He evolved the simple technique of pushing off the remnants from the plates with paper on to paper; rolling it up for the bin. Under the cold-water tap he mopped any dishes he had used, let them stand, filled with water, for a few minutes while he cleared the table and put on the kettle to boil. By that time the most hardened gluten was easy to remove with a rub of a woven nylon pad. In a bowl he set the dirty things, with a spot of detergent, pouring hot water in to dissolve the grease. A wag of the mop and a final rinse under the tap left the dishes scrupulously clean. As he had a plate rack, the dishes were stood upright to drip, and no cloth was ever used for wiping.
Sometimes a harder rub on a saucepan was necessary, to loosen anything stuck fast. For this he again used the little nylon pad, which didn’t hurt his fingers or set his temper on edge.
BURNISHING ALUMINIUM
To bleach an aluminium saucepan which went black because he boiled water in it, he boiled more water in it with a saltspoonful of tartaric acid (though apple skins or rhubarb would have done). The outside he burnished with a little pad of soapy steel wool (he squeezed some out of his tube of shaving soap)—a gentle circular rub and a rinse. The result was startlingly bright.
Even more brightly gleamed the pans which were CHROMIUM plated, the surface of which must never be touched even with the smoothest abrasive. Water and a soft cloth were the most successful polishes he found.
THE SILVER
The most sobering thought, however, was the tarnished silver. He could not let it remain so to mar his dear wife’s pleasure at her home-coming. There was only one day to go, when, confessing his dilemma to a friend, he learned the most simple tip of all. He bought a roll of aluminium foil, tore off a small strip and put it in his sink, with a handful of washing soda. When the kettle was boiling he poured the water over the soda and the aluminium. Then, taking each silver article (gripped with the tongs) he immersed it in the water, seeing that the article touched the aluminium foil. The tarnish disappeared instantly.
When he had untarnished everything he could lay his hands on (this kind of magic gave him pleasure), he put the silver articles in a basin of warm water and lifted them out to dry. When they had dripped dry, he rubbed them with a soft, clean cloth, and put them away.
*
And, as he sat before his fire, with his dressing-gown keeping his knees warm, and his slippers on his feet, he sipped a comforting glass of old port, recalling the details of his wife’s departure and anticipating the details of her return.
He visualized the surprise in her eyes when he brought before her the repast he had prepared—cold fresh salmon with sliced cucumber (it was there, standing with its end in cold water, ready to slice), lettuce hearts which he had washed and hung up in a linen cloth to drip and keep crisp, and the BRANDY PEACHES which he had invented himself. The peaches he had bought fresh, peeled and sliced them, scooped them into a screw-top jar, shaken caster sugar over them, and poured a wineglassful of brandy over them, closing the top tightly so that they would be well soaked with all the bouquet held captive.
She would be delighted!
VII
THE CAREER WOMAN
She had escaped. “At last!” she said. She had started on her career. “I am mistress of my own place. A thimble of a place, but here I can have my own way.”
However, the proportions were good, and already her deft hands and measuring eye had created a transforming touch here and there, so that Satisfaction seemed to rest in her for lengthening periods.
“And I shall cook, after my fashion”, she reflected, “whatever the result.”
She thought of the Tyrant—who had come as a nurse-cum-governess, and who had remained to be house-keeper-cum-cook—and the staple diet she had imposed—boiled beef, boiled puddings, boiled coffee. Efficient, formidable and “touchy”, the Tyrant had kept her out of the kitchen. Curious to think now of the escape route—the years of study, diligence masking rebellion—and now, a salary, independence, and a kitchen of her own.
Because her time in it was limited by that very Career which gave her the freedom of her kitchen, she had to cook many things in advance. Although she had no refrigerator—yet—she found that a piece of meat large enough to last for days, once it was cooked, would keep in good condition in a little wire-netted food cage set near the open window on the stone slab she had procured from a stone mason.
As she didn’t always want to use her oven, she developed a successful technique of POT-ROASTING her meat. She began simply, and developed more aromatic themes when she had talked cooking with her friends.
ROAST BEEF
In a saucepan over moderate heat she put in her joint of beef—topside when she could get it—fatty side down, and put the lid on. This confined the smell and therefore the flavour while the fat melted. But it also confined the moisture which dropped down over the beef. Thus was introduced the principle of wet cooking. This is opposed to dry cooking (in an oven or under a grill) whereby the moisture evaporates and the time needed for cooking is much less. Once the meat is made wet, however, the cooking time is considerably extended.
This joint, weighing about two pounds, would roast by dry cooking in an oven in about an hour and a quarter. Roasting in a pot with the lid on, gathering moisture, it would need about two hours to become tender. The coarser cuts take longer still. However, there was economy in heating as her oven took fifteen minutes or more to become hot, and the top heat could be turned to a simmer once the pot had become really hot.
Sometimes she put one or more whole, peeled onions in with the beef to give it extra flavour. Sometimes she liked the flavour neat, with just pepper and salt.
Eating what she needed from it while it was hot, she left the rest to become cold so that she could slice away at it the following evening when she arrived home, appeasing her hunger without delay.
ROAST VEAL
Although veal is pale and less full-bodied in flavour and nutriment than beef, she liked it because it was always so lean and so tender. She liked to give savour to it, and oil as well, so she fried it lightly all over in a tablespoonful of olive oil to seal in its juices. Then she put in a “bouquet garni”—a bunch of herbs—a leaf of sage, a bayleaf, a good pinch of thyme and a leaf of mint. Occasionally she put a small glass of red wine in with it, giving it colour and sharpening the flavour slightly.
With the lid tightly fitted and the heat kept moderate, the veal—again about two pounds—became pot-roasted in about an hour because of its young tenderness.
ROAST LAMB
The lamb, also a youngster, is so tender, it will roast quickly. But, unlike veal, the younger it is the fatter it is. So that the joint of lamb should be put in the roasting pot at a low heat with the lid on to allow its fat to melt. After that the meat should be turned over occasionally to allow the lean to become saturated with the fats and whatever herbs, spices or vegetables have been put in the pot with it.
At the closure of the day, the woman with a Career may feel that she can safely put garlic in her pot-roast—rubbing it over the lamb or sticking in a clove of it between the fat and the lean. If she were going out for the evening, after her garlic feast, she took care to eat a piece of parsley which dispelled the savour and she could meet the world full face.
BROWNING OFF THE POT-ROAST
Since it is the hot, melted fat which gives the brown crispness to the outside of the meat, whereas the moisture keeps it soft, this must be evaporated to regain the conditions whereby the meat can be browned off. Simply by taking the lid off the saucepan and letting it remain over the heat after the meat has become tenderly cooked, the water will evaporate, and the meat will become brown underneath in the fat. It should be turned to allow the other side to become brown, too, possibly on the following night when the meat may be re-heated for the second hot meal from the same joint.
ROAST PORK
When she bought a piece of pork, she treated it with great respect and it brought its own reward. Her own knives always see
med clumsy tools compared with those of the butcher, who slit the skin in narrow strips, then across, making diamond-shaped sections of what would become the crackling. This way of criss-crossing the skin makes it a much more manageable bite than when it is left in long tape measures.
She rubbed olive oil and salt into the slit skin; rubbed over the whole piece a cut clove of garlic, and stuck a few leaves of sage here and there in it.
Slicing an onion she spread it over a shallow baking-pan with a spoonful of mayonnaise, a sprig of rosemary and a bayleaf. In this she turned the pork over a few times, then left it to marinate (soak) in the juices for an hour or so.
She chose to use her oven to roast the pork at a very moderate heat—350° F. or Gas No. 6—for an hour or two, depending on the thickness of the piece. The skin must be uppermost if it is to become crisp and crunchy, so that the dry, oven roasting is most suitable to get this effect. This crackling remains crisp while the pork is hot. Next day, when the pork is cold, the crispness vanishes.
ROAST VEGETABLES
Ten minutes before she put the pork in to roast, while the oven heat was mounting, she put in on the roasting tin, peeled, halved potatoes—just enough for the first hot meal—and several peeled, whole onions.
ROAST POTATOES deteriorate after the first roasting. The crispness sags out of them and they harden if re-heated.
ROASTED ONIONS, however, may be re-heated with advantage as they first soften, then become more deeply flavoured as they brown off.
Carrots, parsnips, turnips, Jerusalem artichokes and swedes should be boiled soft before setting them around the meat in its juices to roast, about twenty minutes before it is due to come out of the oven.
BAKED POTATO
The larger the potato, the longer it takes to cook, of course. If it is a really large one, the cooking should be at a rather low heat so that it penetrates right through and the potato is cooked evenly inside and out.
After scrubbing it, it is put on the floor of the oven, outside the baking tin—when a cake or meat is being cooked, or even a rice pudding—anything which takes long to cook, not to waste the heat.
When the potato is cooked, there is nothing else to be done except cut it right through, hold it in a napkin in the hand and make a hole in the middle with a spoon; fill that up with butter and eat it with salt, comfortably before the fire.
HOT ROLLS
When she had no potatoes, or, perhaps from choice, she took bread with her meat instead. A thick slice, or a roll, was put into the oven during the last ten minutes of roasting the meat. It emerged like freshly baked, soft bread, crisp on the outside, even if it had been yesterday’s or that of the day before.
BOILED CHICKEN
“What is the use of having a career”, she said to herself one day, “if I can’t give myself a treat now and again. I’ll buy myself a chicken—a boiler to begin with, for practice, as they are cheaper.”
So she bought as small a boiler as she could. It was plump and the flesh was white which assured her, as she had read, that it was in good condition.
CLEANING it was her first problem, so she read a book which described the process in detail and she did this. She cut away the trussing strings and let the cold water from the tap run through its de-gutted inside. Laying the chicken on a tray, she wiped it over, inside as well, with a non-fluffy linen cloth, then rubbed it all over with salt.
TRUSSING it again—tying the legs and the wings together, tucking them under the body and tying them to it—was a precaution she was warned to take. Once the heat gets at the limbs they shoot out and then stiffen beyond recall.
THE GIBLETS—the neck, heart, kidneys, liver and crop are what the poulterer calls the “edible offal”—are put in the pot with the chicken to be boiled, too. They must be washed under the cold-water tap, and any green or yellow bits cut off and thrown away.
Some flavouring herbs and an onion are almost essential to develop the delicate taste of the chicken. Not too much to overwhelm it. Perhaps a sprig of mint, and a teaspoonful of thyme or marjoram, with one section of garlic and an onion. Two or three cloves are good with it, too, and possibly a bayleaf as well, with a teaspoonful of salt and a shake of red pepper. No potatoes or rice should be put in with the chicken as they draw the flavour to themselves and so deprive the chicken. Besides, these starchy foods turn sour if left more than a day in a wet condition, whereas the chicken can be kept for several days without harm. Any of the root vegetables may be cooked with it, but if they are cooked for too long a time, they lose their flavour, and in this case, the chicken and the soup will benefit.
Even if only a pint of water is added in which to cook the chicken—and it must be simmered gently once it has been brought to the boil—much more liquid will come from the chicken itself, so that there will be quite a quantity of rich soup.
THE SOUP, as well as ample portions of the boiled chicken, will provide rich evening meals for the best part of a week for anyone living alone, returning home fatigued, ready and eager for immediate re-invigoration.
POT-ROAST CHICKEN
Having prepared the chicken (a roaster or a young boiler) in the way described, it can be pot-roasted in a few ounces of butter or dripping, over gentle heat at first until the juices are released from the chicken.
Half a teacupful of vegetable juices such as tomato or green vegetable stock may be put in with the same measure of cider or, preferably, white wine.
With the lid on the saucepan causing added moisture, the chicken will simmer without drying up, and should be tender in one to one and a half hours, depending on the age and the size of it. A fork twisted in the leg will show when it is ready as the flesh will break away easily.
That is the time to take the lid from the pan, to let the moisture evaporate, still over low heat. When it dries, the chicken will become brown underneath, providing a crisp surface from which to carve a portion for one, leaving the rest to be browned on successive occasions.
JELLIED CHICKEN
The next day, the juice from the chicken will have congealed, that is, if it has been cooked in the minimum of liquid and evaporated as described. So instant satisfaction awaits the Career Woman the moment she returns and is ready to eat, especially if she has brought home with her (or has stored) a packet or tin of potato crisps, and has some fresh, green vegetable, such as watercress, lettuce or endive, which need not be cooked.
CHICKEN CUTLET (FRICASSEE)
By this idea she did not mean to imply the cutlet, so-called, which comprises a modicum of chicken mashed with quantities of potato and breadcrumbs, then baked.
She cut a robust slice of chicken from the breast, turned it over on a plate moistened with milk (a beaten egg was too much for one), rolled it in flour and fried it gently in a knob of butter on a fireproof plate. She liked to fry a piece of apple with it when she could, keeping back a piece from those she was stewing for a sweet course.
GRILLED CHICKEN
Several thick slices of the boiled chicken, with some of its savoury jelly put over and around, can be quite delicious re-heated by grilling. Turn once, and put strips of bread alongside to toast simultaneously, as well as a sliced pimiento which suits chicken admirably. The red, the yellow and the green ones are equally good, and make any dish of food attractive. They will keep a week without becoming over-ripe if they are bought in a rather firm condition.
RE-HEATING FOOD
Long grilling hardens food, so don’t re-grill it. But food softened by steaming may be re-heated by grilling.
All food which is re-heated must be made hot right through under or over gentle heat, so that the outside is not hardened leaving the inside half cold. Gentle frying is almost the easiest way, but account must be taken of the extra fat needed and absorbed into the food.
If extra fat is not forbidden by necessity or choice, the palate may be freshened by a squeeze of lemon juice over the fried food just before eating it. Other piquancies to give the same effect are pickled gherkins, pickled b
eetroot, cranberry sauce, apples stewed without sugar, fresh, sliced tomatoes, sections of peeled grapefruit, sliced plums, squashed fresh redcurrants or sliced gooseberries, all made hot.
*
Some days the career would seem an arid business. At least the Career Woman would feel dried up, or filled up, with nothing much else but sandwiches, sandwiches all day long. So then the evening meal just had to be vegetables. Relaxing in her arm-chair with a self-indulgent glass of good sherry in her hand, she could think as she sipped, and soon she would gain Dutch courage to face the drudgery of peeling and washing the vegetables. The sliced roots went into the saucepan first, and when they were nearly done the shredded green things went on top, so that they were all ready together. A half-teaspoonful of meat or vegetable extract and a lump of butter gave them the extra nutriment and flavour which she liked.
SPAGHETTI AND CHEESE
When the meals during the day had not been so starchy—when salads and fruit had played their refreshing part in the diet—she might like to make herself a spaghetti dish. She preferred it a foot long, unbroken. In order that it should remain so, she held a bunch of it over a saucepan of boiling salted water, and, as the ends were immersed, they softened and curled around without snapping off. In fifteen minutes or so, depending on the thickness of the spaghetti, it was softly cooked and ready to lift out of the cooking water with a perforated egg-slice to drain it.
Cooking Alone Page 5