“Very well, then, I came supplied.” She took from her pocket a note-book. “The seasoning for mock brawn is as follows: Two tea-spoonfuls of salt, one of ground allspice, one of black pepper, one of sugar, half a tea-spoonful of marjoram dried and rubbed fine, half one of thyme.”
“I think I’ll use sage instead of thyme, and I fancy it will prove a very savory dish to eat cold.”
Of the calf’s head there was still the tongue, the brains, nearly two quarts of clear mock-turtle soup, a small platter of the pieces of the head boiled, and some of the baked head.
“It’s rather an absurd joint to buy for such a small family as ours, unless one is prepared to eat it in every form for three days.”
“Well, it will keep a few days, but the brains and tongue must be used soon, as they spoil easily. Suppose you have stewed tongue for dinner to-day, with brains and brown butter? The rest of the head and soup can be left for a day or two this weather, and I will prepare them at once.”
They went to the kitchen together, and Mrs. Welles began by taking the skin off the tongue, which had been parboiled on Saturday; then she trimmed it neatly and cut little strips of salt pork, parallel with the rind, as thick as a match, and larded it; then she put into a small stone pot that had a cover two slices of fat pork, a tea-spoonful of chopped parsley, half an onion, a bay leaf, a salt-spoonful of salt, half one of pepper, and half a tea-spoonful of thyme. She sprinkled the tongue with salt and pepper, laid it in the jar, and round it cut a carrot in slices; over this she poured a cup of soup and covered it close. It was to bake three hours and a half. When done it was to be taken up and the gravy strained and skimmed; the tongue was to be laid in a dish, with green peas round it, and the gravy poured over it.
She also cleaned the calf’s brains, carefully removing all the slime and fibrous skin, but without breaking them; then she told Marta to put them, half an hour before dinner, into well-salted water in which was a small bunch of parsley and a bay leaf, to boil for twenty minutes; then she was to have ready some fried circles of bread, the size of a tea-cup and half an inch thick. (See frying, [Chapter IV].) When the brains were done they were to be taken up and divided, and a neat piece put on each round of bread, and on the centre of each a small piece of pickled gherkin or red beet, and then they were to have poured over them brown butter, made as follows: One table-spoonful of butter melted in a little saucepan till it was a pale brown (not the least burnt), then a tea-spoonful of lemon juice and the same of finely chopped parsley was to be put in it. She warned her if the butter should get the least bit too dark it would be spoilt, and it would darken even in carrying from the range to the table, therefore to remove it as soon as the color began to change.
The following were the ways in which the remains of the head were disposed of. Though Molly was tired of it by the time it was gone, Harry was not, and she could not but recommend it to Mrs. Lennox as an economical dish to have for a large family, provided she bought only a large fleshy head; a bony one is not worth the trouble of cooking.
The pieces already boiled in the soup made two small entrées for Wednesday and Thursday; the first was simply some pieces simmered half an hour in a very little of the soup, then taken up and a Hollandaise sauce poured over it. (See recipe, [Chapter XXIX].) The second was the quite celebrated one.
Calf’s Head en Tortue, made as follows: A table-spoonful of butter was melted in a saucepan, a table-spoonful of flour mixed with it and allowed to bubble; then a cup of the clear soup reserved for the purpose was put to it and stirred, to make a thick, smooth sauce; the juice of a large tomato (Molly used a little pulp of canned tomato, as the season was over) was strained to it, and the liquor from half a can of mushrooms and a dozen of the mushrooms; the pieces of meat were laid in this sauce and stewed for twenty minutes very gently, with great care that they might not burn. While this was cooking, a small saucepan was put on, half full of fat, and made very hot; then one egg for each person was broken into separate cups; these were dropped one at a time into the smoking fat, just as if it were water, and they were to be poached; one minute was enough to brown each one, and only one was done at a time, or while one was taken out the other would harden in the intense heat of the fat. The eggs were perfectly round and brown. They were laid round the dish of meat, and between them tiny green gherkins.