Choice Cookery. Catherine Owen

an onion and a small carrot cut fine, a tomato sliced, and an ounce of lean ham in two ounces of butter; let them brown slightly; then add to them half a pint of claret, a bouquet of herbs, two cloves, and six peppercorns; let them simmer till the wine is reduced one half; then add half a pint of good Spanish sauce, boil gently ten minutes, strain, and serve very hot. A true French poivrade has a soupçon of garlic, obtained by rubbing a crust on a clove of it, and simmering it in the sauce before straining it; but although many would like the scarcely perceptible zest imparted by this cautious use of garlic, no one should try the experiment unless sure of her company.

      A “bouquet of herbs” always means two sprigs of parsley, one of thyme, one of marjoram, and a bay-leaf, so rolled together (the bay-leaf in the middle) and tied that there is no difficulty in removing it from any dish which is not to be strained.

      The well-known Bordelaise sauce is simply Spanish sauce with the addition of white wine and shallots. Scald a tablespoonful of chopped shallots; put them to half a pint of Chablis, Sauterne, or any similar white wine; let the wine reduce to one gill; then mix with it half a pint of Spanish sauce and the sixth part of a saltspoonful of pepper. Strain and serve.

      Robert sauce, that excellent adjunct to beefsteak, varies again from Bordelaise, vinegar and mustard and fried onions taking the place of the wine and shallot. Chop three medium-sized onions quite fine; fry them in a tablespoonful of butter until they are a clear yellowish-brown, stirring them constantly as they fry; drain them, and put them to a half-pint of Spanish sauce, to which you add a wineglass of stock (to allow for boiling away); simmer gently twenty minutes; add a pinch of pepper; strain; then mix a teaspoonful of vinegar in a cup with a teaspoonful of mustard; stir this into the sauce.

      Sauce à la Normande is one of the most delicious sauces for baked fish of any kind, although usually associated with sole. To half a pint of Spanish sauce add a dozen mushrooms sliced in half, a dozen small oysters with the beards removed, and a dozen crawfish, if they are to be had, or their place may be taken by a tablespoonful of shrimps picked (canned shrimps, washed and dried, answer very well), one tablespoonful of essence of anchovy, and just a dust of Cayenne pepper.

      Light Normande is made by using béchamel instead of Spanish sauce, adding all the other materials; it is then a pale salmon-colored sauce, excellent for boiled fish.

      A favorite English sauce for fish, which is also brown or pink, according to whether it is intended for baked or boiled fish, is the Downton sauce. To three quarters of a pint of béchamel add a dessertspoonful of anchovy essence and a small wineglass of sherry, mix well, and serve.

      Orange sauce for game is made with half a pint of Spanish sauce boiled five minutes to make it rather thicker than usual, the juice of three sweet oranges, and the peel of one. This peel must be so thinly pared as to be transparent. Boil this peel half an hour in water, then shred it into fine even strips half an inch long, and not thicker than broom straw. Stew this shredded peel another half-hour in a gill of stock, with a scant teaspoonful of sugar; then add it to the sauce, with half a saltspoonful of salt, and boil five minutes.

      Matelote may come in with the brown sauces, although it is not made with Spanish sauce as a foundation, but only with strong stock. It is used to simmer fish in when directed to be à la matelote, and if it were already thickened the whole would burn. It is made as follows: Half a pint of Sauterne or Chablis, half a pint of rich stock, two bay-leaves, three leaves of tarragon, chervil, and chive, a scant saltspoonful of salt, a quarter one of pepper; simmer these until reduced to one half-pint. A touch of garlic is indispensable to the true matelote, but when used it must be done with the greatest caution; a fork stuck into a clove of it, then stirred in the sauce (the fork, when withdrawn, not the garlic), or a crust rubbed once across a piece of it, is the only way in which it should be used.

      Like the white sauces, the family of brown ones is very large, but I have given those which require special directions. Others are simply Spanish sauce with the addition of the ingredient which gives its name to it, as brown oyster sauce is simply Spanish sauce with oysters, celery sauce, mushroom sauce, and so on. It should always be remembered that the consistency must be preserved; that is to say, except when special mention is made of the sauce being thinner, it should “mask the spoon,” and if the addition made to it is of a kind to dilute it, as mushrooms and part of their liquor, it must be rapidly boiled down to the original thickness. In the same way, when ingredients have to be simmered in the sauce—and this is very often the case—then a wineglassful or half one of broth or stock should be allowed for the wasting.

      In the next chapter we will make acquaintance with the miscellaneous sauces which are not built on the foundation of either white or brown sauce. These are chiefly cold sauces, although served with hot dishes at times, as Tartare, Remoulade, etc.

V.

       COLD SAUCES.

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      Cold dishes, which are such a pleasing feature of foreign cookery, are much neglected with us, at least in private kitchens, or they are limited to two or three articles served in mayonnaise, or a galantine, yet the dishes which the French call chaudfroids are both delicious and ornamental, and it only requires a little taste, care, and perfect sauce to convert the ordinary cold chicken, turkey, or game into an elaborate and choice dish.

      Among cold sauces, of course mayonnaise, both green, red, and yellow, reigns supreme; indeed, of late years it has become almost hackneyed. Yet no work on choice eating would be complete without the different forms of mayonnaise.

      Mayonnaise is one of those sauces in which everything depends on care, and very little on skill, and yet some women have quite a reputation for making it among their friends who often declare how unsuccessful their own efforts have been, and that to succeed is a gift. It is not as a novelty, therefore, that the manner of making it is given here, but that those who believe they have not the “magic fingers” may take courage and try again.

      First of all let me explain what seems to puzzle many. I have been frequently asked, “How much oil can I use to two eggs?” the answer is, “As much as you choose;” or, again, “How many eggs ought I to take to a quart of oil?” again the answer is, “One, two, three, or four.” The egg is only a foundation, and mayonnaise will “come” no better with two yolks than one, although some chefs consider it keeps better when two eggs are used to a pint of oil.

      A cool room is always insisted on for making the sauce, but to the amateur I say, oil, eggs, and bowl also, should be put in the ice-box until well chilled, and even then mishaps may come from using a warm spoon from a hot kitchen drawer or closet; that, therefore, must be cool also. Of course it is often successfully made with only the usual precaution of a cool room, but with everything well chilled it is hard to fail.

      If very little of the sauce is wanted, one yolk of egg will be better than two. Separate the yolks very carefully, allowing not a speck of white to remain; remove also the germ which is attached to the yolk. Stir the yolk at least a minute before beginning to add oil; then arrange your bottle or a sharp-spouted pitcher in your left hand so that it rests on the edge of the bowl, and you can keep up a pretty steady drop, drop, into the egg, while you stir with your right steadily. The oil must be added drop by drop, but this does not mean a drop every two or three minutes; you may add a drop to every one or two circuits of the spoon. The reason for adding it slowly is that each drop may form an emulsion with the egg before more goes in. After two or three minutes look carefully at the mixture; if it has not begun to look pale and opaque, but retains a dark, oily appearance, stir it steadily for two minutes, and then add oil slowly, drop by drop, stirring all the time. If it has not now begun to thicken, it probably will not; but the materials are not lost. Put the yolk of another egg into a cool bowl, and begin again using the egg and oil you have already mixed, in place of fresh oil. When this is all used, proceed with the oil (it is hoped, however, that the work will have proceeded without the necessity for beginning afresh). When the mayonnaise becomes quite thick, use