Meat.—Veal and lamb are in full season, and sweetbreads are in great request. As the supply is always limited, butchers not seldom try to pass off bullock’s sweetbread—i.e. the pancreatic gland—on their customers. True sweetbread is a gland in the neck of the young animal only. This should not be tolerated, as bullock’s sweetbread is coarse-flavoured and hard, and needs long and careful washing and cooking before it comes to table. It can, however, be made very palatable with care, and is occasionally worth buying as a change, under its rightful name, and at a legitimate price. Brains parboiled in salt and water to harden them are another good substitute for sweetbreads, and offer one more change from the perpetual joint and fowls that are on every table.

Game and Poultry.—A young fowl has large feet, knees, and neck in proportion to its size, and its thighs look white or pinkish. An old one has thin, scraggy legs and purplish tinge on its thighs; the scales look hard and horny, and often there are long hairs on the skin. If the beak is on, it should be soft, and so with the breast bone, which is frequently broken by the poulterer to give the bird a plump appearance. The length and size of the claws is another indication of age; the size is little or no guide, as that depends on the variety and the feeding. The small-boned, short-legged varieties are generally said to be the best. A very fat bird is to be avoided, for it wastes much in cooking, and even what remains of the fat cannot be eaten. Birds that are kept in the dark and crammed previous to killing become very fat, but the flesh loses flavour and firmness, and they are far inferior to barndoor fowls. Cleanliness is also essential to the production of a well-flavoured fowl; the same may be said of ducks, now as ducklings to be eaten with the earliest green peas. Full-grown ducks are better in late summer or autumn. Their age can be judged from the appearance of the feet, and by the pliability of the bill. The down that covers them may be an indication of youth, but it may also be put on by the poulterer with a sprinkling of gum.

Chickens, turkey poults, ducklings, goslings, and guinea-fowl dispute supremacy, but very little is to be said for any of them. The pigeon is possibly the best bird procurable during May. Plover’s egg, always delicious, even when eaten under difficulties, seems to gain in beauty when presented in the form of an aspic.

Fish.—May is the true mackerel month. The herring too puts in an appearance during the month of May, and is a thoroughly delicate fish. The only valid accusation against the herring is on account of his innumerable bones, but this is not the true reason of his being voted unfashionable. Unfortunately, the herring is too cheap, and, in consequence of this defect, is in the habit of haunting vulgar localities, and thus excluding himself from the refined society that he is so well qualified to exhilarate.

Whiting and smelts still appear, but are practically superseded by whitebait. The Salmonidæ are in grand condition. Salmon, salmon trout, lake and brook trout prevail on our dinner-tables; but the most delicate member of the entire family is rarely seen. Either from scarcity, the distance of the lakes from the metropolis, or from some other cause, the beautiful silvery char seldom reaches London. Small as he is, he has all the richness of the salar, and possesses a delicacy all his own. Turbot now ceases, and codfish has retired. Brill, gurnet, soles, plaice, and flounders are in season. Oysters having departed, other shell-fish improve much in quality. Lobsters and crabs now lose much of the dryness that is so conspicuous a fault with them during the winter months.

Vegetables.—Vegetables are now plentiful and cheap. In warm seasons that are yet sufficiently damp they grow quickly, and the fibre is less woody and hard than that of vegetables grown in cold or dry weather. With the warm weather comes the difficulty of transport, but it is not yet so great as in July and August, when the plants are full of sap and ferment quickly under a hot sun. Gardeners have a habit of keeping vegetables for a few hours in a hot bed or greenhouse before sending them to the kitchen. They have some idea that it improves the quality—an idea that is wholly erroneous, and should be combated. Potatoes are often laid in the sun for a few hours to dry, but they should never be allowed to lie long enough for fermentation to set in. All withered vegetables should have the stalks freshly cut, and the ends should then be put in a bowl of water, just as withered flowers would be treated. Through the stalks they suck up water enough to fill their shrunken cells, and make them green and stiff once more, but to plunge the entire plant under water is a mistake, and after a few hours of such treatment the water is often perceptibly warm, and the leaves bruised and decaying. Of course this does not apply to washing vegetables and salads, which cannot be too thorough and complete, especially of the vegetables that many housekeepers buy off barrows in the streets.

Asparagus is now in great perfection, and green peas wait upon the insipid duckling. Unless young, quickly grown, freshly gathered, and properly cooked, green peas are apt to be a failure, and when four important conditions have to be fulfilled the chances are naturally against success. Summer cabbages, cauliflowers, spinach, young carrots, turnips, and potatoes are all to the fore; nor do salads fail to keep pace with these, as cabbage, lettuce, summer endive, and corn-salad are to be had in profusion.

Fruit.—The weak point of May is fruit, as almost the only good fruit that can be obtained at a reasonable price is the orange. Strawberries are to be bought for money, but in this instance the open-air-grown fruit is far preferable to the productions of the hothouse.

June.

Meat.—Lamb is now in fine condition, and, besides the ever-welcome fore-quarter, supplies admirable material for entrées of various kinds. Lamb’s head, either baked and served upon a mince or stewed with green peas, will always find legions of admirers.