As the soup was more than sufficient to serve for two dinners, it was decided to flavor it all, then divide it, and have one half thick mock-turtle, the other clear. The thick was for Sunday’s dinner, as Mr. Welles, who was coming to dinner, was particularly fond of it. While the soup was boiling down Mrs. Welles prepared egg balls to serve with it, Molly made some rough puff paste (see [Chapter VI].) for pigeon pie, and when that was done Marta was ready to make noodles.
The egg balls were made as follows: Two eggs boiled hard, the yolks pounded with a half tea-spoonful of finely chopped parsley, half a salt-spoonful of salt, a scant quarter one of white pepper, made into stiff paste with raw yolk of egg, and moulded into balls, size of marbles. Each ball was rolled in white of egg beaten a little; when well coated they were dipped in flour and dropped into boiling water for two minutes. These were part to be served in the thick soup next day, the rest left for the clear mock-turtle.
Marta used one egg for the noodles, a pinch of salt, and flour enough to make part of it into a smooth paste about as large as a small egg; this she worked smooth and laid aside; to the rest she added more flour, and did not work into a smooth paste, but into a rough, crumbly sort of ball; this, she explained, was for the quickest made and most generally used noodles, in the part of Germany she came from. She took a coarse grater and grated the rough ball into coarse crumbs that looked like yellow tapioca; these could be dried carefully in a very cool oven, and used whenever wanted. Then she took the smooth ball she had made, and asked Molly whether she would like her to make the ribbon noodles as before (see recipe, [Chapter XXV].), or another sort.
“Oh, another, by all means!”
She then grated on the smooth ball of paste just a suspicion of nutmeg, put the least bit of butter on her hand,—a bit as large as a small hazel nut,—and rolled the ball and worked it over till the nutmeg and butter were in it; then she cut the paste into pieces as large as a hazel nut, made each into olive shapes, and they were finished.
“Thank you, Marta, we will have those in our soup to-night. I think I remember eating them in Germany.”
Molly had already prepared a pair of pigeons. She now put on to stew very slowly, with half a pint of water, a pound of juicy round steak, for the pigeon pie, which she intended to make next day. When the steak had simmered an hour and a half, it was taken up and put away. The calf’s tongue was parboiled, to be used on Monday.
The next morning Molly made the pie directly after breakfast. Laying the steak, cut into finger-lengths, at the bottom of a deep oval dish, the birds were divided into halves, and both steak and pigeons seasoned highly with pepper and salt. The birds were laid over the steak, placing them so that the pie would be dome-shaped when covered; two eggs were hard boiled and cut in four and the pieces laid among the meat; then a small half cup of water was poured in; the gravy from the steak was left to pour in hot when the pie was cooked. The pie was then finished in the same way as the veal and ham pie (see recipe [Chapter XXXII].), except that the feet of the two birds were put in boiling water for a moment, the skin rubbed off them, leaving them a bright crimson, and a slit was made at each end of the groove that went round the pie, and two of the little feet put in each, the claws outwards.
Mrs. Welles gave Marta the pieces of calf’s head that were to go into the soup, told her to put them in half an hour before dinner, let them simmer, and just before serving she was to put into the quart, which was all that was to be made hot, a table-spoonful of brown thickening, a glass of wine, and the juice of half a lemon, with half the egg balls. The pigeon pie would need an hour to bake, and was to be kept in a very cold place until twelve.