THE OPEN WOOD FIRE. 



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time on the mast, or a rabbit well fattened in the fields, 

 and broil it carefully over a bed of wood coals in the 

 forest, delicately turning it and watching it, till the 

 skin becomes brown and crisp and the tender pink flesh 

 cracks apart slightly as it sizzles — and then, if it be 

 properly prepared, if this juicy morsel is not the best 

 thing you ever tasted, and fit food for kings or the 

 gods — well, sir, then you are no epicure, and I will 

 have none of you ! 



Richard Jefferies has forever immortalized country 

 cooking in this unrivaled description of a leg of mutton 

 roasted before an open fireplace, in his "Amaryllis at 

 the Fair:" 



"That day they had a leg of mutton — a special occasion — 

 a joint to be looked on reverently. . . . The meat was dark 

 brown, as mutton should be, for if it is the least bit white it 

 is sure to be poor; the grain was short, and ate like bread 

 and butter, firm, and yet almost crumbling to the touch; it 

 was full of juicy red gravy, and cut pleasantly, the knife went 

 through it nicely; you can tell good meat directly you touch 

 it with a knife. It was cooked to a turn, and had been done 

 at a wood fire on a hearth ; no oven taste, no taint of coal gas 

 or carbon; the pure flame of wood had browned it. Such 

 emanations as there may be from burning logs are odorous of 

 the woodland, of the sunshine, of the fields and fresh air; the 

 wood simply gives out as it burns the sweetness it has im- 

 bibed through its leaves from the atmosphere which floats 

 above grass and flowers. Essences of this odor, if they do 

 penetrate the fibers of the meat, add to its flavor a delicate 

 aroma. Grass-fed meat, cooked at a wood fire, for me." 



"Better a dinner of herbs where love is, than a 

 stalled ox and hatred therewith." The privilege of the 

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