Motherly talks with young housekeepers / embracing eighty-seven brief articles on topics of home interest, and about five hundred choice receipts for cooking, etc.

by Mrs. H. W. Beecher

With your cows thus fed, kept dry and warm, well cleaned and curried,—for a cow needs that care as much as a horse,—you will have good milk, and from it cream which, with proper care, can be as readily made into good butter in winter as in summer.

Now as to “proper care,” we speak only of private families who have but one or two cows. If your milk-room is in the cellar, it should be entirely separated from the vegetable cellar, and used for nothing that can impart any flavor to the milk, either meats, roots, sauces, or fluids. If it is well cemented and banked up, so as to prevent freezing, you will have very little trouble in keeping the milk warm enough for the cream to begin to rise quickly. Of course you will pour boiling water into the pans, and have them well heated before straining the milk into them. If you have on hand two sizes of pans, fill the larger one third full of boiling water, then strain the milk into a smaller pan, filling it not half full, and set it into the hot water; turn another pan over the top, but not close enough to exclude all air. By so doing you will find that the cream will rise more rapidly and can be more easily churned. When one has but little milk, this is not much trouble.

If you have no cellar that can be kept warm and free from the smell of vegetables, set your milk on a shelf, in a warm closet, where, of course, you will keep no vegetables or meats, as nothing is so easily impregnated with odors of all kinds as milk. Cover the pans or bowls with a fine net, to exclude dust or motes of any kind.

Thirty-six hours is as long as milk should remain unskimmed, summer or winter. Every hour longer, even though the milk may taste sweet, is insuring bitter butter. As you skim off the cream, stir it well each time. The cream should not be in the cream-pot longer than two days before churning. Three days may give you moderately good butter, but it is a very doubtful experiment.

“But how can we churn every two days when we do not gather more than a quart of cream in that time? It would be lost in our churn; we could do nothing with it.”

Take it into a large bowl, and beat or stir it steadily with a silver or wooden spoon. It will take you no longer than to churn in the regular manner, and you will secure a nice roll of sweet butter. But a better, because an easier and more convenient way, is to buy a tall one-gallon stone jar, and get a carpenter to turn you a handle; put on two cross-pieces at the bottom, full of holes; or a circle small enough to go into the jar; pierce this circle with holes as large as a thimble; another circle for a cover, just to fit the top of the jar, with a hole in the center that will slip over the handle, and you have a nice churn, dasher and all. Now put on your large apron, lay a book on the table before you, take your little churn in your lap or on a bench by your side, and read, churn, and rock the cradle if need be (reading and rocking the cradle are not essential, but are very pleasant additions). In fifteen minutes’ steady churning you will find the butter has come, and can be brought together in this tiny churn as nicely as you can desire. If you can’t get at a carpenter, ask your husband or son to do it; or, failing there, haven’t you mechanical skill sufficient to make a dasher and fit it to a stone jar yourself? A piece of a broom-stick, scoured and polished with sand-paper (or if you have no sand-paper scrape it clean and smooth with a bit of glass); two cross-pieces full of holes, screwed on to the bottom of the stick; a round piece fitted into the top of the jar for cover,—you can whittle it smooth, can you not?—with a hole for the handle to pass through, and you have just as serviceable a churn as any carpenter could make you, only, perhaps, lacking a little in the finish a carpenter might have given.

Now, as to the working of the butter: some say, wash it faithfully; others insist that no water should come in contact with the butter. If you have strength and skill enough to work out all the buttermilk with a ladle, or a hand cool and firm enough to toss it from one hand to the other, giving quick, skillful blows as it passes, so that every drop of buttermilk may be beaten out, then we say, never wash the butter. But although you do, and by washing must lose some of the rich flavor our mother’s butter used to have, before there were any “modern improvements,” still, better so than not secure entire freedom from buttermilk. If any remains, you cannot have butter that will keep sweet one week.

Take the butter from the churn into a wooden bowl that has been well scalded, and then soaked and cooled in cold water, and with the ladle press out all the buttermilk you can; this done, throw a handful of salt into three or four quarts of cold water, and wash the butter quickly and thoroughly with it; the salt causes the buttermilk to flow off more readily; pour off the salt-water, and wash again with clear cold water till it runs clear, drain off and sprinkle over the butter what salt it requires to suit your own taste. There is such a variety of tastes, that the exact quantity of salt cannot be easily given. We use a table-spoonful of salt to a pound of butter. Press the butter into a compact form, after working in the salt, cover over with a clean cloth, and set it away to harden. The next morning break up and work it over once more; make into neat rolls or prints, put it into a stone pot, and cover with brine strong enough to bear up an egg. Try this and see if you cannot have good butter in winter.

XLI.
REPAIRS.

“The mother, wi’ her needle an’ her shears,