A PRIMITIVE KITCHEN.

But the kitchen of the common people is less elaborate than this. It consists simply of a mound of clay, perhaps a foot in height and a yard in diameter, and depressed in the centre. Little fires in this depression furnish the heat for cooking the food placed in the pots and kettles, which are of common unglazed earthen-ware. The cook sits or squats on the floor close by this primitive range, while the mistress of the kitchen previously described stands, and can walk about at will without the trouble of rising.

In some parts of Mexico the cooking is done out-of-doors. This is particularly the case in the southern portion, and in the season of rains the weather often reduces culinary operations to a very limited quantity. The more rain the less dinner, unless the food is eaten raw; but as it consists largely of fruits, the inconvenience is less serious than it might be otherwise.

When our young friends went to dinner they found a repast that was entirely Mexican in character. After it was over they made notes of what they had seen and eaten, and this was the result:

"We had tortillas, of course, and very good they were. The dinner began with a soup, which was so good that we asked how it was made, as we thought it might be tried by some of our cooks at home. Here is what they told us:

"'We start this soup with a chicken broth just as chicken broth is made anywhere else. Then we take the meat of the chicken, the white part only, after it has been boiled very tender, and pick it into little bits of shreds. We take some pounded almonds, the yolks of hard-boiled eggs, a little bread which has been soaked in milk, a little spice of some kind, and plenty of pepper, and we mix the whole up together till it forms a hard paste. We make this paste into little balls and drop them into the soup when it is boiling hot and just before it is brought to the table.'

"If you want a good soup and a new one just try this. You may not hit the seasoning the first time, but when you do you'll find you've something worth eating.

"After the soup we had a puchero, which is said to be a very popular dish with the Mexicans, but we were not particularly fond of it. They begin it by boiling mutton to make a broth, and then they throw in every sort of garden vegetable cut in small pieces—apples, pears, squashes, tomatoes, green corn, onions, potatoes, carrots, parsnips, red or green peppers, in fact any and everything from the garden that is edible. There is so much pepper in the mess that it burns your mouth like an East Indian curry, but it is said to be good for the stomach and climate. They tell us we'll like it after a while; and perhaps we shall, but we certainly don't now. It's a good deal like the down East stew, with the addition of the hashed peppers and tree-fruits.

"Next we had a tamal de casuella, which was translated into 'corn-meal pot-pie.' As nearly as we could make out, it is made by putting a mixture of scalded meal, flour, eggs, and melted lard into a broth in which chicken and pork have been boiled, so as to make a thin paste. Then make a mixture of the boiled pork and chicken hashed reasonably fine, along with red peppers and tomatoes, and cook them in lard. Next you spread the paste on the bottom and sides of a dish that has been well greased so as to prevent sticking, lay in your meat mixture, cover with more of the paste, and bake it gently but thoroughly. For a hungry man the dish ought to be very satisfying.