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Sweets

We now come to consider the general principles of cooking to be observed in the preparation of that large class of dishes that come generally under the name of sweets, and will commence with that division of which eggs may be considered as the basis, such as rich light puddings, omelets, and souffles. Now, as the latter of these best illustrates the principles of this branch of cookery, we will commence with a short account of souffles in general. The chief point in regard to souffles, is of course, the lightness, and the lighter the souffle the better the cook. The whole secret of the lightness of a souffle is the amount of pains taken in beating the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth. By this means, when the beaten whites are added to the batter, the whole mass contains an almost infinite number of air-bubbles that expand with the heat, and cause the whole to rise. Consequently, the greatest expedition should be used in sending the souffle to table, for, of course, as it cools these bubbles contract, and the souffle, which probably on leaving the oven was an inch or more above the souffle-pan, sinks to an inch below it on reaching the dinning-room door. Souffles can be flavoured with cheese or even game. Small souffles made from the remains of woodcock or grouse are exceedingly nice, but great care should be taken in rubbing the flesh through the wire sieve so as to ensure the meat being, so to speak, pulverised. Another great secret of having successful omelets is to have perfectly fresh eggs.

In breaking eggs for any purpose, it should always be borne in mind that even with the greatest care bad eggs will occasionally make their appearance. When eggs are taken fresh from the nest there is practically no danger, still it seems unwise, in the absence of any other satisfactory reason, to abandon a simple precaution which involves no trouble. Consequently, always break each egg separately, or you will run the risk of having one bad egg spoil the whole lot.

In making an ordinary omelet, of course the eggs are all beaten up together, yolks and whites; and, if you want a light omelet, the eggs should be beaten up till they froth. In breaking the eggs, avoid what cooks call "watery eggs"; what I mean is, the white of an egg, to make a good omelet, should be of the consistency of a jelly-fish, and not look thin and run away from the yolk. The butter in the omelet-pan on the fire should also be frothed before the eggs are added, and the cook should stir quickly and scrape as fast as she can the whole of the bottom of the omelet-pan till the eggs and butter begin to set. The omelet-pan should then be withdrawn a little from the fire, the omelet shaped with the spoon; and in the case of a savoury omelet, the omelet-pan should be tilted in front of an open fire, or have a good hot salamander held over it. This will have the effect of making the omelet rise, and consequently of being lighter, as well as slightly browning the surface. If gravy is served with a savoury omelet, pour it round the omelet, and not cover it. For a sweet omelet, always have some white powdered sugar to shake over the top.

It is a somewhat open question as to whether it is advisable to mix milk with the eggs in making omelets. As a rule, the French do not add milk, and it will generally be noticed that omelets abroad are more yellow and streaky than in England, where it is a very common custom to add about a couple of table-spoonfuls of milk to every three or four eggs used. When milk is used, the omelet takes a rather longer time to set than when the eggs are used by themselves.

The greatest difficulty cooks experience in making omelets is to avoid burning them. The fire should be fierce, but the omelet-pan should be withdrawn directly the omelet sets. Also the stirring process should be kept up very briskly.

While on the subject of the management of eggs, we may next take that very common English dish--custard. Now, just as the principle of making good omelets is to get the eggs set without having them burnt, so may the secret of successful custard-making be said to consist in getting the eggs to thicken without allowing them to set.

The chief point in making custard, or any form of liquid the consistency of which depends upon heated eggs, is to know when to stop short of the boiling point.

In making custard, it will always be found most economical to use the yolks only. The whites of the eggs add nothing to the flavour or excellence of the custard, and yet are invaluable to the cook for a variety of purposes, from clearing soups to garnishing sweets--the latter being a point upon which we shall touch on some future occasion.

The best method of making a custard is first to flavour the milk, by boiling the bay-leaves in it (if these are used), previous to adding the yolks of eggs. When, however, the latter are added, let the mixture--i.e. the milk, sugar, and yolks--be poured into a jug, which should be placed in a saucepan of boiling water. The cold vessel will, of course, take the water immediately off the boil. Keep stirring the custard till it begins to thicken; when nearly sufficiently thick, take the jug out and plunge it into some cold water, but still continue the stirring for a time. By this means all fear of curdling will be done away with. Should the custard be flavoured with essence of vanilla (that most delicious of essences), more of the flavour will be retained if it is added when the custard is nearly cold. Should vanilla in stick be used it will be found best to tie a piece up in a small muslin bag, and boil this in the milk till a sufficient flavour is imparted. This small bag of vanilla will do over and over again, though of course it must be left in for a longer period each time it is used, as naturally the substance will lose some of its virtue on every occasion, and consequently more time will be required to draw out whatever of flavour is left in it. The flavour of the stick vanilla will be found to be far superior to the essence of vanilla sold in bottles; indeed, the latter varies so much in quality that it is impossible to say how much should be added to any given quantity of custard. A little nutmeg should always be grated over the surface of the custard before it is sent to table.

Of all departments of cookery probably that which is comprised under the general name of "sweets" gives the greatest range wherein the real artist can exercise his skill. We will not now enter into the unpractical subject of describing how to build those magnificent but useless temples of sugar-work, etc., that figure at wedding breakfasts and great suppers, but will discuss the practical details of the general principles of making sweets look nice. As a rule, sweets are so ornamental in themselves that they do not require what may be generally called garnish. For instance, a jelly or a mould of blancmange is so pretty in itself that, provided it be bright, and put into either an equally bright cut glass dish or a silver one, studied embellishment is superfluous. Occasionally, indeed, little pieces of cut lemon may be placed round the edge of the dish; but this is not necessary, unless the dish be rather too large for the mould, in which case the cut lemon will cause it to look less bare.

The great secret of making jellies bright is to take pains in the clearing. Patience and cleanliness are indispensable; also bear in mind that jelly-bags should never be washed in soap and water. They should, after being used, be simply rinsed and re-rinsed in boiling water and wrung out. One important point in making sweets look nice is to exercise some little taste in colouring. We will suppose, for instance, that there are two moulds in the house: the top of one is in the very common shape of a bunch of grapes, and the other the almost equally common shape of a cucumber. Now it is at once obvious that the cucumber should be coloured green and the grapes red. Suppose, therefore, two moulds are being made of, say, blancmange. The green cucumber and the red grapes on the white base will form two very pretty dishes. Unless, however, the tops are done carefully, the dish will present a very poor appearance--indeed, in all ornamenting, unless the decoration be done neatly, it had far better not be done at all. Slovenly ornament in dishes corresponds to tawdry finery in ordinary dress.

We will suppose, therefore, the blancmange prepared and in a liquid state ready to be poured into the moulds. First pour just sufficient water into each mould to fill up the shape of the bunch of grapes and the cucumber. Pour this back again into two glasses--claret glasses are best--and notice the exact quantity required for each design. Then, having emptied the water, fill the respective glasses with the warm blancmange to exactly the same spot. Add the colouring matter, which will, of course, be cochineal for the grapes and spinach-juice for the cucumber. As only a few drops of cochineal are required, it will not matter adding such a small quantity, but whenever colouring matter is used in which more than a few drops are required allowance should be made, or too much will be poured into the shape. When the exact quantity is coloured, transfer it to the shape, and let it set quite firm before any more is poured into the mould. If possible, set the mould in some chopped ice, which will cause such a small quantity to set almost immediately. When the shape is quite set, add the remainder of the blancmange--only be careful how you fill the mould. If, for instance, you simply pour the blancmange in, especially if it is lukewarm, the fresh quantity will partially re-dissolve what has been set in the shape, and the white and red or white and green, as the case may be, will run into one another, and the effect will be quite spoilt. The best method of filling up the moulds is first to wait till the blancmange is nearly cold--of course, avoiding waiting too long, as it would then set in the basin. Then take a spoon, and pour the first part into the mould a spoonful at a time; this will settle gently down over the coloured part, but will not mix. After the mould has been filled by this means--say, an inch deep--the whole may be gently added, taking care to pour very slowly, and to keep the vessel from which the blancmange is emptied as close as possible to the mould, for if it be poured in a manner corresponding to frothing beer up in a glass it will probably break the coloured shape. There is a great art in turning out jellies from moulds. Of course, a very stiff jelly is easily turned out, but then stiff jelly is never good. The best moulds for jellies are copper ones tinned inside. The mould, after being taken out of the ice, should be placed for a few seconds in lukewarm water; the dish into which the jelly is going to be turned should be placed upside down, so that the bottom of the mould comes exactly in the centre of the dish; the two should be quickly turned over together, and very often the jelly will at once slip of its own accord. When the mould is first raised it should be only lifted an eighth of an inch; if the jelly has slipped all round, the mould can be slowly raised; should, however, the jelly have slipped only on one side, instantly put the mould on to the dish again. One very good way of causing the jelly to slip is to take the dish and mould in both hands, keeping the mould firmly touching the dish, hands high in the air, the mould being upright. Then suddenly bring the dish downwards with a jerk, and stop dead short when the hands are lowered. The jelly itself, having of course acquired a momentum downwards, will have a tendency to go lower, and will often by this means slip from the mould into the plate. Indeed, turning out jellies requires a certain amount of pluck; a nervous cook is far more apt to fail than a strong-minded one. Some persons think that shaking and patting the mould assists; very often, however, this patting results in breaking. When earthenware moulds are used it is of no use plunging them into warm water. Earthenware conveys heat so slowly that the result would be, either to convey so little heat that no effect at all is produced, or so much that all the outside of the mould will run. In turning anything out of an earthenware mould the only way is to jerk it out as we have described. If the substance inside the mould is firmly set, it will be advisable to see how far it can be eased round the edge by pulling gently with the tips of the fingers. The substance is elastic, and will adhere together, and can be pulled from the edge of the mould all round, after which it will of course turn out easily.

When copper moulds are used for jellies the greatest care should be taken in dipping them into lukewarm water, first, that the water be not too warm; secondly, that the mould does not remain in too long. Of course, the effect is to very slightly dissolve the outside rim--only the rim--so that the jelly will have a less tendency to adhere to the mould.

One very useful medium for ornamenting sweets is whipped cream or whipped white of egg. Of course whipped cream is in itself a very nice sweet; whipped white of egg can, however, be used as a cheap substitute. Take, for instance, that most delicious supper dish--a trifle. Good trifle is made by soaking ratafias and macaroons in various kinds of liqueurs, though for ordinary purposes sherry and brandy are used instead. The whip for the trifle is generally best made some time before it is wanted, as by keeping a few hours it gets firmer instead of softer. The firmest whip is made by mixing the whites of eggs beaten up into a stiff froth with, say, a pint of fresh cream to two whites, three ounces of powdered and sifted white sugar, and about a wine-glassful of some rich sherry--the sweeter the better. The whole should be beaten up thoroughly, the froth, of course, being skimmed off the top, when sufficient rises: it should be placed gently into a sieve, standing over a dish. A little cream, etc., will be found to drop from the froth, and this can be poured back into the basin, the beating or whisking process being continued till all is frothed up. This froth can be made the day before it is wanted, and will be found an exceedingly useful garnish for all sorts of dishes besides the trifle, as it is always easy to make more than is quite necessary for this elegant centre dish.

For instance, take that nice but somewhat inelegant dish--stewed Normandy pippins, Let the pippins be placed in a glass dish surrounded by their juice, which can be coloured red by a little cochineal. Then take about a tea-spoonful of the whip we have mentioned, and pile it on the top of each pippin, and take a very few of those tiny little sweetmeats called hundreds and thousands, and sprinkle them over the whip lightly so that they stick to it, and observe what a wonderful change will take place in the appearance of the dish. The hundreds and thousands should not be added till the last moment, as they get dissolved in the whip.

One very useful method of ornamenting dishes and particular cakes is what is known as icing. We all know how very handsome, and at the same time how exceedingly rich, indigestible, and expensive a wedding cake is. We will, however, take the simple case of a child's birthday; and, naturally, a cake at tea is one of the features of the day's festivities. What parents should endeavour to do is as much as possible to please their children, but never at the expense of their health. Now, a simple, plain cake can be bought, or made at home; but what a difference if this simple, wholesome cake is iced over! And, after all, what is icing? Nothing but sugar and white of eggs; and sugar in moderation being good for children rather than otherwise, when the icing for the cake is home-made, and consequently unadulterated, there can be no harm in the children eating it.

Icing for cakes can also be made into ornamental buttons, white and pink, by baking the icing on a sheet of paper, the pink buttons, of course, being coloured with cochineal. Icing is easily made as follows. Take, say for a good large quantity, six whites of eggs, and place them in a large basin, and have ready about a pound and a half of very finely powdered and sifted white sugar. Mix these well together with a large wooden spoon, adding the sugar gradually, occasionally squeezing in a little of the juice of a fresh and rather green or acid lemon. This must be worked together with the spoon, and sufficient sugar added till the whole mass becomes a thick, but at the same time liquid, and some-what shiny substance. Of course, the purity of the white is of great importance, and, consequently, care should be taken in the selection of the sugar, which should be the whitest that can be obtained. This icing can be now spread over any cake, and one of the best spreaders will be found to be an ordinary broad ivory paper knife. Place a large sheet of white paper over the cake to keep off the dust, and place it in a warm place to dry; then ornament the top with any wholesome sweets you may think fit, such as candied fruits of various kinds, or dried cherries. Really, icing a cake is so simple and so cheap, and gives children so much delight, that it is to be regretted it is not more generally resorted to on festive occasions. One great advantage of the icing is that you can pass off a plain and consequently a wholesome cake for a very grand one; by this means the children can have a good thick slice, and come two or three times, without being made bilious the following day. Oranges filled with jelly can be cut up to ornament the top of a plain cake for children.

Fruit pies and puddings require but little comment. One word of warning, however, against that too common fault of mixing fruits indiscriminately. Of course, some fruits are improved by mixing; for instance, I consider currant and raspberry tart to be the very king of tarts, but some persons are disposed to mix apples and plums, apples and black currants, etc. As a rule, fruit pies are best when they only contain one fruit.

The best sauce for puddings is German custard, which is made by putting, say, four yolks of eggs into a small stewpan, and adding to them a couple of ounces of pounded sugar, some of which before being pounded has been rubbed on a little lemon-peel. Add a glass of golden sherry, and beat this up over a very slow fire till it gets warm and frothy, but do not let it get too hot, as should it boil it would be utterly spoilt.

In making sweet sauce for puddings some sherry and sugar should be added to melted butter made with milk, but instead of adding brandy, as is usually recommended, try an equal quantity of rum instead. Indeed, a couple of table-spoonfuls of rum with a little sugar and melted butter make an admirable sauce of itself.