Marta, who had now finished her morning’s work, was told to put on the bouillon.
“You must take the largest pot, Marta; that shin weighs eight pounds. It is cut in three, but gash it well, take out the marrow, and put on eight quarts of cold water; when it is near the boiling-point, skim it,—take care the scum does not break. After it is off, throw in a wine-glass of cold water and wait; when it is once again near boiling, skim again; repeat the cold water and skimming twice, then leave it to boil four hours very slowly.”
When separating the yolks of eggs from the whites, for the macaroons, they had been at once beaten with a tea-spoonful of cold water to prevent hardening,—which they are apt to do when waiting even a very short time, if not beaten,—and set aside for jumbles, which Molly made while Mrs. Welles made the Genoese pastry. She used for them six ounces of butter, six ounces of sugar, and half a pound of flour, with the yolks of the three eggs. The butter was beaten to a cream and then the sugar and eggs added, the flour sifted in, a table-spoonful of wine put in, and when all was well mixed a few drops of extract of rose was added, Molly tasting the paste to judge the quantity. It needed to be perceptible, as it goes off in baking. Then she rolled it into little balls about the size of a hickory nut, and on some stuck half a blanched almond, on others a little bit of green citron, and on others a strip of candied lemon peel.
Rolling them thus was much less trouble than cutting them into rings and shaping them in sugar, and quite as sightly, for the balls melt down in the oven into round cakes. They require a moderate oven; if too slow they melt too much, if too quick they burn before they are done.
To keep the oven just right this morning when a steady, moderate heat was required, Molly attended to the fire herself. Having seen that it was solid at first, she kept it so by adding a very few coals before it had shown any signs of going down. As soon as the jumbles were firm and the bright yellow had changed to the palest pine color, they were taken out, without waiting for them to brown at all.
The Genoese pastry was now done; it looked like a thick jelly-cake, and when cool was to be cut and jelly laid between it sandwich-fashion, and some pieces iced plain.
When the macaroons were taken off the papers, there were found to be between seventy and eighty, but as in two pans there were two or three that had sunken somewhat and were less handsome than the rest, those were laid aside. There were also nearly four dozen jumbles, and there would be about three dozen tablettes from the Genoese pastry.
It was getting near luncheon time and they were both rather tired; therefore they gave up till after they had eaten and rested.
“I hope, Molly, you take care of yourself in this way,” said her friend as they sat down to a comfortable lunch. “I remember how you used to horrify me in London by going without food for hours, or only eating cake or pastry, if you had anything on hand to interest you.”
“Yes, nowadays I do, whether I feel hungry or not: I sit down and force myself to eat, and I do it leisurely also, for if I finish eating in ten minutes I take a book or newspaper and spend the full hour resting, then I go to work fresh again; although I confess I do it often in spite of my nerves, which urge me to finish. But I do it, and I know that eating nothing at all or a mere snack in a hurry, at noon, and then keeping on with the sewing, or preserving, or shopping, is what wears out half us American women. I used to get tired and faint about three o’clock, after doing very little, and was almost ashamed that I, a healthy young girl, should do so when I saw elderly women keep on from morning till night. You and your mother first awakened me to the fact that it was lack of food. My own dear mother had been like myself all her life, neglecting her noon meal, simply because she never felt hungry. Now I get a meal of some substantial kind, and I make Marta do the same, for she also is inclined to take a standing lunch,—just a bit of bread and cheese, she likes best.”