638. Asparagus.—I cook it thus: I take a bundle and scrape lightly all the white part, beginning from the head down, and throw them when done into cold water, then tie them up in bundles of twenty-five each, if an ordinary size, if very large, half that number, keeping the heads together, and cut off the ends to make them the same length; have ready a pan containing one gallon of boiling water, in which has been thrown two ounces of salt, boil quickly for fifteen minutes, or till tender; dish them up with a piece of toast in the middle, keep the heads in the centre, and form a pyramid. Serve very hot, with rich melted butter, or cream sauce.
The queen of all vegetables, to my fancy, is asparagus. This may almost be said to be a modern vegetable in this country, and it is one which requires less cooking than perhaps any other, and is considered exceedingly wholesome.
639. Young Green Peas.—Young Green Peas! Do not those words sound pleasant to the ear, dearest? I fancy that by merely raising my eyes from the paper on which I am now writing, I shall see all our garden in buds and blossom; it not only seems to invigorate the sensitive part of one’s appetite, but works upon the mind to that point that you may actually fancy you are breathing in a glowing atmosphere, and that the pearly dew is gracefully descending in small globules from heaven, to fix their sparkling eyes on the pinky bloom of myriads of roses. But, alas! how soon this charming illusion has disappeared since I have left for a moment the sight of my paper to give a peep through the garden window, where I perceive that though to-day is the 17th of April, the serious and uncheerful Father Winter has once more monopolized those delightful and variegated nuances of Nature, by laying out his universal snowy tablecloth over this for the present ephemeral vision which the inviting words green peas had produced upon my senses; no doubt the effect of a good fire in my parlor, where I am now sitting, has had a great influence upon me respecting the summery temperature; but as a few weeks longer will realize my wishes, I shall here content myself by giving you the receipt how they ought to be cooked when you can get them.
When very young, I like them plain boiled, because their original flavor is so fresh and delicate, that any addition, except a little very fresh butter, would be certain to destroy their aroma; I even object to the introduction of green mint, though I do not want to deprive you of it, being only a matter of taste.
Put two quarts of water to boil, with half an ounce of salt, and then place in one pint of peas, boil a full gallop till tender (about ten minutes), put in a colander, drain one minute; lay them, raised in the centre, in a dish, put in them two pats of very fresh butter, and serve.
When older or larger, boil a little longer, add twelve leaves of green mint, which serve with it.
640. Peas, French way.—They do not look so inviting, not being so green; but I must say they are excellent as regards flavor. Choose them young and fresh; without both of these qualities, they would not cook properly. Put in a pint of cold water, mix the peas and butter well with your hand, add four button onions, a bouquet of six sprigs of parsley, one ounce of sugar, two saltspoonfuls of salt, one of pepper, put it over a tolerably good fire, moving them often; if getting rather dry, add a wineglassful of water, twenty minutes ought to be enough when tender; add one ounce of butter, in which you have mixed a teaspoonful of flour, which put in it, and stir it well; make a liaison of the yolk of one egg, a quarter of a gill of cream, which add and stir, take out the parsley and onions, and serve.
Another way.—When large, I stew them with two cabbage-lettuces cut in two, and stew longer, put in four wineglassfuls of water, or more if required, and finish as above.