—In the first place, the rule may be generally laid down that it is a false economy to be niggardly in the matter of the cook’s wages. The desirability of good cooking is far from being a mere matter of the gratification of the tastes, but is undoubtedly also a matter of the first hygienic importance. Added to this, a skilful operator can turn a wholesome and appetising dish out of comparatively inferior materials, while a bad one will turn the best into indigestible nastiness; and it will be generally found that those who economise on this detail of expenditure, pay for it over and over again by an excessive expenditure on ready cooked, and tinned foods.
A second point of at least equal importance is the insistence of cleanliness in the kitchen, and in all the operations of cookery, but to secure this adequate appliances must be supplied; for it is useless to expect either good cookery or decent cleanliness without an adequate outfit of “pots and pans,” and proper appliances for cleaning them. At the same time it is a mistake to suppose that the utensils in use among English people will serve equally well in other hands, so that it is generally better to purchase locally what is needed. The heavy English iron saucepan is, e.g., quite unsuited for use on charcoal fires, and an Indian generally lacks the strength of wrist to manipulate it with its clumsy and ill-contrived handle. Speaking generally, aluminium cooking vessels will be found most suitable for charcoal or wood fires, but they should be, if possible, fashioned in the forms to which the local cook is accustomed. Their great advantages are that they lend themselves well to cleansing with sand or ashes, which comes natural to races to whom soap is an unaccustomed luxury; while, unlike copper utensils, they do not require periodical tinning, and so are free from the risk of causing metallic poisoning. Most English housekeepers will probably admit that, even with a home establishment, a certain amount of superintendence of affairs below-stairs can hardly be dispensed with; and if this be so, how very much more must such scrutiny be necessary in places where the workers belong to races to whom cleanliness in such matters is an exotic curiosity. Too often, however, people are apt to let these matters drift, and try to comfort themselves with the reflection that the heart need not imagine what the eye has not seen, but those who do so expose themselves to the certainty of consuming unspeakable nastiness.
I remember well how our mess committee decided that each week a couple of officers in turn should inspect the officers’ kitchen. Being the first on the roster, the senior major and myself proceeded to make our first inspection.
As we were expected, a very salutary, and probably much needed, clean up had been effected, and we found little to criticise till we turned to go away; when making for the door, the kindly major, who could never resist the sight of a child, espied sitting behind the door the brown but cherubic form of the butler’s little boy, dressed in the national costume for children of his age of a piece of string. So he strolled towards the child with the intention of gratifying his little friend with some coppers to purchase sweets, when the urchin respectfully sprang to his feet and revealed the fact that the stool on which he was sitting was a huge round of spiced beef, which had figured on the sideboard at breakfast, and was meant to reappear at lunch. Now we all know that our food must necessarily be more or less handled, but, on the whole, most of us would prefer it not to be sat upon; and our visit resulted in the provision of a proper safe for cold provisions, which, as a matter of fact, was wanting.
This is hardly the place for any detailed consideration of culinary matters, but I would commend to the careful consideration of every tropical housekeeper “Wyvern’s” excellent article on “Our Kitchens in India,” in his book already quoted. There is only one point on which the writer would be disposed to disagree with his authority, and that is as to his recommendation of coal and English kitchen ranges; for whatever may be the case in Madras, this would, for many reasons, be in most places impracticable. Charcoal is a fuel which, no doubt, requires a great deal of attention, but native cooks are quite accustomed to this, and, trouble apart, its cleanliness and freedom from smoke makes it an ideal fuel for cooking, and the antiseptic properties of the charcoal dust in the kitchen are not to be despised.
CHAPTER IV.
The Tropical Day.
There is a southern proverb that, between the hours of two and four in the afternoon, only Englishmen and dogs are to be found abroad; and there is doubtless a good deal of truth in this as regards our countrymen, though the dictum is perhaps rather hard on the dog.
Whether this impeachment be libellous or not, it is undoubtedly the universal custom of all races inhabiting sunny lands to devote these hours to rest, and it is hardly likely that the visitor from northern Europe is wise in refusing to accommodate himself to new conditions. From “ten to four” may suit the business conditions of the City of London excellently, but it does not follow this is equally adapted to Calcutta, and the attempt to do so doubles the strain on nerve and constitution. Apart from this, work done under such trying conditions can never be of the same quality as that which would be accomplished at more suitable hours. Even in busy modern Rome, which is a good deal to the northward of any portion of India, it is quite common for commercial establishments to close during these hours; and it is absurd to reply that this is a mere evidence of sloth and want of business energy, as in spite of this interval of rest, the shops open so much earlier and close so much later that the total of working hours is greater than it is in London. I believe, then, that English folks settled in the Tropics would be wise to adopt an arrangement of the working hours which is the outcome of centuries of experience of life under a vertical sun; and rest when not only our fellow-men, but all animated nature seeks repose; for in those hours, beside a few vagabond crows and those objectionable insects, the flies, a sign of life is hardly to be found abroad to disturb the stillness of the tropical noon.
Unless rest be taken in the afternoon the tropical resident is apt to suffer from want of sleep, for even if he goes to bed at ten o’clock he must needs be astir at five a.m., as exercise can only be comfortably taken in the very early morning and in the dusk of the evening, and seven hours’ sleep, even assuming it to be sound and restful, is quite an inadequate allowance under such trying conditions. Too often however, the night’s sleep is neither sound nor refreshing, and much of the time is passed in rolling from side to side in the vain effort to find some portion of one’s anatomy which the pins and needles of “prickly heat” will cease to trouble. For certain kinds of work, such as travelling, it is indeed necessary to “turn the night into day,” and get through the business during the hours of darkness; for neither men nor horses can perform any work involving muscular exertion, once the sun is well above the horizon, without rapid exhaustion.