In foreign kitchens

Devonshire Cream. — This delicious cream, sent to the London market in small square tins, is eaten by many an American in Covent Garden, and is made as follows: The milk should stand twenty -four hours in winter, and twelve in summer, and then is put on the stove till it is almost at boiling-point. It must not boil, but must show small rings and look thick. The slower it is done the better. It is not to be skimmed till the following day, and is then what is known as "clotted cream.** Devonshire Junkets. — One pint of new milk, a cup of clotted cream, one tablespoonful of brandy, and one of prepared rennet, half a cup of sugar, and quarter of a nutmeg grated. Make the milk warm, but not hot, add brandy, sugar, and rennet, and set in a cool place. When firm, spread the cream over the top, dust with powdered sugar, and serve cold. Yorkshire Toasted TearCakes. — Make a sponge with three pints of sifted flour, one teaspoonful of salt, one pint of warm milk, one teacup of butter melted in it, and half a cake of yeast dissolved in a little warm water. Let this rise very light, add a beaten egg, and enough flour to knead into a smooth dough. Make this into flat cakes the size of a plate ; let them rise an hour, and bake in a moderate oven. Do this the day before using. When used, split in two, toast on each side, butter each side, pile them in layers, cut like a pie, and serve very hot. They can also be eaten fresh, and are then buttered hot; but toasted tea-cakes are regarded as more distinctively Yorkshire. OO deep is the conviction that France ^^ alone knows the secret and deepest meaning of good cookery, that the attitude of the newly arrived foreigner is well-nigh reverential, and he accepts whatever is offered with perfect and unhesitating faith; ** To doubt would be disloyalty ; To falter would be sin." And this conviction lingers long after fact has demonstrated that though France may know much she does not know all, and that America, too, has her rightful place, and her national dishes. Brillat-Savarin himself, the apostle of good cookery and the best type of epicure, gave many pages to the glorification of the American wild turkey, as well as sundry other American delicacies, and the most de- termined disbeliever in our possibilities as cooks sighs at last for certain home dishes. Taking beefsteak as the illustration, Mark Twain, who grows even pathetic in his longing for a "real breakfast and dinner,*' Wrote of it : — " They have the beefsteak in Europe, but they don't know how to cook it. Neither will they cut it right. It comes on the table in a small, round pewter platter ; it is the size, shape, and thickness of a man's hand with the thumb and fingers cut off. It is a little overdone, it is rather dry, it tastes pretty insipidly, it rouses no enthusiasm." This is painfully true if one has in mind such a porter-house steak as may be found on many American tables: "a mighty one an inch and a half thick, hot and spluttering from the gridiron; dusted with fragrant pepper; enriched with little melting bits of butter of the most unimpeachable freshness and genuineness; the precious juices of the meat trickling out and joining the gravy; archipelagoed with mushrooms; a township or two of tender yellow fat gracing an outlying district of this ample county of beef- Steak, the long white bone which divides the sirloin from the tenderloin still in its place. *'