Molly looked at the fire, found it bright and the oven hot; she put a shovelful more of coals each side of the fire, and then showed Marta how to brush the potatoes with a little new brush she had brought for the purpose.
“See the difference, Marta? Wash them ever so carefully, you can’t make the skins so clean that the minute you put the brush to them they do not look several shades lighter.”
They were put into the oven.
“Now, Marta, bring that packet of cracker meal I pointed out yesterday, and pour at least half on a dish; now a saucer and the pepper and salt. Break one egg, and put the yolk into the saucer, the white into a cup; if there were more chops we would use both white and yolk,—as there are so few, for economy’s sake we will use only the yolk; put to it two teaspoonfuls of cold water and beat it with a fork. Now season those chops with salt and pepper, remembering never to do so before cooking if they are to be broiled or cooked without breading.”
Marta was rather clumsy, but still Molly repressed her own itching fingers, knowing the girl would do better in future if let alone now.
“Now lay a chop in the egg,—take care it moistens every part,—lift it out with the left hand, let it drain an instant and lay it on the cracker meal; now with your dry right hand send the meal all over it till every bit of the meat is covered with the white dust, then lay it aside. Now do the others in the same way.”
Molly looked at the clock; it was nearly half past seven.
“Hurry, Marta, get the can of lard, and, as that spider is not deep, I am going to fry in this agate saucepan; it is just about broad enough for a chop. Put in it at least a pound of lard, set it where it will get hot, yet not boil till you are ready. Now you can grease the muffin-pans, leaving a teaspoonful of lard in one, and then make the muffins. We need only a dozen, so you can take half a cup of corn meal, half a cup of flour, and a teaspoon of baking-powder and half one of salt. Mix them quickly. Now a scant table-spoonful of sugar, and milk to make a thick batter, break in an egg, and beat it all steadily three minutes by the clock,—no, beat just as if you were beating eggs, quickly, till it froths. Now pour the lard from the muffin-pan in it, stir well, and fill the pans nearly full; set them in the oven,—they will bake in fifteen minutes. Go now and set the table, and do it quickly.”
On second thought Molly went with her and helped, because she could not easily find things. She found she had remembered fairly well the directions about the cloth.
“Put the cups and saucers at my left, and that mat for the meat before Mr. Bishop; the potatoes, on a folded napkin, you will place on one side, the muffins exactly opposite them on the other, butter within easy reach of both. Put this tile for the coffee at my right hand, the sugar and the milk-pitcher in front, those geraniums in the centre, a knife and fork and small plate to each; and now come out into the kitchen, set the plates to warm, and a platter. I’ll put the lard now on the hottest part of the stove, and a cover over it, so that the smell of hot grease may be as little as possible, and while it gets hot you can grind the coffee. You remember how to make it? Put a pint of milk on to boil, and set the other pint away. Now try the fat, and remember that what I am now going to teach you with these chops applies to all kinds of frying. The way you crumbed those chops is the way you must crumb cutlets, fish, oysters, or croquettes. They are better crumbed a little while before they are fried, as they have time to dry.”