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Second Day: Grace
One quart milk, six eggs, two teaspoonfuls vanilla extract; sweeten to taste. "That's another thing I am sure would drive me distracted," said Grace. "How can you know that sugar enough for your taste would be enough for anybody else's?" "Only by practice, my dear," answered her aunt. "The amount of sugar some people require in custards and sauces is really sickish to others, and each cook must consult the wishes of her own family. But now let us go on to " No. 8-MocK SPONGE CAKE.
Six eggs, beaten one minute, whites and yolks together, three cups sugar, beaten with the eggs for five minutes, one cup cold water, three teaspoonfuls baking powder, rind and juice of one lemon, nearly three cups flour.
No. 9-TIPSY-CAKE.
Take either kind of sponge-cake, cut it into oblong pieces, stick it full of blanched almonds cut into slices, pour over it as much wine as it will absorb, lay it in a glass bowl (if you have one), and pour over it the boiled custard for which the receipt is given above.
No. 10-SOFT CUSTARD.
One quart milk, one tablespoonful corn-starch, two teaspoonfuls vanilla, five ounces sugar, three eggs, a pinch salt. "There's an exact amount of sugar," observed Edith. "That is taken from Mrs. Miller's receipt-book," said Aunt Jane, "and she is always exact about everything. But I think these will do for to-day, and you may come in to-morrow, as soon as Rhoda's dinner dishes are out of the way."
At the appointed time our three little women, with Aunt Jane at their head, proceeded to the kitchen, in the newest of aprons, the cleanest of hands and the gayest of spirits. "I think it would be a good plan to make something to-day in the way of a dessert," said Mrs. King; "that will be nice to have cold for dinner to-morrow." "Oh, do let us make tipsy-cake," said Grace. "I love tipsy-cake! Don't you, Aunt Jane?" "I generally save my love for my friends," replied her aunt, laughing, "but I like tipsy-cake very much. You may make the custard, Grace, and Rosy the cake; and as your mamma said she wanted some jelly to send to some poor sick women, Edith shall try her hand at that." "Which kind of sponge-cake shall I make?" asked Rose, "the mock or the other?” "Either is very good, but I think to-day we will make the simpler kind, as it is only to put in custard. That is a very good way, too, to use sponge or any other kind of light cake that has grown a little dry. Take one of those yellow dishes to stir the cake in; it is never as well to use tin for any such purpose. Edith, I had your gelatine put to soak before dinner, or it would not have been ready now. That is something one must always think of beforehand. Don't break the whites and yolks separately for the custard, Grace; and set the tea-kettle into the stove, so that the water will be boiling when you need it. That is one thing which should always be ready for use in the kitchen. One must have plenty of hot water." "What do I want hot water for, Aunt Jane?" "Oh, didn't I tell you? Any thing in which milk and flour or milk and eggs are to be boiled together, has to be very carefully treated to prevent its getting lumpy. We always set the vessel in which custard is to be made, into another containing boiling water; or, what is still better, have one that will fit into the top of the other, and so heat it by the steam." "How long shall I beat the eggs?" asked Grace. "I think you have whipped them long enoughthey don't require much beating for custard. Let me see how they look. If there is the least suspicion of an 'eye' in them they must be strained; but these seem all right. Now stir in the sugar and vanilla, and then pour slowly into the warm milk, and keep stirring until it is as thick as good rich cream. How I wish my garden were near enough for me to step in and get you a handful of fresh peach leaves!" "What would you do with them, Aunt Jane?" said Rose. "I would boil them in the milk first, or rather, not let it actually come to a boil, but just heat them together to bring out the taste of the peach leaves, and then let it cool before stirring in the eggs. I think there is no flavor more delicious."
Then Mrs. King showed Edith how to make her jelly, first rolling the lemons on the table, so as to break up the hard inner walls and squeeze out the juice more easily. "You may leave out the cinnamon," she said; " as the jelly is for sick people, they might not relish the taste. When it is ready, you must dip the flannel bag you are going to strain it through into hot water and wring it out as dry as possible, so that the jelly may run through easily." "Shan't I squeeze the jelly-bag a little?" asked Edith, AUNT JANE'S S COOKING CLASS. when the operation was about half over "It seems to run through so slowly." "Not unless you want the jelly to be thick and muddylooking. You mustn't even shake it. Leave it in a warm place, and all will run through that ought to. In the meantime, if you want something to do, you may blanch the almonds for the tipsy-cake."
Mrs. King then showed her how to do this, by putting the shelled nuts into boiling water until the wrinkled brown skin would rub off easily, after which it was easy to cut them into thin slips ready to garnish the cake. The jelly ran through at last, though Edith firmly believed it never would, and was beautifully clear. Then it was poured into several small moulds and set away in the ice-box, as the weather was warm. In winter, the pantry would have done very well. The sponge-cake looked light and spongy, and the custard was as smooth as fresh cream, but Aunt Jane said it would be better to leave them separate until just before dinner, and then dip the cake in wine and pour the custard over it, as otherwise it might become too soft and lose its shape. Need I say that the dessert was excellent, and that the sick people enjoyed their jelly?
The page carries four working receipts — a boiled custard, a mock sponge cake, tipsy-cake and a soft custard — wrapped in a lesson on technique. The instructions assume a cook who already knows what a custard should look like, so a few numbers are worth pinning down.
- The hinge: custard is done at 175FAunt Jane's "as thick as good rich cream" is the point where the mixture coats a spoon, about 170-180F. Past 185F the egg protein curdles and no amount of stirring brings it back, which is exactly why she insists on the vessel set inside another of boiling water.
- Sweeten to taste, in numbersFor the quart-of-milk custard, something in the range of 1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar suits most modern palates; Mrs. Miller's five ounces in the soft custard works out to roughly 2/3 cup. Add it to the eggs before tempering, not to the hot milk.
- An "eye" in the eggsProbably a fleck of shell, a blood or germ spot, or a scrap of the tough chalaza clinging to the yolk. Such bits will not dissolve and can show up as threads in the finished custard, hence the sieve.
- Mock sponge cake in the ovenThe receipt gives no pan, oven or timing; the baking powder means it can be handled as a plain cake, baked in a moderate oven until the top springs back. Three cups sugar to nearly three cups flour is very sweet by current taste.
- The wine is not cooked offThe cake is soaked raw and the custard poured over cold, so all the alcohol stays in the dish — historically sherry, Madeira or sweet white wine. Worth knowing before serving it to the children who are supposedly making it.
- Skip the peach leavesPeach leaves were a standard almond-flavoured infusion in Victorian dairy cookery, but like bitter almonds and cherry pits they contain cyanogenic glycosides. Use a little almond extract for the same effect; there is no way to judge a safe dose from "a handful."
- Edith's jellyNo quantities are given because the lesson is the method. It is a lemon gelatine jelly, poured warm into moulds and set in the ice-box; her flannel bag is a jelly bag, and the rule against squeezing it holds today — pressure forces cloudy solids through. Wet and wring the bag so it does not drink the first cup of liquid.
- Assembly and yieldDip the cake in wine and pour the custard over it just before serving, as instructed, or it becomes too soft and loses its shape. A quart of custard over one sponge cake should serve eight or so in shallow bowls.
Tipsy-cake is among the plainest relations of English trifle: stale sponge revived with wine and drowned in boiled custard, the almonds stuck in until the whole thing bristled. The name simply describes the wine, and the dish belongs to a thrifty tradition in which no light cake was ever thrown away, a point Aunt Jane makes outright when she recommends it for cake "that has grown a little dry." That the receipts here arrive inside a story, credited to a neighbour's exact receipt-book and interrupted by a girl asking how anyone can know how much sugar another family likes, is characteristic of Six Little Cooks, an 1870s Chicago book written to teach girls kitchen judgement rather than to hand them formulas — hence the running instruction on hot water, double boilers, earthenware instead of tin, and never squeezing a jelly bag.