66 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[February, 
as in fig. 2, where each suspender is bent back upon 
itself, and the two firmly sewed together. This 
gives a strong doubled edge to sew to. The single 
edges are stitched, as shown by the dotted lines. 
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Letter from a Housekeeper. 
Hints about Crumpet's. —A Frenchman brings 
to the door a very nice article of crumpets, for 
which he charges twenty cents a dozen. My Eng¬ 
lish friend says, “They are nothing but flour and 
water, and fearfully dear.” 1 think she is mistaken 
about their being nothing but flour and water. I 
have often made them, but never to my satisfaction, 
unless the batter was mixed with pure sweet milk, 
and at least two eggs to the quart of batter. Any 
housekeeper trying my receipt, will, I think, be 
pleased with it. Use a tin pail with a closely fitting 
lid. Take a quart of new or perfectly sweet milk, 
and raise it to a bread-making temperature. Mix 
it with flour enough to make a stiff batter. Now 
stir in a teacup of lively yeast and let the pail 
stand in a warm place until the sponge is very light. 
A teaspoon of salt may now be added, and the woll- 
beaten whites of two or three eggs. Mix very 
thoroughly and let them stand again until very 
light, when they are ready to bake. A moderate 
fire is best, and the cakes should not be turned until 
the holes on the upper side are formed and set. A 
sort of secret, and a very important part ef good 
crumpet-making, is this : After the crumpets are 
baked, do not remove them to a plate, or place them 
one over the other while warm ; do not put them 
on the table or any solid substance, but pass each 
crumpet as soon as done’to a cloth, drawn over an 
empty barrel, or suspended in a similar manner. 
In this way they cool rapidly and remain perfectly 
light, which would not be the ease if this precaution 
was not observed. After they are cold you may 
place them one over the other without affecting 
their lightness in the least. Rings of the proper 
size should be provided, but they are not indispens¬ 
able, as the crumpets may be made without and 
taste just as good. In this case, however, after they 
are cold it is well to trim them to.a uniform shape, 
using a large pair of scissors for the purpose. They 
will keep for a week or more. "When wanted for 
the table, they must be toasted brown, gener¬ 
ously buttered, cut into three triangular-shaped 
pieces, and served very hot. They must be piled 
from three to five on the plate before being cut. 
If the pieces are displaced in the least, you will 
gently push them into place. My English friend 
tells me that they are an indispensable addition to 
a tea-fable in her country, especially if invited 
guests are present, and that they are very generally 
used for breakfast. Husband is very fond of buck¬ 
wheat crumpets, which are much less difiiaalt to 
make. The buckwheat flour cooks and sets much 
quicker than wheat flour, so that it is quite possible 
to have the crumpets light and nice without milk 
or the whites of eggs. I often make them for tea, 
using the batter left from the morning’s breakfast. 
No matter how light they are, if you place them one 
over the other, or even on' separate plates, while 
just hot from the stove, they will be heavy. To in¬ 
sure their excellence, you must place them on a sus¬ 
pended cloth as directed for the wheat crumpets. 
I have met with individuals who preferred 
crumpets toasted so much that they were dry and 
hard. This I consider a perverted taste, as the na¬ 
ture of the cakes is, to be soft, tender, and delicate. 
Roasting Old Poultry.—I t is quite a general 
idea (and I think an erroneous one) that old and 
mature poultry should invariably be boiled to in¬ 
sure its being tender. This may be a good general 
rule, but it is not always necessary to follow it. 
For instance, if I want a roast chicken for dinner, 
and the one provided is an old one, by merely cook¬ 
ing it a longer time and at an even temperature, it 
may be made as tender as though it had been boiled. 
My experience, although of course limited, lias 
taught me this. My mother once suggested to a 
young housekeeper that the goose intended for the 
Sunday’s dinner was old and would require con¬ 
siderable cooking, but gave no length of time re¬ 
quired. The young person, who had had very little 
practice in the art of cooking, put it in the oven as 
soon as the fire was well lighted in the morning. 
At nine o’clock she took it out until church-time (a 
little after ten), when she gave directions to the 
girl to keep it in the oven till they returned to 
dine at one. It was so tender that it broke away 
before the edge of the sharp carving knife, and the 
meat was a dark walnut color throughout. I rdlate 
this to show that an old bird may lie- made tender 
by roasting. The orifice at the neck and apron 
should be securely sewed together, in order to 
confine the steam and keep it moist. Another 
young housekeeper of my acquaintance some years 
since gave a dinner party, and naturally enough 
her husband bought the largest turkey in market. 
An experienced neighbor told her, “It is an old 
gobbler, and you will have to steam it.” So the 
day before the party she steamed it until it was as 
tender as a spring-chicken,and ready to fall to pieces. 
Then she roasted it until it was a fine brown. The 
next day, an hour before the dinner, it went in the 
oven to be warmed up. This also fell before the 
knife, and so far as eating roast turkey was con¬ 
cerned, was a complete failure. Now, if this turkey 
had been properly trussed, the knee joints pushed 
up to the side of the breast under the skin, and 
then roasted in a moderate oven for about three 
hours on the very day of the party, and been well 
basted, I have no doubt it would have been tender. 
Sweet-Breads, cooked properly, are very deli¬ 
cious and exceedingly nice for invalids. A little 
butter only should be allowed in'the pan with them, 
and no seasoning of any kind. After they are a fine 
brown all over, a little salt may be sprinkled over, 
and they may be served. They need a moderate fire 
and at least thirty minutes’ time. Some years 
since I was in the habit of soaking and blanching 
them, but I have since learned better. I merely 
wipe them clean and cut off any unpleasant-look¬ 
ing part. It is best to purchase only those that are 
white and free from blood. 
Boiling Clothes. —By a little incident that 
happened under my own observation, I am reminded 
to suggest to the inexperienced that clothes to be 
boiled should be placed in cold water. I have 
seen washer-women put the clothes into a boiler of 
very hot water. It is a mistake, and will be certain 
to make the clothes yellow. It would be well to 
say just here in this winter-time, that unless con¬ 
siderable care is exercised while taking clothes 
from the lines, they will be badly torn. Instead of 
pulling at the goods, simply bend or lift the part 
immediately under the clothes-peg from the line. 
It will separate easily, and will not injure the fabric 
in the least. Do not try to bend the articles while 
frozen, but allow them to remain on a table or the 
clothes-horse until the frost is out. A few mo¬ 
ments in a moderate tempevature will be sufficient. 
How we Live at Our House. 
I was about to write this to your horticultural 
department, but, upon the whole, I think I will 
send it to the Household, provided anything from 
a masculine pen can be admitted there. We live in 
the country, and have more or less visitors. Those 
who stay a few days usually make a direct or im¬ 
plied compliment to the way in which we live. 
This has been done so often as to induce me to con¬ 
sider in what particulars our living differs from that 
of people in general, and I find it all sums itself up 
in—vegetables, and plenty of them. Our butcher’s 
bill is unusually small for a family of its size, and 
we do not take much pains to procure delicacies or 
rarities in that line; but Upon vegetables, as the 
slang phrase goes, “we throw ourselves. 1 ’ To one 
from the city the profusion and quality of our veg¬ 
etables is naturally a surprise, and it is still more 
so to the average farmer who now and then makes 
us a visit. Farmers, as a general thing, have fewer 
vegetables than those who live in cities. Our rule 
is, three or four vegetables besides potatoes, accord¬ 
ing to the season. I know I shall be set down for 
a heretic, but I never could see why people must 
always have potatoes for dinner. To the world in 
general a dinner without potatoes is no meal at all, 
and in deference to custom we always have pota¬ 
toes, which “ himself” seldom troubles. Of course 
the foundation of this abundance of vegetables is 
the garden. I need not tell you what the farmer’s 
garden generally is, nor what it ought to be, for you 
have been preaching about it these many years. I 
have been North, South, East, and West as far as 
most people, and know how meager are the farm¬ 
ers’ tables as far as vegetables are concerned. There 
are pies, puddings, cakes, pickles, and preserves in 
costly profusion, for these the good wife can man¬ 
age without man’s aid, but few women care to un¬ 
dertake a garden. Some few do it, and capitally 
too, but they are not numerous enough to serve 
for examples. Though I do say it, the head of this 
family looks out for the garden products as being 
next in importance to bread. From the time the 
departing frosts allow the winter-covered spinach 
to be cut until the ground closes the next Novem¬ 
ber, there are fresh vegetables every day. In the 
one item of “greens,” there is no day between 
these two periods when there is not a cutting of 
something: Spinach, New Zealand Spinach, Spin¬ 
ach Beet, Sorrel, and Kale, or Sprouts, one or the 
other, is at hand. It is not necessary to go through 
the catalogue of the varieties we enjoy, as it would 
include nearly everything edible in the vegetable 
line. Let us look at our present winter’s supply; 
it consists of Savoys and common cabbages, beets, 
turnips, onions, carrots, salsify, parsnips, scorzo- 
nera, squashes, sweet potatoes, celery, horse-radish, 
common potatoes of course, aud beans. So in win¬ 
ter even there is a chance for abundant variety. 
Having the winter’s store of vegetables, there are 
two things essential to their full enjoyment—proper 
keeping and proper cooking. As to the keeping, 
that is not a matter belonging in the Household 
Department. It is sufficient to say that each is 
stored according to its requirements, and that es¬ 
pecially the roots are kept in bins where they are 
stratified with earth. 
My tw'o favorite vegetables in the above list are 
carrots and celery, and they are both cooked in the 
same way. I know that some will hold up their 
hands in horror at the notion of cooking celery— 
but just try it. We have a plenty to eat raw, but 
we like it cooked besides—they are two different 
things, just as are raw and stewed tomatoes. Cook¬ 
ing is, besides, an economical way of using celery, 
as that which is not well blanched may be cooked. 
As to cooking, the celery is cut up into inch-pieces, 
aud the carrots into dice about the same size. They 
are stewed in a little water until tender, and what 
water remains is poured off; milk enough to make 
a sauce is poured on, and a good lump of butter, 
previously rolled in flour, is added, and the whole 
boiled up again.- This makes a rich treamy sauce 
for the vegetables, and one who has never tasted 
carrots other than plain-boiled, will be surprised at 
the difference cooking can make to a common vege¬ 
table. Those who' have never tried celery treated 
as above, will find in it a new culinary revelation. 
Mind, I never cooked them as described, but that 
is the way “the Missis” says it is done. Salsify, 
which people will call “ Vegetable Oyster,” when 
there is no oyster about it, but good enough without 
borrowing a name, and Scorzouera, which is like 
Salsify, only a little more so, are both cooked in the 
same way. The Savoys are cabbages glorified; 
don’t profane them by boiling with meat, but cook 
in pure water, and when done, drain and cover with 
a nice draivn butter, as you would cauliflower. Don’t, 
when you havG done this, make common cabbage 
of it by drenching it with vinegar. If this letter 
was not already too long, I would like to say some¬ 
thing about the use of vinegar and other condi¬ 
ments, but that must remain for another time. I 
am not a “ vegetarian ” in the accepted sense of the 
word; we have meat twice a day, but it is quite 
astonishing how little of it suffices when there is 
an abundance of nicely served vegetables. If those 
who live in the country would expend dimes on the 
garden, they would save dollars in the yearly ex¬ 
penditure for meat, and it may be that health and 
comfort would be greatly increased. Thorson. 
