| Weight Avoirdupois. | Cost. | ||||
| lbs. | oz. | £ | s. | d. | |
| 2 viertels of pearl barley | 70 | 9 | 0 | 5 | 913/22 |
| 2 viertels of peas | 65 | 10 | 0 | 3 | 7⅝ |
| 8 viertels of potatoes | 230 | 4 | 0 | 1 | 99/11 |
| Cuttings of bread | 69 | 10 | 0 | 10 | 24/11 |
| Salt | 19 | 13 | 0 | 1 | 2½ |
| Vinegar | 46 | 13 | 0 | 1 | 5½ |
| Water | 982 | 15 | — | ||
| Fuel, servants, repairs, &c., as before | 0 | 3 | 55/12 | ||
| ————— | |||||
| Total daily cost of 1,200 dinners | 1 | 7 | 6⅔ | ||
This reduces the cost to a little above one farthing per dinner.
In the essay from which the above is quoted, there is another account, reducing all the items to what they would cost in London in November 1795, which raises the amount to 2¾ farthings per portion for No. 1, and 2½ farthings for No. 2. In this estimate the expenses for fuel, servants, kitchen furniture, &c. are stated at three times as much as the cost at Munich, and the other items at the prices stated in the printed report of the Board of Agriculture of November 10, 1795.
But since 1795 we have made great progress in the right direction. Bread then cost one shilling per loaf, barley and peas about 50 per cent. more than at present, salt is set down by Rumford at 1¼d. per lb. (now about one farthing). Fuel was also dearer. But wages have risen greatly. As stated in money, they are about doubled (in purchasing power—i.e. real wages—they are threefold). Making all these allowances, charging wages at six times those paid by him, I find that the present cost of Rumford’s No. 1 soup would be a little over one halfpenny per portion, and No. 2 just about one halfpenny. I here assume that Rumford’s directions for the construction of kitchen fireplaces and economy of fuel are carried out. We are in these matters still a century behind his arrangements of 1790, and nothing short of a coal-famine will punish and cure our criminal extravagance.
The cookery of the above-named ingredients is conducted as follows: ‘The water and pearl barley first put together in the boiler and made to boil, the peas are then added, and the boiling is continued over a gentle fire about two hours; the potatoes are then added (peeled), and the boiling is continued for about one hour more, during which time the contents of the boiler are frequently stirred about with a large wooden spoon or ladle, in order to destroy the texture of the potatoes, and to reduce the soup to one uniform mass. When this is done, the vinegar and salt are added; and, last of all, at the moment that it is to be served up, the cuttings of bread.’ No. 1 is to be cooked for three hours without the potatoes.
As already stated, I have found, in carrying out these instructions, that I obtain a purée or porridge rather than a soup. I found the No. 1 to be excellent, No. 2 inferior. It was better when very small potatoes were used; they became more jellied, and the purée altogether had less of the granular texture of mashed potatoes. I found it necessary to conduct the whole of the cooking myself; the inveterate kitchen superstition concerning simmering and boiling, the belief that anything rapidly boiling is hotter than when it simmers, and is therefore cooking more quickly, compels the non-scientific cook to shorten the tedious three-hour process by boiling. This boiling drives the water from below, bakes the lower stratum of the porridge, and spoils the whole. The ordinary cook, were she ‘at the strappado, or all the racks in the world,’ would not keep anything barely boiling for three hours with no visible result. According to her positive and superlative experience, the mess is cooked sufficiently in one-third of the time, as soon as the peas are softened. She don’t, and she won’t, and she can’t, and she shan’t understand anything about hydration. ‘When it’s done, it’s done, and there’s an end to it, and what more do you want?’ Hence the failures of the attempts to introduce Rumford’s porridge in our English workhouses, prisons, and soup kitchens. I find, when I make it myself, that it is incomparably superior and far cheaper than the ‘skilly’ at present provided, though the sample of skilly that I tasted was superior to the ordinary slop.
The weight of each portion, as served to the beggars, &c., was 19·9 oz. (1 Bavarian pound); the solid matter contained was 6 oz. of No. 2, or 4¾ oz. of No. 1, and Rumford states that this ‘is quite sufficient to make a good meal for a strong, healthy person,’ as ‘abundantly proved by long experience.’ He insists, again and again, upon the necessity of the three-hours’ cooking, and I am equally convinced of its necessity, though, as above explained, not on the same theoretical grounds. No repetition of his experience is fair unless this be attended to. I have no hesitation in affirming that the 4¾ oz. of No. 1, when thus boiled for 3 hours, will supply more nutriment than 6 oz. boiled only 1½ hour.
The bread should not be cooked, but added just before serving the soup. In reference to this he has published a very curious essay, entitled ‘Of the Pleasure of Eating, and of the Means that may be Employed for Increasing it.’
Rumford used wood as fuel, and his kitchen-ranges were constructed of brickwork with a separate fire for each pot, the pot being set in in the brickwork immediately above the fireplace in such manner that the flame and heated products of combustion surrounded the pot on their way to the exit flue. The quantity of fuel was adjusted to each operation, and with wood embers a long sustained moderate heat was easily obtained.
With coal-fires such separate firing would be troublesome, as coal cannot be so easily kindled on requirement as wood. With our roaring, wasteful kitchen furnaces and still more wasteful cooks, the long-sustained moderate heat is not practicable without some further device. I found that, by using a ‘milk scalder,’ which is a water-bath similar to a glue-pot, but on a large scale, I could obtain Rumford’s results over a common kitchen-range with very little trouble, and no risk of baking the bottom part of the porridge.