Chapter XV: Part 15

They are very good, but your fingers will smart after thrusting them into the peppers to pull out the seeds. For this purpose I have used, first, a small penknife, to cut the core from its attachment to the stem-end of the pepper, then a smooth bit of stick, to pry open the slit in the side and work out the loose core or bunch of seed. By the exercise of a little ingenuity you may spare yourself all suffering from this cause. Should your fingers burn badly, anoint them with sweet-oil and wear gloves that night. Cream will also allay the smart.

PICKLED CABBAGE (_Yellow._)

2 gallons vinegar.
1 pint white mustard seed. }
4 oz. ginger. }
3 oz. pepper-corns. }
1 oz. allspice. } pounded fine.
2 oz. cloves. }
1 oz. mace. }
1 oz. nutmeg. }
2 oz. turmeric. }
1 large handful of garlic, chopped.
1 handful scraped horseradish.
4 lbs. sugar.
2 oz. celery seed.
3 lemons, sliced thin.

Mix all and set in the sun for three days.

To prepare the cabbage, cut in quarters—leaving off the outer and green leaves—and put in a kettle of boiling brine. Cook three minutes. Take out, drain, and cover thickly with salt. Spread out in the sun to dry; then shake off the salt, and cover with cold vinegar in which has been steeped enough turmeric to color it well. Leave it in this two weeks, to draw out the salt and to plump the cabbage. They are then ready to pack down in the seasoned vinegar. Do not use under six weeks or two months.

PICKLED CABBAGE (_Purple._)

Quarter the cabbage. Lay in a wooden tray, sprinkle thickly with salt, and set in the cellar until next day. Drain off the brine, wipe dry, lay in the sun two hours, and cover with cold vinegar for twelve hours. Prepare the pickle by seasoning enough vinegar to cover the cabbage with equal quantities of mace, cloves, whole white peppers; a cup of sugar to every gallon of vinegar, and a teaspoonful of celery seed for every pint. Pack the cabbage in a stone jar; boil the vinegar and spices five minutes and pour on hot. Cover and set away in a cool, dry place.

This will be ripe in six weeks.

PICKLED ONIONS.

Peel the onions, which should be fine white ones—not _too_ large. Let them stand in strong brine for four days, changing it twice. Heat more brine to a boil, throw in the onions, and boil three minutes. Throw them at once into cold water, and leave them there four hours. Pack in jars, interspersing with whole mace, white pepper-corns, and cloves. Fill up with scalding vinegar in which you have put a cupful of sugar for every gallon. Cork while hot.

They will be ready for use in a month, but will be better at the end of three months.

GREEN BEANS AND RADISH PODS.

Take young French or “string” beans, and radish pods just before they change color; green and pickle as you do cucumbers and gherkins.

NASTURTIUM-SEED. ✠

Take the green seed after the flower has dried off. Lay in salt and water two days, in cold water one day; pack in bottles and cover with scalding vinegar, seasoned with mace and white pepper-corns, and sweetened slightly with white sugar. Cork, and set away four weeks before you use them.

They are an excellent substitute for capers.

PICKLED BUTTERNUTS AND WALNUTS. ✠

Gather them when soft enough to be pierced by a pin. Lay them in strong brine five days, changing this twice in the meantime. Drain, and wipe them with a coarse cloth; pierce each by running a large needle through it, and lay in cold water for six hours.

To each gallon of vinegar allow a cup of sugar, three dozen each of whole cloves and black pepper-corns, half as much allspice, and a dozen blades of mace. Boil five minutes; pack the nuts in small jars and pour over them scalding hot. Repeat this twice within a week; tie up and set away.

They will be good to eat in a month—and very good too.

PICKLED CAULIFLOWER. ✠

Pick the whitest and closest bunches. Cut into small sprays or clusters. Plunge into a kettle of scalding brine and boil three minutes. Take them out, lay upon a sieve or a cloth, sprinkle thickly with salt, and, when dry, brush this off. Cover with cold vinegar for two days, setting the jar in the sun. Then pack carefully in glass or stoneware jars, and pour over them scalding vinegar seasoned thus:

To one gallon allow a cup of white sugar, a dozen blades of mace, a tablespoonful of celery-seed, two dozen white peppercorns and some bits of red pepper pods, a tablespoonful of coriander-seed, and the same of whole mustard. Boil five minutes. Repeat the scalding once a week for three weeks; tie up and set away. Keep the cauliflowers under the vinegar by putting a small plate on top.

SLICED CUCUMBER PICKLE. (_Very nice._)

2 dozen large cucumbers, sliced, and boiled in vinegar enough
to cover them, one hour. Set aside in the hot vinegar.
To each gallon of cold vinegar allow—
1 lb. sugar.
1 tablespoonful of cinnamon.
1 teaspoonful ginger.
1 teaspoonful black pepper.
1 teaspoonful celery-seed.
1 teaspoonful of mace.
1 teaspoonful allspice.
1 teaspoonful cloves.
1 tablespoonful turmeric.
1 tablespoonful horseradish, scraped.
1 tablespoonful garlic, sliced.
½ teaspoonful cayenne pepper.

Put in the cucumbers and stew two hours.

The pickle will be ready for use so soon as it is cold.

PICKLED WATER-MELON RIND. (_Extremely nice._)

Equal weight of rind and white sugar.
½ ounce white ginger to a gallon of pickle.
1 pint vinegar to every pound of sugar.
1 tablespoonful turmeric to a gallon of pickle.
Mace, cloves, and cinnamon to taste.

Take the thickest rind you can get, pare off the hard green rind, also the soft inner pulp. Lay the pieces—narrow strips or fanciful cuttings—in brine strong enough to float an egg, and let them remain in it ten days. Then soak in fair water, changing it every day for ten days. Cover them with clear water in a preserving-kettle, heat slowly and boil five minutes. Take them out and plunge instantly into ice-water. Leave them in this until next day. Give them another gentle boil of five minutes in strong alum-water. Simmer carefully, as a hard boil will injure them. Change _directly_ from the alum to the ice-water again, and do not disturb them for four hours. After a third boil of five minutes, let them remain all night in the last water to make them tender. Next day add to enough water to cover the rinds sufficient sugar to make it quite sweet, but not a syrup. Simmer the rinds in this ten minutes, throw the water away, and spread them upon dishes to cool. Meanwhile prepare a second syrup, allowing sugar equal in weight to the rind, and half an ounce of sliced white ginger to a gallon of the pickle, with a cup of water for every two pounds of sugar. When the sugar is melted and the syrup quite hot, but not boiling, put in the rinds and simmer until they look quite clear. Take it out, spread upon the dishes again, while you add to the syrup a pint of vinegar for every pound of the sugar you have put in, one tablespoonful of turmeric to a gallon of pickle; mace, cloves and cinnamon to taste. Boil this up, return the rind to it, and simmer fifteen minutes. Put up in glass jars. It will be fit for use in two weeks.

This is a very handsome and delicious pickle, although it may seem to be made upon the principle of the Frenchman’s pebble-soup.

GREEN TOMATO SOY. ✠

2 gallons tomatoes, green, and sliced without peeling.
12 good-sized onions, also sliced.
2 quarts vinegar.
1 quart sugar.
2 tablespoonfuls salt.
2 tablespoonfuls ground mustard.
2 tablespoonfuls black pepper, ground.
1 tablespoonful allspice.
1 tablespoonful cloves.

Mix all together, and stew until tender, stirring often lest they should scorch. Put up in small glass jars.

This is a most useful and pleasant sauce for almost every kind of meat and fish.

SWEET TOMATO PICKLE. (_Very good._) ✠

7 lbs. ripe tomatoes, peeled and sliced.
3½ lbs. sugar.
1 oz. cinnamon and mace mixed.
1 oz. cloves.
1 quart of vinegar.

Mix all together and stew an hour.

RIPE TOMATO PICKLE. (_No. 2._)

2 gallons tomatoes, peeled, but not sliced.
1 pint vinegar.
2 lbs. sugar.
Mace, nutmeg, and cinnamon to taste.

Put all on together, heat slowly to a boil, and simmer one hour. Put up in glass jars.

SWEET PICKLE—PLUMS, PEARS, PEACHES, OR OTHER FRUITS. ✠

7 lbs. fruit, pared.
4 lbs. white sugar.
1 pint strong vinegar.
Mace, cinnamon, and cloves.

Pare peaches and pears; prick plums and damsons, tomatoes, “globes” or husk-tomatoes (otherwise known as ground-plums). Put into the kettle with alternate layers of sugar. Heat slowly to a boil; add the vinegar and spice; boil five minutes; take out the fruit with a perforated skimmer and spread upon dishes to cool. Boil the syrup thick; pack the fruit in glass jars, and pour the syrup on boiling hot.

Examine every few days for the first month, and should it show signs of fermenting set the jars (uncovered) in a kettle of water, and heat until the contents are scalding.

Husk-tomatoes—a fruit which looks like a hybrid between the tomato and plum—are particularly nice put up in this way.

PICKLED PEACHES.

10 lbs. fruit—pared.
4½ lbs. sugar.
1 quart vinegar.
Mace, cinnamon, and cloves to taste.

Lay the peaches in the sugar for an hour; drain off every drop of syrup, and put over the fire with about a cup of water. Boil until the scum ceases to rise. Skim; put in the fruit and boil five minutes. Take out the peaches with a perforated skimmer, and spread upon dishes to cool. Add the vinegar and spices to the syrup. Boil fifteen minutes longer, and pour over the fruit in glass jars.

PICKLED PEACHES (_unpeeled_.)

Rub the fur off with a coarse cloth, and prick each peach with a fork. Heat in _just_ enough water to cover them until they almost boil; take them out, and add to the water sugar in the following proportions:—

For every 7 lbs. of fruit
3 lbs. of sugar.
Boil fifteen minutes; skim, and add—
3 pints of vinegar.
1 tablespoonful (each) of allspice, mace, and cinnamon.
1 teaspoonful celery-seed.
1 teaspoonful cloves.

Put the spices in thin muslin bags. Boil all together ten minutes, then put in the fruit, and boil until they can be pierced with a straw. Take out the fruit with a skimmer, and spread upon dishes to cool. Boil the syrup until thick, pack the peaches in glass jars, and pour this over them scalding hot.

You may pickle pears in the same way without peeling.

PICKLED CHERRIES. ✠

Morella, or large red tart cherries, as fresh as you can get them. To every quart allow a large cup of vinegar and two tablespoonfuls of sugar, with a dozen whole cloves and half a dozen blades of mace.

Put the vinegar and sugar on to heat with the spices. Boil five minutes; turn out into a covered stoneware vessel, cover, and let it get perfectly cold. Strain out the spices, fill small jars three-quarters of the way to the top with fruit, and pour the cold vinegar over them. Cork or cover tightly. Leave the stems on the cherries.

PICKLETTE. ✠

4 large crisp cabbages, chopped fine.
1 quart onions, chopped fine.
2 quarts of vinegar, or enough to cover the cabbage.
2 lbs. brown sugar.
2 tablespoonfuls ground mustard.
2 tablespoonfuls black pepper.
2 tablespoonfuls cinnamon.
2 tablespoonfuls turmeric.
2 tablespoonfuls celery-seed.
1 tablespoonful allspice.
1 tablespoonful mace.
1 tablespoonful alum, pulverized.

Pack the cabbage and onions in alternate layers, with a little salt between them. Let them stand until next day. Then scald the vinegar, sugar, and spices together, and pour over the cabbage and onion. Do this three mornings in succession. On the fourth, put all together over the fire and heat to a boil. Let them boil five minutes. When cold, pack in small jars.

It is fit for use as soon as cool, but keeps well.

DRINKS.

COFFEE.

Never buy the ground coffee put up in packages, if you can get any other. The mere fact that after they have gone to the expense of the machinery and labor requisite for grinding it, the manufacturers can sell it cheaper per pound than grocers can the whole grains, roasted or raw, should convince every sensible person that it is adulterated with other and less expensive substances. Be that as it may, coffee loses its aroma so rapidly after it is ground that it is worth your while to buy it whole, either in small quantities freshly roasted, or raw, and roast it yourself; or stand by and see your respectable grocer grind what you have just bought. You can roast in a pan in the oven, stirring every few minutes, or in the same upon the top of the range. Stir often and roast quickly to a bright brown—not a dull black. While still hot, beat up the white of an egg with a tablespoonful of melted butter and stir up well with it. This will tend to preserve the flavor. Grind just enough at a time for a single making.

TO MAKE COFFEE (_boiled._)

1 full coffee-cup (½ pint) of ground coffee.
1 quart of boiling water.
White of an egg, and crushed shell of same.
½ cup of cold water to settle it.

Stir up the eggshell and the white (beaten) with the coffee, and a very little cold water, and mix gradually with the boiling water in the coffee-boiler. Stir from the sides and top as it boils up. Boil pretty fast twelve minutes; pour in the cold water and take from the fire, setting gently upon the hearth to settle. In five minutes, pour it off carefully into your silver, china, or Britannia coffee-pot, which should be previously well scalded.

Send to table _hot_.

TO MAKE COFFEE WITHOUT BOILING.

There are so many patent coffee-pots for this purpose, and the directions sold with these are so minute, that I need give only a few general rules here. Allow rather more coffee to a given quantity of water than if it were to be boiled, and have it ground _very_ fine. Put the coffee in the uppermost compartment, pour on the water very slowly until the fine coffee is saturated, then more rapidly. The water should be boiling. Shut down the top, and the coffee ought to be ready when it has gone through the double or treble set of strainers. Should it not be strong enough, run it through again.

CAFÉ AU LAIT.

1 pint very strong _made_ coffee—fresh and hot.
1 pint boiling milk.

The coffee should be poured off the grounds through a fine strainer (thin muslin is the best material) into the table coffee-pot. Add the milk, and set the pot where it will keep hot for five minutes before pouring it out.

TEA.

2 teaspoonfuls of tea to one _large_ cupful of boiling water.

Scald the teapot well, put in the tea, and, covering close, set it on the stove or range one minute to warm; pour on enough boiling water to cover it well, and let it stand ten minutes to “draw.” Keep the lid of the pot shut, and set in a warm place, but do not let it boil. Fill up with as much boiling water as you will need, and send hot to the table, after pouring into a heated china or silver pot.

The bane of tea in many households is unboiled water. It can never extract the flavor as it should, although it steep for hours. The kettle should not only steam, but bubble and puff in a hard boil before you add water from it to the tea-leaves.

Boiling after the tea is made, injures the flavor either by deadening or making it rank and “herby.”

The English custom of making tea upon the breakfast or tea-table is fast gaining ground in America. It is at once the best and prettiest way of preparing the beverage.

CHOCOLATE. ✠

6 tablespoonfuls grated chocolate to each pint of water.
As much milk as you have water.
Sweeten to taste.

Put on the water boiling hot. Rub the chocolate smooth in a little cold water, and stir into the boiling water. Boil twenty minutes; add the milk and boil ten minutes more, stirring frequently. You can sweeten upon the fire or in the cups.

COCOA NIBS, OR SHELLS. ✠

1 quart of boiling water.
2 ozs. of cocoa nibs.
1 quart fresh milk.

Wet the shells or nibs up with a little cold water; add to the boiling, and cook one hour and a half; strain, put in the milk, let it heat almost to boiling, and take from the fire.

This is excellent for invalids.

PREPARED COCOA. ✠

1 quart of water, boiling.
2 ozs. prepared cocoa—Baker’s is best.
1 quart of milk.

Make as you do chocolate—only boil nearly an hour before you add the milk, afterward heating _almost_ to boiling. Sweeten to taste.

MILK TEA (FOR CHILDREN.)

1 pint fresh milk and the same of _boiling_ water. Sweeten to taste.

RASPBERRY ROYAL. ✠

4 quarts ripe berries.
1 quart best cider vinegar.
1 lb. white sugar.
1 pint fine brandy.

Put the berries in a stone jar, pour the vinegar over them, add the sugar, and pound the berries to a paste with a wooden pestle, or mash with a spoon. Let them stand in the sun four hours; strain and squeeze out all the juice, and put in the brandy. Seal up in bottles; lay them on their sides in the cellar, and cover with sawdust.

Stir two tablespoonfuls into a tumbler of ice-water when you wish to use it.

RASPBERRY VINEGAR. ✠

Put the raspberries into a stone vessel and mash them to a pulp. Add cider-vinegar—no specious imitation, but the genuine article—enough to cover it well. Stand in the sun twelve hours, and all night in the cellar. Stir up well occasionally during this time. Strain, and put as many fresh berries in the jar as you took out; pour the strained vinegar over them; mash and set in the sun all day. Strain a second time next day. To each quart of this juice allow

1 pint of water.
5 lbs. of sugar (best white) for every 3 pints of this liquid,
juice and water mingled.

Place over a gentle fire and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Heat slowly to boiling, skimming off the scum, and as soon as it fairly boils take off and strain. Bottle while warm, and seal the corks with sealing wax, or bees’-wax and rosin.

A most refreshing and pleasant drink.

BLACKBERRY VINEGAR

Is made in the same manner as raspberry, allowing 5½ lbs. sugar to 3 pints of juice and water.

BLACKBERRY CORDIAL.

1 quart of blackberry juice.
1 lb. white sugar.
½ oz. grated nutmeg.
½ oz. powdered cinnamon.
¼ oz. allspice.
¼ oz. cloves.
1 pint best brandy.

Tie the spices in thin muslin bags; boil juice, sugar, and spices together fifteen minutes, skimming well; add the brandy; set aside in a closely covered vessel to cool. When perfectly cold, strain out the spices, and bottle, sealing the corks.

ELDERBERRY WINE.

8 quarts of berries.
4 quarts of boiling water poured over the berries.

Let it stand twelve hours, stirring now and then. Strain well, pressing out all the juice. Add

3 lbs. of sugar to 4 quarts of juice.
1 oz. powdered cinnamon.
½ oz. powdered cloves.

Boil five minutes, and set away to ferment in a stone jar, with a cloth thrown lightly over it. When it has done fermenting, rack it off carefully, not to disturb the lees. Bottle and cork down well.

CRANBERRY WINE.

Mash ripe berries to a pulp; put into a stone jar.
Add 1 quart of water to 2 quarts of berries.

Stir well and let it stand two days. Strain through a double flannel bag; mash a second supply of berries, equal in quantity to the first, and cover with this liquid. Steep two days more; strain; add

1 lb. sugar for 3 quarts of liquor,

and boil five minutes. Let it ferment in lightly covered jars; rack off and bottle.

This is said to be very good for scrofula.

STRAWBERRY WINE.

3 quarts of strawberries, mashed and strained. To the juice (there should be about a quart, if the berries are ripe and fresh) add

1 quart of water.
1 lb. of sugar.

Stir up well and ferment in a clean, sweet cask, leaving the bung out. When the working subsides close tightly, or rack off into bottles.

This is said by those who have tasted it to be very good.

CURRANT WINE.

Pick, stem, mash, and strain the currants, which should be very ripe.

To 1 quart of juice add
¾ lb. white sugar.
½ pint of water.

Stir all together long and well; put into a clean cask, leaving out the bung, and covering the whole with a bit of lace or mosquito net. Let it ferment about four weeks—rack off when it is quite still, and bottle.

JAMAICA GINGER-BEER.

1 bottle Jamaica Ginger Extract.
1 oz. cream-tartar.
6 quarts water.
1 lb. sugar.

Stir until the sugar is melted, then put in the grated peel of a lemon, and heat until blood-warm. Add a tablespoonful of brewers’ yeast; stir well and bottle, wiring down the corks. It will be fit for use in four days.

This is a refreshing and healthful beverage mixed with pounded ice in hot weather.

RAISIN WINE.

1 lb. white sugar.
2 lbs. raisins, seeded and chopped.
1 lemon—all the juice and half the grated peel.
2 gallons boiling water.

Put all into a stone jar, and stir every day for a week. Strain, then, and bottle it. It will be fit for use in ten days.

LEMONADE OR SHERBET.

3 lemons to a quart of water.
6 tablespoonfuls of sugar.

Pare the yellow peel from the lemons, and, unless you mean to use the Sherbet immediately, leave it out. It gives a bitter taste to the sugar if left long in it. Slice and squeeze the lemons upon the sugar, add a very little water, and let them stand fifteen minutes. Then fill up with water; ice well, stir, and pour out.

ORANGEADE

Is made in the same manner, substituting oranges for lemons.

STRAWBERRY SHERBET. (_Delicious._) ✠

1 quart of strawberries.
3 pints of water.
1 lemon—the juice only.
1 tablespoonful orange-flower water.
¾ lb. white sugar.

The strawberries should be fresh and ripe. Crush to a smooth paste; add the rest of the ingredients (except the sugar), and let it stand three hours. Strain over the sugar, squeezing the cloth hard; stir until the sugar is dissolved; strain again and set in ice for two hours or more before you use it.

REGENT’S PUNCH. (_Fine._)

1 lb. loaf-sugar or rock candy.
1 large cup strong black tea—(made).
3 wineglasses of brandy.
3 wineglasses of rum.
1 bottle champagne.
2 oranges—juice only.
3 lemons—juice only.
1 large lump of ice.

This receipt was given me by a gentleman of the old school, a connoisseur in the matter of beverages as of cookery. “Tell your readers,” he writes, “that better punch was never brewed.” I give receipt and message together.

ROMAN PUNCH.

3 coffee cups of lemonade—(strong and sweet.)
1 glass champagne.
1 glass rum.
2 oranges—juice only.
2 eggs—whites only—well whipped.
½ lb. powdered sugar, beaten into the stiffened whites.

You must ice abundantly—or, if you prefer, freeze.

SHERRY COBBLER.

Several slices of pineapple, cut in quarters.
A lemon, sliced thin.
An orange, sliced thin.
½ cup of powdered sugar.
1 tumbler of Sherry wine.
Ice-water.
Pounded ice.

Take a wide-mouthed quart pitcher and lay the sliced fruit in order at the bottom, sprinkling sugar and pounded ice between the layers. Cover with sugar and ice, and let all stand together five minutes. Add then two tumblers of water and all the sugar, and stir well to dissolve this. Fill the pitcher nearly full of pounded ice, pour in the wine, and stir up from the bottom until the ingredients are thoroughly mixed. In pouring it out put a slice of each kind of fruit in each goblet before adding the liquid.

It is best sucked through a straw or glass tube.

NECTAR. ✠

Make as above, substituting a little rose-water for the pineapple, and squeezing out the juice of the orange and lemon, instead of putting in the slices. Sprinkle nutmeg on the top.

This forms a delicious and refreshing drink for invalids.

CLARET PUNCH. ✠

1 bottle of claret.
¼ the quantity of ice-water.
2 lemons, sliced.
½ cup powdered sugar.

Cover the sliced lemon with sugar and let it stand ten minutes. Add the water; stir hard for a whole minute, and pour in the wine. Put pounded ice in each glass before filling with the mixture.

EGG NOGG. ✠

6 eggs—whites and yolks beaten separately and very stiff.
1 quart rich milk.
½ cup of sugar.
½ pint best brandy.
Flavor with nutmeg.

Stir the yolks into the milk with the sugar, which should first be beaten with the yolks. Next comes the brandy. Lastly whip in the whites of three eggs.

CHERRY BOUNCE.

4 lbs. of sour and the same quantity of sweet cherries.
2½ lbs. white sugar.
1 gallon best whiskey.

Crush the cherries to pieces by pounding in a deep wooden vessel with a smooth billet of wood. Beat hard enough to crack all the stones. Put into a deep stone jar, mix in the sugar well, and cover with the whiskey. Shake around briskly and turn into a demijohn. Cork tightly and let it stand a month, shaking it every day, and another month without touching it. Then strain off and bottle.

It is better a year than six months old.

If the Maltese cross appears but seldom in the section devoted to drinks, it is because most of my information respecting their manufacture is second-hand. In my own family they are so little used, except in sickness, that I should not dare to teach others, upon my own authority, how to prepare them. Indeed, the temptation I felt to omit many of them reminded me of a remark made, introductory of preserves, by one of the “Complete Housewives,” who, all five together, drove me to the verge of an attack of congestion of the brain, before I had been a housekeeper for a week. Said this judicious lady:—“Preserves of all kinds are expensive and indigestible, and therefore poisonous. _Therefore_”—again—“I shall not give directions for their manufacture, except to remark that barberries stewed in molasses are economical, and a degree less hurtful than most others of that class of compounds.”

Then I reflected that I might, upon the same principle, exclude all receipts in which cocoanut is used, because it is rank poison to me; while a dear friend of mine would as soon touch arsenic as an egg. A large majority of the beverages I have named are highly medicinal, and deserve a place in the housekeeper’s calendar on that account. Many, so far from being hurtful, are beneficial to a weak stomach or a system suffering under general debility. _None which contain alcohol in any shape should be used daily, much less semi- or tri-daily by a well person._

This principle reduced to practice would prove the preventive ounce which would cure, all over the land, the need for Temperance Societies and Inebriate Asylums.

THE SICK-ROOM.

The sick-chamber should be the most quiet and cheerful in the house—a sacred isle past which the waves of domestic toil and solicitude glide silently. This is not an easy rule to obey. Whoever the invalid may be, whether the mother, father, or the sweet youngling of the flock, the foundations of the household seem thrown out of course while the sickness lasts. You may have good servants and kind friends to aid you, but the hitch in the machinery is not to be smoothed out by their efforts. The irregularity does not annoy you: you do not notice it if the attack be severe or dangerous. All other thoughts are swallowed up in the all-absorbing, ever-present alarm. You count nothing an inconvenience that can bring present relief, or possible healing to the beloved one; disdain for yourself rest or ease while the shadow hangs above the pillow crushed by the helpless head. But when it passes, when the first transport of thankfulness has subsided into an abiding sense of safety, the mind swings back to the accustomed pivot, and your eyes seem to be suddenly unbound. You find, with dismay, that the children have run wild, and the comfort of the whole family been neglected during your confinement to the post of most urgent duty; with displeasure, that the servants have, as you consider, taken advantage of your situation to omit this task, and to slur over that;—in fine, that nothing has been done well, and so many things left altogether undone, that you are “worried out of your senses”—a phrase that too often signifies, out of your temper.

And it is just at this juncture—when you are called to fifty points of attention and labor at once, and are on the verge of despair at the conglomeration worse conglomerated arising before you; fidgetting to pick up dropped stitches in the web you were wont to keep so even—that the invalid becomes most exacting. “Unreasonable,” you name it to yourself, even though it be John himself who calls upon you every third minute for some little office of loving-kindness; who wants to be amused and fed and petted, and made generally comfortable as if he were a six-months-old baby; who never remembers that you must be wearied out with watching and anxiety, and that everything below-stairs is going to destruction for the want of a balance-wheel. The better he loves you the more apt is he to fancy that nobody but you can do anything for him; the more certain to crave something which no one else knows how to prepare. And when you have strained muscle and patience a _little_ further to get it ready, and with prudent foresight made enough to last for several meals, it is more than probable that his fickle taste will suggest something entirely different for “next time.” “Just for a change, you know, dear. One gets so tired of eating the same thing so often!”

He might be more considerate—less childish—you think, turning away that he may not see your change of countenance. When you have taken so much pains to suit him exactly! It is harder yet when he refuses to do more than taste the delicacy you hoped would tempt him.

“It is very nice, I suppose, my love,” says the poor fellow, with the air of a martyr. “But it does not taste right, somehow. Maybe the children can dispose of it. If I had a lemon ice, or some wine jelly such as my mother used to make, I am sure I could relish it. I always did detest sick peoples’ diet!”

If he is very much shaken as to nerves, he will be likely to say, “_messes_.”

“I am fairly wild!” said a loving wife and mother, and thrifty housekeeper, to me one day, when I called to see her.

She had just nursed her husband and three children through the influenza. All had been down with it at once. That form of demoniacal possession is generally conducted upon the wholesale principle. One of her servants had left in disgust at the increased pressure of work; the weather was rainy, blowy, raw; the streets were muddy, and there was no such thing as keeping steps and halls clean, while the four invalids were cross as only toothache or influenza can make human beings.

“I am fairly wild!” said the worthy creature, with tears in her eyes. “I cannot snatch a minute, from morning until night, to put things straight, and yet I am almost tired to death! I was saying to myself as you came in, that I wouldn’t try any longer. I would just sit still until the dirt was piled up to my chin, and _then I would get upon the table!_”

How often I have thought of her odd speech since! sometimes with a smile—more frequently with a sigh. But with all my pity for the nurse and housekeeper, I cannot conceal from myself—I would not forget, or let you forget for a moment—the truth that the sick one is the greater sufferer. It is never pleasant to be laid upon the shelf. The resting-place—falsely so-called—is hard and narrow and uneven enough, even when the tramp of the outer world does not jar the sore and jaded frame; when there is no apparent need for the sick person to be upon his feet, and for aught that others can see, or he can say, he might just as well stay where he is for a month or two. But when, the rack of pain having been removed, the dulled perceptions of the mind re-awaken to sensitiveness, and there comes to his ear the bugle-call of duty—sharp, imperative;—when every idle moment speaks to him of a slain opportunity, and the no longer strong man shakes his fetters with piteous cries against fate, do not despise, or be impatient with him. He is feverish and inconsiderate and capricious because he is not himself. You see only the poor wreck left by the demon as he tore his way out of him at the Divine command. Gather it up lovingly in your arms, and nurse it back to strength and comeliness. The sick should always be the chief object of thought and care with all in the household.’ If need be, let the dirt lie chin-deep everywhere else, so long as it is kept out of that one room. There be jealous in your care that nothing offends sight and smell.

There should be _no_ smell in a sick-chamber. To avoid this, let in the air freely and often. Cologne-water will not dispel a foul odor, while disinfectants are noisome in themselves. Bathe the patient as frequently and thoroughly as prudence will allow, and change his clothing, with the bed-linen, every day. Do not keep the medicines where he can see them, nor ever let him witness the mixing of that which he is to swallow. So soon as his meals are over, remove every vestige of them from the room. Even a soiled spoon, lying on table or bureau, may offend his fastidious appetite. Cover the stand or waiter from which he eats with a spotless napkin, and serve his food in your daintiest ware.

My heart softens almost to tearfulness when I recall the hours, days, weeks, I have myself spent in the chamber of languishing, and the ingenuity of tenderness that, from my babyhood, has striven to cheat the imprisonment of weariness, and make me forget pain and uselessness. The pretty surprises daily invented for my entertainment; the exceeding nicety with which they were set out before me; the loving words that nourished my spirit when the body was faint unto death,—these are events, not slight incidents, in the book of memory. When I cease to be grateful for them, or to learn from them how to minister unto others of the like consolation, may my heart forget to beat, my right hand lose her cunning!

Do not ask your charge what he would like to eat to-day. He will, of a surety, sicken with the effort at selection, and say, “Nothing!” But watch attentively for the slightest intimation of a desire for any particular delicacy, and if you are assured that it cannot hurt him, procure it, if you can, without letting him guess at your intention. Feed him lightly and often, never bringing more into his sight than he may safely eat. A big bowl of broth or jelly will either tempt him to imprudence, or discourage him. “Am I to be burdened with all that?” cries the affrighted stomach, and will have none of it. While he is very weak, feed him with your own hand, playfully, as you would a child, talking cheerily of something besides his food, and coaxing him into taking the needed nutriment as only a wife and mother can, or as nobody but John could beguile you to effort in the same direction.

Study all pleasant and soothing arts to while away the time, and keep worry of every kind away from him. A trifle at which you can laugh will be a burden to the enfeebled mind and body, and he has nothing to do but lie still and roll it over until it swells into a mountain. When he can be removed without danger, let him have his meals in another room, changing the air of each when he is not in it. Every one who has suffered from long sickness knows the peculiar loathing attendant upon the idea that all food is tainted with the atmosphere of the chamber in which it is served, and if eaten in bed, tastes of the mattress and pillows. The room and all in it may be clean, fresh, and sweet, but the fancy cannot be dismissed. And it is wiser to humor than to reason with most sick fancies.

A hired nurse is a useful, often a necessary thing, but while you are upon your feet, and mistress of your own house, delegate to no one the precious task of catering for the dear sufferer. It is an art in itself. I hope a practical knowledge of it will be taught in Women’s Medical Colleges, when they are an established “institution” with us.

I wish it were proper to record here the name of one of the kindest and best family physicians I ever knew, who had charge of my not very firm health during my girlhood. He owed much—I suppose no one ever knew really how much—of his success in his practice to his tact and skill in devising palatable and suitable nourishment for his patients. I well remember the childish pleasure with which I would hear him say when the violence of the attack had passed—“Now, my dear child, we must begin with kitchen physic!” and the glow of amused expectation with which I used to watch him, as, with an arch show of mystery, he would beckon my mother from the room to receive his “prescription;” the impatience with which I awaited the result of the conference, and the zest with which I ate whatever he ordered.

If I could have persuaded him to manage this department of my work, it would win for me the degree of M.D. with a new meaning—Mistress of Dietetics.

THE SICK-ROOM.

BEEF TEA. ✠

1 lb. _lean_ beef, cut into small pieces.

Put into a jar without a drop of water; cover tightly, and set in a pot of cold water. Heat gradually to a boil, and continue this steadily for three or four hours, until the meat is like white rags, and the juice all drawn out. Season with salt to taste, and when cold, skim. The patient will often prefer this ice-cold to hot. Serve with Albert biscuit or thin “wafers,” unleavened, made by a receipt given under the head of BREAD.

MUTTON BROTH. ✠

1 lb. lean mutton or lamb, cut small.
1 quart water—cold.
1 tablespoonful rice, or barley, soaked in a very little warm water.
4 tablespoonfuls milk.
Salt and pepper, with a little chopped parsley.

Boil the meat, unsalted, in the water, keeping it closely covered, until it falls to pieces. Strain it out, skim, add the soaked barley or rice; simmer half an hour, stirring often; stir in the seasoning and the milk, and simmer five minutes after it heats up well, taking care it does not burn.

Serve hot with cream crackers.

CHICKEN BROTH. ✠

Is excellent made in the same manner as mutton, cracking the bones well before you put in the fowl.

VEAL AND SAGO BROTH.

2 lbs. knuckle of veal, cracked all to pieces.
2 quarts of cold water.
3 tablespoonfuls best pearl sago, soaked in a cup of cold water.
1 cup cream, heated to boiling.
Yolks of two eggs, beaten light.

Boil the veal and water in a covered saucepan very slowly until reduced to one quart of liquid; strain, skim, season with salt, and stir in the soaked sago (having previously warmed it by setting for half an hour in a saucepan of boiling water, and stirring from time to time.) Simmer half an hour, taking care it does not burn; beat in the cream and eggs; give one good boil up, and turn out.

This is excellent for consumptives.

BEEF AND SAGO BROTH.

2 lbs. of beef—cut up small.
2 quarts of water.
1 cup of sago, soaked soft in a little lukewarm water.
Yolks of three eggs.
Salt to taste.

Stew the beef until it falls to pieces; strain it out, salt the liquid and stir in the sago. Simmer gently one hour, stirring often. Add the beaten yolks: boil up once and serve.

This is a strengthening and nice soup. Eat with dry toast.

ARROWROOT JELLY (_Plain._) ✠

1 cup _boiling_ water.
2 heaping teaspoonfuls of best Bermuda arrowroot.
1 teaspoonful lemon juice.
2 teaspoonfuls of white sugar.

Wet the arrowroot in a little cold water, and rub smooth. Then stir into the hot, which should be on the fire and actually boiling at the time, with the sugar already melted in it. Stir until clear, boiling steadily all the while, and add the lemon. Wet a cup in cold water, and pour in the jelly to form. Eat cold with sugar and cream flavored with rose-water.

An invaluable preparation in cases where wine is forbidden.

ARROWROOT WINE JELLY. ✠

1 cup boiling water.
2 heaping teaspoonfuls arrowroot.
2 heaping white sugar.
1 tablespoonful brandy _or_ 3 tablespoonfuls of wine.

An excellent corrective to weak bowels.

ARROWROOT BLANC MANGE. ✠

1 cupful _boiling_ milk.
2 dessertspoonfuls best arrowroot, rubbed smooth in cold water.
2 teaspoonfuls white sugar.
Vanilla or other essence.

Boil until it thickens well, stirring all the while. Eat cold with cream, flavored with rose-water, and sweetened to taste.

SAGO

May be substituted for arrowroot in any of the foregoing receipts, when you have soaked it an hour in water poured over it cold, and gradually warmed by setting the cup containing it in hot water. Boil rather longer than you do the arrowroot.

SAGO GRUEL. ✠

2 cups water.
2 tablespoonfuls sago.
3 teaspoonfuls white sugar.
1 glass of wine.
1 tablespoonful lemon juice.
Nutmeg to taste, and a pinch of salt.

Put the sago in the water while cold, and warm by setting in a saucepan of boiling water. Stir often, and let it soften and heat for one hour. Then _boil_ ten minutes, stirring all the while; add the sugar, wine, and lemon, and pour into a bowl or mould to cool. Eat warm, if preferred. The wine and nutmeg should be omitted if the patient be feverish.

INDIAN MEAL GRUEL. ✠

2 quarts of boiling water.
1 cup of Indian meal, and
1 tablespoonful flour, wet up with cold water.
Salt to taste—and, if you like, sugar and nutmeg.

Wet the meal and flour to a smooth paste, and stir into the water while it is actually boiling. Boil slowly one hour, stirring up well from the bottom. Season with salt to taste. Some sweeten it, but I like it better with a little pepper added to the salt.

If a cathartic is desired, omit the wheat flour altogether.

OATMEAL GRUEL

Is made in the same way.

MILK AND RICE GRUEL.

1 quart boiling milk.
2 tablespoonfuls (heaping) of ground rice, wet with cold milk.
1 saltspoonful of salt.

Stir in the rice-paste and boil ten minutes, stirring all the while. Season with sugar and nutmeg, and eat warm with cream.

You may use Indian meal instead of rice-flour, which is an astringent. In this case, boil an hour.

DRIED FLOUR FOR TEETHING CHILDREN.

1 cup of flour, tied in a stout muslin bag and dropped into cold
water, then set over the fire.

_Boil_ three hours steadily. Turn out the flour ball and dry in the hot sun all day; or, if you need it at once, dry in a moderate oven without shutting the door.

_To use it—_

Grate a tablespoonful for a cupful of boiling milk and water (half and half). Wet up the flour with a very little cold water, stir in and boil five minutes. Put in a little salt.

TAPIOCA JELLY. ✠ (_Very good._)

1 cup of tapioca.
3 cups of cold water.
Juice of a lemon, and a pinch of the grated peel.
Sweeten to taste.

Soak the tapioca in the water four hours. Set within a saucepan of boiling water; pour more lukewarm water over the tapioca if it has absorbed too much of the liquid, and heat, stirring frequently. If too thick after it begins to clear, put in a very little boiling water. When quite clear, put in the sugar and lemon. Pour into moulds. Eat cold, with cream flavored with rose-water and sweetened.

TAPIOCA BLANC-MANGE. ✠

1 cup of tapioca soaked in two cups cold water.
3 cups boiling milk.
3 tablespoonfuls white sugar.
Rose-water or vanilla.

Soak the tapioca four hours, and stir, with the water in which it was soaked, into the boiling milk. Sweeten and boil slowly, stirring all the while, fifteen minutes. Take off, flavor and pour into moulds.

Eat cold with cream. Wash tapioca well before soaking.

ARROWROOT CUSTARD. (_Nice._)

2 cups of _boiling_ milk.
3 heaping teaspoonfuls arrowroot, wet up with a little cold milk.
2 tablespoonfuls white sugar, beaten with the egg.
1 egg very well beaten.

Mix the arrowroot paste with the boiling milk; stir three minutes; take from the fire and whip in the egg and sugar. Boil two minutes longer, flavor with vanilla or rose-water, and pour into moulds.

RICE-FLOUR MILK.

2 cups of milk, _boiling_.
2 tablespoonfuls rice-flour, wet up with cold milk.
2 tablespoonfuls white sugar.

Boil ten minutes, stirring all the while, and flavor to taste. Eat warm with cream.

SAGO MILK. ✠

3 tablespoonfuls sago, soaked in a large cup cold water one hour.
3 cups boiling milk.
Sweeten and flavor to taste.

Simmer slowly half an hour. Eat warm.

TAPIOCA MILK

Is made in the same way.

BOILED RICE. ✠

½ cup whole rice, boiled in just enough water to cover it.
1 cup of milk.
A little salt.
1 egg, beaten light.

When the rice is nearly done, turn off the water, add the milk and simmer—taking care it does not scorch—until the milk boils up well. Salt, and beat in the egg.

Eat warm with cream, sugar, and nutmeg.

PANADA. ✠

6 Boston crackers, split.
2 tablespoonfuls white sugar.
A good pinch of salt, and a little nutmeg.
Enough _boiling_ water to cover them well.

Split the crackers, and pile in a bowl in layers, salt and sugar scattered among them. Cover with boiling water and set on the hearth, with a close top over the bowl, for at least one hour. The crackers should be almost clear and soft as jelly, but not broken.

Eat from the bowl, with more sugar sprinkled in if you wish it. If properly made, this panada is very nice.

BREAD PANADA, OR JELLY. ✠

Pare some slices of stale baker’s bread and toast nicely, without burning. Pile in a bowl, sprinkling sugar and a very little salt between; cover well with _boiling_ water, and set, with a tight lid upon the top, in a pan of boiling water. Simmer gently, until the contents of the bowl are like jelly. Eat warm with powdered sugar and nutmeg.

CHICKEN JELLY. (_Very nourishing._) ✠

Half a raw chicken, pounded with a mallet, bones and meat together.
Plenty of cold water to cover it well—_about_ a quart.

Heat slowly in a covered vessel, and let it simmer until the meat is in white rags and the liquid reduced one half. Strain and press, first through a cullender, then through a coarse cloth. Salt to taste, and pepper, if you think best; return to the fire, and simmer five minutes longer. Skim when cool. Give to the patient cold—just from the ice—with unleavened wafers. Keep on the ice. You can make into sandwiches by putting the jelly between thin slices of bread spread lightly with butter.

CALVES’ FEET BROTH.

2 calves’ feet.
2 quarts cold water.
1 egg, beaten up with two tablespoonfuls milk for each cupful
of broth.
Pepper and salt.

Boil the feet to shreds; strain the liquor through a double muslin bag; season to taste, and set by for use, as you need it. Warm by the small quantity, allowing to each cupful a beaten egg and two tablespoonfuls of milk. Give a good boil up to cook these, and serve “with thin, crisp toast. If the patient can take it, a dash of lemon-juice improves the broth.

TOAST WATER. ✠

Slices of toast, nicely browned, without a symptom of burning.
Enough boiling water to cover them.

Cover closely, and let them steep until cold. Strain the water, sweeten to taste, and put a piece of ice in each glassful. If the physician thinks it safe, add a little lemon-juice.

APPLE WATER. ✠

1 large juicy pippin, the most finely-flavored you can get.
3 cups of cold water—1 quart if the apple is very large.

Pare and quarter the apple, but do not core it. Put it on the fire in a tin or porcelain saucepan with the water, and boil, closely covered, until the apple stews to pieces. Strain the liquor _at once_, pressing the apple hard in the cloth. Strain this again through a finer bag, and set away to cool. Sweeten with white sugar, and ice for drinking.

It is a refreshing and palatable drink.

JELLY WATER. ✠

1 large teaspoonful currant or cranberry jelly.
1 goblet ice-water.

Beat up well for a fever-patient.

Wild cherry or blackberry jelly is excellent, prepared in like manner for those suffering with summer complaint.

FLAX-SEED LEMONADE. ✠

4 tablespoonfuls flax-seed (whole.)
1 quart boiling water poured upon the flax-seed.
Juice of two lemons, leaving out the peel.
Sweeten to taste.

Steep three hours in a covered pitcher. If too thick, put in cold water with the lemon-juice and sugar. Ice for drinking.

It is admirable for colds.

SLIPPERY-ELM BARK TEA.

Break the bark into bits, pour boiling water over it, cover and let it infuse until cold. Sweeten, ice, and take for summer disorders, or add lemon-juice and drink for a bad cold.

APPLE TODDY. ✠

Boil a large juicy pippin in a quart of water, and when it has broken to pieces strain off the water. While it is still boiling-hot, add a glass of fine old whiskey, a little lemon-juice, and sweeten to taste.

Take hot at bed-time for influenza.

MILK PUNCH. ✠

1 tumbler of milk, well sweetened.
2 tablespoonfuls best brandy, well stirred in.

I have known very sick patients to be kept alive for days at a time by this mixture, and nothing else, until Nature could rally her forces. Give very cold with ice.

EGG AND MILK PUNCH ✠

Is made by the preceding receipt, with an egg beaten very light with the sugar, and stirred in before the brandy is added.

ICELAND OR IRISH MOSS LEMONADE. ✠

1 handful Irish or Iceland moss, washed in five waters.
2 quarts boiling water, poured upon the moss, and left until cold.
2 lemons, peeled and sliced, leaving out the peel.
Sweeten very well and ice.

Do not strain, and if it thicken too much, add cold water.

Excellent for feverish colds and all pulmonary troubles.

ICELAND OR IRISH MOSS JELLY. ✠

1 handful moss, washed in five waters, and soaked an hour.
1 quart _boiling_ water.
2 lemons—the juice only.
1 glass of wine.
¼ teaspoonful cinnamon. (Measure scantily.)

Soak the washed moss in a very little cold water; stir into the boiling, and simmer until it is dissolved. Sweeten, flavor, and strain into moulds. You may use two glasses of cider instead of one of wine for a fever-patient, putting in a little less water.

Good for colds, and very nourishing.

SEA-MOSS BLANC-MANGE

Is made in the same way, using boiling milk instead of water, and leaving out the lemons and wine. Flavor with vanilla or rose-water.

DRY TOAST.

Pare off the crust from stale light bread; slice half an inch thick and toast _quickly_. Graham bread is very nice toasted.

Butter lightly if the patient can eat butter.

MILK TOAST. ✠

Toast as just directed; dip each slice, as it comes from the toaster, in boiling water; butter, salt slightly, and lay in a deep covered dish. Have ready in a saucepan enough boiling milk to cover all well. When your slices are packed, salt this very slightly; melt in it a bit of butter and pour over them. Cover closely and let it stand five minutes before using it. It is excellent when made of Graham bread.