“Oh, yes; just consider my entertainment, what you did to help me in that; but there’s one thing I want this very day, that is, English muffins and crumpets. I have tried once or twice from recipes in my English cook-books, but they always give the quantities for a bakery,—a peck of flour, sometimes a bushel,—and it is difficult to reduce to my small needs; besides, I know success depends on consistency, and there is very little guidance given. ‘Water to make a soft dough’ is only stated; how soft is not hinted, and the so-called English muffins in our books are very good as muffins, only they don’t happen to be the thing at all.”
“I know it is really only a question of consistency. I will make some this very day, if you have yeast in the house.”
“Yes, I am especially anxious to have them, because they are as good two days old as one, and in a little family like ours that is a great thing.”
It was Monday, and by the time the muffins had risen, washing would be over and the top of the fire free.
“We’ll go out and set them now.”
The setting was very simple, being only the making of a stiff bread-sponge. Half a cake of yeast was dissolved in a pint and a half of warm milk, into which a scant tea-spoonful of salt, two of sugar and one large one of butter warmed, were stirred. Into this as much dry, sifted flour was mixed (about three pints) as would make an exceedingly stiff batter, in fact “stiffer than batter, softer than dough” may serve as an indication of the consistency, or “almost too stiff to stir, quite too soft to knead.” When this was beaten long and hard, one third was put into another bowl and this was thinned down with warm milk to a batter that would pour slowly. This was for crumpets, the only difference between the two being in consistency. They were covered and put behind the range to rise.
“Now let me have your book, Charlotte; I have the time, and will copy out what I want; but first give me a recipe for cooking beef heart. I remember what a good dish it was, and they are only ten or fifteen cents each, and there must be at least two pounds of solid meat in one.”
“There is; the only objection is the quickness with which heart chills, and the taste of cold suet is very disagreeable. This may be obviated by careful preparation, however; here is the recipe:
“Cut off the gristle and the ‘deaf ear,’ as the tough red lobe at the top is called, if the butcher has not done it, and trim off all the fat as closely as possible; then lay the heart in boiling water for half an hour, keeping it just simmering. When thus parboiled, dry it well and fill the three holes with nice stuffing, either sage, onion and bread crumbs made with equal proportions of boiled onions and crumbs, and chopped with ten large sage leaves to the pint, which must be dried till they powder, or highly seasoned veal-stuffing made as follows:
“Veal-Stuffing.—Two ounces of beef suet, chopped very fine, four ounces of bread crumbs, one table-spoonful of chopped parsley, and half one each of thyme and marjoram, and the juice of half a lemon, half a tea-spoonful of salt, a pinch of pepper and a suspicion of nutmeg.