The English Housekeeper/Chapter 5
The benefit of a good kitchen is well known to every housekeeper, but it is not every mistress that is aware of the importance of having a good cook. I have seen kitchens which, though fitted up with every convenience, and certainly at considerable expense, yet failed to send forth good dinners, merely because the lady of the house was not happy in her choice of a cook. I do not in the least admire gourmands, or gourmandism; and yet I would be more particular in selecting the servant who is to perform the business of preparing the food of the family, than I should deem it necessary to be in selecting any of the other servants. In large establishments there is a greater quantity of cookery to be performed, and, consequently, a greater quantity of waste is likely to be caused by unskilful cooks, than there can be in small families; but even in the latter considerable waste may be the consequence of saving a few pounds a year in the wages of a cook. An experienced cook knows the value of the articles submitted to her care; and she knows how to turn many things to account which a person unacquainted with cooking would throw away. A good cook knows how to convert the remains of one dinner into various dishes to form the greater part of another dinner; and she will, also, be more capable than the other of forwarding her mistress's charitable intentions; for her capability in cooking will enable her to take advantage of everything which can be spared from the consumption of the family, to be converted into nourishing food for the poor, for those of her own class who have not the comfort of a home such as she herself enjoys. The cook who knows how to preserve the pot-liquor of fresh meat to make soup, will, whenever she boils mutton, fowls, or rabbits, &c., &c., carefully scum it, and, by adding peas, other vegetables, or crusts of bread, and proper seasonings, make some tolerable soup for poor people, out of materials which would otherwise be thrown away.
To be a good cook she must take pleasure in her occupation; for the requisite painstaking cannot be expected from a person who dislikes the fire, or who entertains a disgust for the various processes necessary to convert meat into savoury dishes. But a cook who takes pride in sending a dinner well dressed to table, may be depended upon, and that is of great importance to the mistress of a house: for though Englishmen may not be such connoisseurs in eating as Frenchmen, I question whether French husbands are more dissatisfied with a badly-cooked dinner than English husbands are. Dr. Kitchener observes, "God sends us victuals, but who sends us cooks?" And the observation is not confined to the Doctor, for the walls of many a dining-room have echoed it, to the great discomfiture of the lady presiding at the head of the table. Ladies might, if they would, be obliged to confess that many ill humours had been occasioned by either under or over roasted meat, cold plates, or blunt knives; and perhaps these are grounds for complaint. Of the same importance as the cooking is neatness in serving the dinner, for there is a vast difference in its appearance if neatly and properly arranged in hot dishes, the vegetables and sauces suitable to the meat, and hot—there is a vast difference between a dinner so served, and one a part of which is either too much or too little cooked, the meat parting from the bone in one case, or looking as if barely warmed through in the other case; the gravy chilled and turning to grease, some of the vegetables watery, and others crisped, while the edges of the dishes are slopped, and the block-tin covers look dull. A leg of mutton or piece of beef, either boiled or roasted—so commonly the dinner of a plain-living family—requires as much skill and nicety as the most complicated made dishes; and a plain dinner well cooked and served is as tempting to the appetite as it is creditable to the mistress of the house, who invariably suffers in the estimation of her guests for the want of ability in her servants. The elegance of the drawing-room they have just left is forgotten by those who are suffocating from the over-peppered soup; and the coldness of the plate on which is handed a piece of turbot bearing a reddish hue, may hold a place in the memory of a visitor, to the total obliteration of the winning graces, and agreeable conversation, of the lady at the head of the table.
It is impossible to give particular directions for fitting up a kitchen, because so much must depend upon the number of servants, and upon what is required in the way of cookery. It was the fashion formerly to adorn it with a quantity of copper saucepans, stewpans, &c., &c., very expensive, and troublesome to keep clean. Many of these articles, which were regularly scoured once a week, were not, perhaps, used once in the year. A young lady ought, if she has a good cook, to be guided by her, in some measure, in the purchase of kitchen utensils; for the accommodation of the cook, if she be a reasonable person, ought to be consulted. But, where there is no kitchen-maid to clean them, the fewer coppers and tins the better. It is the best plan to buy, at first, only just enough for use, and to replace these with new ones as they wear out; but all stewpans, saucepans, frying-pans, &c., &c., should be kept in good order—that is to say, clean and in good repair.
Some of the best cooks say that iron and block tin answer every purpose. There is an useful, but somewhat expensive, article, called the Bain-marie, for heating made dishes and soups, and keeping them hot for any length of time, without over-cooking them. A Bain-marie will be found very useful to persons who are in the habit of having made dishes. A braising kettle and a stock-pot also; and two or three cast-iron Digesters, of from one to two gallons, for soups and gravies. Saucepans should be washed and scoured as soon as possible after they have been used: wood ashes, or very fine sand, may be used. They should be rinsed in clean water, wiped dry (or they will rust), and then be turned down on a clean shelf. The upper rim may be kept bright, but it seems labour lost to scour that part where the fire reaches; besides which, the more they are scoured the more quickly they wear out. Copper utensils must be well tinned, or they become poisonous. Never allow anything to be put by in a copper vessel; but the fatal consequences of neglect in this particular are too well known for it to be necessary here to say much in the way of caution.
The fire-place is a matter of great importance. I have not witnessed the operations of many of the steam cooking apparatuses, which the last thirty years have produced, but the few I have seen do not give me satisfaction. It is certainly desirable that every possible saving should be made in the consumption of coals; but it is not possible to have cooking in perfection, without a proper degree of heat; and, as far as my observation has gone, meat cannot be well roasted unless before a good fire. I should save in many things rather than in coals; and am often puzzled to account for the false economy which leads persons to be sparing of their fuel, whilst they are lavish in other things infinitely less essential. A cook has many trials of her temper, but none so difficult to bear as the annoyance of a bad fire; for she cannot cook her dinner well, however much she may fret herself in the endeavour; and the waste caused by spoiling meat, fish, poultry, game, &c., is scarcely made up for by saving a few shillings in coals. "Economy in fuel" is so popular, that every species of invention is resorted to, in order to go without fire; and the price of coals is talked of in a fine drawing room, where the shivering guest turns, and often in vain, to seek comfort from the fire, which, alas! the brightly polished grate does not contain. The beauty of the cold marble structure which rises above it, and is reflected in the opposite mirror, is a poor compensation for the want of warmth. I advise young housekeepers to bear in mind, that of the many things which may be saved in a house, without lessening its comforts, firing is not one.
It is best to lay in coals in the month of August or September, to last until the spring. They should be of the best kind; paid for in ready money, to prevent an additional charge for credit. The first year of housekeeping will give a pretty correct average to go by: and then the consumption should be watched, but not too rigidly.
To return to the fire-place.—Perhaps there is no apparatus more convenient for a family of moderate style of living than the common kitchen range, that which has a boiler for hot water on one side, and an oven on the other side. It is a great convenience to have a constant supply of hot water, and an advantage to possess the means of baking a pie, pudding, or cake; and this may always be done, when there is a large fire for boiling or roasting. There is a great difference in the construction of these little ovens. We have had several, and only three which answered; and these were all, I believe, by different makers.—A Hot plate is also an excellent thing, as it requires but little fire to keep it sufficiently hot for any thing requiring gradual cooking; and is convenient for making preserves, which should never be exposed to the fierceness of a fire. The charcoal stoves are useful, and so easily constructed that a kitchen should not be without one. There is a very nice thing, called a Dutch Stove, but I do not know whether it is much in use in England. On a rather solid frame-work, with four legs, about a foot from the ground, is raised a round brick-work, open at the top sufficiently deep to receive charcoal, and in the front, a little place to take out the ashes; on the top is a trivet, upon which the stew-pan, or preserving-pan, or whatever it may be, is placed. This is easily moved about, and in the summer could be placed anywhere in the cool, and would, therefore, be very convenient for making preserves.—Where there is much cooking, a Steamer is convenient; it may be attached to the boiler of the range. I have seen lamb and mutton which had been steamed, and which in appearance was more delicate than when boiled, and equally well flavoured. But there is an uncertainty in cooking meat by steam, and, besides, there is no liquor for soup. Puddings cook well by steam.—The Jack is an article of great consequence, and also a troublesome one, being frequently out of repair. A Bottle-jack answers very well for a small family; and where there is a good meat screen (which is indispensable), a stout nail and a skein of worsted will, provided the cook be not called away from the kitchen, be found to answer the purpose of a spit.
There are now so many excellent weighing-machines, of simple construction, that there ought to be one in every kitchen, to weigh joints of meat as they come from the butcher, and this will enable the cook to weigh flour, butter, sugar, spices, &c., &c.
The cook should be allowed a sufficiency of kitchen cloths and brushes, suitable to her work. Plates and dishes will not look clear and bright unless rinsed in clean water, after they are washed, then drained, and wiped dry with a cloth which is not greasy. A handful of bran in the water will produce a fine polish on crockery ware.
As they do not cost much, there need be no hesitation to allow plenty of jelly-bags, straining cloths, tapes, &c. &c. These should be very clean, and scalded in hot water before they are used.
There should be a table in the middle of the kitchen, or so situated as not to be exposed to a current of air, to arrange the dishes upon, that blunders may not be committed in placing them upon the dining-table. Much of the pleasure which the lady at the head of her table may feel at seeing her guests around her, is destroyed by the awkward mistakes of servants in waiting; who, when they discover that they have done wrong, frequently become too frightened and confused to repair the error they have committed.
The cook in a small family should have charge of the beer; and where there are no men servants, it should be rather good than weak, for the better in quality, the more care will be taken of it. When more is drawn than is wanted, a burnt crust will keep it fresh from one meal to another, but for a longer time it should be put into a bottle, and corked close; it would be well for the cook to keep a few different sized bottles, so that the beer may not stand to become flat before she bottle it.
A clock, in or near the kitchen, will tend to promote punctuality. But the lady herself should see to its being regulated, or this piece of furniture may do more harm than good. There is nothing fitter to be under lock and key than the clock, for, however true to time, when not interfered with, it is often made to bear false testimony. That good understanding which sometimes subsists between the clock and the cook, and which is brought about by the instrumentality of a broom-handle, or some such magic, should be noted by every prudent housekeeper as one of the things to be guarded against.
The kitchen chimney should be frequently swept; besides which, the cook should, once or twice a week, sweep it as far as she can reach; for where there are large fires in old houses, accidents sometimes occur; and the falling of ever so little soot will sometimes spoil a dinner.
Every lady ought to make a receipt-book for herself. Neither my receipts nor those of any cookery book can be supposed to give equal satisfaction to every palate. After performing any piece of cookery according to the directions given in a book, a person of common intelligence would be able to discover whatever was displeasing to the taste, and easily alter the receipt, and so enter it in her own book that the cook could not err in following it. This plan would be found to save much trouble.
As soon after breakfast as she conveniently can, the mistress of a house should repair to the kitchen; which ought to be swept, the fire-place cleaned, tea-kettles, coffee-pots, and anything else used in preparing the breakfast, put in their appropriate places, and the cook ready to receive her orders for the day. Without being parsimonious, the mistress should see, with her own eyes, every morning, whatever cold meat, remains of pastry, bread, butter, &c., &c., there may be in the larder, that she may be able to judge of the additional provision required. Having done that, she should proceed to the store-room, to give the cook, the housemaid, and others, such stores as they may require for the day. This will occupy but very little time, if done regularly every morning; and having done this, she should proceed to make her purchases at once, lest visitors, or any accidental circumstance, cause her to be late in her marketing, and so derange the regularity of the dinner hour, the servants' work, &c., &c. Many ladies, in consequence of their own ill health, or that of their children, are compelled to employ their servants to market for them; but when they can avoid doing so it is better. I do not say this from a suspicion that either tradespeople or servants are always likely to take advantage of an opportunity to impose upon their customers or their employers, but because this important part of household management ought to be conducted by some one of the family, who must necessarily be more interested in it than servants can be. Besides, more judgment is required in marketing than all servants possess. A servant, for instance, is sent to a fishmonger's for a certain quantity of fish, and she obeys the order given her and brings home the fish, but at a higher price, perhaps, than her mistress expected. Now if the lady had gone herself, and found that the weather, or any other circumstance, had raised the price of fish for that day, she would probably have made a less expensive one suit her purpose, or turned to the Butcher or Poulterer to supply her table. Also it is a hindrance to a servant to be sent here and there during the early part of the day, not to mention the benefit which the lady of the house would derive by being compelled to be out of doors, and in exercise, for even a short time, every day.
Although I like French cookery, I am not sufficiently acquainted with the interior of French kitchens to know whether we should improve in the fitting up of ours by imitating our neighbours. When I was abroad, and had opportunities of informing myself upon this subject, I had not the present work in contemplation. And though it is the object of travellers in general to inquire into almost every thing while passing through a foreign country, it happened once to me to meet with so much discouragement, when prying into the culinary department of a large Hotel in the south of France, that I hesitated to enter a foreign kitchen again. I was then on the way to Italy, and from what was afterwards told me respecting the kitchens of the latter country, I have reason to think that my resolution was not unwise, since, had it been overcome by fresh curiosity, I might have been induced to starve from too intimate knowledge of the mode in which the dishes of our table were prepared. We had, at the hotel I am speaking of, fared sumptuously for three days. There were, among other things, the finest poultry and the most delicate pastry imaginable. But some chicken broth was wanted for an invalid of our party, and the landlord suggested that if Mademoiselle would herself give directions to the cook, the broth might, perhaps, be the better made; and he went, accordingly, to announce my intended visit to the important person who commanded in the kitchen. Upon receiving intimation that all was ready, I descended, and was introduced to the said cook, who met me at the door of a large, lofty, vaulted apartment, the walls of which were black, not from any effect of antiquity, but from those of modern smoke, and decorated with a variety of copper utensils, all nearly as black on their outsides as the walls on which they hung. Of what hue their insides might be I did not ascertain; and, at the moment, my attention was suddenly diverted by the cook, who, begging me to be seated, placed a chair by the side of a large, wild-looking fire-place. I had not expected to see a tall, thin and bony, or a short and fat woman, like the cook of an English kitchen; I imagined a man, somewhat advanced in age, and retaining some traces of the ancien regime, with large features and a small body, with grizzly and half-powdered hair, and, perhaps, a pigtail; at all events, with slippers down at heel, hands unclean, and a large snuff-box. It was, therefore, not without surprise that I found the very contrary of this in the personage who, dressed in a white apron, white sleeves, and white night cap of unexceptionable cleanness, and bowing with a grace that would have done credit to the most accomplished petit mâitre of the last century, proceeded to relate how he had been instructed in the art of making chicken broth by an English Miledi, who in passing into Italy for the benefit of her health, had staid some weeks at the Hotel de l'Europe. His detail of the process of broth-making was minute, and no doubt scientific, but unhappily for the narrator, it was interrupted by his producing a delicate white fowl, which he without ceremony laid on the kitchen table, which stood in the middle of the room, and rivalled the very walls themselves in blackness. I was assured, by the first glance at this table, by reason of the fragments of fish, fowl, and pastry, strewed over it, that the same piece of furniture served every purpose of chopping-block and paste-board. When, therefore, under these circumstances, I saw the preparation for the broth just going to commence, the exclamation of "Dirty pigs!" was making its way to my lips, and I, in order to avoid outraging the ears of French politeness, in the spot of all France most famous for the romantic, made the best of my way out of the kitchen, and endeavoured, when the next dinner-time arrived, to forget that I had ever seen it. Whenever afterwards the figure of this black table appeared to my fancy, like a spectre rising to warn me against tasteful and delicate looking entremets, I strove to forget the reality; but I never recovered the feeling of perfect security in what I was about to eat until the sea again rolled between me and the kitchen of the Hotel de l'Europe, and I again actually saw the clear bright fire, the whitened hearth, the yellow-ochred walls, the polished tins, the clean-scrubbed tables and chairs, and the white dresser cloths, of the kitchen, such as I had always been used to see at my own home.