"Meat, previously wrapped up in paper or cloth, may be baked in a clay case, in any sort of pit or oven, well covered over, and with good economy." ('Handbook of Field Service.')
Baking in Pots.--A capital oven is improvised by means of two earthen or metal cooking-pots, of which one is placed on the fire, and in it the article to be baked; the other pot is put upon its top, as a cover, and in it a shovelful of red-hot embers.
Bush Cookery.--Tough Meat.--Hammer it well between two stones before putting it on the fire, and again when it is half cooked, to separate the fibres. I have often seen people save themselves much painful mastication, by hammering at each separate piece of meat, before putting it in their mouths.
Rank Meat.--I have spoken of this, in another section, Revolting Food, that may save the Lives of Starving Men.
Kabobs.--Broil the rib-bones, or skewer your iron ramrod through a dozen small lumps of meat and roast them. This is the promptest way of cooking meat; but men on hard work are not satisfied with a diet of nothing else but tough roasted flesh, they crave for succulent food, such as boiled or baked meat.
Salt Meat, to prepare hurriedly.--Warm it slightly on both sides--this makes the salt draw to the outside--then rinse it well in a pannikin of water. This process extracts a large part of the salt, and leaves the meat more fit for cooking.
Haggis.--Hearne, the North American traveller, recommends a "haggis made with blood, a good quantity of fat shred small, some of the tenderest of the flesh, together with the heart and lungs, cut or town into small skivers; all of which is put into the stomach, and roasted by being suspended before the fire with a string. Care must be taken that it does not get too much heat at first, or it will burst. It is a most delicious morsel, even without pepper, salt, or any seasoning."
Theory of Tea-making.--I have made a number of experiments on the art of making good tea. We constantly hear that some people are good and others bad tea-makers; that it takes a long time to understand the behaviour of a new tea=pot, and so forth; and lastly, that good tea cannot be made except with boiling water. Now, this latter assertion is assuredly untrue, because, if tea be actually boiled in water, an emetic and partly poisonous drink is the certain result. I had a tin lid made to my teapot, a short tube passed through the lid, and in the tube was a cork, through a hole in which a thermometer was fitted, that enabled me to learn the temperature of the water in the teapot, at each moment. Thus provided, I continued to make my tea as usual, and to note down what I observed. In the first place after warming the teapot in the ordinary way, the fresh boiling water that was poured into it, sank invariably to under 200 degrees Fahr. It was usually 180 degrees, so great was the amount of heat abstracted by the teapot. I also found that my teapot--it was a crockery one--allowed the water within it to cool down at the rate of about 2 degrees per minute. When the pot was filled afresh, of course the temperature of its contents rose afresh, and by the addition of water two or three times repeated, I obtained a perfect mastery over the temperature of the pot, within reasonable limits. Now, after numerous days in which I made tea according to my usual method, but measuring strictly the quantity of leaves, and recording the times and the temperature, and noting the character of tea produced; then, taking as my type of excellence, tea that was full bodied, full tasted, and in no way bitter or flat, I found that this was only produced when the water in the teapot had remained between 180º and 190 degrees Fahr., and had stood eight minutes on the leaves. It was only necessary for me to add water once to the tea, to ensure this temperature. Bitterness was the certain result of greater heat or of longer standing, and flatness was the result of colder water. If the tea did not stand for so long a time as eight minutes, it was not ripe; it was not full bodied enough. The palate becomes far less fastidious about the quality of the second cup. Other people may like tea of a different character from that which I do myself; but, be that as it may, all people can, I maintain, ensure uniformity of good tea, such as they best like, by attending to the principle of making it--that is to say, to time, and quantities, and temperature. There is no other mystery in the teapot.
Tea made in the kettle.--Where there are no cups or teapot put the leaves in the pot or kettle, and drink through a reed with a wisp of grass in it, as they do in Paraguay. If there are cups and no teapot, the leaves may be put into the pot, previously enclosed in a loose gauze or muslin bag to prevent their floating about. A contrivance is sold in the shops for this purpose; it is made of metal gauze, and shaped like an egg. A purse made of metal rings would be better, for it would pack flat; but the advantage of muslin over metal apparatus is that you may throw away bag and all, and avoid the trouble of cleaning.
