Common-Sense Papers on Cookery

one sent to him to bake. By the simple method of making each person have the next smallest goose to the one he sent, the baker retained for himself the finest of the lot. But we will now soar into the more aristocratic region of mock-turtle soup and boiled cod-fish, roast sirloin of beef, boiled turkey and oyster sauce, plum pudding and mince pies. At least, we think we have heard of such dishes at this season of the year as being occasionally used. However, one word of warning. The following awful catastrophe actually occurred: _Scene_—A dinner-party. _Time_—Soon after Christmas. _Host_—A nephew, with a wife and very large family. _Important Guest_—An uncle, rich—very rich; a bachelor; elderly, but irritable. At the moment the covers are taken off, he rises from the table, wrath written on his brow: “I will stand it no longer; give me my hat. This is the twelfth day running I have had roast beef and boiled turkey. I’ll stand it no longer!” _Exit in a rage._ Now, as I said in my last article, there is such a demand for mock-turtle soup about Christmas-time that calves’ heads have been known to fetch a guinea apiece; but every housekeeper knows how exceedingly expensive they are at this season. The change, however, of real turtle soup for mock is in the opinion of most people a change for the better, and we will fulfil the promise we made in another article, and describe as clearly as we can how to make real turtle soup from the dried turtle flesh, at a less cost than mock-turtle soup can be made from calves’ head when the latter is very dear. The first thing to be done is, of course, to purchase some of the dried flesh, which is generally about ten shillings a pound, and can be obtained from any of the large London provision-merchants—and is occasionally kept by the better-class grocers. Now the general fault that we have found people express in regard to cookery-books, is that they invariably describe how to make such large quantities that the recipes