The thorough good cook

And now for polenta. This is nothing but Indian cornflour, easy enough, in all conscience, to procure. Polenta is the food of high and low throughout Italy. King Victor Emanuel once, recovering from a severe illness, and being asked what nourishment would be most grateful to him, replied naturally, "A bowl of polenta." You may cook it by dropping into three pints of boiling water three-quarters of a pound of semolina, maize, or corn-flour ; then boil the liquid to the consistency of very thick gruel ; lubricate with a pat of butter, and season with pepper and salt. The only drawback of polenta-eating is that a couple of hours after devouring two or three bowls of it you feel hungry again. There is a polenta for the luxurious, in which may be mingled blanched and fried sweetbreads, with mushrooms, and even truffles : the whole being moistened with brown sauce and garnished with forcemeat balls, egged-and-bread-crumbed, and lightly fried. A favourite way of serving polenta is in combination with small birds, larks or thrushes for instance. The polenta is boiled to the consistency of a batter pudding, say half an inch thick, and is cut into the shape of a hollow circle or, better still, of a horseshoe. On this circular band you place your little birds at regular intervals. In the centre of the dish put a circular medallion of polenta, with three birds arranged in a pyramid. Curry. Indian cooks are often less expert in making entrees and sauces from French recipes than English professed cooks are. But they cannot be matched for curry, which, however, curiously enough, makes its appearance, nowadays, more frequently at breakfast than at tiffin or dinner at Anglo-Indian tables. English people scarcely understand the rudimentary principles of this noble dish — essentially Indian — since curry-stuff has no place in the Mohammedan cuisine as practised in Turkey, in Persia, and in Egypt. At home, when a curry is ordered, the cook sends to the nearest shop for a bottle of curry-powder — we do not blame her for that; a stew of some kind of fish or poultry is made ; some curry-powder — generally a great deal too much — is shovelled into the mess, which is sent up to table in a dish with a border of rice, so badly boiled as to be either slimy, or sticky, or watery. In India, the making and serving of curry are solemn and elaborate proceedings. The curry-stuff is compounded fresh every morning ; one kind is composed of cardamoms, coriander seeds, black and cayenne pepper, cumin seed, pale turmeric, cloves, cinnamon, and fenugreek ; another and highly approved curry-powder is made of cayenne, mustard, fenugreek, allspice, turmeric, salt, cinnamon, and green ginger. The rice should be washed in several waters, left in a basin of cold water for three hours before boiling, and when "done," should be carefully strained through a colander, and then as carefully "garbled" with a fork, so that every individual grain of rice should be separate from its neighbour. Curry is served at the end of the savouries and before •the sweets. First, a bowl of rice is brought in, from which each guest helps himself. Then comes the curry itself in a large dish, divided into as many compartments as there