough to spoil anything. If you think turtle soup does not deserve a glass of good wine, my advice is, do not make any. It is no use adding a glass of some horrible concoction called sherry or madeira, and then tasting the soup and saying, “ Ah ! it is not a bit like what we had at Francatelli’s.” Of course it is not, and you have only yourselves to blame. The same thing applies to real mockturtle. “ What does he mean by real mock-turtle ? ” I can imagine you saying. But we live and learn. This is exactly the question I asked a waiter many years ago. We were discussing the important subject of what I should have for dinner. “ Soup, sir ? yes, sir ; very nice mock-turtle, sir — real mock- turtle, sir.” This led to the disclosure — it was in the country — that it was made from calf’s head, not pig’s head. Now, more than three-parts of the mock-turtle soup sold in London — I do not mean in the better-class hotels or restaurants — is made from pig’s head, and very nice it is too. Were it really made from calf’s head, it could not possibly be sold for the money. We have already given the recipe for this in the chapter on ‘‘Little Extravagances of the Table” (p. 32). Half a pig’s head can be bought for ninepence ; nine persons out of ten would not tell the difference between soup made from it and soup made from calf’s head. As the pieman said to Sam Weller, “ It’s the seasoning as does it.” In the above directions, I have only mentioned what I consider absolutely essential. When so many things are mentioned in recipes, people are apt to despair of trying them. However, there are several little things that might be added to the above stock during the period of making with advantage : some chicken-bones, bearing in mind that they must have no white sauce in connection with them, or the soup will never be clear. A mushroom would be another little improvement ; any odd scraps of meat, especially roast meat, may be added. The only difference between clear turtle and thick is that the latter has some brown thickening added to it. But it is, in my opinion, a great mistake to begin dinner with a thick soup, which is a capital thing to lunch off in cold weather, but is apt to spoil the very best sauce — viz. appetite. The best recipe I know of for this sauce is exercise. Of course it is quite possible to have too much of a good thing, and this was the opinion of a certain gentleman, who once went out to dinner, as follows : — He was a short, middle-aged gentleman, with a waistcoat that conveyed the idea of having swallowed a water-melon. He was not, as may be imagined, fond of exercise as a rule, and consequently took a cab to go out to dinner. Unfortunately, the cab was old and rotten, and the bottom gave way and came clean out, seat and all. The unlucky man inside had consequently to trot the whole way through the mud, as the cabman, quite unconscious of what had happened, drove on at a brisk pace, the middle-aged gentleman

Practical home cookery