Several days having elapsed since I had seen the friend in need, who had proved to me a friend indeed so lately, I went to ascertain whether her unusual exertions of body and mind had not made her ill, but was happy to find her in perfect health, seated at dinner with a very fine gentleman, all curls, compliments, gilt chains, and earrings, whom she introduced as 'Mon neveu Antonio'—the son of her husband's sister, who had married an Italian, and who, like his father, was at once cook and courier. Their dinner consisted of the following friture, from M. Antonio's own private recipe-book: Have ready, half-cooked, 1st, thin slices of calves' liver; 2d, artichokes cut in half quarters or quarters, according to their size; 3d, cauliflower—only the flower, divided in small pieces; 4th, calves' brains, previously soaked in salt, vinegar, and water, for twenty-four hours, cut in little bits: make a light batter, and fry each separately of a golden brown in the right order, having the dish in which they are to be served on a hot hearth. Cover the dish with the liver, then the artichoke, then the brains, and, lastly, the cauliflower, each distributed so as to decrease towards the top, which is covered with a larger sprig of cauliflower.
Madame Miau fried beautifully, and, under her nephew's directions, tried a pretty dish I had never before heard of—namely, the flower of the cucumber-plant, or vegetable mallow—which is usually, and, I believe, incorrectly, called marrow—nipped off with the little fruit attached to it. It was dipped in butter, fried lightly, and served quite hot.
Creams are very good, made according to the following simple, inexpensive recipe, which is just enough to fill twelve small cups or glasses. Take good milk sufficient to fill them, and boil it with two ounces of grated chocolate, and six of white sugar; then beat the yolks of six eggs, to which add slowly the chocolate-milk, turning steadily one way. When quite mixed, pass the whole through a search, fill your cups, and, if you have not a regular bain-marie, a flat sauce-pan will do, filled to a proper height, so as not to overtop the creams, and which must continue boiling a quarter of an hour. For a change, instead of the chocolate, boil the milk with a pod of vanille broken in pieces, or any other flavour you may fancy.
Spinach Cream.—Boil your spinach, and let it thoroughly drain in a cullender; then press it through a hair-sieve with a spoon, as for food. Take the pulp that has been pressed through the sieve, and mix it with cream, or very good milk, and two additional yolks of eggs. Pass the yolks of six eggs through a sieve, add six ounces of white sugar in powder, and two table-spoonfuls of trebly-distilled orange flower-water, and, as before mentioned, place the cups in a bain-marie for a quarter of an hour.
I requested the good-natured nephew to dress me a dish of macaroni, which he did as follows, one of his many modes of preparing it: He boiled it till just tender, and no more. The English cook it too much, he said. When drained, he grated a sufficient quantity of both Gruyère and Parmesan cheese, and alternately put upon the dish, first macaroni, and then cheese, finishing with the cheese. Over this he poured strong beef-gravy, in which some tomatoes had been dissolved, and put it a few minutes in the oven, and then a few more before the fire in a Dutch oven; but he preferred a hot hole, and to cover it with a four de compagne, or cover upon which you place hot embers. He also assured me the following sauce was better even than the beef-gravy:—
Tomato Sauce.—Warm your tomatoes until you can skin them; beat the pulp with finely-grated ham, onion, parsley, thyme, salt, and Lucca oil, all as small as possible; pass through a sieve, and pour over your macaroni. Serve hot.
Tomatoes are good skinned, the seeds taken out, and with a little butter and finely-chopped herbs, beaten into a paste with eggs, and fried in a light batter.
Fried Asparagus.—Do not boil it too much, but enough to cut in pieces and pass through a sieve; mix this with grated ham and Parmesan cheese, and with butter make it into a paste of good consistency, which fry in a light batter. Celery is also very nice treated in the same way. As I like butter, as the French do, without any salt at all, I found much difficulty in keeping quite sweet what a farmer obligingly so prepared for me. Without water, it got bad. Made into pats, and kept in water, it lost flavour; but Madame Miau soon put me upon a plan by which it remained for ten days as if new churned. As soon as I received my quantum, I had it well washed in spring-water, for sometimes the milk had not been taken clean out of it; and then it was put down with a spoon in a salad bowl, to which it adhered. Every morning, fresh water, in which was dissolved a little salt, was poured upon it, and the top curled off for use with a tea-spoon or a small shell. To the very last, it was sweet and tasteless; and I consider this a very valuable hint, in hot weather especially.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Nos. 388 and 416.