“She says it should be properly thawed,” went on Ada. “You see one forgets that as it is frozen meat it must be thawed before it can be cooked. The consequence is that as a rule when the meat is supposed to be cooking, it is only thawing. Norah says that the meat should hang in the kitchen for the whole of the day before it is wanted, and then should be put quite near the fire for an hour before ever you attempt to cook it at all.”
“Well, we will certainly try it,” said Marion. “I think Mrs. Villiers might be able to afford herself English-fed beef, but I have few prejudices, and I am glad to hear of anything economical.”
“Well, let us then,” said Ada; “for Norah was so urgent in the matter that I should not like to have to face her again unless I could assure her with a clear conscience that I have taken her advice.”
“Well, on Thursday, then,” Marion agreed. “I will get in the mutton on Wednesday morning, and it shall hang in our spacious kitchen all the day before. All meat is better for hanging, and I often regret our delicious country joints.”
“You certainly always had splendid meat at Hawthornburrow,” said Ada. “I remember hearing one of the curates from Fosley admiring it to my father. But I thought it was because of those black-faced little sheep that your father always buys.”
“Partly that,” answered Marion, “but principally on account of the long hanging of all the meat. We often have joints hanging for a fortnight if the weather is cold—hanging with the thick end upwards, I mean, so that the juices shall not run out. Consequently the flavour of the meat is infinitely improved.”
“Marion talks like an elderly farmer!” cried Jane. “So much solid wisdom is overpowering to my giddy brain. Never mind, dear,” she went on, patting Marion's head, “we all appreciate it very much. I can't imagine what we should do if we had to go and live in a boarding-house now that we have become accustomed to your nice cosy little ways. Oh,” she cried suddenly as she helped herself to some marmalade, “to-day is Shrove Tuesday, and we must have some pancakes! I will fry them all if you will make the batter for them. No, I shall be home early and I will perform the whole operation. Gare aux crêpes!”
Making pancakes was Jane's favourite occupation as far as cooking was concerned. So the others laughingly acquiesced.
“How did they teach beginners to toss pancakes at the cookery school?” asked Marion.
“Oh, the teacher did the first one, and then we tried! There is no need to toss them really, you know; they are equally nice if you just slide a hot knife underneath when they are cooked on one side and turn it gently over. But, of course, no one was satisfied until she could toss them. I have seen an enthusiast work away with one long-suffering pancake until she could toss it and catch it again with ease, and each time it missed the pan, the blacker grew the pancake and the redder her face. How we laughed when it spun across the floor into a bowl of water! There is a great deal in not jerking the pan to the right or left, but just lifting your arm straight up when you toss it.”