The English Housekeeper: Or, Manual of Domestic Management / Containing advice on the conduct of household affairs and practical instructions concerning the store-room, the pantry, the larder, the kitchen, the cellar, the dairy; the whole being intended for the use of young ladies who undertake the superintendence of their own housekeeping

by Anne Cobbett

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 maître 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.

CHAPTER VI.

JOINTING, TRUSSING, AND CARVING.

Below will be found the figures of the five larger animals, followed by a reference to each, by which the reader, who is not already experienced, may observe the names of all the principal joints, as well as the part of the animal from which the joint is cut. No book that I am acquainted with, except that of Mrs. Rundell, has taken any notice of this subject, though it is a matter of considerable importance, and one as to which many a young housekeeper often wishes for information.

Venison.

1. Shoulder. 2. Neck. 3. Haunch.

4. Breast. 5. Scrag.