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Soup (We now come to consider soups)

We now come to consider soups in general, and we will divide them into three classes--clear, thick, and purees. Clear soups are, of course, as the word implies, bright as well as thin; thick soup is generally of the consistency of ordinary cream, or not quite so thick, and is, of course, not transparent. By a puree we do not necessarily mean a soup of a thicker consistency than ordinary thick soup, but we would distinguish between thick soups and purees as follows:--A thick soup owes its consistency to the addition of some artificial thickening, such as brown roux, arrowroot, etc.; a puree owes its consistency to the fact that the ingredients have been rubbed through a tamis or a wire sieve. This latter distinction is of the utmost importance. Unfortunately, we have no English word that conveys exactly the same idea as the French word puree, and consequently we are often obliged to use the word soup where the word puree would convey a better meaning. For instance, pea-soup should really be called puree of peas; Palestine soup, puree of artichokes.

The first soup known to humanity was probably composed of milk and grain. Before the art of making bread was known, a nutritious food was obtained from crushed seeds added to the milk of domestic animals. This was the first step in culinary art. As civilisation advanced new methods were adopted, and some of these were of so singular a combination that the very mention of them in the present day excites a feeling of disgust. In the reign of Louis XIV. an immense variety of soups was served at the same repast, and one called "soupe a la moutarde" was partaken of with relish. It included among its ingredients fried eggs, mustard, ginger, sugar, and spices, the whole boiled in water or broth and flavoured with vinegar.

Soup has always been appreciated as an article of food, and now that greater care is given to its preparation it ranks first among aliments. Nothing can be better than soup to aid digestion, especially at an evening meal; it prepares the way for more solid substances, and prevents their having a bad effect on the stomach.

As we have already described how to make good strong stock, and also how to clear it, our remarks with regard to clear soup must be almost entirely confined to the ingredients that are added to the stock, and give rise to the various names by which soups are distinguished. For instance, vermicelli soup is simply vermicelli boiled in stock, macaroni soup is macaroni boiled in stock. The best method of preparing these and all soups will be found under the proper headings in another part of the present work; but I would remind cooks of the general principle to be observed in adding these ingredients to stock, and that is, cleanliness. Whenever macaroni, vermicelli, pearl-barley, etc., have to be added to soup, they should invariably be at any rate partially boiled in plain water first, in order that the outside dirty part may be washed off by being dissolved.

It is of no use to wash vermicelli, macaroni, barley, etc., in cold water to clean it--it must be boiled; and in the case of macaroni of all kinds and vermicelli it is best to boil it in plain water till it is tender, and then add it to the stock. Of course, in the case of an ingredient like barley, where it is added to broth to increase the nourishment, it should only be boiled sufficiently long to ensure all the outside being dissolved, so that perfect cleanliness may be obtained. How many cooks are there who can call to mind the following misadventure with the soup? They have got the stock as bright as sherry, they have added the vermicelli, and it has turned, not thick, but cloudy--the reason being that they did not boil the vermicelli in water separately.

We next come to that very large variety of soups that contain vegetables; the best one to take as a type of the class perhaps being spring soup. Spring soup is simply a number of vegetables boiled in stock; such vegetables as turnips, celery, carrots, small spring onions, cauliflowers, asparagus tops, green peas, etc. Now when we come to speak generally on the principles of boiling vegetables, we shall have to explain the importance of leaving plenty of room for the steam to escape, in order to ensure a good colour being attained. These vegetables, therefore, should not be thrown into the stock direct, but into boiling water first. By this means, besides perfect cleanliness being guaranteed, the vegetables will look brighter than they otherwise would do; and we all know the difference between soup in which the carrot is a bright red and the peas a bright green, and soup in which the former is a dirty brown and the latter a dirty yellow. I would here, in passing, observe that many English cooks imagine that spring soup and Julienne soup are the same thing. In properly made Julienne soup the vegetables are first stewed in a little butter in a stewpan till they begin to turn colour slightly, or, in other words, till they just begin to brown; then the stock is added, as well as a little sugar. Owing to this difference in the preparation, the flavour is materially altered--of course, the butter is thrown up by boiling and removed by skimming. We will next discuss that exceedingly delicious soup known as clear mock turtle. An excellent recipe is given in its proper place. I would, however, remind the cook of the importance in making clear mock turtle of having the flavouring herbs in proper proportions. Sweet basil should form quite one-third of the whole quantity, and marjoram, lemon-thyme, and winter savoury should make up the other two-thirds. We will suppose, of course, that as a rule calf's head is used to make the soup--though a very excellent imitation can be made by using pig's head instead. But we will not enter into the whole details of soup-making, which, as we have said, will be found elsewhere, but will say a few words on the general principles to be remembered when adding wine to soups. A very rich, glutinous soup like mock turtle--or, of course, the still richer genuine turtle--will bear a large quantity of wine. Madeira is by far the best, but good sherry will answer the same purpose. And here I would strongly appeal to the mistress of the house against the folly of using, not cheap sherry, but some extraordinary compound that is not sherry at all, for cooking purposes. Bad sherry will no more make good soups or jellies than bad eggs will make good puddings or custards. I should be glad if some of my readers would try the following experiment:--Have some good clear mock turtle soup made; taste it before the wine is put to it--suppose the quantity to be three quarts. Add a tumblerful of Madeira, and then taste, and let them ask themselves whether the difference in the flavour is not well worth the money.

There are several soups that will bear, and be very much improved by, the addition of sherry, and we would mention soup made from calves' feet or ox feet, giblet soup, and soup made from any kind of game. Hare soup requires port wine, and not sherry, and of course the same observations that applied to sherry apply to the port. If you cannot afford or obtain real port, do not put in any bad wine to spoil the hare. I would here mention the fact that wherever port is used in cooking, a few cloves, a very little piece of cinnamon, and a little lemon-juice may always be added with advantage. The great secret of success in making good hare soup is rubbing the meat well through a tamis, or wire sieve. The best part of the meat should, of course, be kept to add to the soup after it is made, while the remainder should be well stewed, together with the bones, until these have become bare and white. They should then be taken out, and all the meat and celery with which they have been boiled rubbed through a wire sieve with a wooden spoon. Hare soup requires no thickening. Mulligatawny soup is another not exactly thick soup, and yet not a puree, but a mixture of the two, that we may here allude to, though perhaps a little out of its proper place. Here again the secret of success is patience in rubbing the fried onion, apples, etc., through the tamis; but we will speak of the tamis more fully when we come to "Purees." There is one little point in which mulligatawny soup differs from others, and that is, it requires sour apples in its composition. If sour apples should not be obtainable, a tablespoonful of Edmund's mulligatawny paste will give the soup the peculiar acid twang beloved by epicures.

With regard to thick soups in general, little more need be said than that, as a rule, the only difference is the addition of brown or white roux. We must, however, again remind our readers, as we have done before, almost ad nauseam, of allowing the soup to boil and throw up the butter, which must be removed by skimming. Soups thickened by arrowroot, cornflour, or plain flour and water, do not require this skimming. The common mistake into which inexperienced cooks fall in making thick soup is making it too thick. By adding too much brown roux the flavour of the soup itself is overpowered. Again, in using arrow-root for thickening, if care be not exercised the soup will be rendered the consistency of a pudding rather than a soup. Recollect, in thickening soups, gravies, etc., the full effect of the thickening added is not felt till the soup or gravy has boiled up for a minute or two; what, therefore, is most requisite is that the cook should possess that quality which of all others I regard as a sine qua non for success--viz. patience; and, to proceed to purees, I will commence with a remark that sounds like a proverb--Patience makes the puree. I doubt if, of all the trying ordeals a good cook has to undergo throughout the year, any is so trying as that of standing over a large wire sieve, wooden spoon in hand, endeavouring to coax the contents through. Let cooks, however, rest assured that this is not labour spent in vain. Take, for example, really good Palestine soup. We will suppose the artichokes--say, a quarter of a peck--to have simmered and got soft in a couple of ounces of butter, and that proper care has been taken to prevent them getting brown. We will then suppose them to have been boiled gently in a quart of good strong white stock, and a bay-leaf added to improve their flavour. Now the whole must be rubbed through a tamis, or wire sieve, otherwise the soup will be poor. However, rub it through, and add half a pint of boiling cream, and you will have a soup that you need not be ashamed to set before the most particular person in the world. By-the-by, if the artichokes--Jerusalem, of course--are not very young, add a little pounded white sugar to the soup at the finish. Carrot soup, turnip soup, vegetable marrow soup, chestnut soup, pea soup, green-pea soup, potato soup, asparagus soup, etc. etc., are all alike in one respect, namely that the one secret of the soup being good is the amount of perseverance displayed in rubbing the ingredients through the tamis. In rubbing these ingredients through, the cook will often find it advisable to scrape the tamis or wire sieve underneath, as the puree will cling to the bottom of the sieve after being worked through it with the spoon. It will also be necessary from time to time to moisten the contents of the sieve with some of the liquid part of the stock that has run through it. However, much allowance should be made for women cooks, who, perhaps unassisted by a kitchen-maid, have to prepare soups of this description. A considerable amount of time must necessarily be spent, and a considerable amount of strength expended, in order to obtain a satisfactory result. In large kitchens, where a man cook superintends, and perhaps two or three young men assist, there is, of course, no difficulty; but where only a woman unassisted has to manage the whole dinner, it should be the duty of the mistress to avoid ordering, as is often done through mere thoughtlessness, many dishes, all of which require a certain amount of manual labour in their preparation. For instance, green-pea soup, whipped cream, and mayonnaise sauce in one dinner would probably overtask the powers of any woman cook unassisted. Most of these vegetable soups and purees are very much improved by the addition of cream, and it will be generally found that boiling cream is ordered to be added. This distinction is important: not merely is the risk of curdling avoided, but the flavour is different. All know, for instance, how different coffee tastes that has had boiling milk added to it instead of ordinary milk. Just so with cream--when cream is used for adding to soup of any description, boil it separately before adding. Now, of course, in ordinary private houses cream is far too expensive to be used often, and, indeed, in London to be used at all, except in small quantities. Milk is a very obvious substitute for cream, especially if the yolk of an egg be added to it; but care must be taken in adding this yolk, or the soup will get curdled. We will suppose, therefore, you are recommended to add a pint of boiling cream to some soup, and that you are obliged to substitute milk and the yolk of an egg. If possible, allow the soup to reduce itself by boiling, and you can then add more than a pint of milk. However, boil this amount, taking the usual care that it does not boil over (which, in the case of milk, happens very suddenly), and pour the boiling fluid through a strainer into the soup; next, have ready the hot soup-tureen and the yolk of egg. Just before serving up the soup, throw the yolk into the tureen, take a spoonful of the soup out of the saucepan and throw it in and beat it up with the yolk, add a few more spoonfuls, one at a time, to the tureen, and mix in the yolk thoroughly; then pour in the remainder of the soup, which should not be absolutely boiling, though thoroughly hot. The effect of this milk and egg will be very similar to a pint of cream, but of course much more economical. When cream or milk is used for these white vegetable soups or purees, a bay-leaf and a suspicion of nutmeg may be added. Only be careful with the nutmeg; a very, very little will go a long way, and too much would utterly ruin the soup. Before leaving the subject of soups, there is one I should like to describe, because it is supposed to be a rare and recherche dish, but is in reality very simple, and can be made without much trouble--I refer to bisque made from crab. When the weather is not too hot, and crabs are cheap, take a nice heavy crab that is not watery, and pick the meat from the claws into shreds with a couple of forks. Then take the soft inside of the back, and pick out all the meat from the rest of the crab, and pound it thoroughly in a mortar with a little boiled rice (about half as much boiled rice as there is crab); add some good stock and cayenne pepper, and rub the whole through a tamis; add some boiling cream, and the shredded meat from the claws at the last moment, just before serving, only take care not to let the bisque boil. Bisque of lobster, bisque of crayfish, is ninety-nine times out of a hundred made principally from crab, and if you can get some lobster butter to colour it no one can tell the difference. Lobster butter is simply the coral of lobster pounded with a little butter and cayenne pepper: it is a beautiful colour, and looks like vermilion paint. This will easily dissolve in soup and turn it a bright red. Lobster sauce and shrimp sauce both require lobster butter. Finally it is desirable that brief reference should be made to that somewhat modern invention--soup preserved in tins. To maintain that tinned soups are equal to those properly made from fresh meat would of course be ridiculous; but the invention is most useful, and, in cases of long voyages, etc., most valuable. A tin or two of soup in the house has always this advantage--it furnishes an extra dish at almost a moment's notice for an unexpected guest. I will now proceed to explain how these tinned soups may be utilised and improved, if their contents are found to be not quite what was expected. Unfortunately, preserved soups differ immensely from one another in quality. Very much, however, can be done by the cook to transform these soups from a flavourless concoction to a really nice soup, only recollect I do not mean that all soups preserved in tins require what cooks call "touching-up," but only that some do. Take, for instance, that most commonly-bought soup--mock turtle. If the tin is a good one, and the weather not extremely hot, the soup when the tin is opened will be a hard jelly. It only requires warming up; but if, on tasting, it appears poor and looks thin and of a bad colour, very much can be done in a few moments to improve it, both in flavour and appearance. A table-spoonful of brown thickening or roux will render it darker and thicker, a little extract of meat or a small piece of glaze will give a better flavour, and last, but not least, half a wine-glassful or a little more of fairly good sherry will transform it, as if by magic, into excellent mock-turtle soup. Almost any soup is improved by the addition of extract of meat, whether it be thick or thin. Hare soup, again, when in a tin, of course requires port wine instead of sherry. Mulligatawny soup is wonderfully improved by the addition of a little curry paste.

It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary for me to remind you that soup, like stock, will be preserved in hot weather better by being boiled up fresh every day, and also that soup that has had cream added to it is very apt to turn sour. Consequently, when it is possible, just sufficient should be made for the day. In conclusion, I would add that a little and good is far better than an enormous quantity and poor. I fear in summer time it is a very common thing for cooks to make soup in such quantities that half of it is nearly always wasted.