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The Joint

We will now proceed to discuss that all-important point in cooking--viz. the preparation of joints, roast and boiled. Simple as such preparation would seem, yet the fact remains that there are still many families, like that of David Copperfield, which fail apparently ever to hit upon the proper medium between redness and cinders. Or should the joint happen to be a leg of mutton boiled, the first incision of the knife causes that appearance which has been graphically described as "gushing horrible among its capers." Roasting and boiling joints must in the present day be necessarily divided into two classes--viz. those cooked before or over an open fire, and those cooked in an oven connected with and heated by a close fire, or an oven heated by gas. There are not many kitchens, except in country places, where the old-fashioned open fire and bottle-jack are now in use. Nor can we wonder at this, for the disadvantages of this way of cooking are many. There is the great cost of fuel, owing to the large fire necessary; the discomfort of those in charge, owing to the incessant basting required; and the loss of weight caused by the melting of the fat and the evaporation of the juices. And yet it must be said that there is no other way of cooking a joint quite equal to roasting it before the fire. Surrounded with air and yet exposed to the direct heat of the fire, it has a flavour distinctly its own, which can only be described as "tasting of the fire."

We will take as an example of joints to be roasted at an open fire that most common one of all--viz. a leg of mutton. First, with regard to the condition of the joint--for much depends upon this--a leg of mutton kept till it is ripe, or just fit for cooking, and one fresh killed, are two distinct things. The fact is, that the great principle of cookery--forethought--is as much overlooked in ordering a dinner as in cooking it. House-keepers too often will simply order a leg of mutton from the butcher's when the man calls for orders in the morning, and when the leg is sent they do not know whether it was killed that morning or a fortnight before.

In cold weather it is a very simple plan to pick out a nice joint at the butcher's, asking when it was killed, and then have it hung up in the larder, or any cool place where there is plenty of air, till it is tender. The length of time say a haunch or leg of mutton will keep in this country depends entirely upon the weather. In the sultry atmosphere of a typical August a leg of mutton will sometimes turn bad in one day; but such days are rare, and in such weather large hot joints by no means desirable. In winter, especially during a frost, there is scarcely any limit to the time a leg of mutton will keep. Only bear in mind that if the leg gets frozen it is spoilt. In ordinary cold but not necessarily freezing weather, a leg of mutton will keep from ten days to a fortnight. Recollect, too, the importance of keeping the meat dry. For this purpose, flour with a dredger the whole of the joint, and look to it every morning, and re-flour any part that looks in the least degree moist. Experience alone will tell you when the joint should be cooked. Damp close weather is very bad for keeping meat, even if it is not very hot. Cold dry weather is, of course, the best of all, when the temperature is just above freezing.

We will now suppose the joint to be hung sufficiently long; next let us consider what is the best method of cooking it, and--why. One most important point is to have a good clear bright fire to start with, and for this purpose the cook must see to the fire quite an hour before the joint is "put down." It is no use to "put down" a leg of mutton or large joint to a dull fire, and for the cook to say, "Oh, it will soon burn up!" This corresponds to putting the leg of mutton into lukewarm water, and saying, "Oh, it will soon boil!" The principle of boiling and roasting is the same--to endeavour as quickly as possible to surround the joint with a hard film of meat, in order to keep the flavour in. Consequently, the fire must be clear, bright, and fierce to start with, and the leg of mutton must be put rather near the fire at first. After a short time, varying from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour, according to the heat of the fire, draw the joint a little back, and let it cook steadily. Another important point in roasting meat is the basting. A leg of mutton cannot be basted too much. Also, basting should commence almost directly the meat is put down. Now, it will often, in fact generally, be found that women cooks place the dripping-pan in front of the fire, then hang the joint; next take a basin with some dripping in it, and place a lump in the dripping-pan to melt--the piece placed in front of the dripping-pan generally slipping round to the back as soon as the melting begins. This melting process takes time, and too often the skin and surface of the meat gets hard and dry, and cracks before sufficient dripping has melted to baste with. What cooks should do is to place the dripping-pan in front of the fire, with the dripping or lard in it, a quarter of an hour or more before they hang up the joint, and also to make it a rule not to hang the joint at all before they see sufficient dripping has run into the well of the dripping-pan to make a good spoonful of melted fat in the basting-ladle.

With regard to time, this not merely depends upon the size of the joint, but upon the fire and the time of year. Roughly speaking, a leg of mutton weighing eight pounds will take a couple of hours, and one of ten pounds two hours and a half. For a large leg of mutton, a difference of nearly half an hour should be made for summer and winter--in winter, of course, the meat requires a longer time. If the fire has been properly attended to, and the basting kept up during the whole time the joint is roasting, it will generally be found that the leg of mutton will be sufficiently browned without having recourse to flouring it and drawing it near to the fire. Should, however, the meat look light-coloured, draw the leg a little nearer the fire, and allow those parts that look lighter than the rest to brown by stopping the roasting-jack from going round. Should it be thought necessary or desirable to use flour, do not let the flour fall into the dripping pan in any quantity, for this, as we before pointed out, will have the effect of thickening the gravy. In roasting a haunch of mutton, exactly the same process should be followed as in roasting a leg, only as the haunch is of course far larger, it requires a much longer time to cook; consequently, the outside is very apt to get overcooked and dried up before the joint is cooked through. Now, a large haunch of mutton weighing over sixteen pounds will take four hours to cook; when, therefore, a joint of this size has to be cooked, it will be necessary to protect the outside parts not naturally covered with fat, with some artificial covering, such as thin slices of fat, or oiled foolscap paper. The best way of treating a fine large haunch of mutton that has been well hung is to cook it exactly in the same way as a fine haunch of venison. First, however, remember that a haunch of venison, of all joints in the world, depends upon the attention that has been bestowed upon it during its hanging. Like the haunch of mutton, it must be put in a cold and airy place, and also kept dry. Great care also should be taken in the early transport of the meat to prevent its getting in any way bruised. A haunch of venison will keep much longer than a haunch of mutton, and is generally preferred when just on the turn towards getting what is called "high." It is, however, a great mistake to keep a haunch too long, so that when it is cut it has a strong gamy smell. The following is the best method of roasting a haunch of venison, and perhaps few recipes better illustrate that important principle of cooking--viz. "keeping the flavour in." First, all the dry skin on the underneath part and skirt should be removed, and the shank-bone neatly sawn off. Then a piece of buttered paper should be put over what we may call the breast of the haunch, or that part where there is least fat, and where it is generally first cut. Then the whole haunch should be covered over with a flour-and-water paste half an inch thick, and outside this paste large sheets of oiled paper should be tied.

The joint should then be hung up, or, better still, put in a cradle-spit, and roasted. The time a good-sized haunch of venison will take to roast varies from four to five hours, though of course it would be useless to attempt to roast one at all, except before a very large fire. About half an hour before the joint is wanted remove the paste and paper, and sprinkle all over the haunch a little salt out of a pepper-box. Next bring the haunch near the fire, and baste it with some fresh butter heated till it is frothed, and at the same time dredge the haunch with flour. The point to be aimed at is to get a rich brown colour all over the joint. A good brisk fire will generally be sufficient; but if any difficulty is experienced, a salamander will be found of great assistance. Indeed, for obtaining a colour, a salamander will often be found a desirable kitchen utensil. It is simply a large flat piece of iron with a handle to it. This iron is made red-hot and held near to what requires browning. A salamander will be found extremely useful in browning cheesecakes, or in raising an omelette.

A rich but not strongly-flavoured gravy should be served with a haunch of venison, and also red-current jelly. French beans are by far the best vegetable to be eaten with it, and stale bread is better than new. If possible, have a plate with hot water underneath it; and if you know a haunch of venison is coming, reserve your appetite as much as possible, and do not spoil it by eating entrees first. Of course, the reason of covering the haunch with the paste is to keep in the flavour. We shall speak more fully on this point of keeping in the flavour when we come to consider cooking joints in closed vessels.

One great secret of successful roasting is the basting. Now, it is evident that any joint covered with fat requires less basting than a dry or lean joint. For instance, a loin of mutton, because it is generally much fatter, requires less than a leg. Again, in the case of a sirloin of beef, the sides or lean part should be liberally basted, while for the fat upper part and undercut basting at all is scarcely required. If done with fat or dripping it should not go on till the joint be taken down, but discontinued about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before; as, if a joint has been basted up to the last moment with fat, it has a tendency to make the meat, especially the outside cut, taste greasy.

This does not apply to basting with butter. Butter, however, is now so dear that it is scarcely ever used for basting purposes.

One great difficulty--the chief, perhaps, with inexperienced cooks--is the time a joint will take to roast. Too much dependence must not be placed on mere weight. For instance, take a shoulder of mutton. A large but thin shoulder will not take so long to roast as a smaller but thicker one. So again, the old maxim of allowing a quarter of an hour to a pound of meat will not apply to ribs of beef rolled. This latter joint is all solid meat, and thick, and consequently takes a long time to get heated right through. So again, a loin of mutton boned and stuffed, which is the most economical way of cooking it, will take a longer time to roast than an ordinary loin of mutton with the bone in it. Of course, the weight of a joint is a great criterion as to how long it will take to cook; but then it should always be borne in mind that the weight and thickness should be considered together. One very common mistake made by cooks is to suppose that lamb does not require cooking so long as mutton, because it is young and tender. The contrary is, however, the case. Underdone lamb is far worse than underdone mutton. A well-roasted haunch or saddle of mutton when cut should show signs of having good red gravy in it. Underdone lamb will be flabby and sodden; in fact, lamb really requires considerably more time than mutton. Lamb, too, should be always cooked before a particularly brisk fire, and should be constantly basted. Just as lamb requires more roasting than mutton, so does veal require longer roasting than beef. I think, as a rule, the principle will be found to be, that the closer the meat the longer does it take to cook, whether the process be roasting, baking, or boiling. For instance, a leg of mutton is closer meat than a shoulder, and consequently, supposing a leg and a shoulder to be the same weight, the former would require longer roasting than the latter. So, too--supposing the weight the same--would a silver-side of beef, which is very close meat indeed, take longer to boil than an aitchbone of beef. Veal is, as a rule in this country, a closer meat than beef, and requires a great deal of cooking. Underdone veal, like underdone lamb, is extremely unwholesome. Pork, again, is a white and close meat--it is almost impossible to over-roast pork. A large leg of pork weighing twelve to sixteen pounds will take four or five hours to roast properly. It will also be found advisable to rub the skin of the pork over with oil previous to roasting it, as otherwise the skin has a tendency to get hard and split. There are some things that are nearly always overcooked, and among these we would particularly mention geese and ducks. Cooks should recollect that geese and ducks are hollow, and that the meat on the breast is very often only an inch and a half deep at the outside. Too often ducks are sent to table so dried up that the flavour is completely gone, and when carved the breast-bone is dry and white. A large duck does not require more than three-quarters of an hour to an hour to cook, and a good-sized goose one hour and three-quarters. In roasting poultry the same thing holds true as in roasting meat--viz. that the closer the meat the longer the time which must be allowed. This is very marked in contrasting the time it takes to roast a goose and the time it takes to roast a turkey--the latter, in proportion, taking nearly double the time of the former. A large turkey weighing, say, fourteen pounds would require three hours and a half, whereas a large goose that weight would only require one hour and three-quarters.

In roasting all kinds of poultry and game, basting is of the utmost importance, as otherwise the meat is certain to be dry and flavourless. In roasting some kinds of game it is a very common custom, especially abroad, to fasten a piece of fat bacon over the breast, and, indeed, sometimes the bird is sent to table with the bacon on it. Of course, this is purely a matter of taste; but to my thinking the bacon spoils the flavour of the bird. What should be done in roasting partridges is to calculate exactly the time when they will be wanted, and not to roast them too soon. Some cooks get nervous, and in fear of being late, absolutely get ready when dinner begin some dishes that are not wanted till quite the finish. In large, parties, partridges should not be put down to roast till after the soup and fish have come downstairs. The entrees invariably take a long time handing round, and then the joint has to follow. I have no doubt that many will remember how frequently at large dinner-parties the game is overcooked and dried up. Hare is a very dry meat, and requires a great deal of roasting. Nevertheless, over-roasted here is one of the most insipid things sent to table. Yet too often hare will be found to be quite dried up. The proper form of roast hare is, that when the knife cuts into the back the meat, though not red, should be juicy; too often it will be found to be quite dry. So, too, with a roast pheasant. After the breast has been cut, when the knife separates the wing-bone from the merry-thought, the bone where it is divided should look a little pink; this will show that the bird has not been dried up. When we come to small birds, like woodcock and snipe, we must be still more careful of over-roasting, as it is a cruel thing to spoil such expensive delicacies owing to a little carelessness. It is difficult to lay down any exact time--so much depending on the fire--only be sure of one thing, and that is, baste the whole time. Snipe especially should be rather underdone.

There is an old saying which cooks would do well to remember--viz. "A well-cooked snipe is one that has only flown once through the kitchen." This is merely an extravagant way of saying how very little cooking snipe require. Of course, in serving small game, no delay should take place. Game half cold is not worth eating--and it is apt to lose its heat very quickly. Some dishes have special power of retaining heat, such as Irish stew and hasty puddings. Others seem to lose their heat quickly, and among the latter class we would especially mention roast loin of mutton, which seems to possess the power of getting cold quicker than any other joint I know.

Up to quite a recent date it was impossible to apply the word "roast" to meat cooked in an oven, as there was no free circulation of air, and the meat was simply baked in an atmosphere charged with its own exhalations. But in the best modern ranges a perfect system of ventilation is kept up, whereby the vitiated-air is carried from the oven into a flue at the back, and no unpleasant odour is allowed to escape into the kitchen. The flue passes completely round and under the oven, thereby utilising nearly the whole of the heat, and resulting in great economy of fuel. The roasting of meat and poultry can thus be done in the oven almost as successfully as in front of an open fire. As but little heat passes up the chimney, it is almost impossible for the latter to take fire. The combustion of the smoke and the noxious gases is ingeniously effected by means of intensely superheated air. The cold air, in the first place, being admitted through a ventilator in the fire door, is made to travel through flanged chambers, of which the firebox itself forms in every case one side. In its passage it is thoroughly heated, and meets the smoke and gases as they leave the firebox, where the progress of the latter is somewhat arrested by means of a plate called a "baffle plate." At this point the heated air, smoke, and gases mingle, producing perfect combustion before travelling round the flues surrounding the ovens and boilers. The range, therefore, is practically a smoke-consuming one, and very little soot accumulates in the flues.