As an accompaniment to the meat, I always kept two different sorts of mixed pickles, good bread, butter, cheese, and a glass of excellent table ale; or, if our guest was some bosom friend or good customer, a bottle of sherry (not decantered), never any port, thinking that more fit for the dinner-table. Such was my plan in the first five years after my marriage: everything upon our table was of the first quality, and every one used to admire the neatness with which the table was laid out.
My method now, when luncheon is required (as we do not dine until half-past five o’clock, Mr. B. being engaged until four in the city), I have the cloth laid at twelve, and lunch at half-past; and that time being just after the nursery dinner, we generally have some sort of pudding or tart, made at the same time with theirs. For cold meat, I always serve that up which has been left from a previous dinner, if any, or any remains of poultry, game, ham, or tongue. When, however, we have six or eight friends from the country at Christmas, I feel proud to show them my style of doing things well and economically, for they are very intelligent people, and can appreciate good living, though at home they really live too plain for their incomes; but they say, “We do not understand how it is that you make a nice little dish almost out of nothing.” For should I have the remnants of any poultry or game not very inviting to the sight, I generally cut it up and show my cook how to hash it in a variety of ways; and I always remark, that they never partake of any cold meat whilst any of the hash remains. For the methods of making various hashes of fowl, game, hare, rabbit, beef, mutton, as also curries, minced veal and poached eggs, cold pies of game, poultry, mutton, beefsteak, or pigeon, as also plain mutton cutlets, steaks, and broiled bones, the whole of which may be served for luncheon, I must refer you to the series of receipts belonging to the dinner; any of these articles are placed in order upon the table, with the pickle-stand, two different cruet-sauces, orange marmalade, potatoes, butter, cheese, sherry and port wines. This style of luncheon will no doubt surprise you, but I can assure you it scarcely increases my expenditure, having the same number to provide for daily, so that the luncheon is generally made up from the remains of dinner, and the remains of luncheon will dine our three servants at half-past one. In the summer, I introduce a few dishes of fruit, and less meat; and when there are several ladies, I often introduce some English-made wine, which once I used to make myself, but which I can now buy cheaper.
THE NURSERY DINNER.
LETTER NO. V
DEAR FRIEND,—Now here I must call your especial attention to the way many people treat this department of domestic comfort, which is often very slight and irregular. Now, for my part, I have made quite a study of it, and could prove that health is always dependent on the state of the digestive organs; and that, if you should improperly treat young stomachs, by over or under supplying their wants, or using them to ill-cooked food, you not only destroy the functionary coating of the stomach, but also impede the development of the intellect. It is, then, as much a science to manage the food of children, as to cater for the palate of the gourmet, and I shall always consider that good food is to the body what education is to the mind.
My plan of managing the nursery meals is as follows:—At eight o’clock in the morning, which was my usual time, I used myself to prepare that glutinous food upon which our ancestors and race were first reared, rather unclassically denominated pap. My method was very simple:
46. —Put two ounces of rusk, or tops and bottoms, in a small saucepan, with just sufficient water to moisten them; set the saucepan upon the fire until its contents are thoroughly warmed through; pour a little of the water away, if too thin, pressing the rusk with a spoon; then add a teaspoonful of brown sugar, and beat the whole with a spoon until quite a pulp; it is then ready for use.
I have seen some poor people in the country make it with a stale piece of bread, previously well dried and lightly toasted before the fire, and you could scarcely tell the difference from rusks; and you must observe, that people in a country village cannot always supply themselves with everything in the way of luxury; but look at the greater part of those country urchins,—are they not a real picture of health? for, after all, nothing is more advantageous to a delicate child than country air and country food. When Mr. B. and myself were staying at Boulogne for a few weeks, I was astonished to hear that everybody used to put their children out to nurse. I was so surprised, that I made every inquiry, and found it literally true, that even respectable tradespeople sent their children a mile or two in the country, some to the houses of very poor people: I cannot say that I approve of such a style of bringing up infants, but even there they seem as healthy and as joyful as possible. I also found there something to be learned, and that was, how to make French pap, which I think very nutritious, but which I considered at the time rather heavy for our climate; but having afterwards made a trial of it upon our little Henry, I found him doing so extremely well, that I continued feeding him upon it for nearly eight months, until he was old enough to eat other food. The following is the receipt:
47. —Put a tablespoonful of flour into a pap saucepan, to which add by degrees two gills of milk, mixing it into a very smooth batter with a wooden spoon; place the saucepan upon the fire, let it boil ten minutes, keeping it stirred the whole time, or it is liable to burn or become brown, then add about half an ounce of sugar and a little salt, put it into a basin, and it is ready for use. A little butter is also very good in it.
You will observe, that it is more difficult and troublesome to make than our pap; but when used to it, you will expend no more time over it; and, as the French people say, cooking is all pleasure and no trouble. But what convinces me that it is more palatable and nutritious is, that I have seen a very robust man make a hearty dinner of two plates of it by introducing bread in it. I have no doubt that our own hasty pudding was taken from it, for the use of children of three or four years old, being thought too heavy for infants. These long details may appear rather insignificant and tedious to you, but I leave them to your good judgment, begging of you to curtail my remarks should you think proper; but, although you may consider that every person is acquainted with these domestic habits, you would find upon inquiry that very many persons neglect them almost entirely. Having written thus much upon the food of infants, we must next consider the proper diet for children of twelve months old, commencing with bread and milk.
48. —For which, cut about two ounces of any white bread into small thin slices, which put into a small basin or a large breakfast cup, in a little saucepan (only used for that purpose) have half a pint of milk, which, when upon the point of boiling, pour over the bread; cover the cup over five minutes, and it is ready for use.
I much prefer this method to that of boiling the bread and milk together. In first commencing to feed a child upon the above, I always added a little sugar, which I withdrew by degrees, as I do not like to accustom children to too much sweets, as it inclines them when a little older to be always wanting or eating sweet stuff, which often spoils the best set of teeth; and here let me remark, that the finest fortune you can give to your children is health, and as loving mothers, whilst we have them under our control, it is our duty to study their little comforts, and direct their first steps in life in the road of happiness.
49. Porridge.—When children are delicate, porridge is often preferable to bread and milk. Put two tablespoonfuls of Scotch grits or oatmeal in the milk saucepan, which moisten with half a pint of milk; let it boil ten minutes, keeping well stirred, add a small piece of butter and a little sugar, and it is ready for use.
When my children were about eighteen months or two years old, I used to give them a little tender meat, such as boiled mutton, and broth, but in very small quantities, keeping still for the general food the bread and milk and porridge; but now they are old enough to eat anything wholesome (one being nine and the other ten years of age), their meals are composed thus:
50. —Bread and milk for breakfast at eight; the dinner at
