The Chemistry of Cookery

of the sort done in barley-sugar. These were made by raising the sugar to 320°, when it fused and became amorphous, or vitreous, as already described. The cook then dipped a skewer into it; the melted vitreous sugar adhered to this, and was drawn out as a thread, which speedily solidified by cooling. While in the act of solidification it was woven into the desired form, and the skilful artist did this with wonderful rapidity. I once witnessed with childish delight the spinning of a great work of art by the Duke of Cumberland’s French cook in St. James’s Palace. It was a ship in full sail, the sails of edible wafer, the hull a basketwork of spun sugar, the masts of massive sugar-sticks, and the rigging of delicate threads of the same. As nearly as I can remember, the whole was completed in about an hour. But to return from high art below stairs to chemical science. The conversion of sugar into caramel is, as already stated, attended with a change of flavour; a kind of bitterness replaces the sweetness. This peculiar flavour, judiciously used, is a powerful adjunct to cookery, and one which is shamefully neglected in our ordinary English domestic kitchens. To test this, go to one of those Swiss restaurants originally instituted in this country by that enterprising Ticinese, the late Carlo Gatti, and which are now so numerous in London and our other large towns; call for _maccheroni al sugo_; notice the rich brown gravy, the ‘sugo.’ Many an English cook would use half a pound of gravy beef to produce the like; but the basis of this is a halfpennyworth or less of what I call a caramel compound, as an example of which I copy the following recipe from the Household Edition of Gouffé’s ‘Royal Cookery Book:’ ‘Melt half a pound of butter; add one pound of flour; mix well, and leave on a slow fire, stirring occasionally until it becomes of a light mahogany colour. When cool it may be kept in the larder ready for use.’ Gouffé calls this ‘Liaison au