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Catherine Owen's new cook book ..

1885

Page 39 · 1 recipe record on this page

Presented as published in 1885. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
A pic- kled walnut chopped, or a gherkin or two, go admirably with mutton or pork chops. In short, this is just where 70 Sauces. 71 imagination and brains will tell in cooking, and little essays of invention may be tried with profit. But be- ware of trying too much ; make yourself perfect in one thing before venturing on another. EsPAGi^OLE, or brown sauce, is simply a rich stock well flavored with vegetables and herbs, and thickened with a piece of roux or with brown flour. White Sauce is one of those things we rarely find per- fectly made ; bad, it is the ne plus ultra of badness ; good, it is delicious. Those who have tried to have it good, and failed, I beg to try the following method of making it : Take an ounce and a half of butter and a scant tablespoonful of flour, mix both with a spoon into a paste ; when smooth add half a pint of warm milk, a small teaspoonful of salt, and the sixth part of one of white pep- per ; set it on the fire till it boils, and is thick enough to mask the back of the spoon transparently ; then add a squeeze of lemon juice, and another ounce and a half of fresh butterWhite Sauce ; stir this till quite blended. This sauce is the foundation for many others, and, for some purposes, the beaten yolk of an egg is introduced when just off the boil. Capers may be added to it, or chopped mush- rooms, or chopped celery, or oysters, according to the use for which it is intended. The object of adding the second butter is because boiling takes away the flavor of butter ; by stirring half of it in, without boiling, you re- tain it. CHAPTEE XL WAEMI2!^G OYER. Hash is a peculiarly American institution. In no other country is every remnant of cold meat turned into that one unvarying dish. What do I say ? remnants of cold meat ! rather joints of cold meat, a roast of beef of which the tenderloin had suflBced for the first day's dinner, the leg of mutton from which a few slices only have been taken, the fillet of veal, available for so many delicate dishes, all are ruthlessly turned into the all- pervading hash. The curious thing is that people are not fond of it. Men exclaim against it, and its name stinks in the nostrils of those unhappy ones whose home is the boarding-house. Yet hash in itself is not a bad dish ; when I say it is a peculiarly American institution, I mean, that when English people speak of hash, they mean something quite different — meat warmed in slices. Our hash, in its best form — that is, made with nice gravy, garnished with sippets of toast and pickles, surrounded with mashed potatoes or rice — is dignified abroad by the name of mince, and makes its appearance as an elegant little entree. Nor would it be anathematized in the way it is with us, if it were only occasionally introduced. It is the familiarity that has led to contempt. ^^But what shall I do?'' asks the young wife distressfully; 72 Warming Over, 73 " John likes joints, and he and I and Bridget can't pos- sibly eat a roast at a meal."