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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
February  18,  1897 
with  the  pollen  of  the  other  does  not  appear  to  me  to  explain  Nature’s 
work.  A  somewhat  similar  change  is  observed  in  the  production  of 
flowers,  both  coloured  and  variegated,  from  the  same  seeds  without 
artificial  crossing  or  impregnation  with  pollen. — Geo.  Viner  Ellis. 
THE  POTATO  IN  PERFECTION. 
I  AM  happy  to  detail  my  experience  of  Potato  cookery  on  this  side 
of  the  Channel,  in  response  to  “J.  E.’s”  note  of  interrogation  on 
page  115.  Possibly  we  are  not,  as  a  people,  so  accomplished  in  the 
matter  as  he  infers,  from  reasons  to  be  shown  ;  but,  however  that  may 
be,  Ireland  should  certainly,  from  the  prominent  part  the  Potato  has  so 
long  played  in  its  food  economy,  lead  the  way  in  cooking  the  esculent 
tuber.  In  the  first  place,  those  portions  of  the  island  where  the  Potato 
is  practically  the  staple  food,  have,  from  its  deterioration  by  continued 
cropping  on  “sick  ”  ground,  the  employment  of  the  refuse  as  seed,  and 
other  causes,  ably  expounded  at  our  recent  tercentenary,  left  good  cook¬ 
ing  results  out  of  the  question  where  we  might  reasonably  expect  to  find 
the  best  examples  of  the  simple  culinary  art  practised.  Hence,  unfor¬ 
tunately,  the  Potato  in  perfection  is  rarely  to  be  met  with. 
I  fear  also,  in  spite  of  our  sympathetic  friend’s  praise,  that  many 
visitors  to  Dublin,  if  their  visit  is  confined  to  the  “  cardrivingest  ”  city, 
may  be  disappointed  at  the  way,  if  not  in  the  quality,  of  the  Potatoes 
served  by  those  who  cater  for  the  public.  One  first-class  restaurant, 
indeed,  which  is  in  the  hands  of  a  gentleman  well  known  as  an  accom¬ 
plished  amateur  gardener,  gives  all  the  attention  to  the  matter  it  deserves, 
and  ore  will  there  find  served  with  their  piece  de  resistance  a  brace 
of  Sutton’s  Main  Crop  in  their  jackets,  satisfying  in  all  points.  But. 
again,  we  as  a  race  do  not  favour  a  long  kidney  shaped  Potato,  and  I 
fear  there  is  in  this  catering  just  a  soupgon  of  Anglo-mania  attached  to 
it  which,  1  trust,  will  never  reach  the  cooking,  and  serving  up  in  the 
nude,  for  that  would  illustrate  the  description  given  by  an  Irish  girl 
whose  sister  had  served  with  an  English  family  in  London — viz.,  “  Oh  1 
she’s  real  Englified  now,  and  peels  the  Potatoes.”  A  reliable  round 
variety  is,  taken  all  round,  the  Potato  for  us,  and  I  think  English  friends 
will  appreciate  us  and  our  Potatoes  better  by  retaining  our  character 
than  by  any  attempts  at  being  “  Englified.” 
Between  these  two  extremes — the  metropolis  and  the  impoverished 
West — there  is  doubtless  ample  ground  and  opportunity  for  sampling 
the  Potato  in  perfection.  Presupposing  that  His  Excellency’s  remarks 
at  the  tercentenary,  which  possibly  may  be  taken,  like  Potatoes,  cum 
grano  sails,  leave  an  opening  for  our  English  friends  to  learn  from  Irish 
cooks,  I  will  come  to  the  point  (the  boiling  point)  with  a  few  simple 
rules  observed  in  these  localities.  The  Potato  must  be  c  >oked  in  his 
jacket,  consequently  he  should  have  a  clean  and  sightly  one,  a 
point  each  for  cook  and  gardener  to  remember.  Whatever  variety  is 
favoured  the  character  of  that  variety  and  its  behavour  in  the  pot  must 
be  Btudied.  For  instance,  the  “  Champion  ”  (champion  no  longer),  in 
use  for  years,  was  found  to  give  the  best  results  when  the  water  was 
strained  off  at  the  half-boiled  stage,  and  the  operation  again  resumed 
with  cold  water.  Another  little  point,  but  important,  is  to  select  tubers 
of  the  same  size  for  the  one  boiling. 
If  it  is  found  necessary  to  soak  the  Potato  late  in  the  season  in  order 
to  restore  any  watery  particles  which  may  have  evaporated  under 
storage  in  a  dry  place  (which  is  a  bad  place)  two  or  three  hours  in  water, 
unpeeled  I  beg  and  insist,  is  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  Place  them  in 
sufficient  cold  water  to  well  cover  them,  to  which,  when  brought  to  the 
boil,  add  a  liberal  sprinkling  of  salt;  then  previously  to  their  being 
done  quite  through  strain  off,  and  let  the  steam  finish  the  process.  One 
Irish  lassie  who  took  pride  in  the  task  (only  she  would  occasionally 
forget  the  salt)  used  at  this  stage  to  put  a  clean  napkin  over  the 
Potatoes,  and  replace  the  lid  for  the  finishing  process.  It  is  an  excellent 
plan. 
The  highest  possible  of  Potato  cookery  I  have  seen  was  that  in  which 
the  dishing  up  completed,  I  believe,  the  perfect  results.  This  was  ffi  a 
nobleman’s  establishment  where  the  Potatoes,  cooked  as  above  described, 
were  served  up  in  wooden  bowls,  the  contents  of  each  bowl  being  covered 
with  a  napkin,  which  was  whisked  off  at  the  last  moment  on  the  table. 
This  led  on  one  occasion  to  a  remark  from  a  lady’s  lady  that  “  the  food 
was  served  up  in  troughs,  the  same  as  for  pigs,”  a  remark  as  relevant  as 
that  of  a  gentleman’s  gentleman  at  the  same  table,  whose  sea  voyage  to 
reach  this  side  led  him  to  exclaim,  “  I  shall  advise  my  lord  to  go  back  all 
the  way  by  train  instead  of  having  that  beastly  sea  passage.” 
The  wooden  bowl  is  doubtless  a  relic  of  the  times  when  trenchers  and 
other  vessels  of  wood  were  in  vogue,  including  the  Irish  drinking  cup, 
four-handled  and  square  in  shape.  Some  superb  examples  of  Irish 
silversmiths’  work  are  to  be  found  in  the  antique  Potato  rings.  These 
were  probably  used  as  stands  for  the  bowls,  possibly  also  in  other  ways 
for  serving  up  the  Potatoes,  but  are  now  prized  as  table  ornaments  by 
their  fortunate  possessors.  I  was  lately  speaking  to  a  high-class  cook  on 
this  subject,  one  who  does  not  disdain  to  give  the  matter  personal 
attention,  and  I  was  informed  that  when  living  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
sea,  sea  water  was  invariably  used  for  cooking  the  tubers,  and  could  not 
be  excelled  for  the  purpose. 
Unfortunately  high-class  cooks  appear,  as  a  rule,  to  think  the  homely, 
yet  indispensable  Potato,  benea'h  their  notice,  hence  complaints  abound. 
One  gardener  I  knew,  who  was  nearly  as  often  in  hot  water,  figuratively, 
as  the  Potatoes  were,  literally  settled  the  matter  of  “  bad  Potatoes  ”  by 
inviting  “my  lady  ”  to  sample  big  growing  and  Mrs,  Gardener’s  cooking 
in  his  cottage.  “Excellent,”  was  the  verdict.  There  is  beauty  in  a 
Potato,  and  joy  in  eating  it  when  cooked  to  perfection,  and  there  is, 
too,  I  believe,  virtue  in  a  wooden  bowl  when  serving  up  on  the  altar  of 
our  necessities. — Paddy. 
Our  most  useful  vegetable  misused.  Alas  1  it  is  so.  Potatoes  are 
left  to  chance,  instead  of  being  made  the  first  consideration.  On  no 
account  should  the  Potatoes  wait  for  the  rest  of  the  dinner,  and  yet  how 
often  we  see  the  Potatoes  taken  off  the  fire  and  put  aside,  so  that  the 
cook  may  warm  up  soup,  fry  fish,  or  make  sauce  1  Potatoes  should 
never  be  put  into  a  steamer  till  the  water  boils.  When  done,  must  be 
served  at  once  in  a  hot  tureen.  Boasted  Potatoes  are  spoiled  nine  times 
out  of  ten  by  overcooking. 
Then  again,  the  quality  of  the  Potato  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
the  preparation  of  a  good  dish.  I  would  not  risk  my  reputation  as  a 
cook  by  trying  to  prepare  a  Potato  out  of  our  kitchen  garden,  which  is 
far  too  strong  a  soil,  nor  from  other  light  sandy  land  in  our  occupation  ; 
nor  will  I  guarantee  to  cook  Potatoes  that  have  been  put  up  in  a  sack 
for  an  indefinite  time  and  exposed  to  varying  degrees  of  temperature. 
In  paring  a  Potato  I  can  tell  by  the  feel  if  it  is  a  good  cooker,  and 
experience  soon  teaches  this.  It  is  too  early  yet  to  steep  Potatoes  over¬ 
night  in  water ;  that  is  a  good  plan  later,  when  there  is  much  growth. 
A  handful  of  salt  and  a  few  sprigs  of  Mint  should  be  added.  Doubtful 
Potatoes  roast  best.  In  steaming  the  heat  must  be  uniform. 
Bad  land  won’t  grow  good  Potatoes.  Much  may  be  done  by  manure, 
but  the  constitution  of  the  land  cannot  be  changed  unless  the  cost  exceed 
the  value  of  the  crop. 
Potatoes  are  best  cooked  in  middle-class  households,  where  the 
mistress  is  at  the  head  of  kitchen  affairs,  and  brings  a  little  intelligence 
to  bear  on  her  work. — The  Missus. 
[When  doctors  differ  1  “  Place  them  in  cold  water,”  says  “  Paddy.” 
“  Potatoes  should  never  be  put  in  a  steamer  till  the  water  boils,”  says 
“  The  Missus.”  “  Paddy  ”  has  our  sympathy  in  his  unfortunate  position. 
Can  some  County  Council  teacher  on  cookery  come  to  the  rescue?] 
FLORICULTURE  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 
In  these  days  of  journalistic  enterprise  we  hear  a  great  deal  about 
successful  men.  Sometimes  we  come  across  characters,  born  gardeners 
I  will  call  them,  who  appear  to  have  missed  their  vocation,  and  who, 
had  their  lot  been  cast  in  the  calling  would  most  probably  have  been 
amongst  its  shining  lights.  Such  an  instance  once  came  before  my 
notice,  and  is  well  worth  relating. 
It  was  at  the  Cardiff  Show.  The  judges  had  made  their  awards  and 
passed  on,  when  a  voice  behind  muttered  “  What  a  pity  1  I  should  ha’  won 
easily.”  The  speaker’s  appearance  suggested  that  gardening  was  not  his 
occupation.  Moving  away  his  next  pause  was  before  a  group  of  trained 
Zonal  Pelargoniums,  and  then  with  a  look  of  disgust  he  started  towards  the 
exit,  but  stopped  suddenly  as  if  a  new  idea  had  struck  him,  and  inquired 
whether  we  knew  that  “  Thomas  Hillard  was  not  showing  his  plants 
this  year.”  Going  on  to  say — “  It’s  like  this,  I’ve  won  prizes  with  my 
Fuchsias  and  ‘Geraniums’  for  nearly  twenty  years  at  Cardiff  Show, 
and  this  year  after  I’d  got  ’em  potted,  and  they  had  started  well,  I 
learnt  that  the  Committee  had  put  a  restriction  on  the  size  of  the  pots. 
Of  course  mine  were  too  big,  and  I  should  ha’  bin  disqualified  if  I'd 
brought  ’em.  It  is  a  pity,  I  should  ha’  *  walked  in.’  If  I’d  known 
before  I’d  potted  my  plants.” 
Making  further  inquiries  we  learnt  that  he  was  a  shoemaker  by 
trade  and  floriculture  was  his  hobby.  The  idea  of  a  shoemaker  growing 
specimen  Fuchsias  and  Pelargoniums  appeared  somewhat  novel,  but  an 
invitation  was  given  to  see  the  plants  at  home.  Those  who  are  acquainted 
with  Cardiff  will  know  something  of  the  neighbourhood  adj  fining  the 
docks.  The  slimy,  muddy  looking  water  comes  nearly  up  to  the  doors 
of  the  houses,  and  it  is  in  Hodge’s  Yard  near  the  docks  that  the  shoe¬ 
maker  florist  grows  his  plants.  Every  inhabitant  of  the  Yard  appeared 
to  take  a  lively  interest  in  the  Fuchsias,  and  were  profuse  in  regrets 
that  their  owner  was  prohibited  from  exhibiting.  We  regretted  to  find 
that  the  shoemaker’s  business  had  called  him  away  from  home,  but  soon 
learnt  that  his  better  half  was  almost  as  much  a  gardener  as  he  himself. 
The  greenhouse  itself  deserves  a  word,  being  built  in  a  style 
peculiarly  its  own.  Several  additions  had  evidently  been  made  to  the 
original  structure,  and  its  formation,  if  not  elegant,  is  at  any  rate 
ingenious.  The  lower  part  of  the  house  is  of  wood,  heavily  coated  with 
tar;  the  side  lights  appear  to  have  done  former  duty  as  window  case¬ 
ments,  and  the  roof  presents  a  variety  of  angles  and  gradients.  Entrance 
is  effected  by  means  of  a  doorway  at  one  end,  and  if  our  surprise  was 
great  at  the  outside  appearance  it  was  infinitely  greater  when,  by  bend¬ 
ing  and  squeezing,  we  got  among  the  plants.  Junior  members  of  the 
Hillard  family  were  busily  engaged  in  watering  the  Fuchsias  — 
magnificent  specimens  nearly  8  feet  high,  and  wreathed  with  flowers 
from  base  to  summit.  It  was  impossible  to  get  among  the  plants  in  a 
perpendicular  position,  and  it  was  amusing  to  see  the  youngsters 
crawliDg  between  the  pots  on  all  fours  with  a  watering  can. 
“  How  long  has  your  husband  grown  Fuchsias  ?  ”  we  inquired. 
“  Well,  we’ve  had  that  plant  about  sixteen  years,”  replied  Mrs.  Hillard, 
pointing  to  a  superbly  flowered  specimen. 
“  Suppose  you  know  them  by  name  ?  ” 
“Oh,  yes;  there’s  Marguerite,  Beacon,  Charming,  Mrs.  Rundell, 
Gustave  Doid,  and  several  others.”  They  were  all  splendid  examples  of 
culture,  trained  in  pyramid  shape,  with  points  almost  touching  the  roof. 
