“Dorothy, you talk as if you’d been doing birds in aspic all your life. Did you ever cook them?”
“Once,” dimpled Dorothy. “At cooking school.”
“I know how to make aspic,” declared Ethel Brown proudly.
“Let’s have it.”
“Soak a quarter of an ounce of vegetable gelatine in a pint of water for two hours; then add the strained juice of a lemon, pepper and salt and cayenne, two tablespoonfuls of Tarragon vinegar and another pint of water. Let it cook for a few minutes over a slow fire and then boil it for two or three minutes and strain it through a jelly bag over your birdies.”
“O, you can’t do that that way,” cried Ethel Blue. “Their elbows will show through when they’re turned out of their molds. You have to put in a layer of jelly and when it is stiffened a little put in your bird, and then pour the rest of the jelly over it.”
“Correct,” approved Dorothy. “We must be sure to have enough for each person to have a half bird in a mold. They are turned out at the last minute and a sprig of parsley is laid on top of each one.”
“Help! Help!” came a faint cry from Roger. “I am swooning with joy at the sound of this delicious food. I’m so glad Aunt Louise is giving this party and not one of the chicken salad ladies of Rosemont.”
“Aspic is good to know about for hot weather use,” said Ethel Blue. “I’ve been meaning all summer to tell Della how to make it—she feels the heat so awfully.”
“You can put all sorts of meats in it, I suppose.”