Common-Sense Papers on Cookery

We were discussing the important subject of what I should have for dinner. “Soup, sir? yes, sir; very nice mock-turtle sir—real mock-turtle, sir.” This led to the disclosure—it was in the country—that it was made from calf’s head, not pig’s head. Now, more than three-parts of the mock-turtle soup sold in London—I do not mean in the better-class hotels or restaurants—is made from pig’s head, and very nice it is too. Were it really made from calf’s head, it could not possibly be sold for the money. At some future period, when speaking on the all-important subject of “economy” in cooking, I will give you the recipe. Half a pig’s head can be bought for ninepence; nine persons out of ten would not tell the difference between soup made from it and soup made from calf’s head. As the pieman said to Sam Weller, “It’s the seasoning as does it.” In the above directions, I have only mentioned what I consider absolutely essential. When so many things are mentioned in recipes, people are apt to despair of trying them. However, there are several little things that might be added to the above stock during the period of making cooking with advantage: some chicken-bones, bearing in mind that they must have no white sauce in connection with them, or the soup will never be clear. A mushroom would be another little improvement; any odd scraps of meat, especially roast meat, may be added. The only difference between clear turtle and thick is that the latter has some brown thickening added to it. But it is, in my opinion, a great mistake to begin dinner with a thick soup, which is a capital thing to lunch off in cold weather, but it is apt to spoil the very best sauce—viz., appetite. The best recipe I know of for this sauce is exercise. Of course it is quite possible to have too much of a good thing, and this was the opinion of a certain gentleman, who once went out to dinner, as follows:— He was a short, middle-aged gentleman, with a waistcoat