with deep interest the accuracy with which the ama de llaves carries out the receipts. The cooks, however, frequently have their own books, from which, without further instructions, they execute triumphs of gustatory art.
The first glance at a Mexican kitchen is anything but satisfactory to an American woman, with her ideas of a cooking-stove and its shining equipments. But notwithstanding the fact that their only furniture is pottery, Mexican cooks are too much attached to their antediluvian ways to be able to appreciate or accept any innovations.
THE ESTILADERA.
The estiladera (water-filter) is primitive in its simplicity. It is made from a porous, volcanic rock peculiar to the country. The water percolates through the pores and drips into a vessel below. Bits of charcoal are generally thrown in, and the water is as cold as ice and sparkling as crystal. Could these stones only be imported, a vexed question might be solved—or at least a troublesome subject simplified—among our own people.
The same leisurely and ease-loving methods that characterize the business life pervade also the home. The most engrossed man of affairs quietly leaves his office with all its cares behind him, and takes to his home only his social endowments. He makes his mid-day meal one of enjoyment and the occasion of a happy mingling with the family circle.
After dinner the siesta follows, and business comes to a lull, until, perhaps, three o'clock in the afternoon.
Unfailing ceremony—a national characteristic—is observed in the serving of every meal. Whether there be three or twenty varieties of dishes, no two are served at once.
The climate seems to demand a rich and highly spiced diet, and, to make it still more luxurious, both fruits and nuts are freely used.
