"Do you drink tea?"
"I would do so were I confined to the wishy-washy stuff people of my rank in England call coffee—bad in itself, and worse prepared."
"How do you manage?"
"I buy coffee-beans, ready roasted or not: a coffee-mill costs me 1s. 6d., and I grind it every now and then myself; but I always freshen my beans by jumping them in a clean frying-pan, with a little new butter, till quite dry and crisp—very easy to do, and the way to have good coffee. I do a little at a time, and use that small coffee-biggen, which is now common even in this country: two well-heaped tea-spoonfuls serve me; but were I richer, I should put three. Upon these two spoonfuls I pour a cup of boiling water, and while it is draining through, heat the same quantity of milk, which I mix with the clear coffee, and I have my two cups. Chiccory I don't like, spite of the doctor, who says it is wholesome. All French doctors preach against coffee; but I, who have drunk it all my life, am of opinion they talk nonsense. You may take it stronger or weaker; but I advise you always to make it this way, and never try the foolish English practices of boiling, simmering, clearing, and such like absurdities and fussings. I generally, however, breakfast upon soupe à la citronille, which is very nice."
"Tell me how to make it."
"You cut your citronille (pumpkin, I believe you call it) in slices, which you boil in water till soft enough to press through a cullender into hot milk; add salt and pepper, stir smooth, and give one boil, and it is ready to pour upon your bread as a purée. A little white wine improves it, or you may make it au gras, mixing a little white meat gravy; but to my mind the simple soup is the best, although I like a bit of butter in it, I confess. Turnips and even carrots eat very well prepared this way, many think; but I prefer the latter prepared à la Crécy, which you do very well in England."
"You use a great deal of butter, which at one time of the year is very dear in England."
"And in France, also; therefore I buy it at the cheap seasons, put it on the fire, and give it a boil, skimming it well; then I let it settle, and pour off all that is clear into bottles and pots, and it keeps until the dear time is past, quite well for cooking."
"And eggs."
"Nothing so simple, when quite new laid; butter them well with fresh butter; remember if a pin's point is passed over, the egg spoils—rub it well into them, and place in jars, shaking over them bran or dry sand; wash when about to use them, and you would say they had been laid two days back only."