And when you find the juice express'd
By culinary art,
To draw the gravy off, were best,
And let it stand apart.
Then, lady, if you'd have a treat,
Be sure you can't be wrong
To put more butter to your meat,
Nor let it stew too long.
And when the steak is nicely done,
To take it off were best;
And gently let it fry alone,
Without the sauce or zest;
Then add the gravy—with of wine
A spoonful in it flung;
And a shalot cut very fine—
Let the shalot be young.
And when the whole has been combined,
More stewing 't will require;
Ten minutes will suffice—but mind
Don't have too quick a fire.
Then serve it up—'t will form a treat!
Nor fear you've cook'd it wrong;
GOURMETS in all the old 't will meet,
And GOURMANDS in the young.
GREEN PEA SOUP.
AIR—"The Ivy Green."
Oh! a splendid Soup is the true Pea Green
I for it often call;
And up it comes in a smart tureen,
When I dine in my banquet hall.
When a leg of mutton at home is boil'd,
The liquor I always keep,
And in that liquor (before 'tis spoil'd)
A peck of peas I steep.
When boil'd till tender they have been,
I rub through a sieve the peas so green.
Though the trouble the indolent may shock,
I rub with all my power;
And having return'd them to the stock,
I stew them for more than an hour;
Then of younger peas I take some more,
The mixture to improve,
Thrown in a little time before
The soup from the fire I move.
Then seldom a better soup is seen,
Than the old familiar soup Pea Green.
Since first I began my household career, How many my dishes have been!
But the one that digestion never need fear,
Is the simple old soup Pea Green.
The giblet may tire, the gravy pall,
And the turtle lose its charm;
But the Green Pea triumphs over them all,
And does not the slightest harm.
Smoking hot in a smart tureen,
A rare soup is the true Pea Green!
TRIFLE.
AIR—"The Meeting of the Waters."
There's not in the wide world so tempting a sweet
As that Trifle where custard and macaroons meet;
Oh! the latest sweet tooth from my head must depart
Ere the taste of that Trifle shall not win my heart.
Yet it is not the sugar that's thrown in between,
Nor the peel of the lemon so candied and green;
'Tis not the rich cream that's whipp'd up by a mill:
Oh, no! it is something more exquisite still.
'Tis that nice macaroons in the dish I have laid,
Of which a delicious foundation is made;
And you'll find how the last will in flavor improve,
When soak'd with the wine that you pour in above.