The following lectures were delivered in the “Farmers Lecture Course,” at the College of Agriculture, Minneapolis, during the session of 1884. The topics selected at previous sessions had been such as to especially interest the male members of the large classes in attendance, and it was considered no more than fair to the women of the State that attention should be given to such matters as would aid them in the conduct of home duties. Influenced by this desire, I secured the services of Miss Juliet Corson, the superintendent of the New York School of Cookery, and so widely known wherever the English language is spoken, by her publications and writings upon all topics relating to domestic economy. The interest manifested in this course of lectures by the ladies of Minnesota was shown by the crowded audiences present at each exercise, nearly 1,200 of whom registered their names and addresses, a list of which is appended to this report.
The lectures were familiar, extemporaneous discourses upon the topics under discussion, and the lecturer was surrounded by all the appointments of a well-ordered kitchen. The dishes as prepared were passed to the audience for examination and criticism, and full opportunity allowed for discussion. This statement is necessary to explain the colloquial character of the discourses.
In placing these lectures before the public the editor does but simple justice to Miss Corson in stating that circumstances have prevented the preparation by her of a finished report, and have compelled the publication of the notes taken at the “cooking lessons.” But if the form of the instruction is devoid of rhetorical style, the editor guarantees its accuracy.
Although Miss Corson is a steady worker, her usefulness is curtailed by serious illness. In this instance, therefore, indulgence is claimed for the method. Whatever graces of literature the reader seeks, may be found in the author’s other published works; here the public is entreated to accept a very plain record of the work done at the State University by Miss Corson.
A word of explanation is due to the members of the class, who were promised copies of these lectures. I had full reports taken at the time, by a stenographer. They were written out shortly after, and sent to Miss Corson, as by her request, for review; but owing to her protracted and nearly fatal illness and very slow recovery, these notes have only recently been returned to me. I hope this statement will relieve me from any charges of neglect, which the ladies might otherwise be disposed to make.
Edward D. Porter,
Professor in Charge.
This course of lectures is designed to meet the wants of two classes of persons:
First—Those who are experienced housekeepers, familiar with the principles and practice of cookery, but who desire information concerning the preparation of the finer dishes of the modern school.
Second—The young ladies in attendance at the University and others like them, who have had their time and attention so engrossed with studies and other duties that they have not had the opportunity to qualify themselves in this most important branch of a woman’s education.
To meet the wants of the first class, the morning exercises will be devoted to the preparation of palatable and nutritious dishes, suitable for every day use in families of moderate means, and some of the finer dishes will be introduced.
As the afternoons are the only times at which the young ladies of the University can be present, these sessions will be devoted to practical illustrations of the elementary principles of household management and cookery. As time permits, some of the salient points in the chemistry of food and the physiology of nutrition will be briefly discussed.
First Day.
Soup Stock.
Boiled Salmon, with Cream Sauce.
Potatoes, Stewed in Butter.
Quail, boned and broiled.
Omelettes.
Second Day.
Clear Soup.
Caramel for coloring Soups and Sauces.
Baked Whitefish.
Beefsteak, broiled and fried.
Baked Apple Dumplings.
Third Day.
Cream of Salmon.
Shoulder of Lamb, boned and roasted.
Forcemeat for Meats.
Potatoes, broiled and baked.
Cheese Crusts.
Fourth Day.
Pea Soup with Crusts.
Salt Codfish, stewed in Cream.
Venison with Currant Jelly.
Stewed Carrots.
Cabinet Pudding.
Fifth Day.
Tomato Soup.
Fried Pickerel.
Beef, a la mode Rolls.
Puree of Spinach.
Caramel Custard.
Sixth Day.
Oyster Soup.
Oysters, broiled and fried.
Oysters with Bacon.
Mobile Roast Oysters.
Welsh Rarebits.
AT 2 P. M. DAILY.
First Day—Soup Making, and Stews.
Second Day—Good Breads, Plain Pastry and Puddings.
Third Day—Fish and Poultry.
Fourth Day—Meats and Vegetables.
Fifth Day—Cheap Dishes and Rewarmed Foods.
Sixth Day—Cookery for the Sick.
Tea, Coffee, Omelettes, Sauces, and various small dishes will be treated when the occasion offers.
The last half hour of each day will be devoted to the discussion of questions referring to the subject in hand, and to the testing of dishes cooked.
Our lesson this morning, ladies, will consist of the preparation of what is called soup stock, or beef broth, which is the basis of many kinds of soup; it is very easily made, simple in its composition, and exceedingly nutritious; the other dishes to be made are boiled salmon with cream sauce; potatoes, stewed in butter; and quail, boned and broiled. I give you the boned quail to show you what an exceedingly simple operation boning is. It is supposed to be very difficult, and it is done sometimes in curious ways; but the best way is the simplest and easiest. If we have time we will prepare a few omelettes.
As I shall begin with soup stock, you will take your receipt for that. For each quart of soup stock or broth which you intend to make, use one pound of meat and bone. By that I mean meat and bone weighed together. The cut which I have here is from the upper part of the leg, next to the round. You can use any cut of the leg, the shank, which is the lower part of the leg, or the neck; any of the cheaper parts of meat will answer for soup meat. First, cut the meat from the bone; the butcher will always do that for you; then have the bone broken in small pieces. The butcher, of course, will do that very much more easily than you can do it. Do not wash the meat; wipe it all over with a towel wet in cold water. Put the bones in the bottom of the soup kettle, laying the meat on the bones; then add cold water in the proportion of a quart to each pound of meat and bones. Set the soup kettle over the fire, and let the broth slowly heat and boil. As it boils a scum will rise to the surface, which is to be removed in case you are preparing stock for clear soup. The scum is composed of the blood and the albumen of the meat, and is only removed for the purpose of clarifying the soup. It is nutritious, and for that reason it should always be saved. In France, and in kitchens where French cooks are employed, this scum is used either in thick soup—for instance, in vegetable soup, such as I shall make this afternoon—or put into brown sauces or gravies. Remember, it is nothing that is to be thrown away; it is to be saved because it is both nutritious and savory. It adds flavor and nutriment to any dish to which it is added. While the soup meat is being boiled for the first time, prepare the vegetables. For three or four pounds of meat, which will make as many quarts of soup, use one medium-size carrot, which is to be scraped, a turnip, which is to be peeled, and an onion, which is also to be peeled, in such a way as to prevent breaking apart; take off the outer dry skin of the onion without trimming it closely; do not cut it off at the top, because in that way you will cause the layers to break apart. After the onion is peeled stick a dozen whole cloves into it. The cloves are added to the soup for the purpose of flavoring it. You very often hear the remark made that the cookery of certain people has an indefinable taste, exceedingly nice, but something that you do not exactly understand. It is always produced by a combination of seasonings and flavorings. In this soup I shall use for seasoning not only the cloves in the onions, but a dozen peppercorns—that is, unground grains of pepper, instead of ground pepper, because I want the soup to be perfectly clear. I shall use also bay leaves, which may be new to some of you; they are the dried leaves of the laurel or bay tree, and can be bought at any drug store. You can buy five cents’ worth of them and they will last you a year or more. The seasoning is slightly aromatic; for four quarts of soup use only a little leaf, or a piece of a large leaf; use also a blade of mace, and a sprig of any dried herb except sage.
The peppercorns, the bay leaf, the blade of mace, and the sprig of sweet herb are tied in the midst of a little bunch of parsley, the stalk with all the leaves on, and if it is ever marketed here with the root on, use that as well; the root of the parsley has all the flavor of the leaf intensified, and you have only to thoroughly wash it, and then use it. All these dried herbs are to be gathered inside of the parsley and tied in a little bunch; tie the parsley by winding string around it, inclosing all the dried herbs; this little bunch is called in cooking books a fagot or bouquet of herbs; it is what gives soups and sauces that indefinable spicy, delicate flavor so much liked.
After the soup stock boils remove whatever scum has risen, put in the fagot, the turnip, the carrot, the onion stuck with cloves, and for the four quarts of soup a heaping tablespoonful of salt. Keep the soup stock covered as much as possible while it is heating; and after you have put in the vegetables keep it covered all the time. Let it boil very slowly. After all the vegetables are in set the kettle back so that the heat of the fire strikes from one side; let it boil from one side and gently; in that way you begin the clarifying. You will find if you boil the stock from one side, and very gently, then when you strain it after it is done it already will be as clear as most clear soup. After it has been strained, to-morrow, we shall clarify it in order to show the process, which is very simple. Then it will be what is called on hotel bills of fare clear soup.
After the vegetables have been added let the stock boil for at least two hours. In that length of time the flavor of the vegetables and the nourishment from the meat will be extracted, but not the gelatine from the bones. It is the gelatine in the bones which makes broth or stock jelly when it is cold; in order to extract the gelatine it is necessary to boil the soup meat and bones at least five hours. The soup can be strained at the end of two hours, or boiled five or six hours, keeping it covered so that none of it wastes or evaporates. When the soup is boiled, strain it; use an earthen bowl or jar; set a colander in it, and lay a towel folded twice in the colander, having the colander either over the bowl or jar; pour the soup into the towel, and let it run through without squeezing, because if you squeeze the towel you will force small particles of scum through, and thus cloud the soup. After the soup has run through the towel let it cool; do not cover it while it is cooling unless you are afraid of flies or insects getting into it; in that case cover it with a sieve. If you cover it with a solid earthen cover or plate the steam arising from the soup will condense on the under part of the cover and fall back into the soup; if the weather is warm, or if it is a close, rainy day, the steam condensed falling back into the warm soup will cause it to sour. For this reason when you put away a dish of meat or vegetables after dinner do not cover them until they are cold.
In boiling a whole fish, or a large piece, use cold water. If you put a large piece of fish into boiling water, the outside will be cooked before it is done near the bone. Nothing is more disagreeable than a piece of fish half raw at the bone; it is uneatable. For a small piece of fish, such as I have here, use boiling salted water enough to cover it, and boil it until the flakes begin to separate, or until, by testing a fin, you can easily pull it out. That will probably be, if you use cold water, soon after the water boils; if you put the fish into boiling water, it may be five or more minutes. Boil the fish, whether it is large or small, until you can pull out a fin, or until the flakes separate. Then drain it, and serve it with any nice sauce. To-day I will make a very simple one—cream sauce. Of course you would always make the sauce while you were boiling the fish, taking care to have both done at the same time. For a pint of sauce, use a heaping tablespoonful of butter and a tablespoonful of flour; put them in a saucepan over the fire, and stir them together until they are smoothly mixed; then begin to add hot milk, half a cupful at a time; when the first half cupful of milk is stirred in, put in another half cupful and again stir until it is smooth; continue to add milk until you have used a pint, or until the sauce is about the consistency of thick cream. There will always be a margin there for a little discretion, because some flour will thicken very much more than others. Flour that is very rich in gluten will thicken more than that which has most starch in it. But you have there about the right proportions—a tablespoonful of flour, a tablespoonful of butter, a pint of milk. Add more or less milk as is required to make the sauce the consistency of thick cream, or of a thickness which will coat the spoon; that is, if you dip a spoon in and hold it up, the sauce will not all run off like water; when all the milk has been used, season the sauce with a level teaspoonful of salt and about a quarter of a salt spoon of white pepper. I speak of white pepper particularly because in making a white sauce, if you use the ordinary black pepper, the sauce will be full of little black specks. The white pepper is quite as cheap, quite as plentiful as the black pepper; all the grocers keep it, and its flavor is nicer, rather more delicate, scarcely as pungent as the black pepper; there is a certain biting, acrid flavor in the black pepper which does not exist in the white pepper; the latter contains all the stimulating property and all the aromatic flavor.
After the same is finished, keep it hot by setting the sauce pan containing it in a pan of hot water, on the back of the stove. A perfectly plain white sauce (which can be made the basis of an infinite variety of other sauces) is made by substituting water for milk; by leaving out the pepper and salt, and using sugar for sweetening, you can make a nice pudding sauce. If you add a tablespoonful of chopped parsley to a pint of white sauce, you make parsley sauce. Putting a few capers into it, makes caper sauce. A teaspoonful of anchovies dissolved in it makes anchovy sauce. It is easily made the basis of a great many sauces, the name of which depends on preferred addition to the white sauce. Egg sauce is made by adding chopped hard boiled eggs to white sauce.
Question by a Lady. Would you ever substitute cornstarch for flour?
Miss Corson. You can if you wish. You must use your own discretion about the quantities. Simply get the thickness of thick cream.
Question. Is it better to use a porcelain vessel, or will tin do?
Miss Corson. Use any saucepan made of material thick enough to prevent burning.
Question. Do you put the fish right into the water, or have you a fish kettle?
Miss Corson. If you are using a fish kettle you will have a little wire frame. You can lay the fish on that, or you can tie it up in a cloth, if you wish to.
Question. Then how can you tell when it is done?
Miss Corson. If you tie it in a cloth you must leave a little space so that you can test it.
Question. How much pepper did you say to put in the sauce?
Miss Corson. About a quarter of a salt spoon; that is, a good pinch of pepper. One of the ladies asked me about using a thick sauce pan—porcelain-lined sauce pan; you will find the advantage of thick sauce pans of all kinds is that they are less likely to burn than thin ones. The thinner the metal the sauce pan is made of, the more likely it is to burn. There are so many different kinds of utensils that every lady can take her own choice. Black sauce pans, lined with tin or with porcelain; tin sauce pans, thin ones, and thick ones made of block tin. You notice that I use copper sauce pans. Coppers are the most durable; they are lined with tin, and they have to be relined about once a year; the cost of relining is very little—comparatively little; I think it costs me about three cents a foot to have them relined, and the copper never wears out. If you buy a copper sauce pan you have got something that lasts you all your life, and you can leave it as an heirloom; if you don’t want to do that, you can sell it for old copper for nearly as much as you paid for it. In using copper, you must never let them become bare on the inside. If the tin wears off and the copper is exposed to any acid in the food cooked, it is apt to form a poisonous combination. But with proper care and cleanliness, copper sauce pans are perfectly safe.
Question. Do you prefer them to the galvanized iron?
Miss Corson. Yes, I do, on the score of cleanliness, economy and ease in cooking.
Question. Do you use a wooden spoon from choice?
Miss Corson. Yes; of course you can understand, ladies, that I could very soon scrape the tin off of the inside of a sauce pan with a metal spoon, a knife, or anything of that sort. Copper sauce pans should be cleaned with a rag, a little Sapolio and hot water. If they are cleaned as fast as they are used they are no more trouble to keep clean than any other sauce pan. I use in stirring simply a small pudding stick—an old-fashioned wooden pudding stick. It does not scrape the sauce pans, and there is no danger of uncooked flour accumulating on the sticks, as it does in the bowl of a spoon. If you are stirring with a spoon, some of the half-cooked flour might get in the bowl of the spoon, and then your sauce would have the taste of the raw flour. I will leave the stick in the sauce pan and pass it about so that you can see what I mean. Anyone can whittle these little sticks out, using any kind of hard wood. Do not use soft wood. You will have noticed, ladies, if you have ever put sauce of this kind, thick sauce, to keep hot, it may have grown very much thicker by standing; in such case add a little more milk or water, and a little more seasoning when you are ready to use it.
Question. How do you make perfectly clear sauce?
Miss Corson. You can make a nearly clear thick sauce by using arrow root. Of course, a clear thin sauce is simply sugar dissolved in water, with butter or flavoring as you like.
The potatoes are peeled and sliced in rather small slices of even size; put them over the fire in enough salted boiling water to cover them, boil them until they begin to grow tender; not till they break, but just till they begin to grow tender; after the potatoes are boiled tender drain them, and suppose you have a pint bowl full of potatoes, use about two heaping tablespoonfuls of butter; melt the butter in a scant half cupful of milk. When the butter is melted put the potatoes into it, and with a spoon lift them very carefully from the bottom, always without breaking them, until they have absorbed the milk and butter; then season them with salt and white pepper, and they will be ready to serve. Season them palatably; I could not give you the quantity of seasoning because it would depend upon the salt that the potatoes had absorbed from the water. You should taste them first before seasoning at all, and then if they need any more salt add a very little at a time. If you simply want the potatoes nicely stewed you don’t add so much butter, a scant tablespoonful, and milk enough to moisten them; but this receipt is an exceedingly nice one—rather rich, but very nice.
(At this point the fish was done, and Miss Corson continued.)
You notice, ladies, that I take off the skin of the fish before taking it up. That is very easy; it slips off easily, and without it the fish is much nicer to serve at the table. In serving sauce with fish you pour some around it, not over it; or you serve the fish on a napkin, and the sauce in a dish, as you prefer. If you serve the fish in a folded napkin garnish it with a few sprigs of parsley, if you can get them, or with a lemon sliced, if you do not live—as some unfortunate people do—“fifty miles from a lemon.” Lemons are very nice always with any kind of fish. Parsley can be bought here all winter long. I have learned that from the advertisements in the papers already; and a little of it makes a great difference in the appearance of a dish.
Question. Can you tell us how we can tell whether a frozen fish is stale or fresh?
Miss Corson. You can after you have thawed it in cold water; you can tell by the smell. (Laughter.) The way to thaw frozen fish is to put it into perfectly cold water and keep it in a cold place until all the frost is drawn out. Of course the most of the fish in this market would be frozen in the winter. This one has been frozen.
Question. Can you tell us how to carve a whole fish?
Miss Corson. You would have a rather sharp knife and spoon; a fish knife, though it looks pretty, is not good to serve fish with because it is apt to be dull; you want a knife that will cut down through the fish without tearing it, without attempting to cut down through the bone, unless you know where the joints are located.
Question. Would you cook a fish with the fins?
Miss Corson. The latest fancy of fish lovers in New York, the members of the Ichthyophagous Club, who are supposed to be the leaders in the fashions of fish, is to have the fish served with the fins, head and tail on; and with some fish they want even the scales; and then they simply lift off the skin, the entire skin, before they begin to serve it. They have the fish thoroughly washed and drawn, and then cooked with the scales and fins on. You can judge how easy it would be to do that, because you saw how easily that skin came off this fish. The skin comes off-easily if the fish is properly cooked—cooked enough.
Question. What kind of fish can be cooked with the scales on?
Miss Corson. I think the black bass, and some kinds of sea fish. The idea is that if the fish are not scaled they will keep their flavor; a fish properly dressed retains enough of its flavor even if it is scalded before it is cooked.
First, I will make a plain breakfast omelette. Use for two or three people not more than three eggs. You can not very well manage more than three in an ordinary pan. It is better to make several omelettes, especially because people are not apt to come to the table all at once, and an omelette to be nice must be eaten directly it is cooked. Say three eggs; break them into a cup or bowl; add to them a saltspoonful of salt, quarter of a saltspoonful of pepper, and mix them just enough to thoroughly break the whites and yolks together. Put over the fire a frying pan with a heaping teaspoonful of butter in it. Let the butter get hot. If you like an omelette brown let the butter begin to brown. After pouring the eggs into the hot frying pan break the omelette on the bottom of the pan with a fork, just a little, so that you let the uncooked part run down on the bottom of the pan. I do not mean to stir the omelette as you would scrambled eggs, but just break it a little until it is cooked as much as you want it. French breakfast omelettes are always cooked so that they are slightly juicy in the middle; in order to accomplish that result of course you have them still liquid before you begin to turn them. When the omelette is done as much as you want it run a fork under one side of it and fold it half over, then fold it again; loosen it from the pan; have a platter hot, and turn the omelette out. Serve it the moment it is done.
Next I will make a light omelette. The same rule—three eggs, whites and yolks separate; beat the whites to a stiff froth; add seasoning to the yolks in the same proportion as before; mix the yolks slightly with the seasoning; after the white has been beaten quite stiff and the yolk seasoned, mix them very lightly together; have a heaping tablespoonful of butter in the frying pan over the fire, hot, just as for the plain omelette; mix the whites and the yolks together, without breaking down the white. Of course the lightness of the omelette depends on keeping all the air in the white of the egg that you have beaten into it. Put the eggs into the hot frying pan; run the fork under the omelette and lift it from the pan as it cooks; lift the cooked portions from the pan, and let them fall back on the top of the omelette, taking care not to pat the omelette down at all; but just lift the cooked portions and let them fall back on the top of the omelette, until it is done as much as you like. Usually this omelette is served soft—as soft as ice cream. When it is done as much as you want it, push it to the side of the pan, gently, and then turn it out on a hot platter. Always remember that the success of an omelette depends upon the quickness with which it is made and served; because, in the first place, you make it light by beating air into it; then, of course, the heat expands the air, and that makes the omelette still lighter; and you must get it served before the hot air escapes.