Chapter XXXVI

TO BOIL AND PREPARE LOBSTER—SANDWICHES—CLEARING SOUP—OMELET SOUFFLÉ.

THE next morning the lobster which Molly had ordered was sent; it was quite a large one, and it was put on _head downward_ into boiling water in which there were four table-spoonfuls of salt to the gallon. Marta was told to let it boil gently half an hour, then to take it out, as if it boils too long the meat becomes tough and stringy; but, although Marta had that order and Molly left the kitchen to go through her usual morning duties up-stairs, Mrs. Welles noticed that when the half hour was up Molly herself went to see that Marta had not forgotten.

“My dear Molly, a Marta would be the death of me, or I of her, if I had one.”

“Why?”

“She requires such endless looking after. Why don’t you get a more experienced girl?”

“Because perhaps the experienced girl would be the ‘death of me.’ I mean it is unlikely the experience would exactly fit my needs, and if it did not, it would be in the way of her learning my ways.”

“Does Marta learn?”

“Indeed she does—slowly; but remember, she is so newly arrived.”

“Oh, it is not her accomplishments I disparage, but that you cannot trust her to carry out such a simple order as to take a thing out of water at a certain time. What made you give the order if you did not expect to have it remembered?”

“Moral effect, I suppose,” laughed Molly. “I always pretend to leave things to Marta, but as a matter of fact, it was the very simplicity of this thing that made me careful; Marta is impressed, I find, with large appearances; if I tell her to do something that is to have some very choice result, although I expect her to blunder, she generally surprises me by carrying out the order well, because she is impressed, and all her attention on the alert. She can do three or four things now she is proud of; one is frying, because she has completely mastered the art, and the results are so showy; then she has lived in Germany as scullion, where she has heard fine cooking spoken of with respect, and knows it is worth doing well. The difficulty lies generally in the fact that half our servants don’t know that there is such a thing as standard cooking; anything beyond their ken is ‘new-fangled,’ and is a mystery not worth knowing.”

“Well, well, I admire your patience; I never could emulate it.”

“Oh, yes, you would, if it were only necessary; but with you it is not; you have several servants, and can import your cooks specially trained.”

“Molly, I could do without servants easily; I would, rather than watch and follow as you do Marta.”

“We’ll talk over this another time. I’m sure you would not, for long, like to do without a pair of willing, if clumsy hands; a dirty servant, I grant, you are better without,—but I must go down.”

“And I too. What shall I do?”

“Make mayonnaise for the sandwiches.

“Put on the soup, Marta, and the vegetables in it as I told you yesterday.”

The lobster was now cool, and Molly began to prepare it. She took off the claws, split it down the back, then called Marta to watch as she removed the entrail that runs through the tail. “In the head is found a small bladder or bag which must be taken out; it is sometimes called the ‘lady;’ and along each side, under the shell, will be found bits of a drab-colored spongy substance called the ‘lady’s fingers;’ they are at the root of the small claws; when these are removed, all the rest of the lobster is good. This soft, greenish fat might seem to you should be thrown away, but it is, many think, the best part of the lobster.”

The claws were then cracked and the meat taken out. Molly then made a pint of white sauce and divided it into two parts. Into one she put the meat of the lobster chopped fine, and seasoned it very highly with pepper and salt, and enough lemon juice to give a perceptible acid or piquant taste, and two tea-spoonfuls of very finely chopped pickled cucumber.

To the other sauce she stirred the contents of a box of chicken also chopped fine, and a large table-spoonful of the mayonnaise, which was made rather more tart than usual, and this also was seasoned highly and a tea-spoonful of capers stirred through it. Both the lobster and chicken were put away till time to cut sandwiches.

The dinner was to be oysters on the half shell and stewed steak, as being easy and _British_.

The recipe was given to Marta, who, with a little looking after, could prepare it. It was as follows:—

Put a table-spoonful of butter in a stew-pan; when hot lay in a pound and a half of the tender side of round steak floured, having removed nearly all fat. Let it quickly brown with one onion, cut in slices; then put to it a pint of boiling water. Draw it to the side of the fire, where it will just simmer for two hours and a half; then take the meat up on a hot dish, and skim the gravy clear of fat; stir into it a dessert-spoonful of brown thickening (see recipe, Chapter XIII.), and a half can of mushrooms, with the liquor. Let this boil fast till there is about half a pint; season with pepper and salt, take off the little skin of grease that fast boiling has sent to the surface, draw it back from the fire, and lay the steak in again; let it all just _keep at the boiling-point_, not boil, for a quarter of an hour.

Harry was to come home at five to get dinner over, and by way of a sweet dish they were to have omelette soufflé, or as Harry called it, _hot_ ice cream; it was quickly made and required no sauce. After luncheon, as there was nothing more to be done till the _consommé_ was ready to clear, Molly and her friend went out to walk. At half a mile distance there was a spot where Molly had remarked the lovely ferns and moss; they took a basket to bring some home to dress the rooms, and as there were few flowers, they gathered the white plumes of the wild carrot.

“I think we will resist the golden-rod, graceful as it is; every room in Greenfield has a bunch of it, no doubt.”

When in the house two ginger-jars were filled with the ferns and tall white blossoms; from one, long sprays of honeysuckle from their own piazza were trailing, and this was put on the little stand in the hall. The other jar was put in the fireplace in the parlor. About the rooms tufts of bright red geraniums were set in specimen glasses.

“I think that looks quite festive,” said Mrs. Welles, surveying the effect. “Will you have autumn leaves for the buffet?”

“I confess I don’t like them in rooms, beautiful as they are on trees; I thought of filling those tall jars with these ferns and putting single sprays of them in tall champagne glasses between the dishes of sandwiches.”

“That will be prettier.”

Molly had decided, as Marta would be a shy and possibly awkward waitress, to have everything except soup and coffee arranged prettily on the sideboard, and every gentleman could help himself and a lady. The coffee and _consommé_ would be sent round, and a small table had a tea-equipage arranged on it. Mrs. Welles would steer Marta to safety, when she should start with the waiter. It was a matter for discussion whether Marta should be called upon at all, and she was admitted to service simply as a pleasure to herself; Molly knew she would be greatly disappointed if she were not allowed to take some active part in the proceedings.

“You are a curious girl, Molly,” Mrs. Welles had said when she heard Molly’s reason. “It would not have occurred to me.”

“Nor to me, perhaps, if I had not remembered that this girl has no acquaintances about here, and to the festive German nature to sit in a quiet kitchen, and hear voices and laughter, must be infinitely more dull than making herself useful and seeing the faces of those who laugh and talk. I can see she is quite excited by the thought of numbers of people.”

The sideboard was moved into the pantry off the dining-room; two Albert biscuit boxes were put, one at each end of it, a small board (one of a set of hanging book-shelves removed for the occasion) was placed on them and then covered with a fine white napkin; at each end a vase of ferns, and along it, disposed so that the colors would show to best advantage, were the iced cakes and macaroons. On the sideboard itself another long white napkin was laid, and here were to be the dishes of sandwiches; the arrangement of this beforehand freed Molly from anxiety, and when the door of the pantry was closed it was not seen; yet with it open the sideboard was so placed that it and nothing else was visible from the room. A bracket lamp was to be fastened so as to light it up as much as the interior of the dining-room. When the arrangements were all made, Mrs. Welles and Molly repaired to the kitchen. The dinner was quietly cooking and Marta had just got through her work.

“I will clear the soup first, because I want you to see it, Marta.” Molly took the two whites of eggs and their shells left from the mayonnaise and two more; then she beat up shells and all to a froth, mixed a small cup of the cold soup with them, and poured the whole into the soup, beating all the while till it was at boiling-point again; then she drew it back from the fire and left it ten minutes. While it settled, she put a large mixing-bowl on the table, and a colander in that; then an old napkin, that she had dipped into boiling water and wrung out, was laid over the colander. In ten minutes the egg was hanging in the soup like white curds and the soup itself looked quite clear.

It was poured through the cloth and allowed to drip. Molly lifted the colander, and when the soup had run through removed it _without squeezing_. The soup lay in the bowl like clear weak tea. Molly added a few drops of caramel (see Chapter XIII.), and then tasted it for seasoning. The caramel only made it a shade darker than it was, just a bright straw color. The boiling with the vegetables had reduced it to about five quarts. Intending it to be so reduced had caused Molly to omit part of the salt; if salted for _eight_ quarts and reduced to _five_ it would be too salt to use, as _salt never evaporates_.

The soup was now put into a marbleized preserving-pan, which would give no more taste than a china bowl, and be ready to boil up when required.

Mrs. Welles had, meanwhile, been cutting sandwiches, and already had quite a pile of thin slices of bread, which Molly now spread thinly with mayonnaise. When two loaves were cut up, Mrs. Welles put a thin layer of the chicken mixture on some of the slices Molly had spread with mayonnaise; then put another slice over it, and when a good many were done, the crust was cut off all round and each slice cut from corner to corner, thus making four little three-cornered sandwiches. When there were enough of these done, they treated the lobster in the same way, and when all were cut and arranged on dishes a _damp_ cloth was laid over them, and they were put in a cool place till just before they were needed. Everything was now ready. Mrs. Winfield’s reserve cups and saucers had all been got out and dusted; Mrs. Lennox had sent over a dozen. These were put in readiness, with piles of small plates, napkins, etc., on a large tray to be brought in and placed by the sideboard when the time came.

OMELET SOUFFLÉ.—Molly beat four whites of eggs till they would not slip from the bowl, just before dinner, and then the yolks of two she beat four minutes with three table-spoonfuls of powdered sugar and one tea-spoonful of vanilla extract.

When Marta was ready to put the dinner on the table, Molly turned the whites of the eggs on the yolks, and mixed them very gently, _lifting_ the yolks as it were _over_ the whites with the spoon, not stirring them; any quick movement with whites of eggs tends to liquefy them; then she buttered an oval dish and heaped the mixture lightly on it, a table-spoonful at a time, piling always towards the middle; then she sifted powdered sugar over it, and just before she went in to dinner she put it in the oven, which was moderately hot.

“It will take about ten minutes to get a golden brown, Marta, and when you look at it be careful not to fully open the door, for the least draught may cause it to fall; and when it is nicely brown bring it in without waiting for anything. I will have the table ready for you.”