“But, as you say, so many of these things are humbugs! Will you oblige me by accepting this, giving it a fair trial, and letting me know just what it is? I will send it up with the rest of your articles.”
For three weeks—I blush to write it—THE DOVER hung untouched in my kitchen-closet, and I did daily penance for my sin of omission with the shilling whisk. At last I broke the latter, and with a slighting observation to the effect that “it might be better than none,” I took down my gift.
I beg you to believe that I am not in league with the patentee of my favorite. I do not know whether “Dover” stands for his name, that of the manufacturing company, or the place in which it was made. “Dover Egg-beater, Patented 1870,” is stamped upon the circumference of the iron wheel. I know nothing more of its antecedents. But if I could not get another I would not sell mine for fifty dollars—nor a hundred. Egg-whipping ceased to be a bugbear to me from the day of which I speak. Light, portable, rapid, easy, and comparatively noiseless, my pet implement works like a benevolent brownie. With it I turn out a méringue in five minutes without staying my song or talk; make the formidable “snow-custard” in less than half an hour, with no after tremulousness of nerve or tendon. In its operation it is impartial, yolks thickening smoothly under it as easily as whites heighten into a compact snow-drift, that can be cut into blocks with a knife. Winter and summer, it has served me with invariable fidelity, and it is to all appearance, stanch as when it first passed into my reluctant hands. I hope the gentlemanly and benevolent donor will sell one thousand per annum for the remainder of his natural existence, and if length of days be a boon to be coveted, that the unknown patentee will live as many years as he has saved hours of labor to American housewives and cooks.
WHIPPED CREAM.
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This enters so largely into the composition of many of our most elegant desserts, that the mode of preparing it deserves more than a passing mention. The impression in which I confess that I shared, for a long time, that a “whip” was a tedious, and sometimes well-nigh impossible performance, will soon be done away with if one becomes the possessor of a really good syllabub charm. That which I have used with great satisfaction for a couple of years is a very simple affair—a tin cylinder with a perforated bottom, and within it a dasher, similar to that of an ordinary churn, that plays through a hole in the top. It is best to churn the cream in a jar or pail, there being in these less waste from splashing. The churn is held about a quarter of an inch from the bottom, that the cream may pass freely below it. As the stiffened froth rises to the top of the cream, it should be removed to a wire sieve set over a dish. If you have no sieve, lay a piece of coarse lace or tarletane within a cullender, and put the “whip,” a few spoonfuls at a time, upon it. The cream that drips into the dish below should be returned to the pail and churned over. I regret that the name of the patentee appears nowhere upon the modest but excellent little machine that has supplied me with so many trifles and Charlotte Russes.
The grand desideratum in making a “whip,” is to have real cream. It should also be perfectly sweet. The confectioner from whom I always procure mine advised me once to put the merest pinch of soda in the cream in warm weather, before beating it, a hint that has proved very useful to me. With this precaution, unless the cream be really on the verge of souring, you will never churn your “whip” to butter, of which lame and lamentable conclusion I had experience several times before I received the friendly suggestion.
Get good cream, then. It is better worth your while to pay half a dollar a quart for it than half the sum for the thinner, poorer liquid sold under the same name at the milk-stores. In the country, of course, the true article should be abundant, and in town, you can generally purchase small quantities at the confectioners. A pint well worked will yield enough “whip” for the dessert of a small family. It should be kept in a cold place until needed, and not kept long anywhere.
Whipped cream is a delightful addition to coffee. John will relish his after-dinner cup much better if you will mantle it with this snowy richness. Remember this when preparing your syllabub or trifle, and set aside a few spoonfuls before seasoning it.