He adds that “sealing is more demanded by a joint of beef than by one of mutton of given size, because in the beef there is more of cut surface, exposing the ends of the fibres of the meat. In a leg of mutton, for example, this exposure is only at one end, the rest is partially protected by the skin of the leg.”
Basting.—“The rationale of basting appears to be that it assists in the sealing, and diminishes the evaporation of the juices of the meat, the chief difference between well-roasted and ill-roasted meat depending upon this.” In roasting, “the meat is stewed in its own juices. The flavour depends on this: no water being used, these juices are not diluted—they are, on the contrary, more or less concentrated by evaporation; but if this evaporation be carried too far, a drying-up occurs, and this desiccation is accompanied with toughness and indigestibility, as well as sacrifice of flavour. The smaller the joint, the greater the risk of such desiccation.”
Grilling.—“This principle brings us at once to grilling, which is another kind of roasting, i.e. of cooking by radiation. A beef steak or mutton chop is not roasted by turning it round and round in front of the fire, because so large a surface is exposed in proportion to the mass, and such treatment would evaporate from that large surface too much of the juices. Rapidity is the primary condition of success in grilling. When a large and specially-constructed grill, placed over a large coke or charcoal fire, is available, the heat radiated on the exposed surface of the meat rapidly browns or carbonises the exposed surface, and partially seals its pores.”
Boiling.—“When water is heated in a glass vessel over a flame where the action may be watched, bubbles are first seen growing on the sides of the glass, gradually detaching themselves, and rising to the surface. These are merely bubbles of air that was dissolved in the water. After this, other and larger bubbles form on the bottom just above the flame. At first they are flat, and continually collapsing. Presently they become hemispherical, but still they collapse; then they become more and more nearly spherical, and afterwards quite spherical; afterwards they detach themselves, and start upwards, but perish in the attempt, by collapsing somewhere on the way. At last they reach the surface, and break there, ejecting themselves as steam into the air. Now the water boils, and a thermometer dipped into it registers 212° F. After this, it matters not whether the boiling is very violent or only the gentlest simmering, no further rise of the thermometer is perceptible, showing that the simmering temperature and the ‘galloping’ temperature are the same.”
“The actual cooking temperature for animal food is considerably below the boiling point of water, and is regulated by the coagulation of albumen, which commences at rather below 160° F., i.e. more than 50° below the boiling point of water.”
To “apply this practically to the boiling of an egg for breakfast. By the ordinary method of the 3 minutes’ immersion in continually boiling water, the white becomes hard and indigestible before the yolk is fairly warmed, and ½ minute too much, or ½ minute too little, will nearly ruin the operation.”
“The proper mode is to place the egg in boiling water, and then remove the saucepan from the fire altogether, and leave the egg in the water from 10 minutes to ¼ hour. About ½ pint for 1 egg, ¾ pint for 2 eggs, or 1 pint for 4 eggs, is the quantity demanded if the saucepan is well covered.”
Stewing.—“The prevailing idea in England is that stewed meat only differs from boiled meat by being kept in the water for a longer time—that stewing is simply protracted boiling. I venture, nevertheless, to declare the total fallacy of this, and to assert that, so far as flesh food is concerned, boiling and stewing are diametrically opposite, as regards the special objects to be attained. In boiling a joint—say, a leg of mutton—the best efforts of the cook should be directed to retaining the juices within the meat, and allowing the smallest possible quantity to come out into the water. In stewing, the business is to get as much as possible out of the meat, to separate the juices from the meat and convey them to the water. This is the case, whether the French practice of serving the liquid potage or bouillon as a separate dish, and the stewed meat or bouilli as another, or the English and Irish fashion of serving the stewed meat in its own juices or gravy, as in the case of stewed steak, Irish stew, &c.
“The poor French peasant does more with 1 lb. of meat, in the way of stewing, than the English cook with three or four. The little bit of meat, and the large supply of vegetables are placed in a pot, and this in another vessel containing water—the bain-marie or water bath. This stands on the embers of a poor little wood fire, and is left there till dinner-time, under conditions that render boiling impossible, and demand little or no further attention from the cook; consequently, the meat, when removed, has parted with its juices to the potage, but is not curled up by the contraction of the hardened albumen, nor reduced to stringy fibres. It is tender, eatable, and enjoyable, that is, when the proper supply of saline juices of the meat plus the saline juices of the vegetables, have been taken into the system.
“Whether the potage and the meat should thus be separated, or whether they should be stewed together, as in an Irish stew, &c., is merely a matter of taste and custom; but that a stew should never be boiled, nor placed in a position on the fire where boiling or ‘simmering’ is possible, should be regarded as a primary axiom in cooking where stewing is concerned.”