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diff --git a/old/53458-0.txt b/old/53458-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index db0877a..0000000 --- a/old/53458-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11061 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Chemistry of Cookery, by W. Mattieu Williams - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Chemistry of Cookery - -Author: W. Mattieu Williams - -Release Date: November 6, 2016 [EBook #53458] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY - - - - -_OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_ - -ON - -THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY. - - -‘The reader who wants to satisfy himself as to the value of this book, -and the novelty which its teaching possesses, need not go beyond the -first chapter, on “The Boiling of Water.” But if he reads this he -certainly will go further, and will probably begin to think how he can -induce his cook to assimilate some of the valuable lessons which Mr. -Williams gives. If he can succeed in that he will have done a very good -day’s work for his health and house. . . . About the economical value -of the book there can be no doubt.’—SPECTATOR. - -‘Will be welcomed by all who wish to see the subject of the preparation -of food reduced to a science. . . . Perspicuously and pleasantly Mr. -Williams explains the why and the wherefore of each successive step -in any given piece of culinary work. Every mistress of a household -who wishes to raise her cook above the level of a mere automaton -will purchase two copies of Mr. Williams’s excellent book—the one -for the kitchen, and the other for her own careful and studious -perusal.’—KNOWLEDGE. - -‘Thoroughly readable, full of interest, with enough of the author’s -personality to give a piquancy to the stories told.’—WESTMINSTER REVIEW. - -‘Mr. Williams is a good chemist and a pleasant writer: he has evidently -been a keen observer of dietaries in various countries, and his little -book contains much that is worth reading.’—ATHENÆUM. - -‘There is plenty of room for this excellent book by Mr. Mattieu -Williams. . . . There are few conductors of cookery classes who are so -thoroughly grounded in the science of the subject that they will not -find many valuable hints in Mr. Williams’s pages.’—SCOTSMAN. - -‘Throughout the work we find the signs of care and thoughtful -investigation. . . . Mr. Williams has managed most judiciously to -compress into a very small compass a vast amount of authoritative -information on the subject of food and feeding generally—and the volume -is really quite a compendium of its subject.’—FOOD. - -‘The British cook might derive a good many useful hints from Mr. -Williams’s latest book. . . . The author of “The Chemistry of Cookery” -has produced a very interesting work. We heartily recommend it to -theorists, to people who cook for themselves, and to all who are -anxious to spread abroad enlightened ideas upon a most important -subject. . . . Hereafter, cookery will be regarded, even in this -island, as a high art and science. We may not live to those delightful -days; but when they come, and the degree of Master of Cookery is -granted to qualified candidates, the “Chemistry of Cookery” will be -a text-book in the schools, and the bust of Mr. Mattieu Williams -will stand side by side with that of Count Rumford upon every -properly-appointed kitchen dresser.’—PALL MALL GAZETTE. - -‘Housekeepers who wish to be fully informed as to the nature of -successful culinary operations should read “The Chemistry of -Cookery.”’—CHRISTIAN WORLD. - -‘In all the nineteen chapters into which the work is divided there -is much both to interest and to instruct the general reader, while -deserving the attention of the “dietetic reformer.” . . . The author -has made almost a life-long study of the subject.’—ENGLISH MECHANIC. - - - - -_OTHER WORKS BY MR. MATTIEU WILLIAMS._ - -Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ - -SCIENCE IN SHORT CHAPTERS. - - -‘Few writers on popular science know better how to steer a middle -course between the Scylla of technical abstruseness and the Charybdis -of empty frivolity than Mr. Mattieu Williams. He writes for intelligent -people who are not technically scientific, and he expects them to -understand what he tells them when he has explained it to them in his -perfectly lucid fashion without any of the embellishments, in very -doubtful taste, which usually pass for popularisation. The papers are -not mere réchauffés of common knowledge. Almost all of them are marked -by original thought, and many of them contain demonstrations or aperçus -of considerable scientific value.’—PALL MALL GAZETTE. - -‘There are few writers on the subjects which Mr. Williams selects whose -fertility and originality are equal to his own. We read all he has to -say with pleasure, and very rarely without profit.’—SCIENCE GOSSIP. - -‘Mr. Mattieu Williams is undoubtedly able to present scientific -subjects to the popular mind with much clearness and force: and these -essays may be read with advantage by those, who, without having had -special training, are yet sufficiently intelligent to take interest in -the movement of events in the scientific world.’—ACADEMY. - - -Crown 8vo. cloth limp, 2_s._ 6_d._ - -A SIMPLE TREATISE ON HEAT. - -‘This is an unpretending little work, put forth for the purpose of -expounding, in simple style, the phenomena and laws of heat. No -strength is vainly spent in endeavouring to present a mathematical view -of the subject. The Author passes over the ordinary range of matter -to be found in most elementary treatises on heat, and enlarges upon -the applications of the principles of his science—a subject which is -naturally attractive to the uninitiated. Mr. Williams’s object has -been well carried out, and his little book may be recommended to those -who care to study this interesting branch of physics.’—POPULAR SCIENCE -REVIEW. - -‘We can recommend this treatise as equally exact in the information it -imparts, and pleasant in the mode of imparting it. It is neither dry -nor technical, but suited in all respects to the use of intelligent -learners.’—TABLET. - -‘Decidedly a success. The language is as simple as possible, -consistently with scientific soundness, and the copiousness of -illustration with which Mr. Williams’s pages abound, derived from -domestic life and from the commonest operations of nature, will commend -this book to the ordinary reader as well as to the young student of -science.’—ACADEMY. - - London : CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly, W. - - -Demy 8vo. cloth extra, price 7_s._ 6_d._ - -THE FUEL OF THE SUN. - -‘The work is well deserving of careful study, especially by the -astronomer, too apt to forgot the teachings of other sciences than his -own.’—FRASER’S MAGAZINE. - -‘It is characterised throughout by a carefulness of thought and an -originality that command respect, while it is based upon observed facts -and not upon mere fanciful theory.’—ENGINEERING. - -‘Mr. Williams’s interesting and valuable work called “The Fuel of the -Sun.”’—POPULAR SCIENCE REVIEW. - - - London: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO. - - - - -THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY - - - BY - W. MATTIEU WILLIAMS - AUTHOR OF ‘THE FUEL OF THE SUN’ ‘SCIENCE IN SHORT CHAPTERS’ - ‘A SIMPLE TREATISE ON HEAT’ ETC. - -[Illustration] - - _SECOND EDITION_ - - London - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1892 - - - - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - - - - -PREFACE. - - -DURING the infancy of the Birmingham and Midland Institute, when -my classes in Cannon Street constituted the whole of its teaching -machinery, I delivered a course of lectures to ladies on ‘Household -Philosophy,’ in which ‘The Chemistry of Cookery’ was included. In -collecting material for these lectures, I was surprised at the strange -neglect of the subject by modern chemists. - -On taking it up again, after an interval of nearly thirty years, I find -that (excepting the chemistry of wine cookery), absolutely nothing -further, worthy of the name of research, has in the meantime been -brought to bear upon it. - -This explanation is demanded as an apology for what some may consider -the egotism that permeates this little work. I have been continually -compelled to put forth my own explanations of familiar phenomena, my -own speculations, concerning the changes effected by cookery, and -my own small contributions to the experimental investigation of the -subject. - -Under these difficult circumstances I have endeavoured to place -before the reader a simple and readable account of what is known of -‘The Chemistry of Cookery,’ explaining technicalities as they occur, -rather than abstaining from the use of them by means of cumbrous -circumlocution or patronising baby-talk. - -With a moderate effort of attention, any unlearned but intelligent -reader of either sex may understand all the contents of these chapters; -and I venture to anticipate that scientific chemists may find in them -some suggestive matter. - -If these expectations are justified by results, this preliminary essay -will fulfil its double object. It will diffuse a knowledge of what -is at present knowable of ‘The Chemistry of Cookery’ among those who -greatly need it, and will contribute to the extension of such knowledge -by opening a wide and very promising field of scientific research. - -I should add that the work is based on a series of papers that appeared -in ‘Knowledge’ during the years 1883 and 1884. - - W. MATTIEU WILLIAMS. - - STONEBRIDGE PARK, LONDON, N.W. - _March 1885._ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. INTRODUCTORY 1 - II. THE BOILING OF WATER 8 - III. ALBUMEN 19 - IV. GELATIN, FIBRIN, AND THE JUICES OF MEAT 32 - V. ROASTING AND GRILLING 47 - VI. COUNT RUMFORD’S ROASTER 63 - VII. FRYING 84 - VIII. STEWING 111 - IX. CHEESE 127 - X. FAT—MILK 156 - XI. THE COOKERY OF VEGETABLES 173 - XII. GLUTEN—BREAD 194 - XIII. VEGETABLE CASEIN AND VEGETABLE JUICES 211 - XIV. COUNT RUMFORD’S COOKERY AND CHEAP DINNERS 227 - XV. COUNT RUMFORD’S SUBSTITUTE FOR TEA AND COFFEE 245 - XVI. THE COOKERY OF WINE 265 - XVII. THE VEGETARIAN QUESTION 294 - XVIII. MALTED FOOD 303 - XIX. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF NUTRITION 313 - - INDEX 325 - - - - -THE - -CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -INTRODUCTORY. - - -THE philosopher who first perceived and announced the fact that all the -physical doings of man consist simply in changing the places of things, -made a very profound generalisation, and one that is worthy of more -serious consideration than it has received. - -All our handicraft, however great may be the skill employed, amounts -to no more than this. The miner moves the ore and the fuel from their -subterranean resting-places, then they are moved into the furnace, -and by another moving of combustibles the working of the furnace is -started; then the metals are moved to the foundries and forges, then -under hammers, or squeezers, or into melting-pots, and thence to -moulds. The workman shapes the bars, or plates, or castings by removing -a part of their substance, and by more and more movings of material -produces the engine, which does its work when fuel and water are moved -into its fireplace and boiler. - -The statue is within the rough block of marble; the sculptor merely -moves away the outer portions, and thereby renders his artistic -conception visible to his fellow-men. - -The agriculturist merely moves the soil in order that it may receive -the seed, which he then moves into it, and when the growth is -completed, he moves the result, and thereby makes his harvest. - -The same may be said of every other operation. Man alters the position -of physical things in such wise that the forces of Nature shall operate -upon them, and produce the changes or other results that he requires. - -My reasons for this introductory digression will be easily understood, -as this view of the doings of man and the doings of Nature displays -fundamentally the business of human education, so far as the physical -proceedings and physical welfare of mankind are concerned. - -It clearly points out two well-marked natural divisions of such -education—education or training in the movements to be made, and -education in a knowledge of the consequences of such movements—_i.e._ -in a knowledge of the forces of Nature which actually do the work when -man has suitably arranged the materials. - -The education ordinarily given to apprentices in the workshop, or -the field, or the studio—or, as relating to my present subject, the -kitchen—is the first of these, the second and equally necessary being -simply and purely the teaching of physical science as applied to the -arts. - -I cannot proceed any further without a protest against a very general -(so far as this country is concerned) misuse of a now very popular -term, a misuse that is rather surprising, seeing that it is accepted -by scholars who have devoted the best of their intellectual efforts to -the study of words. I refer to the word _technical_ as applied in the -designation ‘technical education.’ - -So long as our workshops are separated from our science schools -and colleges, it is most desirable, in order to avoid continual -circumlocution, to have terms that shall properly distinguish between -the work of the two, and admit of definite and consistent use. The two -words are ready at hand, and, although of Greek origin, have become, by -analogous usage, plain simple English. I mean the words _technical_ and -_technological_. - -The Greek noun _techne_ signifies an art, trade, or profession, and our -established usage of this root is in accordance with its signification. -Therefore, ‘technical education’ is a suitable and proper designation -of the training which is given to apprentices, &c., in the strictly -technical details of their trades, arts, or professions—_i.e._ in the -skilful moving of things. When we require a name for the science or the -philosophy of anything, we obtain it by using the Greek root _logos_, -and appending it in English form to the Greek name of the general -subject, as geology, the science of the earth; anthropology, the -science of man; biology, the science of life, &c. - -Why not then follow this general usage, and adopt ‘technology’ as -the science of trades, arts, or professions, and thereby obtain -consistent and convenient terms to designate the two divisions of -education—technical education, that given in the workshop, &c., and -technological education, that which _should be_ given as supplementary -to all such technical education? - -In accordance with this, the present work will be a contribution to -the technology of cookery, or to the technological education of cooks, -whose technical education is quite beyond my reach. - -The kitchen is a chemical laboratory in which are conducted a number of -chemical processes by which our food is converted from its crude state -to a condition more suitable for digestion and nutrition, and made more -agreeable to the palate. - -It is the _rationale_ or _ology_ of these processes that I shall -endeavour to explain; but at the outset it is only fair to say that -in many instances I shall not succeed in doing this satisfactorily, -as there still remain some kitchen mysteries that have not yet come -within the firm grasp of science. The _whole_ story of the chemical -differences between a roast, a boiled, and a raw leg of mutton has not -yet been told. You and I, gentle reader, aided by no other apparatus -than a knife and fork, can easily detect the difference between a -cut out of the saddle of a three-year-old Southdown and one from a -ten-months-old meadow-fed Leicester, but the chemist in his laboratory, -with all his reagents, test-tubes, beakers, combustion-tubes, -potash-bulbs, &c. &c., and his balance turning to one-thousandth of a -grain, cannot physically demonstrate the sources of these differences -of flavour. - -Still I hope to show that modern chemistry can throw into the kitchen a -great deal of light that shall not merely help the cook in doing his or -her work more efficiently, but shall also elevate both the work and the -worker, and render the kitchen far more interesting to all intelligent -people who have an appetite for knowledge, as well as for food; more so -than it can be while the cook is groping in rule-of-thumb darkness—is -merely a technical operator unenlightened by technological intelligence. - -In the course of these papers I shall draw largely on the practical -and philosophical work of that remarkable man, Benjamin Thompson, the -Massachusetts ’prentice-boy and schoolmaster; afterwards the British -soldier and diplomatist, Colonel Sir Benjamin Thompson; then Colonel -of Horse and General Aide-de-Camp of the Elector Charles Theodore of -Bavaria; then Major-General of Cavalry, Privy Councillor of State and -head of War Department of Bavaria; then Count Rumford of the Holy -Roman Empire and Order of the White Eagle; then Military Dictator of -Bavaria, with full governing powers during the absence of the Elector; -then a private resident in Brompton Road, and founder of the Royal -Institution in Albemarle Street; then a Parisian _citoyen_, the husband -of the ‘Goddess of Reason,’ the widow of Lavoisier; but, above all, a -practical and scientific cook, whose exploits in economic cookery are -still but very imperfectly appreciated, though he himself evidently -regarded them as the most important of all his varied achievements. - -His faith in cookery is well expressed in the following, where he is -speaking of his experiments in feeding the Bavarian army and the poor -of Munich. He says: - -‘I constantly found that the richness or quality of a soup depended -more upon the proper choice of the ingredients, and a proper management -of the fire in the combination of these ingredients, than upon the -quantity of solid nutritious matter employed; much more upon the art -and skill of the cook than upon the sums laid out in the market.’ - -A great many fallacies are continually perpetrated, not only by -ignorant people, but even by eminent chemists and physiologists, by -inattention to what is indicated in this passage. In many chemical -and physiological works may be found elaborately minute tables of the -chemical composition of certain articles of food, and with these the -assumption (either directly stated or implied as a matter of course) -that such tables represent the practical nutritive value of the food. -The illusory character of such assumption is easily understood. In the -first place the analysis is usually that of the article of food in its -raw state, and thus all the chemical changes involved in the process of -cookery are ignored. - -Secondly, the difficulty or facility of assimilation is too often -unheeded. This depends both upon the original condition of the food and -the changes which the cookery has produced—changes which may double -its nutritive value without effecting more than a small percentage -of alteration in its chemical composition as revealed by laboratory -analysis. - -In the recent discussion on whole-meal bread, for example, chemical -analyses of the bran, &c., are quoted, and it is commonly assumed that -if these can be shown to contain more of the theoretical bone-making or -brain-making elements, that they are, therefore, in reference to these -requirements, more nutritious than the fine flour. But before we are -justified in asserting this, it must be made clear that these outer -and usually rejected portions of the grain are as easily digested and -assimilated as the finer inner flour. - -I think I shall be able to show that the practical failure of this -whole-meal bread movement (which is not a novelty, but only a revival) -is mainly due to the disregard of the cookery question; that whole-meal -prepared as bread by simple baking is less nutritious than fine flour -similarly prepared; but that whole-meal otherwise prepared may be, and -has been, made more nutritious than fine white bread. - -Another preliminary example. A pound of biscuit contains more solid -nutritive matter than a pound of beefsteak, but may not, when eaten by -ordinary mortals, do so much nutritive work. Why is this? - -It is a matter of preparation—not exactly what is called cooking, but -equivalent to what cooking should be. It is the preparation which has -converted the grass food of the ox into another kind of food which we -can assimilate very easily. - -The fact that we use the digestive and nutrient apparatus of sheep, -oxen, &c., for the preparation of our food, is merely a transitory -barbarism, to be ultimately superseded when my present subject is -sufficiently understood and applied to enable us to prepare the -constituents of the vegetable kingdom in such a manner that they shall -be as easily assimilated as the prepared grass which we call beef and -mutton, and which we now use only on account of our ignorance of the -subject treated in the following chapters. I do not presume to assert -or suggest that my efforts towards the removal of this ignorance will -transport us at once into a vegetarian millennium, but if they only -open the gate and show us that there is a road on which we may travel -towards great improvements in the preparation of our food as regards -flavour, economy, and wholesomeness, my reasonable readers will not be -disappointed. - -So much of cookery being effected by the application of heat, a sketch -of the general laws of heat might be included in this introductory -chapter, but for the necessary extent of the subject. - -I omit it without compunction, having already written ‘A Simple -Treatise on Heat,’ which is divested of technical difficulties by -presenting simply the phenomena and laws of Nature without any -artificial scholastic complications. Messrs. Chatto & Windus have -brought out this little essay in a cheap form, and, in spite of the -risk of being accused of puffing my own wares, I recommend its perusal -to those who are earnestly studying the whole philosophy of cookery. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE BOILING OF WATER. - - -AS this is one of the most rudimentary of the operations of cookery, -and the most frequently performed, it naturally takes a first place in -treating the subject. - -Water is boiled in the kitchen for two distinct purposes: 1st, for the -cooking of itself; 2nd, for the cooking of other things. A dissertation -on the difference between raw water and cooked water may appear -pedantic, but, as I shall presently show, it is considerable, very -practical, and important. - -The best way to study any physical subject is to examine it -experimentally, but this is not always possible with everyday means. In -this case, however, there is no difficulty. - -Take a thin[1] glass vessel, such as a flask, or, better, one of the -‘beakers,’ or thin tumbler-shaped vessels, so largely used in chemical -laboratories; partially fill it with ordinary household water, and -then place it over the flame of a spirit-lamp, or Bunsen’s, or other -smokeless gas-burner. Carefully watch the result, and the following -will be observed: first of all, little bubbles will be formed, -adhering to the sides of the glass, but ultimately rising to the -surface, and there becoming dissipated by diffusion in the air. - -This is not boiling, as may be proved by trying the temperature with -the finger. What, then, is it? - -It is the yielding back of the atmospheric gases which the water -has dissolved or condensed within itself. These bubbles have been -collected, and by analysis proved to consist of oxygen, nitrogen, and -carbonic acid, obtained from the air; but in the water they exist by no -means in the same proportions as originally in the air, nor in constant -proportions in different samples of water. I need not here go into the -quantitative details of these proportions, nor the reasons of their -variation, though they are very interesting subjects. - -Proceeding with our investigation, we shall find that the bubbles -continue to form and rise until the water becomes too hot for the -finger to bear immersion. At about this stage something else begins to -occur. Much larger bubbles, or rather blisters, are now formed on the -bottom of the vessel, immediately over the flame, and they continually -collapse into apparent nothingness. Even at this stage a thermometer -immersed in the water will show that the boiling-point is not reached. -As the temperature rises, these blisters rise higher and higher, -become more and more nearly spherical, finally quite so, then detach -themselves and rise towards the surface; but the first that make this -venture perish in the attempt—they gradually collapse as they rise, and -vanish before reaching the surface. The thermometer now shows that the -boiling-point is nearly reached, but not quite. Presently the bubbles -rise completely to the surface and break there. Now the water is -boiling, and the thermometer stands at 212° Fahr. or 100° Cent. - -With the aid of suitable apparatus it can be shown that the atmospheric -gases above named continue to be given off along with the steam for a -considerable time after the boiling has commenced; the complete removal -of their last traces being a very difficult, if not an impossible, -physical problem. - -After a moderate period of boiling, however, we may practically regard -the water as free from these gases. In this condition I venture to call -it cooked water. Our experiment so far indicates one of the differences -between cooked and raw water. The cooked water has been deprived of -the atmospheric gases that the raw water contained. By cooling some -of the cooked water and tasting it, the difference of flavour is very -perceptible; by no means improved, though it is quite possible to -acquire a preference for this flat, tasteless liquid. - -If a fish be placed in such cooked water it swims for a while with its -mouth at the surface, for just there is a film that is reacquiring its -charge of oxygen, &c., by absorbing it from the air; but this film is -so thin, and so poorly charged, that after a short struggle the fish -dies for lack of oxygen in its blood; drowned as truly and completely -as an air-breathing animal when immersed in any kind of water. - -Spring water and river water that have passed through or over -considerable distances in calcareous districts suffer another change -in boiling. The origin and nature of this change may be shown by -another experiment as follows: Buy a pennyworth of lime-water from a -druggist, and procure a small glass tube of about quill size, or the -stem of a fresh tobacco-pipe may be used. Half fill a small wine-glass -with the lime-water, and blow through it by means of the tube or -tobacco-pipe. Presently it will become turbid. Continue the blowing, -and the turbidity will increase up to a certain degree of milkiness. Go -on blowing with ‘commendable perseverance,’ and an inversion of effect -will follow; the turbidity diminishes, and at last the water becomes -clear again. - -The chemistry of this is simple enough. From the lungs a mixture -of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbonic acid is exhaled. The carbonic -acid combines with the soluble lime, and forms a carbonate of lime -which is insoluble in mere water. But this carbonate of lime is to a -certain extent soluble in water saturated with carbonic acid, and such -saturation is effected by the continuation of blowing. - -Now take some of the lime-water that has been thus treated, place it in -a clean glass flask, and boil it. After a short time the flask will be -found incrusted with a thin film of something. This is the carbonate -of lime which has been thrown down again by the action of boiling, -which has driven off its solvent, the carbonic acid. This crust will -effervesce if a little acid is added to it. - -In this manner our tea-kettles, engine-boilers, &c., become incrusted -when fed with calcareous waters, and most waters are calcareous; those -supplied to London, which is surrounded by chalk, are largely so. Thus, -the boiling or cooking of such water effects a removal of its mineral -impurities more or less completely. Other waters contain such mineral -matter as salts of sodium and potassium. These are not removable -by mere boiling, being equally soluble in hot or cold, aerated, or -non-aerated water. - -Usually we have no very strong motive for removing either these or -the dissolved carbonate of lime, or the atmospheric gases from water, -but there is another class of impurities of serious importance. These -are the organic matters dissolved in all water that has run over land -covered with vegetable growth, or, more especially, that which has -received contributions from sewers or any other form of house drainage. -Such water supplies nutriment to those microscopic abominations, the -_micrococci_, _bacilli_, _bacteria_, &c., which are now shown to be -connected with blood poisoning. These little pests are harmless, and -probably nutritious, when cooked, but in their raw and growing state -are horribly prolific in the blood of people who are in certain states -of what is called ‘receptivity.’ They (the bacteria, &c.) appear to be -poisoned or somehow killed off by the digestive secretions of the blood -of some people, and nourished luxuriantly in the blood of others. As -nobody can be quite sure to which class he belongs, or may presently -belong, or whether the water supplied to his household is free from -blood-poisoning organisms, cooked water is a safer beverage than raw -water. I should add that this germ theory of disease is disputed by -some who maintain that the source of the diseases attributed to such -microbia is chemical poison, the microbia (_i.e._ little living things) -are merely accidental, or creatures fed on the disease-producing -poison. In either case the boiling is effectual, as such organic -poisons when cooked lose their original virulent properties. - -The requirement for this simple operation of cooking increases with the -density of our population, which, on reaching a certain degree, renders -the pollution of all water obtained from the ordinary sources almost -inevitable. - -Reflecting on this subject, I have been struck with a curious fact that -has hitherto escaped notice, viz. that in the country which over all -others combines a very large population with a very small allowance -of cleanliness, the ordinary drink of the people is boiled water, -flavoured by an infusion of leaves. These people, the Chinese, seem in -fact to have been the inventors of boiled-water beverages. Judging from -travellers’ accounts of the state of the rivers, rivulets, and general -drainage and irrigation arrangements of China, its population could -scarcely have reached its present density if Chinamen were drinkers of -raw instead of cooked water. This is especially remarkable in the case -of such places as Canton, where large numbers are living afloat on the -mouths of sewage-laden rivers or estuaries. - -The ordinary everyday domestic beverage is a weak infusion of tea, -made in a large teapot, kept in a padded basket to retain the heat. -The whole family is supplied from this reservoir. The very poorest -drink plain hot water, or water tinged by infusing the spent tea-leaves -rejected by their richer neighbours. - -Next to the boiling of water for its own sake, comes the boiling -of water as a medium for the cooking of other things. Here, at the -outset, I have to correct an error of language which, as too often -happens, leads by continual suggestion to false ideas. When we speak -of ‘boiled beef,’ ‘boiled mutton,’ ‘boiled eggs,’ ‘boiled potatoes,’ -we talk nonsense; we are not merely using an elliptical expression, as -when we say, ‘the kettle boils,’ which we all understand to mean the -contents of the kettle, but we are expounding a false theory of what -has happened to the beef, &c.—as false as though we should describe the -material of the kettle that has held boiling water as boiled copper or -boiled iron. No boiling of the food takes place in any such cases as -the above-named—it is merely heated by immersion in boiling water; the -changes that actually take place in the food are essentially different -from those of ebullition. Even the water contained in the meat is not -boiled in ordinary cases, as its boiling-point is higher than that of -the surrounding water, owing to the salts it holds in solution. - -Thus, as a matter of chemical fact, a ‘boiled leg of mutton’ is one -that has been cooked, but not boiled; while a roasted leg of mutton is -one that has been partially boiled. Much of the constituent water of -flesh is boiled out, fairly driven away as vapour during roasting or -baking, and the fat on its surface is also boiled, and, more or less, -dissociated into its chemical elements, carbon and water, as shown by -the browning, due to the separated carbon. - -As I shall presently show, this verbal explanation is no mere verbal -quibble, but it involves important practical applications. An enormous -waste of precious fuel is perpetrated every day, throughout the whole -length and breadth of Britain and other countries where English -cookery prevails, on account of the almost universal ignorance of the -philosophy of the so-called boiling of food. - -When it is once fairly understood that the meat is not to be boiled, -but is merely to be warmed by immersion in water raised to a maximum -temperature of 212°, and when it is further understood that water -cannot (under ordinary atmospheric pressure) be raised to a higher -temperature than 212° by any amount of violent boiling, the popular -distinction between ‘simmering’ and boiling, which is so obstinately -maintained as a kitchen superstition, is demolished. - -The experiment described on pages 8 and 9 showed that immediately the -bubbles of steam reach the surface of the water and break there—that -is, when simmering commences—the thermometer reaches the boiling-point, -and that however violently the boiling may afterwards occur, the -thermometer rises no higher. Therefore, as a medium for heating the -substances to be cooked, simmering water is just as effective as -‘walloping’ water. There are exceptional operations of cookery, wherein -useful mechanical work is done by violent boiling; but in all ordinary -cookery simmering is just as effective. The heat that is applied to -do more than the smallest degree of simmering is simply wasted in -converting water into useless steam. The amount of such waste may be -easily estimated. To raise a given quantity of water from the freezing -to the boiling point demands an amount of heat represented by 180° in -Fahrenheit’s thermometer, or 100° Centigrade. To convert this into -steam, 990° Fahr. or 550° Cent. is necessary—just five-and-a-half times -as much. - -On a properly-constructed hot-plate or sand-bath a dozen saucepans -may be kept at the true cooking temperature, with an expenditure of -fuel commonly employed in England to ‘boil’ one saucepan. In the -great majority of so-called boiling operations, even simmering is -unnecessary. Not only is a ‘boiled leg of mutton’ not itself boiled, -but even the water in which it is cooked should not be kept boiling, as -we shall presently see. - -The following, written by Count Rumford nearly 100 years ago, remains -applicable at the present time, in spite of all our modern research and -science teaching: - -‘The process by which food is most commonly prepared for the -table—BOILING—is so familiar to everyone, and its effects are so -uniform and apparently so simple, that few, I believe, have taken -the trouble to inquire _how_ or in _what manner_ these effects are -produced; and whether any and what improvements in that branch of -cookery are possible. So little has this matter been an object of -inquiry that few, very few indeed I believe, among the _millions of -persons_ who for so many ages have been _daily_ employed in this -process, have ever given themselves the trouble to bestow one serious -thought upon the subject. - -‘The cook knows _from experience_ that if his joint of meat be kept -a certain time immersed in boiling water it will be _done_, as it is -called in the language of the kitchen; but if he be asked what is done -to it, or _how_ or _by what agency_ the change it has undergone has -been effected—if he understands the question—it is ten to one but he -will be embarrassed. If he does not understand he will probably answer -without hesitation, that “_The meat is made tender and eatable by being -boiled_.” Ask him if the boiling of the water be essential to the -process. He will answer, “_Without doubt_.” Push him a little further -by asking him whether, _were it possible_ to keep the water _equally -hot_ without boiling, the meat would not be cooked _as soon_ and _as -well_ as if the water were made to boil. Here it is probable he will -make the first step towards acquiring knowledge by _learning to doubt_.’ - -In another place he points to the fact that at Munich, where his chief -cookery operations were performed, water boils at 209½° (on account -of its elevation), while in London the boiling-point is 212°. ‘Yet -nobody, I believe, ever perceived that boiled meat was less done at -Munich than at London. But if meat may without the least difficulty be -cooked with a heat of 209½° at Munich, why should it not be possible -to cook it with the same degree of heat in London? If this can be done -in London (which I think can hardly admit of a doubt), then it is -evident that the process of cookery, which is called _boiling_, may be -performed in water which is not boiling hot.’ - -He proceeds to say, ‘I well know, from my own experience, how difficult -it is to persuade cooks of this truth, but it is so important that no -pains should be spared in endeavouring to remove their prejudices and -enlighten their understandings. This may be done most effectually in -the case before us by a method I have several times put in practice -with complete success. It is as follows: Take two equal boilers, -containing equal quantities of _boiling hot water_, and put into them -two equal pieces of meat taken from the same carcase—two legs of -mutton, for instance—and boil them during the same time. Under one of -the boilers make a _small fire_, just barely sufficient to keep the -water _boiling hot_, or rather just _beginning to boil_; under the -other make _as vehement a fire as possible_, and keep the water boiling -the whole time with the utmost violence. The meat in the boiler in -which the water has been kept _only just boiling hot_ will be found to -be quite as well done as that in the other. It will even be found to -be much better cooked, that is to say tenderer, more juicy, and much -higher flavoured.’ - -Rumford at this date (1802) understood perfectly that the water just -boiling hot had the same temperature as that which was boiling with -the utmost violence, but did not understand that the best result is -obtained at a much lower temperature, for in another place he states -that if the meat be cooked in water under pressure, so that the -temperature shall exceed 212°, it will be done proportionally quicker -and as well. My reasons for controverting this will be explained in the -following chapters. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[1] In applying heat to glass vessels, thickness is a source of -weakness or liability to fracture, on account of the unequal expansion -of the two sides, due to inequality of temperature, which, of course, -increases with the thickness of the glass. Besides this, the thickness -increases the leverage of the breaking strain. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -ALBUMEN. - - -IN order to illustrate some of the changes which take place in the -cooking of animal food, I will first take the simple case of cooking -an egg by means of hot water. These changes are in this case easily -visible and very simple, although the egg itself contains all the -materials of a complete animal. Bones, muscles, viscera, brain, nerves, -and feathers of the chicken—all are produced from the egg, nothing -being added, and little or nothing taken away. - -I should, however, add that in eating an egg we do not get _quite_ -so much of it as the chicken does. Liebig found by analysis that in -the white and the yolk there is a deficiency of mineral matter for -supplying the bones of the chick, and that this deficiency is supplied -by some of the shell being dissolved by the phosphoric acid which is -formed inside the egg by the combination of the oxygen of the air -(which passes through the shell) with the phosphorus contained in the -soft matter of the egg. - -By comparing the shell of a hen’s egg after the chicken is hatched from -it with that of a freshly-laid egg, the difference of thickness may be -easily seen. - -When we open a raw egg, we find enveloped in a stoutish membrane -a quantity of glairy, slimy, viscous, colourless fluid, which, as -everybody now knows, is called _albumen_, a Latin translation of -its common name, ‘_the white_.’ Within the white of the egg is the -yolk, chiefly composed of albumen, but with some other constituents -added—notably a peculiar oil. At present I will only consider the -changes which cookery effects on the main constituent of the egg, -merely adding that this same albumen is one of the most important, if -not the one most important, material of animal food, and is represented -by a corresponding nutritious constituent in vegetables. - -We all know that when an egg has been immersed during a few minutes in -boiling water, the colourless, slimy liquid is converted into the white -solid to which it owes its name. This coagulation of albumen is one of -the most decided and best understood changes effected by cookery, and -therefore demands especial study. - -Place some fresh, raw white of egg in a test-tube or other suitable -glass vessel, and in the midst of it immerse the bulb of a thermometer. -(Cylindrical thermometers, with the degrees marked on the glass stem, -are made for such laboratory purposes.) Place the tube containing the -albumen in a vessel of water, and gradually heat this. When the albumen -attains a temperature of about 134° Fahr., white fibres will begin to -appear within it; these will increase until about 160° is attained, -when the whole mass will become white and nearly opaque.[2] It is now -coagulated, and may be called solid. Now examine some of the result, -and you will find that the albumen thus only just coagulated is a -tender, delicate, jelly-like substance, having every appearance to -sight, touch, and taste of being easily digestible. This is the case. - -Having settled these points, proceed with the experiment by heating the -remainder of the albumen (or a new sample) up to 212°, and keeping it -for awhile at this temperature. It will dry, shrink, and become horny. -If the heat is carried a little further, it becomes converted into a -substance which is so hard and tough that a valuable cement is obtained -by simply smearing the edges of the article to be cemented with white -of egg, and then heating it to a little above 212°.[3] - -This simple experiment teaches a great deal of what is but little known -concerning the philosophy of cookery. It shows in the first place that, -so far as the coagulation of the albumen is concerned, the cooking -temperature is not 212°, or that of boiling water, but 160°, _i.e._ -52° below it. Everybody knows the difference between a tender, juicy -steak, rounded or plumped out in the middle, and a tough, leathery -abomination, that has been so cooked as to shrivel and curl up. The -contraction, drying up, and hornifying of the albumen in the test tube -represents the albumen of the latter, while the tender, delicate, -trembling, semi-solid that was coagulated at 160°, represents the -albumen in the first. - -But this is a digression, or rather anticipation, seeing that the -grilling of a beefsteak is a problem of profound complexity that we -cannot solve until we have mastered the rudiments. We have not yet -determined how to practically apply the laws of albumen coagulation as -discovered by our test-tube experiment to the cooking of a breakfast -egg. The non-professional student may do this at the breakfast -fireside. The apparatus required is a saucepan large enough for boiling -a pint of water—the materials, two eggs. - -Cook one in the orthodox manner by keeping it in boiling water -three-and-a-half minutes. Then place the other in this same boiling -water; but, instead of keeping the saucepan over the fire, place it on -the hearth and leave it there, with the egg in it, about ten minutes -or more. A still better way of making the comparative experiment is to -use, for the second egg, a water-bath, or _bain-marie_ of the French -cook—a vessel immersed in boiling, or nearly boiling water, like a -glue-pot, and therefore not quite so hot as its source of heat. In this -case a thermometer should be used, and the water surrounding the egg -be kept at or near 180° Fahr. Time of immersion about ten or twelve -minutes. - -A comparison of results will show that the egg that has been cooked -at a temperature of more than 30° below the boiling-point of water is -tender and delicate, evenly so throughout, no part being hard while -another part is semi-raw and slimy. - -I said ‘ten minutes or more,’ because, when thus cooked, a prolonged -exposure to the hot water does no mischief; if the temperature of 160° -is not exceeded, it may remain twice as long without hardening. The -180° is above-named because the rising of the temperature of the egg -itself is due to the difference between its own temperature and that -of the water, and when that difference is very small, this takes place -very slowly, besides which the temperature of the water is, of course, -lowered in raising that of the cold egg. - -In order to test this principle severely, I made the following -experiment. At 10.30 P.M. I placed a new-laid egg in a covered -stoneware jar, of about one-pint capacity, and filled this with boiling -water; then wrapped the jar in many folds of flannel—so many that, -with the egg, they filled a hat-case, in which I placed the bundle and -left it there until breakfast-time next morning, ten hours later. On -unrolling, I found the water cooled down to 95°; the yolk of the egg -was hard, but the white only just solidified and much softer than the -yolk. On repeating the experiment, and leaving the egg in its flannel -coating for four hours, the temperature of the water was 123° and the -egg in similar condition—the white cooked in perfection, delicately -tender, but the yolk too hard. A third experiment of twelve hours, -water at 200° on starting, gave a similar result as regards the state -of the egg. - -I thus found that the yolk coagulates firmly at a lower temperature -than the white. Whether this is due to a different condition of the -albumen itself or to the action of the other constituents on the -albumen, requires further research to determine. The albumen of the -yolk has received the name of ‘vitellin,’ and is usually described as -another variety differing from that of the white, as it is differently -affected by chemical reagents; but Lehmann[4] regards it as a mixture -of albumen and casein, and describes experiments which justify his -conclusion. The difference of the temperature of coagulation does not -appear to have been observed, and I cannot understand how the admixture -of casein can effect it. - -When eggs are cooked in the ordinary way, the 3½ minutes’ immersion -is insufficient to allow the heat to pass fully to the middle of the -egg, and therefore the white is subjected to a higher temperature than -the yolk. In my experiment there was time for a practically uniform -diffusion of the heat throughout. - -I shall describe hereafter what is called the ‘Norwegian’ cooking -apparatus, wherein fowls, &c., are cooked as the eggs were in my -hat-case. - -Albumen exists in flesh as one of its juices, rather than in a -definitely-organised condition. It is distributed between the fibres of -the lean (_i.e._ the muscles), and it lubricates the tissues generally, -besides being an important constituent of the blood itself—of that -portion of the blood which remains liquid when the blood is dead—_i.e._ -the serum. As blood is not an ordinary article of food, excepting in -the form of ‘black puddings,’ its albumen need not be here considered, -nor the debated question of whether its albumen is identical with the -albumen of the flesh. - -Existing thus in a liquid state in our ordinary flesh meats, it is -liable to be wasted in the course of cookery, especially if the cook -has only received the customary technical education and remains in -technological ignorance. - -To illustrate this, let us suppose that a leg of mutton, a slice of -cod, or a piece of salmon is to be cooked in water, ‘boiled,’ as the -cook says. Keeping in mind the results of the previously-described -experiments on the egg-albumen, and also the fact that in its liquid -state albumen is diffusible in water, the reader may now stand as -scientific umpire in answering the question whether the fish or the -flesh should be put in hot water at once, or in cold water, and be -gradually heated. The ‘big-endians’ and the ‘little-endians’ of Liliput -were not more definitely divided than are certain cookery authorities -on this question in reference to fish. Referring at random to the -cookery-books that come first to hand, I find them about equally -divided on the question. - -Confining our attention at present to the albumen, what must happen -if the fish or flesh is put in cold water, which is gradually heated? -Obviously a loss of albumen by exudation and diffusion through the -water, especially in the case of sliced fish or of meat exposing much -surface of fibres cut across. It is also evident that such loss of -albumen will be shown by its coagulation when the water is sufficiently -heated. - -Practical readers will at once recognise in the ‘scum’ which rises to -the surface of the boiling water, and in the milkiness that is more or -less diffused throughout it, the evidence of such loss of albumen. This -loss indicates the desirability of plunging the fish or flesh at once -into water hot enough to immediately coagulate the superficial albumen, -and thereby plug the pores through which the inner albuminous juice -otherwise exudes. - -But this is not all. There are other juices besides the albumen; these -are the most important of the _flavouring_ constituents, and, _with -the other constituents of animal food_, have great nutritive value; -so much so, that animal food is quite tasteless and almost worthless -without them. I have laid especial emphasis on the above qualification, -lest the reader should be led into an error originated by the bone-soup -committee of the French Academy, and propagated widely by Liebig—that -of regarding these juices as a concentrated nutriment when taken alone. - -They constitute collectively the _extractum carnis_, which, with -the addition of more or less gelatine (the less the better), is -commonly sold as Liebig’s ‘Extract of Meat.’ It is prepared by simply -mincing lean meat, exposing it to the action of cold water, and then -evaporating down the solution of extract thus obtained. - -I shall return to this on reaching the subjects of clear soups and -beef-tea, at present merely adding as evidence of the importance of -retaining these juices in cooked meat, that the extracts of beef, -mutton, and pork may be distinguished by their specific flavours. Some -Extract of Kangaroo, sent to me many years ago from Australia by the -Ramornie Company, made a soup that was curiously different in flavour -from the other extract similarly prepared by the same company. Epicures -pronounced it very choice and ‘gamey.’[5] When these juices are removed -from the meat, mutton, beef, pork, &c., the remaining solids are all -alike, so far as the palate alone can distinguish. - -Let us now apply these principles practically to the case of a leg -of mutton. First, in order to seal the pores, the meat should be put -into boiling water; the water should be kept boiling for five or ten -minutes. A coating of firmly-coagulated albumen will thus envelop -the joint. Now, instead of boiling or ‘simmering’ the water, set the -saucepan aside, where the water will retain a temperature of about -180°, or 32° below the boiling-point. Continue this about half as long -again, or double the usual time given in the cookery-books for boiling -a leg of mutton, and try the effect. It will be analogous to that of -the egg cooked on the same principles, and appreciated accordingly. - -The usual addition of salt to the water is very desirable. It has a -threefold action: first, it directly acts on the superficial albumen -with coagulating effect; second, it slightly raises the boiling-point -of the water; and third, by increasing the density of the water, the -‘exosmosis’ or oozing out of the juices is less active. These actions -are slight, but all co-operate in keeping in the juices. - -I should add that a leg of mutton for boiling should be fresh, and not -‘hung’ as for roasting. The reasons for this hereafter. - -‘Please, mum, the fish would break to pieces,’ would be the probable -reply of the unscientific cook, to whom her mistress had suggested -the desirability of cooking fish in accordance with the principles -expounded above. Many kinds of fish would thus break if the popular -notions of ‘boiling’ were carried out, and the fish suddenly immersed -in water that was agitated by the act of ebullition. But this -difficulty vanishes when the true theory of cookery is understood and -practically applied by cooking the fish from beginning to end without -ever boiling the water at all. - -In the case of the leg of mutton, chosen as a previous example, the -plunging in boiling water and maintenance of boiling-point for a few -minutes was unobjectionable, as the most effectual means of obtaining -the firm coagulation of a superficial layer of albumen; but, in the -case of fragile fish, this advantage can only be obtained in a minor -degree by using water just below the boiling-point; the breaking of -the fish by the agitation of the boiling water does more than merely -disfigure it when served—it opens outlets to the juices, and thereby -depreciates the flavour, besides sacrificing some of the nutritious -albumen. - -To demonstrate this experimentally, take two equal slices from the same -salmon, cook one according to Mrs. Beeton and other authorities by -putting it into cold water, or pouring cold water over it, then heating -up to the boiling-point. Cook the other slice by putting it into -water nearly boiling (about 200° Fahr.), and keeping it at about 180° -to 200°, but never boiling at all. Then dish up, examine, and taste. -The second will be found to have retained more of its proper salmon -colour and flavour; the first will be paler and more like cod, or other -white fish, owing to the exosmosis or oozing out of its characteristic -juices. When two similar pieces of split salmon are thus cooked, the -difference between them is still more remarkable. I should add that the -practice of splitting salmon for boiling, once so fashionable, is now -nearly obsolete, and justly so. - -I was surprised, and at first considerably puzzled, at what I saw of -salmon-cooking in Norway. As this fish is so abundant there (1_d._ per -lb. would be regarded as a high price in the Tellemark), I naturally -supposed that large experience, operating by natural selection, would -have evolved the best method of cooking it, but found that, not only in -the farmhouses of the interior, but at such hotels as the ‘Victoria,’ -in Christiania, the usual cookery was effected by cutting the fish -into small pieces and soddening it in water in such wise that it came -to table almost colourless, and with merely a faint suggestion of what -we prize as the rich flavour of salmon. A few months’ experience and -a little reflection solved the problem. Salmon is so rich, and has so -special a flavour, that when daily eaten it soon palls on the palate. -Everybody has heard the old story of the clause in the indentures of -the Aberdeen apprentices, binding the masters not to feed the boys on -salmon more frequently than twice a week. If the story is not true it -ought to be, for full meals of salmon every day would, ere long, render -the special flavour of this otherwise delicious fish quite sickening. - -By boiling out the rich oil of the salmon, the Norwegian reduces it -nearly to the condition of cod-fish, concerning which I learned a -curious fact from two old Doggerbank fishermen, with whom I had a -long sailing cruise from the Golden Horn to the Thames. They agreed -in stating that cod-fish is like bread, that they and all their mates -lived upon it (and sea-biscuits) day after day for months together, -and never tired, while richer fish ultimately became repulsive if -eaten daily. This statement was elicited by an immediate experience. -We were in the Mediterranean, where bonetta were very abundant, and -every morning and evening I amused myself by spearing them from -the martingale of the schooner, and so successfully that all hands -(or rather mouths) were abundantly supplied with this delicious -dark-fleshed, full-blooded, and high-flavoured fish. I began by making -three meals a day on it, but at the end of about a week was glad to -return to the ordinary ship’s fare of salt junk and chickens. - -The following account of an experiment of Count Rumford’s is very -interesting and instructive. He says: ‘I had long suspected that it -could hardly be possible that precisely the temperature of 212° (that -of boiling water) should be that which is best adapted for cooking _all -sorts of food_; but it was the unexpected result of an experiment that -I made with another view which made me particularly attentive to this -subject. Desirous of finding out whether it would be possible to roast -meat on a machine that I had contrived for drying potatoes, and fitted -up in the kitchen of the House of Industry at Munich, I put a shoulder -of mutton into it, and after attending to the experiment three hours, -and finding that it showed no signs of being done, I concluded that the -heat was not sufficiently intense, and despairing of success I went -home, rather out of humour at my ill success, and abandoned my shoulder -of mutton to the cookmaids. - -‘It being late in the evening and the cookmaids thinking, perhaps, that -the meat would be as safe in the drying machine as anywhere else, left -it there all night. When they came in the morning to take it away, -intending to cook it for their dinner, they were much surprised at -finding it _already cooked_, and not merely eatable, but perfectly well -done, and most singularly well tasted. This appeared to them the more -miraculous, as the fire under the machine was quite gone out before -they left the kitchen in the evening to go to bed, and as they had -locked up the kitchen when they left it, and taken away the key. - -‘This wonderful shoulder of mutton was immediately brought to me in -triumph, and though I was at no great loss to account for what had -happened, yet it certainly was quite unexpected; and when I tasted the -meat I was very much surprised indeed to find it very different, both -in taste and flavour, from any I had ever tasted. It was perfectly -tender; but though it was so much done it did not appear to be in the -least sodden or insipid; on the contrary, it was uncommonly savoury and -high flavoured.’ - -What I have already explained concerning the coagulation of albumen -will render this result fairly intelligible. It will be still more -so after what follows concerning the effect of heat on the other -constituents of a shoulder of mutton. - -The Norwegian cooking apparatus, to which I have already alluded, -and which is now commercially supplied in England, does its work -in a somewhat similar manner. It consists of an inner tin pot with -well-fitting lid, which fits into a box, having a thick lining of -ill-conducting material—such as felt, wool, or sawdust (it should be -two or three inches thick bottom and sides). A fowl, for example, -is put into the tin, which is then filled up with boiling water and -covered with a close-fitting cover lined like the box, and firmly -strapped down. This may be left for ten or twelve hours, when the fowl -will be found most delicately cooked. For yachtsmen and ‘camping-out’ -parties, &c., it is a very luxurious apparatus. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[2] Tarchnoff has recently discovered the curious fact that the -white of the eggs of birds that are hatched without feathers remains -transparent when coagulated, while the eggs which produce chickens -and other birds already fledged become opaque when coagulated. This -is familiarly illustrated by the difference between plovers’ eggs and -hens’ eggs when cooked. - -[3] ‘Egg-cement,’ made by thickening white of egg with finely-powdered -quicklime, has long been used for mending alabaster, marble, &c. For -joining fragments of fossils and mineralogical specimens, it will be -found very useful. White of egg alone may be used, if carefully heated -afterwards. - -[4] _Physiological Chemistry_, vol. ii. p. 356. - -[5] It was given to me in 1868. I have just found that some of -it remains unused (December 1884), and that it still retains its -characteristic flavour. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -GELATIN, FIBRIN, AND THE JUICES OF MEAT. - - -GELATIN is a very important element of animal food; it is, in fact, the -main constituent of the animal tissues, the walls of the cells of which -animals are built up being composed of gelatin. I will not here discuss -the question of whether Haller’s remark, ‘Dimidium corporis humani -gluten est’ (‘half of the human body is gelatin’), should or should -not now, as Lehmann says, ‘be modified to the assertion that half of -the solid parts of the animal body _are convertible, by boiling with -water_, into gelatin.’ Lehmann and others give the name of ‘glutin’ to -the component of the animal tissue as it exists there, and gelatin to -it when acted upon by boiling water. Others indicate this difference by -naming the first ‘gelatin,’ and the second ‘gelatine.’ - -The difference upon which these distinctions are based is directly -connected with my present subject, as it is just the difference between -the raw and the cooked material, which, as we shall presently see, -consists mainly in solubility. - -Even the original or raw gelatin varies materially in this respect. -There is a decidedly practical difference between the solubility of the -cell-walls of a young chicken and those of an old hen. The pleasant -fiction which describes all the pretty gelatine preparations of the -table as ‘calf’s-foot jelly,’ is founded on the greater solubility of -the juvenile hoof, as compared to that of the adult ox or horse, or to -the parings of hides about to be used by the tanner. All these produce -gelatin by boiling, the calves’ feet with comparatively little boiling. - -Besides these differences there are decided varieties, or, I might say, -species of gelatin, having slight differences of chemical composition -and chemical relations. There is _Chondrin_, or cartilage gelatin, -which is obtained by boiling the cartilages of the ribs, larynx, or -joints for eighteen or twenty hours in water. Then there is _Fibroin_, -obtained by boiling spiders’ webs and the silk of silkworms or other -caterpillars. These exist as a liquid inside the animal, which -solidifies on exposure. The fibres of sponge contain this modification -of gelatin. - -Another kind is _Chitin_, which constituted the animal food of St. John -the Baptist, when he fed upon locusts and wild honey. It is the basis -of the bodily structure of insects; of the spiral tubes which permeate -them throughout, and are so wonderfully displayed when we examine -insect anatomy by aid of the microscope; also of their intestinal -canal, their external skeleton, scales, hairs, &c. It similarly forms -the true skeleton and bodily framework of crabs, lobsters, shrimps, and -other crustacea, bearing the same relation to their shells, muscles, -&c., that ordinary gelatin does to the bones and softer tissues of the -vertebrata; it is ‘the bone of their bones, and the flesh of their -flesh.’ It is obtainable by boiling these creatures down, but is more -difficult of solution than the ordinary gelatin of beef, mutton, -fish, and poultry. To this difficulty of solution in the stomach, the -nightmare that follows lobster suppers is probably attributable. - -I once had an experience of the edibility of the shells of a -crustacean. When travelling, I always continue the pursuit of knowledge -in restaurants by ordering anything that appears on the bill of fare -that I have never heard of before, or cannot translate or pronounce. -At a Neapolitan restaurant I found ‘_Gambero di Mare_’ on the _Carta_, -which I translated ‘Leggy things of the sea,’ or sea-creepers, and -ordered them accordingly. They proved to be shrimps fried in their -shells, and were very delicious—like whitebait, but richer. The chitin -of the shells was thus cooked to crispness, and no evil consequences -followed. If reduced to locusts, I should, if possible, cook them in -the same manner, and, as they have similar chemical composition, they -would doubtless be equally good. - -Should any epicurean reader desire to try this dish (the shrimps, I -mean), he should fry them as they come from the sea, not as they are -sold by the fishmonger, these being already boiled in salt water; -usually in sea water by the shrimpers who catch them, the chitin being -indurated thereby. - -The introduction of fried and tinned locusts as an epicurean delicacy -would be a boon to suffering humanity, by supplying industrial -compensation to the inhabitants of districts subject to periodical -plagues of locust invasion. The idea of eating them appears repulsive -_at first_, so would that of eating such creepy-crawly things -as shrimps, if no adventurous hero had made the first exemplary -experiment. Chitin is chitin, whether elaborated on the land or -secreted in the sea. The vegetarian locust and the cicala are free from -the pungent essential oils of the really unpleasant cockchafer. - -That curious epicurean food, the edible birds’-nests, which has been -a subject of much controversy concerning its composition, is commonly -described as a delicate kind of gelatin. This does not appear to be -quite correct. It is certainly gelatinous in its mechanical properties, -but it more nearly resembles the material of the slime and organic -tissue of snails, a substance to which the name of _mucin_ has been -given. Thus the birds’-nest soup of the East and the snail soup of -the West are nearly allied, and that made from callipash and callipee -supplies an intermediate reptilian link. - -The birds’-nests, when cleaned for cooking, are entirely composed of -the dried saliva of swallows, or rather swiftlets (_collocalia_), and -this saliva probably contains some amount of digestive ferment or -pepsin, which may render it more digestible than the vulgar product -from shin of beef, and consequently more acceptable to feeble epicures. -Those who have sufficient vital energy to supply their own saliva will -probably prefer the vulgar concoction to the costly secretion. The bird -saliva sells for its own weight in silver, when freed from adhering -impurities.[6] - -Those who are disposed to bow too implicitly to mere authority -in scientific matters will do well to study the history and the -treatment which gelatin has received from some of the highest of these -authorities. Our grandmothers believed it to be highly nutritious, -prepared it in the form of jellies for invalids, and estimated the -nutritive value of their soups by the consistency of the jelly which -they formed on cooling, which thickness is due to the gelatin they -contain. Isinglass, which is simply the swim-bladder of the sturgeon -and similar fishes cut into shreds, was especially esteemed, and sold -at high prices. This is the purest natural form of gelatin. - -Everybody believed that the callipash and callipee of the alderman’s -turtle soup contributed largely to his proverbial girth, and those -who could not afford to pay for the gelatin of the reptile, made mock -turtle from the gelatinous tissues of calves’-heads and pigs’-feet. - -About fifty or sixty years ago, the French Academy of Sciences -appointed a bone-soup commission, consisting of some of the most -eminent _savants_ of the period. They worked for above ten years upon -the problem submitted to them, that of determining whether or not the -soup made by boiling bones until only their mineral matter remained -solid, is, or is not, a nutritious food for the inmates of hospitals, -&c. In the voluminous report which they ultimately submitted to the -Academy, they decided in the negative. - -Baron Liebig became the popular exponent of their conclusions, and -vigorously denounced gelatin, as not merely a worthless article of -food, but as loading the system with material that demands wasteful -effort for its removal. - -The Academicians fed dogs on gelatin alone, found that they speedily -lost flesh, and ultimately died of starvation. A multitude of similar -experiments showed that gelatin alone will not support animal life, and -hence the conclusion that pure gelatin is worthless as an article of -food, and that ordinary soups containing gelatin owed their nutritive -value to their other constituents. According to the above-named report, -and the statements of Liebig, the following, which I find on a wrapper -of Liebig’s ‘Extract of Meat,’ is justifiable: ‘This Extract of Meat -differs essentially from the gelatinous product obtained from tendons -and muscular fibre, inasmuch as it contains 80 per cent. of nutritive -matter, while the other contains 4 or 5 per cent.’ Here the 4 or 5 per -cent. allowed to exist in the ‘gelatinous product’ (_i.e._ ordinary -kitchen stock or glaze), is attributed to the constituents it contains -over and above the pure gelatin. - -The following, from a text-book largely used by medical students,[7] -shows the estimation in which gelatin was held at that date: ‘But there -is another azotised compound, Gelatin, that is furnished by animals, -to which nothing analogous exists in Plants; and this is commonly -reputed to possess highly nutritious properties. It may be confidently -affirmed, however, as a result of experiments made upon a large scale, -that Gelatin is incapable of being converted into Albumen in the animal -body, so that it cannot be applied to the nutrition of the albuminous -tissues. And, although it might _à priori_ be thought not unlikely -that Gelatin, taken in as food, should be applied to the nutrition of -the gelatinous tissues, yet neither observation nor experiment bears -out such a probability.’ Further on, Dr. Carpenter says: ‘The use of -gelatin as food would seem to be limited to its power of furnishing a -certain amount of combustive material that may assist in maintaining -the heat of the body.’ - -Subsequent experiments, however, have refuted these conclusions. I -must not be tempted to describe them in detail, but only to state the -general results, which are, that while animals fed on gelatin soup, -formed into a soft paste with bread, lost flesh and strength rapidly, -they recovered their original weight when to this same food only a very -small quantity of the sapid and odorous principles of meat were added. -Thus, in the experiments of MM. Edwards and Balzac, a young dog that -had ceased growing, and had lost one-fifth of its original weight when -fed on bread and gelatin for thirty days, was next supplied with the -same food, but to which was added, twice a day, only two tablespoonfuls -of soup made from horseflesh. There was an increase of weight on the -first day, and, ‘in twenty-three days the dog had gained considerably -more than its original weight, and was in the enjoyment of vigorous -health and strength.’ - -All this difference was due to the savoury constituents of the four -tablespoonfuls of meat soup, which soup contained the juices of the -flesh, to which, as already stated, its flavour is due. - -The inferences drawn by M. Edwards from the whole of the experiments -are the following: ‘1. That gelatin alone is insufficient for -alimentation. 2. That, although insufficient, it is not unwholesome. 3. -That gelatin contributes to alimentation, and is sufficient to sustain -it when it is mixed with a due proportion of other products which would -themselves prove insufficient if given alone. 4. That gelatin extracted -from bones, being identical with that extracted from other parts—and -bones being richer in gelatin than other tissues, and able to afford -two-thirds of their weight of it—there is an incontestable advantage in -making them serve for nutrition in the form of soup, jellies, paste, -&c., always, however, taking care to provide a proper admixture of -the other principles in which the gelatin-soup is defective. 5. That -to render gelatin-soup equal in nutritive and digestible qualities to -that prepared from meat alone, it is sufficient _to mix one-fourth of -meat-soup with three-fourths of gelatin-soup_; and that, in fact, no -difference is perceptible between soup thus prepared and that made -solely from meat. 6. That in preparing soup in this way, the great -advantage remains, that while the soup itself is equally nourishing -with meat-soup, three-fourths of the meat which would be requisite -for the latter by the common process of making soup are saved and -made useful in another way—as by roasting, &c. 7. That jellies ought -always to be associated with some other principles to render them both -nutritive and digestible.’[8] - -The reader may make a very simple experiment on himself by preparing -first a pure gelatin-soup from isinglass, or the prepared gelatin -commonly sold, and trying to make a meal of this with bread alone. Its -insipidity will be evident with the first spoonful. If he perseveres, -it will become not merely insipid, but positively repulsive; and, -should he struggle through one meal and then another, without any other -food between, he will find it, in the course of time (varying with -constitution and previous alimentation), positively nauseous. - -Let him now add to it some of Liebig’s ‘Extract of Meat,’ and he will -at once perceive the difference. Here the natural appetite foreshadows -the result of continuing the experiment, and points the way to -correcting the errors of the Academicians and Baron Liebig. The jellies -that we take at evening parties, or the jujubes used as sweetmeats, are -flavoured with something positive. I have tasted ‘Blue-Ribbon’ jellies -that were wretchedly insipid. This was not merely owing to the absence -of alcohol, of which very little can remain in such preparations, but -rather to the absence of the flavouring ingredients of the wine. - -I venture to suggest the further, deliberate, and scientific extension -of this principle, by adding to bone-soup, or other form of insipid -gelatin, the potash, salts, phosphates, &c., which are found in the -juices of meat and vegetables. They may either be prepared in the -manufacturing laboratory, like Parrish’s ‘Chemical Food,’ or ‘Syrup -of phosphates,’ or extracted from fruits, as commercial limejuice is -extracted. I recommend those who are interested to manufacture and -offer for sale a good preparation of limejuice gelatin. - -It would seem that gelatin alone, although containing the elements -required for nutrition, requires something more to render it -digestible. We shall probably be not far from the truth if we picture -it to the mind as something too smooth, too neutral, too inert, to -set the digestive organs at work, and that it therefore requires -the addition of a decidedly sapid something that shall make these -organs act. I believe that the proper function of the palate is to -determine our selection of such materials; that its activity is in -direct sympathy with that of all the digestive organs; and that if we -carefully avoid the vitiation of our natural appetites, we have in our -mouths, and the nervous apparatus connected therewith, a laboratory -that is capable of supplying us with information concerning some of the -chemical relations of food which is beyond the grasp of the analytical -machinery of the ablest of our scientific chemists. - -What is the chemistry of the cookery of gelatin? What are the chemical -changes effected by cookery upon gelatin? Or, otherwise stated, what -is the chemical difference or differences between cooked and raw -gelatin? I find no satisfactory answer to these questions in any of -our text-books, and therefore will do what I can towards supplying my -own solution of the problem. - -In the first place, it should be understood that raw gelatin, or animal -membrane as it exists in its organised condition, is not soluble in -cold water, and not immediately in hot water. Genuine isinglass is the -membrane of the swim-bladder of the sturgeon (that of other fishes is -said to be sometimes substituted). In its unprepared form it is not -easily dissolved, but if soaked in water, especially in warm water, -for some time, it swells. The same with other forms of membrane. This -swelling I regard as the first stage of the cookery. On examination, -I find that it is not only increased in bulk but also in weight, and -that the increase of weight is due to some water that it has taken -into itself. Here, then, we have crude gelatin plus water, or hydrated -gelatin. Proceeding further, by boiling this until it all dissolves, -and then allowing it to harden by very slow evaporation, I find that it -still contains some of its acquired water, and that I cannot drive away -this newly-acquired water without destroying some of its characteristic -properties—its solubility and gluey character. Before returning to its -original weight as crude isinglass, it becomes somewhat carbonised. - -Hence, I infer that the cookery of gelatin consists in converting the -original membrane more or less completely into a hydrate of its former -self. According to this, the ‘prepared gelatin’ sold in the shops is -hydrated gelatin, completely hydrated, seeing that it is completely and -readily soluble. - -The membranes of our ordinary cooked meat are, if I am right, partially -hydrated, in varying degrees, and thereby prepared for solution in -the course of digestion. The varying degrees are illustrated by the -differences in a knuckle of veal or a calf’s head, according to the -length of time during which it has been stewed, _i.e._ subjected to the -hydrating process. - -The second stage of the cookery of gelatin is the solution of this -hydrate, as in soups, &c. - -Carpenters’ glue is crude hydrated gelatin, made by stewing or -hydrating hoofs of horses, cattle, &c., or the waste cuttings of hides. -The carpenter knows that if he allows his solution of glue to boil -(such a solution boils at a higher temperature than pure water), it -loses its tenacity, becomes cindery, or, as I should say, dehydrated -or dissociated, without returning to the original condition of the -organised membranes. - -Even a frequent reheating at the glue-pot temperature ‘weakens’ the -glue, and therefore he prefers fresh glue, and puts but a little at a -time into his glue-pot. - -The applications of this theory will appear as I proceed. - -A sheep or an ox, a fowl or a rabbit, is made up, like ourselves, of -organic structures and blood, the organs continually wasting as they -work, and being renewed by the blood; or, otherwise described, the -component molecules of these organs are continually dying of old age as -their work is done, and replaced by new-born successors generated by -the blood. - -These molecules are, for the most part, cellular, each cell living -a little life of its own, generated with a definite individuality, -doing its own life-work, then shrivelling in decay, dying in the midst -of vital surroundings, suffering cremation, and thereby contributing -to the animal heat necessary for the life of its successors, and -even giving up a portion of its substance to supply them with -absorption-food. The cell walls are mainly composed of gelatin, or -the substance which produces gelatin, as already explained, while the -contents of the cell are albuminous matter or fat, or the special -constituents of the particular organ it composes. A description of -all these constituents would carry me too far into details. I must, -therefore, only refer to those which constitute the bulk of animal -food, and which are altered in the process of cooking. - -In the lean of meat, _i.e._ the muscles of the animal, we have the -albuminous juices already described, the gelatinous membranes, sheaths, -and walls of the muscle fibre, and the fibre itself. This is composed -of _muscle-fibrin_, or _syntonin_, as Lehmann has named it. Living -blood consists of a complex liquid, in which are suspended a multitude -of minute cells, some red, others colourless. When the blood is removed -and dies, it clots or partially solidifies, and is found to contain -a network of extremely fine fibre, to which the name of _fibrin_ is -applied. A similar change takes place in the substance of the muscle -after death. It stiffens, and this stiffening, or _rigor mortis_, is -effected by the formation of a clot analogous to the coagulation of the -blood. - -The chief difference between blood-fibrin and muscle-fibrin or -syntonin is, that the latter is readily soluble in water, to which -only 1/1000 of hydrochloric acid has been added, while in such a -solution blood-fibrin only becomes swollen. If the gastric juice -contains a little free hydrochloric acid, this difference is important -in reference to food. I should, however, add that the existence of -such free acid in the human gastric juice is disputed, especially by -Gruenewaldt and Schroeder. - -The conflict of able chemists on this point and others concerning the -composition of this fluid leads me to suppose that the secretions -of the human stomach vary with the food habitually taken; that -flesh-eaters acquire a gastric juice similar to that of carnivorous -animals, while vegetable feeders are supplied with digestive solvents -more suitable to their food. - -This idea is supported by the testimony of rigid vegetarians. They tell -me that at first the pure vegetarian diet did not appear to satisfy -them, but after a while it became as sustaining as their former food. -This is explained if, in consequence of the modification of the gastric -and other digestive juices, the vegetarian food became more completely -digested after vegetarian habits became established. - -The properties of fibrin, so far as cookery is concerned, place it -between albumen and gelatin; it is coagulable like albumen, and soluble -like gelatin, but in a minor degree. Like gelatin, it is tasteless and -non-nutritious _alone_. This has been proved by feeding animals on -lean meat, which has been cut up and subjected to the action of cold -water, which dissolves out the albumen and other juices of the flesh, -and leaves only the muscular fibre and its envelopes. The experiment -has been made in laboratories, and also on a larger scale in Australia, -where the lean beef from which the ‘Extract of Meat’ had been taken out -by cold water was given to dogs, pigs, and other animals; but, after -taking a few mouthfuls, they all rejected it, and suffered starvation -when it was forced upon them without other food. - -The same is the case with the spontaneously coagulated fibrin of the -blood; it is, when washed, a yellowish opaque fibrous mass, without -smell or taste, insoluble in cold water, alcohol, or ether, but -imperfectly soluble if digested for a considerable time in hot water. - -The following is the chemical composition of these three constituents -of lean meat, according to Mulder: - - +-----------+---------+----------+--------+ - | -- | Albumen | Gelatine | Fibrin | - +-----------+---------+----------+--------+ - |Carbon | 53·5 | 50·40 | 52·7 | - |Hydrogen | 7·0 | 6·64 | 6·9 | - |Nitrogen | 15·5 | 18·34 | 15·4 | - |Oxygen | 22·0 | 24·62 | 23·5 | - |Sulphur | 1·6 | -- | 1·2 | - |Phosphorus | 0·4 | -- | 0·3 | - | +---------+----------+--------+ - | | 100·0 | 100·00 | 100·0 | - +-----------+---------+----------+--------+ - -There are two other constituents of lean meat which are very different -from either of these, viz. _Kreatine_ and _Kreatinine_, otherwise -spelled ‘creatine’ and ‘creatinine.’ They exist in the juice of -the flesh, and are freely soluble in cold or hot water, from which -solution they may be crystallised by evaporating the solvent, just as -we may crystallise common salt, alum, &c. They thus have a resemblance -to mineral substances, and still more so to some of the active -constituents of plants, such as the alkaloids _theine_ and _caffeine_, -upon which depend the stimulating or ‘refreshing’ properties of tea and -coffee. Like these, they are highly nitrogenous, and many theories have -been based upon this, both as regards their exceptionally nutritious -properties and their functions in the living muscle. One of these -theories is that they are the dead matter of muscle, the first and -second products of the combustion which accompanies muscular work, urea -being the final product. According to this their relation to the muscle -is exactly the opposite of that of the albuminous juice, this being -probably the material from which the muscle is built up or renewed. The -following is their composition, according to Liebig’s analyses, and -does not support this hypothesis: - - +----------+----------+------------+ - | -- | Kreatine | Kreatinine | - +----------+----------+------------+ - | Carbon | 36·64 | 42·48 | - | Hydrogen | 6·87 | 6·19 | - | Nitrogen | 32·06 | 37·17 | - | Oxygen | 24·43 | 14·16 | - | +----------+------------+ - | | 100·00 | 100·00 | - +----------+----------+------------+ - -They appear to undergo no change in cooking unless excessively heated; -may be used uncooked, as in cold-drawn extract of meat. - -The juices of lean flesh also contain a little lactic acid—the acid -of milk—but this does not appear to be an absolutely essential -constituent. Besides these there are mineral salts of considerable -nutritive importance, though small in quantity. These, with the -kreatine and kreatinine, are the chief constituents of beef-tea -properly so-called, and will be further treated when I come to that -preparation. At present it is sufficient to keep in view the fact that -these juices are essential to complete the nutritive value of animal -food. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] The following, from Francatelli’s _Modern Cook_, is amusing, if -not instructive: ‘Take two dozen garden snails, add to these the hind -quarters only of two dozen stream frogs, previously skinned; bruise -them together in a mortar, after which put them into a stewpan with a -couple of turnips chopped small, a little salt, a quarter of an ounce -of hay-saffron, and three pints of spring water. Stir these on the fire -until the broth begins to boil, then skim it well and set it by the -side of the fire to simmer for half an hour; after which it should be -strained, by pressure through a tammy cloth, into a basin for use. This -broth, from its soothing qualities, often counteracts, successfully, -the straining effects of a severe cough, and alleviates, more than any -other culinary preparation, the sufferings of the consumptive.’ - -[7] Carpenter’s _Manual of Physiology_, 3rd edition, 1846, p. 267. - -[8] Londe, _Nouveaux Éléments d’Hygiène_, 2nd edition, vol. ii. p. 73. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -ROASTING AND GRILLING. - - -I MAY now venture to state my own view of a somewhat obscure -subject—viz. the difference between the roasting or grilling of meat -and the stewing of meat. It appears to me that, as regards the nature -of the operation, it consists simply in the difference between the -cooking media; that a grilled steak or chop, or a roasted joint is meat -that has been stewed in its own juices instead of stewed in water; that -in both cases the changes taking place in the _solid_ parts of the meat -are the same in kind, provided always that the roasting or grilling is -properly performed. The albumen is coagulated in all cases, and the -gelatinous and fibrous tissues are softened by being heated in a liquid -solvent. I shall presently apply this definition in distinguishing -between good and bad cookery. - -In the roasted or grilled meat the juices are retained in the meat -(with the exception of those which escape as gravy on the dish), while -in stewing the juices go more or less completely into the water, and -the loosening of the fibres and solution of the gelatin and fibrin may -be carried further, inasmuch as a larger quantity of solvent is used. - -Roasting and grilling may be regarded as our national methods of flesh -cookery, and stewing in water that of our continental neighbours. -The difference between the flavour of English roast beef and French -_bouilli_ or Italian _manzo_ is due to the retention or the removal -of the saline and highly-flavoured soluble materials. (Concentrated -kreatine and kreatinine are pungently sapid.) The Frenchman takes -them out of his _bouilli_, or boiled meat, and transfers them to his -_bouillon_, or soup, which, with him, is an essential element of a -meal. If he ate his meat without soup, he would be like the dogs fed -on gelatin by the bone-soup commissioners. To the Englishman, with -his roast or grilled meat, soup is merely a luxury, not an absolutely -necessary element of a complete dietary. - -What we call boiled meat, as a boiled leg of mutton or round of beef, -is an intermediate preparation. The heat is here communicated by water, -and the juices partially retained. - -Not only do we, in roasting and grilling our meat, keep the juices -within it, but we concentrate them considerably by evaporating away -_some_ of the water by which they are naturally diluted. This is my -explanation of the _rationale_ of the chief difference between boiled -meat and roasted or grilled meat. A further difference—that due to -browning—is discussed in the chapter on Frying. Those accustomed to -such concentration of flavour regard the milder results of boiling as -insipid, for, by this process and by stewing, where much water is used, -the juices are further diluted instead of being concentrated. - -It is a fairly debatable question whether the simplicity of taste which -finds satisfaction in the milder diet is better and more desirable than -the appetite for strong meat. The difference has some analogy to that -between the thirst for light wine and that for stiff grog. - -The application of the principles above expounded to the processes of -grilling and roasting is simple enough. As the meat is to be stewed -in its own juices, it is evident that these juices must be retained -as completely as possible, and that in order to succeed in this, we -have to struggle with the evaporating energy of the ‘dry heat’ which -effects the cookery, and may not only concentrate the juices by driving -off some of their solvent water, but may volatilise or decompose the -flavouring principles themselves. We must always remember that these -organic compounds are very unstable, most of them being decomposed when -raised to a temperature above the boiling-point of water. The repulsive -energy of heat drives apart or ‘dissociates’ their loosely-combined -elements, and when thus wholly or partially dissociated, all the -characteristic properties of the original compound vanish, and others -take their place. - -It should be clearly understood that the so-called ‘dry heat’ may be -communicated by convection or by radiation, or both. When water is -the heating medium, there is convection only—_i.e._ heating by actual -contact with the heated body. In roasting and grilling there is also -some convection-heating due to the hot air which actually touches the -meat; but this is a very small element of efficiency, the work being -chiefly done, when well done, by the heat which is radiated from the -fire directly to the surface of the meat, and which, in the case of -roasting in front of a fire, passes through the intervening air with -very little heating effect thereon. - -I am not perpetrating any far-fetched pedantry in pointing out this -difference, as will be understood at once by supposing a beefsteak -to be cooked by suspending it in a chamber filled with hot dry air. -Such air is actively thirsting for the vapour of water, and will -take into itself, from every humid substance it touches, a quantity -proportionate to its temperature. The steak receiving its heat by -convection—_i.e._ the heat conveyed by such hot air, and communicated -by contact—would be _desiccated, but not cooked_. - -This distinction is so important, that I will illustrate it still -further, my chief justification for such insistence being that even -Rumford himself evidently failed to understand it, and it has been -generally misunderstood or neglected. - -Let us suppose the hot air used for convection cooking to be at the -cooking-point, as the hot water in stewing should be, what will follow -its application to the meat? Evaporation of the water in the juices, -and with that evaporation a lowering of temperature at the surface of -the meat, keeping it below the cooking-point. If the air be heated -above this, the evaporation will go on with proportionate rapidity. As -nearly 1,000 degrees of heat are lost _as temperature_, and converted -into expansive force whenever and wherever evaporation of water -occurs, the film of hot, dry air touching the meat is cooled by this -evaporation, and sinks immediately, to be replaced by a rising film -of lighter, hotter, and drier air. This drinks in more vapour, cools -and sinks, to give place to another, and so on till the inner juices -gradually ooze between the fibres to the porous surface, where they are -carried away by the hot, dry air, and a hard, leathery, unmasticable -mass of desiccated gelatin, albumen, fibrin, &c., is produced. - -Now, let us suppose a similar beefsteak to be cooked by radiant heat, -with the least possible co-operation of convection. - -To effect this, our source of heat must be a good radiator. Glowing -solids are better radiators than ordinary flames; therefore coke, or -charcoal, or ordinary coal, after its bituminous matter has done -its flaming, should be used, and the steak or chop may be placed in -front or above a surface of such glowing carbon. In ordinary domestic -practice it is placed on a gridiron above the coal, and therefore I -will consider this case first. - -The object to be attained is to raise the juices of the meat throughout -to about the temperature of 180° Fahr. as quickly as possible, in order -that the cookery may be completed before the water of these juices -shall have had time to evaporate excessively; therefore the meat should -be placed as near to the surface of the glowing carbon as possible. But -the practical housewife will say that, if placed within two or three -inches, some of the fat will be melted and burn, and then the steak -will be smoked. - -Now, here we require a little more chemistry. There is smoking and -smoking; smoking that produces a detestable flavour, and smoking that -does no mischief at all beyond appearances. The flame of an ordinary -coal fire is due to the distillation and combustion of tarry vapours. -If such a flame strikes a comparatively cool surface like that of the -meat, it will condense and deposit thereon a film of crude coal tar and -coal naphtha, most nauseous and rather mischievous; but if the flame be -that which is caused by the combustion of its own fat, the deposit on -a mutton-chop will be a little mutton juice, on a beefsteak a little -beef juice, more or less blackened by mutton-carbon or beef-carbon. But -these have no other flavour than that of cooked mutton and cooked beef; -therefore they are perfectly innocent, in spite of their black, guilty -appearances. - -If any of my readers are sceptical, let them appeal to experiment by -putting a mutton-chop to the torture, and taking its own confession. -To do this, divide the chop in equal halves, then hold one half -over a flaming coal, immersing it in the flame, and thus cook it. -Now cut a bit of fat off the other, throw this fat on a surface of -clear, glowing, flameless coal or coke, and, when a good blaze is thus -obtained, immerse the half chop recklessly and unmercifully into _this_ -flame; there let it splutter and fizz, let it drop more fat and make -more flame, but hold it there nevertheless for a few minutes, and then -taste the result. - -In spite of its blackness, it will be (if just warmed through to -the above-named cooking temperature) a deliciously-cooked, juicy, -nutritious, digestible morsel, apparently raw, but actually more -completely cooked than if it had been held twice as long, at double the -distance, from the surface of the fire. - -For further instruction, make a third experiment by imitating the -cautious unscientific cook, who, ignorant of the difference between -the condensation products of coal and those from beef and mutton fat, -carefully raises the gridiron directly the flame from the dropping -fat threatens the object of her solicitude. The result will be an -ordinary domestic chop or steak. I apply this adjective, because in -this particular effort of cookery, the grilling of chops and steaks, -domestic cookery is commonly at fault. The majority of our City men -find that while the joint cooked at home is better than that they -usually get at restaurants and hotels, the chops and steaks are -inferior. - -I believe that this inferiority is due, in the first place, to the want -of understanding of the difference between coal-flame and fat-flame; -and in the second, to the advantage afforded to the ‘grill-room’ cook -by his specially-constructed fire, with a large surface of glowing coke -surmounted by a sloping grill, whereon he can expose his chops and -steaks to a maximum of radiant heat with a minimum of convection heat; -the hot air which passes in a current over the coke surface having such -small depth that it barely touches the bars of the grill. (This may -be seen by watching the course of flame produced by the droppings of -the fat.) The same obliquity of draught prevents the serious blacking -of the meat, which, although harmless, is unsightly and calculated to -awaken prejudice. - -The high temperature rapidly imparted by radiation to the surface of -the meat forms a thin superficial crust of hardened and semi-carbonised -albumen and fibre, that resists the outrush of vapour, and produces -within a certain degree of high pressure, which probably acts in -loosening the fibres. A well-grilled chop or steak is ‘puffed’ -out—made thicker in the middle; an ill-cooked, desiccated specimen -is shrivelled, collapsed, and thinned by the slow departure or -dissociation of its juices. - -Happy little couples, living in little houses with only one little -servant—or, happier still, with no servant at all—complain of their -little joints of meat, which, when roasted, are so dry, as compared -with the big succulent joints of larger households. A little reflection -on the principles above applied to the grilling of steaks and chops -will explain the source of this little difficulty, and show how it may -be overcome. - -I will here venture upon a little of the mathematics of cookery, as -well as its chemistry. While the weight or quantity of material in a -joint increases with the cube of its through-measured dimensions, its -surface only increases with their square—or, otherwise stated, we do -not nearly double or treble the surface of a joint of given form when -we double or treble its weight; and _vice versâ_, the less the weight, -the greater the surface in proportion to the weight. This is obvious -enough when we consider that we cannot cut a single lump of anything -into halves without exposing or creating two fresh surfaces where no -surfaces were exposed before. As the evaporation of the juices is, -under given conditions, proportionate to the surface exposed, it is -evident that this process of converting the inside middle into two -outside surfaces must increase the amount of evaporation that occurs in -roasting. - -What, then, is the remedy for this? It is twofold. First, to seal up -the pores of these additional surfaces as completely as possible; and -secondly, to diminish to the utmost the time of exposure to the dry -air. Logically following up these principles, I arrive at a practical -formula which will probably induce certain orthodox cooks to denounce -me as a culinary paradoxer. It is this: That _the smaller the joint to -be roasted, the higher the temperature to which its surface should be -exposed_. The roasting of a small joint should, in fact, be conducted -in nearly the same manner as the grilling of a chop or steak described -in my last. The surface should be crusted or browned—burned, if you -please—as speedily as possible, in such wise that the juices within -shall be held there under high pressure, and only allowed to escape by -burst and splutters, rather than by steady evaporation. - -The best way of doing this is a problem to be solved by the practical -cook. I only expound the principles, and timidly suggest the mode of -applying them. In a metallurgical laboratory, where I am most at home, -I could roast a small joint beautifully by suspending it inside a large -red-hot steel-smelter’s crucible, or, better still, in an apparatus -called a ‘muffle,’ which is a fireclay tunnel open in front, and so -arranged in a suitable furnace as to be easily made red-hot all -round. A small joint placed on a dripping-pan and run into this would -be equally heated by all-round converging radiation, and exquisitely -roasted in the course of ten to thirty minutes, according to its size. -Some such an apparatus has yet to be invented in order that we may -learn the flavour and tenderness of a perfectly-roasted small joint of -beef or mutton. - -For roasting large masses of meat, a different proceeding is necessary. -Here we have to contend, not with excessive surface in proportion -to bulk—as in the grilling of chops and steaks, and the roasting of -small joints—but with the contrary, viz. excessive bulk in proportion -to surface. If a baron of beef were to be treated according to my -prescription for a steak, or for a single small wing rib, or other -joint of three to five pounds weight, it would be charred on its -surface long before the heat could reach its centre. - -A considerable time is here inevitably demanded. Of course, the -higher the initial outside temperature, the more rapidly the heat -will penetrate; but we cannot apply this law to a lump of meat as we -may to a mass of iron. We may go on heating the outside of the iron -to redness, but not so the meat. So long as the surface of the meat -remains moist, we cannot raise it to a higher temperature than the -boiling-point of the liquid that moistens it. Above this, charring -commences. A little of such charring, such as occurs to the steak -or small joint during the short period of its exposure to the great -heat, does no harm; it simply ‘browns’ the surface; but if this were -continued during the roasting of a large joint, a crust of positively -black charcoal would be formed, with ruinous waste and general -detriment. - -As Rumford proved long ago, liquids are very bad conductors, and when -their circulation is prevented by confinement between fibres, as in -the meat, the rate at which heat will travel through the humid mass is -very slow indeed. As few of my readers are likely to fully estimate the -magnitude of this difficulty, I will state a fact that came under my -own observation, and at the time surprised me. - -About five-and-twenty years ago I was visiting a friend at Warwick -during the ‘mop,’ or ‘statute fair’—the annual slave market of the -county. In accordance with the old custom, an ox was roasted whole in -the open public market-place. The spitting of the carcass and starting -the cookery was a disgusting sight. We are accustomed to see the -neatly-cut joints ordinarily brought to the kitchen; but the handling -and impaling of the whole body of a huge beast by half a dozen rough -men, while its stiffened limbs were stretching out from its trunk, -presented the carnivorous character of our ordinary feeding very -grossly indeed. - -Nevertheless I watched the process, partook of some of its result, and -found it good. The fire was lighted before midnight, the rotation of -the beast on the horizontal spit began shortly after, and continued -until the following midday, all this time being necessary for the -raising of the inner parts of the flesh to the cooking temperature of -about 180° Fahr. - -Compare this with the grilling of a steak, which, when well done, is -done in a few minutes, or the roasting of the small joint as above -within thirty minutes, and you will see that I am justified in dwelling -on the great differences of the two processes, and the necessity of -very varied proceeding to meet these different conditions. - -The difference of time is so great that the smaller relative surface -is insufficient to compensate for the evaporation that must occur if -the grilling principle, or the pure and simple action of radiant heat, -were only made available, as in the above ideal roasting of the small -joint. - -What, then, is added to this? How is the desiccating difficulty -overcome in the large-scale roasting? Simply by _basting_. - -All night long and all the next morning men were continuously at work -pouring melted fat over the surface of the slowly-rotating carcass -of the Warwick ox, skilfully directing a ladleful to any part that -indicated undue dryness. - -By this device the meat is more or less completely enveloped in a -varnish of hot melted fat, which assists in the communication of heat, -while it checks the evaporation of the juices. In such roasting the -heat is partially communicated by convection through the medium of a -fat-bath, as in stewing it is all supplied by a water-bath. - -I have made some experiments wherein this principle is fully carried -out. In a suitably-sized saucepan I melted a sufficient quantity of -mutton-dripping to form a bath, wherein a small joint of mutton could -be completely immersed. The fat was then raised to a high temperature, -350° (as shown by Davis’ _tryometer_, presently to be described). Then -I immersed the joint in this, keeping up the high temperature for a -few minutes. Afterwards I allowed it to fall below 200°, and thus -cooked the joint. It was good and juicy, though a little of the gravy -had escaped and was found in the fat after cooling. The experiment -was repeated with variations of temperature; the best result obtained -when it was about 400° at the beginning, and kept up to above 200° -afterwards. I used loins and half-legs of mutton, exposing considerable -surface. - -I find that Sir Henry Thompson, in a lecture delivered at the Fisheries -Exhibition, and now reprinted, has invaded my subject, and has done -this so well that I shall retaliate by annexing his suggestion, which -is that fish should be _roasted_. He says that this mode of cooking -fish should be general, since it is applicable to all varieties. I -fully agree with him, but go a little further in the same direction -by including, not only roasting in a Dutch or American oven _before_ -the fire, but also in the side-ovens of kitcheners and in gas-ovens, -which, when used as I have explained, are roasters—_i.e._ they cook by -radiation, without any of the drying anticipated by Sir Henry. - -The practical housewife will probably say this is not new, seeing that -people who know what is good have long been in the habit of enjoying -mackerel and haddocks (especially Dublin Bay haddocks) stuffed and -baked, and cods’ heads similarly treated. The Jews do something of -the kind with halibut’s head, which they prize as the greatest of all -piscine delicacies. The John Dory is commonly stuffed and cooked in an -oven by those who understand his merits. - -The excellence of Sir Henry Thompson’s idea consists in its breadth as -applicable to _all fish_, on the basis of that fundamental principle -of scientific cookery on which I have so continually and variously -insisted, viz. the retention and concentration of the natural juices of -the viands. - -He recommends the placing of the fish entire, if of moderate size, in -a tin or plated copper dish adapted to the form and size of the fish, -but a little deeper than its thickness, so as to retain all the juices, -which on exposure to the heat will flow out; the surface to be lightly -spread with butter with a morsel or two added, and the dish placed -before the fire in a Dutch or American oven, or the special apparatus -made by Burton of Oxford Street, which was exhibited at the lecture. - -To this I may add, that if a closed oven be used, Rumford’s device -of a false bottom, shown in Fig. 3, p. 72 (see next chapter), -should be adopted, which may be easily done by simply standing the -above-described fish-dish, on any kind of support to raise it a -little, in a larger tin tray or baking-dish, containing some water. -The evaporation of the water will prevent the drying up of the fish -or of its natural gravy; and if the oven ventilation is treated with -the contempt I shall presently recommend, the fish, if thick, will be -better cooked and more juicy than in an open-faced oven in front of the -fire. - -This reminds me of a method of cooking fish which, in the course of my -pedestrian travels in Italy, I have seen practised in the rudest of -osterias, where my fellow-guests were carbonari (charcoal burners), -waggoners, road-making navvies, &c. Their staple ‘_magro_,’ or fast-day -material, is split and dried codfish imported from Norway, which in -appearance resembles the hides that are imported to the Bermondsey -tanneries. A piece is hacked out from one of these, soaked for awhile -in water, and carefully rolled in a piece of paper saturated with olive -oil. A hole is then made in the white embers of the charcoal fire, -the paper parcel of fish inserted and carefully buried in ashes of -selected temperature. It comes out wonderfully well cooked considering -the nature of the raw material. Luxurious cookery _en papillote_ is -conducted on the same principle and especially applied to red mullets, -the paper being buttered and the sauce enveloped with the fish. In all -these cases the retention of the natural juices is the primary object. - -I should add that Sir Henry Thompson directs, as a matter of course, -that the roasted fish should be served in the dish wherein it was -cooked. He suggests that ‘portions of fish, such as fillets, may be -treated as well as entire fish; garnishes of all kinds, as shell-fish, -&c., may be added, flavouring also with fine herbs and condiments -according to taste.’ ‘Fillets of plaice or skate with a slice or two of -bacon; the dish to be filled or garnished with some previously-boiled -haricots,’ is wisely recommended as a savoury meal for a poor man, and -one that is highly nutritious. A chemical analysis of six-pennyworth of -such a combination would prove its nutritive value to be equal to fully -eighteen-pennyworth of beefsteak. - -Some people may be inclined to smile at what I am about to say, viz. -that such savoury dishes, serving to vary the monotony of the poor -hard-working man’s ordinary fare, afford considerable moral, as well as -physical, advantage. - -An instructive experience of my own will illustrate this. When -wandering alone through Norway in 1856, I lost the track in crossing -the Kjolen fjeld, struggled on for twenty-three hours without food or -rest, and arrived in sorry plight at Lom, a very wild region. After -a few hours’ rest I pushed on to a still wilder region and still -rougher quarters, and continued thus to the great Jostedal table-land, -an unbroken glacier of 500 square miles; then descended the Jostedal -itself to its opening on the Sogne fjord—five days of extreme hardship -with no other food than flatbrod (very coarse oatcake), and bilberries -gathered on the way, varied on one occasion with the luxury of two raw -turnips. Then I reached a comparatively luxurious station (Ronnei), -where ham and eggs and claret were obtainable. The first glass of -claret produced an effect that alarmed me—a craving for more and for -stronger drink, that was almost irresistible. I finished a bottle of -St. Julien, and nothing but a violent effort of will prevented me from -then ordering brandy. - -I attribute this to the exhaustion consequent upon the excessive work -and insufficient unsavoury food of the previous five days; have made -many subsequent observations on the victims of alcohol, and have no -doubt that overwork and scanty, tasteless food is the primary source -of the craving for strong drink that so largely prevails with such -deplorable results among the class that is the most exposed to such -privation. I do not say that this is the only source of such depraved -appetite. It may also be engendered by the opposite extreme of -excessive luxurious pandering to general sensuality. - -The practical inference suggested by this experience and these -observations is, that speech-making, pledge-signing, and blue-ribbon -missions can only effect temporary results unless supplemented by -satisfying the natural appetite of hungry people by supplies of food -that are not only nutritious, but savoury and _varied_. Such food need -be no more expensive than that which is commonly eaten by the poorest -of Englishmen, but it must be far better cooked. - -Comparing the domestic economy of the poorer classes of our countrymen -with that of the corresponding classes in France and Italy (with -both of which I am well acquainted), I find that the raw material of -the dietary of the French and Italians is inferior to that of the -English, but a far better result is obtained by better cookery. -The Italian peasantry are better fed than the French. In the poor -osterias above referred to, not only the Friday salt fish, but all the -other viands, were incomparably better cooked than in corresponding -places in England, and the variety was greater than is common in many -middle-class houses. The ordinary supper of the ‘roughs’ above-named -was of three courses: first, a ‘_minestra_,’ _i.e._ a soup of some -kind, continually varied, or a savoury dish of macaroni; then a ragoût -or savoury stew of vegetables and meat, followed by an excellent salad; -the beverage, a flask of thin but genuine wine. When I come to the -subject of cheese, I will describe their mode of cooking and using it. - -My first walk through Italy extended from the Alps to Naples, and from -Messina to Syracuse. I thus spent nearly a year in Italy during a -season of great abundance, and never saw a drunken Italian. A few years -after this I walked through a part of Lombardy, and found the little -osterias as bad as English beershops or low public-houses. It was a -period of scarcity and trouble, ‘the three plagues,’ as they called -them—the potato disease, the silkworm fungus, and the grape disease—had -brought about general privation. There was no wine at all; potato -spirit and coarse beer had taken its place. Monotonous ‘polenta,’ a -sort of paste or porridge made from Indian corn meal, to which they -give the contemptuous name of ‘miserabile,’ was then the general food, -and much drunkenness was the natural consequence. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -COUNT RUMFORD’S ROASTER. - - -IN the third volume of his ‘Essays, Political, Economical, and -Philosophical,’ page 129, Count Rumford introduces this subject, with -the following apology, which I repeat and adopt. He says: ‘I shall, no -doubt, be criticised by many for dwelling so long on a subject which to -them will appear low, vulgar, and trifling; but I must not be deterred -by fastidious criticisms from doing all I can do to succeed in what I -have undertaken. Were I to treat my subject superficially, my writing -would be of no use to anybody, and my labour would be lost; but by -investigating it thoroughly, I may, perhaps, engage others to pay that -attention to it which, from its importance, it deserves.’ - -This subject of roasting occupied a large amount of Count Rumford’s -attention while he was in England residing in Brompton Road, and -founding the Royal Institution. His efforts were directed not merely to -cooking the meat effectively, but to doing so economically. Like all -others who have contemplated thoughtfully the habits of Englishmen, he -was shocked at the barbaric waste of fuel that everywhere prevailed in -this country, even to a greater extent then than now. - -The first fact that necessarily presented itself to his mind was the -great amount of heat that is wasted, when an ordinary joint of meat is -suspended in front of an ordinary coal fire to intercept and utilise -only a small fraction of its total radiation. - -As far as I am aware, there is no other country in Europe where such -a process is indigenous. I say ‘indigenous,’ because there certainly -are hotels where this or any other English extravagance is perpetrated -to please Englishmen who choose to pay for it. What is usually called -roast meat in countries not inhabited by English-speaking people, is -what we should call ‘baked meat,’ the very name of which sets all -the gastronomic bristles of an orthodox Englishman in a position of -perpendicularity. - -I have a theory of my own respecting the origin of this prejudice. -Within the recollection of many still living, the great middle class of -Englishmen lived in town; their sitting-rooms were back parlours behind -their shops, or factories, or warehouses; their drawing-rooms were on -the first-floor, and kitchens in the basement. - -They kept one general servant of the ‘Marchioness’ type. The -corresponding class now live in suburban villas, keep cook, housemaid, -and parlour-maid, besides the gardener and his boy, and they dine at -supper-time. - -In the days of the one marchioness and the basement kitchen, these -citizens ‘of credit and renown’ dined at dinner-time, and were in -the habit of placing a three-legged open iron triangle in a brown -earthenware dish, then spreading a stratum of peeled potatoes on said -dish, and a joint of meat above, on the open triangular support. This -edifice was carried by the marchioness to the bakehouse round the -corner at about 11 A.M., and brought back steaming and savoury at 1 P.M. - -This was especially the case on Sundays; but there were exceptions, as -when, for example, the condition of the mistress’s wardrobe offered -no particular motive for going to church, and she stayed at home and -roasted the Sunday dinner. The experience thus obtained demonstrated a -material difference between the flavour of the roasted and the baked -meat very decidedly in favour of the home roasted. Why? - -The principal reason was, I believe, that the baker’s large bread-oven -contained at dinner-time a curious medley of meats—mutton, beef, pork, -geese, veal, &c., including stuffing with sage and onions, besides -the possibility of a joint or two that had been hung longer than was -necessary for procuring tenderness. The vapours of these would induce -a confusion of flavours in the milder meats, fully accounting for the -observed superiority of the home-roasted joints. - -A little reflection on the principles already expounded will show that, -theoretically regarded, a given piece of meat would be better roasted -in a closed chamber radiating heat _from all sides_ towards the meat -than it could be when suspended in front of a fire and heated only on -one side, while the other side was turned away to cool more or less, -according to the rate of rotation. - -If I agreed with the popular belief in the advantage of open-air -exposure to direct radiation from glowing coal, I should suggest that -for large joints a special roasting fire be constructed, by building -an upright cylinder of fire-brick, and erecting within this a smaller -cylinder or grating of iron bars, so that the fuel should be placed -between these, and thus form an upright cylindrical ring or shirt of -fire, enclosed outside by the bricks, but open and glowing towards the -inside of the hollow cylinder, in the midst of which the meat should be -suspended to receive the radiation from all sides. - -The whole apparatus might stand under a dome, terminating in an -ordinary chimney, like a glass-house or a steel-maker’s cementing -furnace; or, in this respect, like those wondrous kitchens of the old -seraglio at Constantinople, where each apartment is a huge chimney, -outspreading downwards, so that the cooks, and their materials and -apparatus, as well as the huge fires themselves, are all under the -great central chimney shaft. - -I do not, however, recommend such an apparatus, even to the most -wealthy and luxurious epicure, because I am convinced, not merely from -theoretical considerations, but also from practical experiments, that -all kinds of meat may be not merely as well roasted in a close oven -as before an open fire, but that the close chamber, properly managed, -produces _better results in every respect_ than can possibly be -obtained by roasting in the open air. - -To obtain such results there must be no compromise, no concession -to any false theory respecting a necessity for special ventilation, -excepting in the case of semi-putrid game or venison, which require to -be carbonised and disinfected as well as cooked, and, of course, also -demand the speedy removal of their noxious vapours. - -Not so with fresh meats. There is nothing in the vapour of beef that -can injure the flavour of beef, nor in the vapour of mutton that is -damaging to mutton, and so on with the rest. But there is much that -can, and does actually improve them; or, more strictly speaking, -prevents the deterioration to which they are liable when roasted before -an open fire. I will endeavour to explain this. - -Carefully-conducted experiments have demonstrated the general law -that atmospheric air is a vacuum to the vapour of water and other -similar vapours, while each particular vapour is a plenum to itself, -though not to other vapours; or, otherwise stated, if a given space, -at a given temperature, be filled with air, the quantity of aqueous -vapour that it is capable of holding is the same as though this space -contained no air at all, nor anything else. But this same space -may contain a much smaller quantity of aqueous vapour, and yet be -absolutely impenetrable to aqueous vapour, provided its temperature is -unaltered. - -Thus, if a bell-glass, filled with air, under ordinary pressure, at the -temperature of 100° Fahr., be placed over a dish of water at the same -temperature, a quantity of vapour, equal to 1/30th (in round numbers) -of the weight of the air, will rise into the bell-glass, and there -remain diffused throughout. If there were less air, or no air at all -(temperature remaining the same), the bell-glass would obtain and hold -the same quantity of vapour. - -If, instead of being filled with air, it contained at the outset only -this 1/30th of aqueous vapour, it would now be an impenetrable plenum, -behaving like a solid to aqueous vapour—no more could be forced into it -while its temperature remained the same. - -But while thus charged with aqueous vapour, there would still be room -for vapour of alcohol, or turpentine, or ether, or chloroform, &c. It -would be a vacuum to these, though a plenum to itself. On the other -hand, if the alcohol, turpentine, ether, or chloroform were allowed to -evaporate into the bell-glass, a certain quantity of either of these -vapours would presently enter it, and then this vapour would act like -a solid mass in resisting the entry of any more of its own kind, while -it would be freely pervious to the vapour of water or that of the other -liquids. - -A practical example will further illustrate this. Some years ago I was -engaged in the distillation of paraffin oil, and had a few thousand -gallons of the crude liquid in a still with a tall head and a rising -condenser. In spite of severe firing, the distillation proceeded very -slowly. Then I threw into the still, just above the surface of the oil, -a jet of steam. The rate of distillation immediately increased with -the same firing, although the steam was of much lower temperature than -the boiling oil, and, therefore, wasted much heat. The _rationale_ of -this was, that at first an atmosphere of oil vapour stood over the -oil, and this was impervious to more oil vapour, but on sweeping this -out and replacing it by steam, the atmosphere above the liquid oil was -permeable by oil vapour. This principle is largely applied in similar -distillations. - -Always keeping in view that the primary problem in roasting is to raise -the temperature throughout to the cooking heat without desiccation -of the natural juices of the meat, and applying to this problem the -laws of vapour diffusion expounded in my last, it is easy enough to -understand the theoretical advantages of roasting in a closed oven, the -space within which speedily becomes saturated with those particular -vapours that resist further vaporisation of these juices. - -In all open-air roasting, whether by the one-sided fire of ordinary -construction or the surrounding fire that I have suggested, convection -currents are necessarily at work desiccating and toughening the meat in -spite of the basting, though tempered thereby. - -I say ‘theoretical,’ because I despair of practically convincing any -thoroughbred Englishman that baked meat is better than roasted meat by -any reasoning whatever. If, however, he is sufficiently ‘un-English’ to -test the question experimentally, he may possibly convince himself. -To do this fairly, a large joint of meat should be equally divided, -one half roasted in front of the fire, the other in a non-ventilated -oven over a little water by a cook who knows how to heat the oven. This -condition is essential, as some intelligence is demanded in regulating -the temperature of an oven, while any barbarian can carry out the -modern modification of the ordinary device of the savage, who skewers a -bit of meat, and holds this near enough to a fire to make it frizzle. - -Having settled this question to my own satisfaction more than twenty -years ago, I now amuse myself occasionally by experimenting upon -others, and continually find that the most uncompromising theoretical -haters of baked meat practically prefer it to orthodox roasted meat, -provided always that they eat it in ignorance. - -Part II. of Count Rumford’s ‘Tenth Essay’ is devoted to his roaster -and roasting generally, and occupies ninety-four pages, including -the special preface. This preface is curious now, as it contains the -following apology for delay of publication: ‘During several months, -almost the whole of my time was taken up with the business of the -Royal Institution; and those who are acquainted with the objects of -that noble establishment will, no doubt, think that I judged wisely in -preferring its interest to every other concern.’ - -To those who attend the fashionable gatherings held on Friday evenings -in ‘that noble establishment’ during the London season, it is almost -comical to read what its founder says concerning the object for which -it was instituted—viz. the noble purpose of DIFFUSING THE KNOWLEDGE -AND FACILITATING THE GENERAL INTRODUCTION OF NEW AND USEFUL INVENTIONS -AND IMPROVEMENTS.’ The capitals are Rumford’s, and he illustrates their -meaning by reference to ‘the repository of this new establishment,’ -where specimens of pots and kettles, ovens, roasters, fireplaces, -gridirons, tea-kettles, kitchen-boilers, &c., might be inspected. - -Some years ago, when I was sufficiently imprudent to accept an -invitation to describe Rumford’s scientific researches in _one_ -Friday evening lecture, rigidly limited to fifty-seven minutes (and -consequently muddled my subject in the vain struggle to condense it), -I tried to find the original roaster, but failed; all that remained -of the original ‘repository’ being a few models put out of the way as -though they were empty wine-bottles. I am not finding fault, as the -noble work that has been done there by Davy, Faraday, and Tyndall must -have profoundly gladdened the supervising soul of Rumford (supposing -that it does such spiritual supervision), in spite of his neglected -roaster, which I must now describe without further digression. - -It is shown open and out of its setting in Fig. 1, and there seen -as a hollow cylinder of sheet-iron, which, for ordinary use, may be -about 18 inches in diameter and 24 inches long, closed permanently -at one end, and by a hinged double door of sheet-iron (_dd_) at the -other. The doubling of the door is for the purpose of retaining the -heat by means of an intervening lining of ill-conducting material. -Or a single door of sheet-iron, with a panel of wood outside, may be -used. The whole to be set horizontally in brickwork, as shown in Fig. -4, the door-front being flush with the front of the brickwork. The -flame of the small fire below plays freely all round it by filling the -enveloping flue-space indicated by the dotted lines on Fig. 4. Inside -the cylinder is a shelf to support the dripping-pan (_d_) Fig. 1, -which is separately shown in Figs. 2 and 3. - -[Illustration: FIG. 1.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 2.] - -This dripping-pan is an important element of the apparatus. Fig. -3 shows it in cross section, made up of two tin-plate dishes, one -above the other, arranged to leave a space (_w_) between. This space -contains water, half to three-quarters of an inch in depth. Above is -a gridiron, shown in plan, Fig. 2, on which the meat rests; the bars -of this are shown in section in Fig. 3. The object of this arrangement -is to prevent the fat which drips from the meat from being overheated -and filling the roaster with the fumes of burnt—_i.e._ partially -decomposed, fat and gravy, to the tainting influence of which Rumford -attributed the English prejudice against baked meat. So long as any -water remains the dripping cannot be raised more than two or three -degrees above 212°. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 4.] - -The tube _v_, Fig. 1, is for carrying away vapour, if necessary. This -tube may be opened or closed by means of a damper moved by the little -handle shown on the right. The _heat_ of the roaster is regulated -by means of the register _c_, Fig. 4, in the ash-pit door of the -fire-place, its _dryness_ by the above-named damper of the steam tube -_v_, and also by the blowpipes, _b p_. - -These are iron tubes, about 2½ in. in diameter, placed underneath, so -as to be in the midst of the flame as it ascends from the fire into -the enveloping flue, shown by the dotted lines, Fig. 4, where their -external openings are shown at _b p_, _b p_, and the plugs by which -they may be opened or closed in Fig. 1. It is evident that by removing -these plugs, and opening the damper of the steam pipe, a blast of hot -dry air will be delivered into the roaster at its back part, and it -must pass forward to escape by the steam pipe. As these blowpipes are -raised to a red heat when the fire is burning briskly, the temperature -of this blast of air may be very high; with even a very moderate fire, -sufficiently high to desiccate and spoil the meat if they were kept -open during all the time of cooking. They are accordingly to be kept -closed until the last stage of the roasting is reached; then the fire -is urged by opening the ash-pit register, and when the blowpipes are -about red-hot, their plugs are removed, and the steam-pipe damper is -opened for a few minutes to brown the meat by means of the hot wind -thus generated. - -It will be observed that a special fire directly under the roaster is -here designed, and that this fire is enclosed in brickwork. This is a -general feature of Rumford’s arrangements. The economy of the whole -device will be understood by the fact that in a test experiment at the -Foundling Institution of London, he roasted 112 lbs. of beef with a -consumption of only 22 lbs. of coal (three pennyworth, at 25_s._ per -ton). - -Rumford tells us that ‘when these roasters were first proposed, and -before their merit was established, many doubts were entertained -respecting the taste of the food prepared in them,’ but that, after -many practical trials, it was proved that ‘meat of every kind, without -any exception, roasted in a roaster, is _better tasted, higher -flavoured, and much more juicy and delicate_ than when roasted on a -spit before an open fire.’ These italics are in the original, and the -testimony of competent judges is quoted. - -I must describe one experiment in detail. Two legs of mutton from the -same carcass made equal in weight before cooking were roasted, one -before the fire and the other in a roaster. When cooked, both were -weighed, and the joint roasted in the roaster proved to be heavier than -the other by 6 per cent. They were brought upon table at the same time, -‘and a large and perfectly unprejudiced company was assembled to eat -them.’ Both were found good, but a decided preference given to that -cooked in the roaster; ‘it was much more juicy, and was thought better -tasted.’ Both were fairly eaten up, nothing remaining of either that -was eatable, and the fragments collected. ‘Of the leg of mutton which -had been roasted in the roaster, hardly anything visible remained, -excepting the bare bone, while a considerable heap was formed of scraps -not eatable which remained of that roasted on a spit.’ - -This was an eloquent experiment; the gain of 6 per cent. tells of -juices retained with consequent gain of flavour, tenderness, and -digestibility, and the subsequent testimony of the scraps describes the -difference in the condition of the tendonous, integumentary portions of -the joints, which are just those that present the toughest practical -problems to the cook, especially in roasting. - -But why are these roasters not in general use? Why did they die with -their inventor, notwithstanding the fact, mentioned in his essay, that -Mr. Hopkins, of Greek Street, Soho, had sold above 200, and others were -making them? - -Those of my readers who have had practical experience in using hot -air or in superheating steam, will doubtless have already detected a -weak point in the ‘blowpipes.’ When iron pipes are heated to redness, -or thereabouts, and a blast of air or steam passes through them, they -work admirably for a while, but presently the pipe gives way, for iron -is a combustible substance, and burns slowly when heated and supplied -with abundant oxygen, either by means of air or water; the latter being -decomposed, its hydrogen set free, while its oxygen combines with the -iron, and reduces it to friable oxide. Rumford does not appear to have -understood this, or he would have made his blowpipes of fire-clay or -other refractory non-oxidisable material. - -The records of the Great Seal Office contain specifications of hundreds -of ingenious inventions that have failed most vexatiously from this -defect; and I could tell of joint-stock companies that have been -‘floated’ to carry out inventions involving the use of heated air or -super-heated steam that have worked beautifully and with apparent -economy while the shares were in the market, and then collapsed just -when the calls were paid up, the cost of renewal of superheaters and -hot-air chambers having worse than annulled the economy of working -fuel described in the prospectus. Thus a vessel driven by heated air, -as a substitute for steam, was fitted up with its caloric engine, and -crossed the Atlantic with passengers on board. The voyage practically -demonstrated a great saving of coal; the patent rights were purchased -accordingly for a very large amount, and shares went up buoyantly until -the oxidation of the great air chamber proved that the engine burned -iron as well as coal at a ruinous cost. - -Although no mention is made by Rumford of such destruction of the -blowpipes, he was evidently conscious of the costliness of his original -roaster, as he describes another which may be economically substituted -for it. This has an air chamber formed by bringing down the body of -the oven so as to enclose the space occupied by the blowpipes shown in -Fig. 1, and placing the dripping-pan on a false bottom joined to the -front face of the roaster just below the door, but not extending quite -to the back. An adjustable register door opens at the front into this -air chamber, and when this is opened the air passes along from front to -back under the false bottom, and rises behind to an outlet pipe like -that shown at _v_, Fig. 1. In thus passing along the hot bottom of the -oven the air is heated, but not so greatly as by the blowpipes, which -being surrounded by the flame on all sides, are heated above as well as -below, and the air in passing through them is much more exposed to heat -than in passing through the air-chamber. - -To increase the heat transmitted in the latter, Rumford proposes that -‘a certain quantity of iron wire, in loose coils, or of iron turnings, -be put into the air chamber.’ - -This modification he called a ‘roasting-oven,’ to distinguish it from -the first described, the ‘roaster.’ He states that the roasting-oven -is not quite so effective as the roaster, but from its greater -cheapness may be largely used. This anticipation has been realised. The -modern ‘kitchener,’ which in so many forms is gradually and steadily -supplanting the ancient open range, is an apparatus in which roasting -in the open air before a fire is superseded by roasting in a closed -chamber or roasting-oven. Having made three removals within the last -twelve years, each preceded by a tedious amount of house-hunting, I -have seen a great many kitchens of newly-built houses, and find that -about 90 per cent. of these have closed kitcheners, and only about 10 -per cent. are fitted with open ranges of the old pattern. Bottle-jacks, -like smoke-jacks and spits, are gradually falling into disuse. - -When these kitcheners were first introduced, a great point was made -by the manufacturer of the distinction between the roasting and the -baking-oven; the first being provided with a special apparatus for -effecting ventilation by devices more or less resembling that in -Rumford’s roasting-oven. Gradually these degenerated into mere shams, -and now in the best kitcheners even a pretence to ventilation is -abandoned. Having reasoned out my own theory of the conditions demanded -for perfect roasting some time ago (about 1860, when I lectured on -‘Household Philosophy,’ to a class of ladies at the Birmingham and -Midland Institute), I have watched the gradual disappearance of -these concessions to popular prejudice with some interest, as they -show how practical experience has confirmed my theory, which, as -already expounded, is that _fresh meat should be cooked by the action -of radiant heat, projected towards it from all sides, while it is -immersed in an atmosphere nearly saturated with its own vapours_. - -Let it be clearly understood that I refer to the vapours as they rise -from the meat, and not to the vapour of burnt dripping, which Rumford -describes. The acrid properties of the products of such partial -dissociation are far better understood by modern chemists than they -were in Rumford’s time. - -His water dripping-pan effectually prevents their formation. It is -still manufactured of the precise pattern shown in the drawing, copied -from Rumford’s, and cooks who understand their business at all use it -as a matter of course. - -The few domestic fireplace-ovens that existed in Rumford’s time were -clumsily heated by raking some of the fire from the grate into a space -left below the oven. Those of the best modern kitcheners are heated by -flues going round them, generally starting from the top, which thus -attains the highest temperature. The radiation from this does the -‘browning’ for which Rumford’s blowpipes were designed. - -Here I differ from my teacher, as, according to my view of the -philosophy of roasting, the browning, or the application of the -highest temperature, should take place at the beginning rather than -the end of the process, in order that a crust of firmly coagulated -albumen may surround the joint and retain the juices of the meat. -All that is necessary to obtain this effect in a sufficient degree -is to raise the roasting-oven to an excessive temperature before the -meat is put in. Supposing an equal fire is maintained all the while, -this excessive initial temperature will presently decline, because, -when the meat is in the oven, the radiant heat from its sides is -intercepted by the joint and doing work upon it; heat cannot do work -without a corresponding fall of temperature. While the oven is empty -the radiations from each side cross the open space to reinforce the -temperature of the other sides. - -When I first decided to write on this subject I made some designs for -kitchen thermometers intending to have them made, and to recommend -their use; but was not successful. When a man condemns his own -inventions, his verdict may be safely accepted without further inquiry. - -I afterwards learned that Messrs. Davis & Co. had already constructed -special oven thermometers, to be so attached to the oven-door that the -bulb should be inside and the tube having the expansion of the mercury -outside, and therefore readable without opening the door, as shown in -Fig. 5, and another for standing inside the oven, Fig. 6. - -I learned by these thermometers the cause of my own failure. I tried -to do too much—to construct one form of thermometer to do all kinds of -kitchen work. A thermometer suitable for the oven is not applicable -to trying the temperature of a fat-bath used in frying. I accordingly -wrote to Messrs. Davis asking them to devise a thermometer for this -purpose. They have done so. It is described in the next chapter. - -[Illustration: FIG. 5.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 6.] - -Is there, then, any difference at all between roasting and baking? -There is. In roasting, the temperature, after the first start, is -maintained about uniformly throughout; while in baking bread by the -old-fashioned method, the temperature continually declines from the -beginning to the end of the process; but in order that a dweller in -cities, or the cook of an ordinary town household, may understand this -difference, some explanation is necessary. The old-fashioned oven, such -as was generally used in Rumford’s time, and is still used in country -houses and by old-fashioned bakers, is an arched cavity of brick with -a flat brick floor. This cavity is closed by a suitable door, which -in its primitive, and perhaps its best form, was a flat tile pressed -against the opening and luted round with clay. Such ovens were, and -still are, heated by simply spreading on the brick floor a sufficient -quantity of wood—preferably well-dried twigs; these, being lighted, -raise the temperature of the arched roof to a glowing heat, and that -of the floor in a somewhat lower degree. When this heating is completed -(the judgement of which constitutes the chief element of skill in -thus baking) the embers are carefully brushed out from the floor, the -loaves, &c., inserted by means of a flat battledore with a long handle, -called a ‘peel,’ and the door closed and firmly luted round, not to -be opened until the operation is complete. Baked clay is an excellent -radiator, and therefore the surface of bricks forming the arched roof -of the oven radiates vigorously upon its contents below, which are -thus heated at top by radiation from the roof, and at bottom by direct -contact with the floor of the oven. The difference between the compact -bottom crust, and the darker bubble-bearing top crust of an ordinary -loaf is thus explained. - -As the baking of a large joint of meat is a longer operation than the -baking of bread, there is another reason besides that already given for -the inferiority of meat when baked in a baker’s oven constructed on -this principle. The slow cooling-down must tend to produce a flabbiness -and insipidity similar to that of the roast meat which is served at -restaurants where a joint remains ‘in cut’ for two or three hours. Of -this I speak theoretically, not having had an opportunity of tasting a -joint that has been cooked in a brick oven of the construction above -described; but I have observed the advantage of maintaining a steady -heat throughout the process of roasting (after the first higher heating -above described), in the iron oven of a kitchener, or American stove, -or gas oven. - -Another and somewhat original method of roasting is that which is -carried out in ‘Captain Warren’s Cooking Pot,’ concerning the practical -result of which I hear conflicting opinions. It is a large pot -containing water, inside which is suspended—like the glue chamber of a -glue-pot—an inner vessel. The meat to be cooked is placed without water -in this inner closed vessel, which dips into the water of the outer -vessel, the steam from which is led away by a side opening or pipe. -This outer water being kept boiling, the meat is surrounded only by its -own vapour, in the midst of which it is cooked at a low temperature. - -The result is similar to boiled meat, with the advantage of retaining -those juices that pass away into the water in ordinary boiling. This -advantage is unquestionable, and so far the apparatus may be safely -recommended. But some of the claims made in the prospectuses that are -freely distributed are questionable. - -The method of roasting with Warren’s pot is to cook the meat as above -described in its own vapour, then dredge with flour, and hang before -the fire twenty minutes. The result is a tender imitation of roast -meat, but more like boiled than roasted meat in flavour. This is much -approved by many, but I am told that meat thus cooked and eaten daily -palls upon the appetite. I know one, a youth (not one of our fastidious -fops of the period), who, fed upon this at school during a few years, -has thereby acquired a fixed aversion to boiled meat of all kinds. - -Regarding the subject theoretically, it appears to me that the method -recommended by Captain Warren, and followed by those who use his -cooker, should be reversed for roasting; that the meat should have -the twenty minutes before the fire—or in a hot oven—before, instead -of after, its stewing in its own vapour. Some experiments I have made -confirm this view so far as they go, but are not sufficiently numerous -to settle the question. - -For stewing of all kinds, and for such concoctions as Rumford’s -soup (_see_ Chapter XIV.), it is an admirable apparatus, and the -contrivances for carrying the steam from the outer vessel to a -vegetable steamer above the cooking chamber, before described, is very -ingenious and effective. - -The statement in the prospectus, that the ‘nourishing juices’ otherwise -wasted ‘are by that mode condensed, and form at the bottom of the -vessel a rich gelatinous body,’ is misleading. - -Gelatin is not volatile; the gelatinous body at the bottom of the -vessel is not composed of condensed vapours, though condensed vapour -of water is concerned in its formation. It is simply some of the -gelatin of the joint dissolved by the water which condenses upon it, -and finally drips down from the joint, carrying with it the dissolved -gelatin. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -FRYING. - - -THE process of frying follows next in natural order to those of -roasting and grilling. A little reflection will show that in frying the -heat is not communicated to the food by radiation from a heated surface -at some distance, but by direct contact with the heating medium, which -is the hot fat commonly, but erroneously, described as ‘boiling fat.’ - -As I am writing for intelligent readers who desire to understand the -philosophy of the common processes of cookery, so far as they are -understandable, this fallacy concerning boiling fat should be pushed -aside at once. - -Generally speaking, ordinary animal fats are not boilable under the -pressure of our atmosphere (one of the constituent fatty acids of -butter, butyric acid, is an exception; it boils at 314° Fahr.). Before -reaching their boiling-point, _i.e._ the temperature at which they -pass completely into the state of vapour, their constituents are more -or less dissociated or separated by the repulsive agency of the heat, -new compounds being in many cases formed by recombinations of their -elements. - -When water is heated to 212° it is converted completely into a gas, -which gas, on cooling below 212°, returns to the fluid state without -any loss. In like manner if we raise an essential oil, such as -turpentine, to 320°, or oil of peppermint to 340°, or orange-peel oil -to 345°, or patchouli to 489°, and other such oils to certain other -temperatures, they pass into a state of vapour, and these vapours, -when cooled, recondense into their original form of liquid oil without -alteration. Hence they are called ‘volatile oils,’ while the greasy -oils which cannot thus be distilled (in which class animal fats are -included) are called ‘fixed oils.’ - -A very simple practical means of distinguishing these is the following: -make a spot of the oil to be tested on clean blotting-paper. Heat this -by holding it above a spirit-lamp flame, or by toasting before a fire. -If the oil is volatile the spot disappears; if fixed, it remains as a -spot of grease until the heat is raised high enough to char the paper, -of which charring (a result of the dissociation above-named) the oil -partakes. - -But the practical cook may say, ‘This is wrong, for the fat in my -frying-pan does boil. I see it boil, and I hear it boil.’ The reply to -this is, that the lard, or dripping, or butter that you put into your -frying-pan is oil mixed with water, and that it is not the oil but the -water that you see boiling. To prove this, take some fresh lard, as -usually supplied, and heat it in any convenient vessel, raising the -temperature gradually. Presently it will begin to splutter. If you -try it with a thermometer you will find that this spluttering-point -agrees with the boiling-point of water, and if you use a retort you may -condense and collect the splutter-matter, and prove it to be water. -So long as the spluttering continues the temperature of the melted -fat, _i.e._ the oil, remains about the same, the water vapour carrying -away the heat. When all the water is driven off the liquid becomes -quiescent, in spite of its temperature rising from 212° to above 400°, -when a pungent smoky vapour comes off and the oil grows darker; this -vapour is not vapour of lard, but vapour of separated and recombined -constituents of the lard, which is now suffering dissociation, the -volatile products passing off while the non-volatile carbon (_i.e._ -lard-charcoal) remains behind, colouring the liquid. If the heating -be continued, a residuum of this carbon, in the form of soft coke or -charcoal, will be all that remains in the heated vessel. - -We may now understand what happens when something humid—say a sole—is -put into a frying-pan which contains fat heated above 212°. Water, when -suddenly heated above its boiling-point, is a powerful explosive, and -may be very dangerous, simply because it expands to 1,728 times its -original bulk when converted into steam. Steam-engine boilers and the -boilers of kitchen stoves sometimes explode by becoming red-hot while -dry, and then receiving a little water which suddenly expands to steam. - -The noise and spluttering that is started immediately the sole is -immersed in the hot fat is due to the explosion of a multitude of small -bubbles formed by the confinement of the suddenly expanding steam in -the viscous fat, from which it releases itself with a certain degree -of violence. It is evident that to effect this amount of eruptive -violence, the temperature must be considerably above the boiling-point -of the exploding water. If it were only just at the boiling-point, the -water would boil quietly. - -As we all know, the flavour and appearance of a boiled sole or mackerel -are decidedly different from those of a fried sole or mackerel, and -it is easy to understand that the different results of these cooking -processes are to some extent due to the difference of temperature to -which the fish is subjected. It will be at once understood that my -theory of the chief difference between roasted or grilled meat and -boiled meat applies to fried fish; that the flavouring juices are -retained when the fish is fried, while more or less of them escape into -the water when boiled. - -Besides this, the surface of the fried fish, like that of the roasted -or grilled meat, is ‘browned.’ What is the nature, the chemistry of -this browning? - -I have endeavoured to find some answer to this question, that I might -quote with authority, but no technological or purely chemical work -within my reach supplies such answer. Rumford refers to it as essential -to roasting, and provides for it in the manner already described, -but he goes no farther into the philosophy of it than admitting its -flavouring effect. - -I must therefore struggle with the problem in my own way as I best can. -Has the gentle reader ever attempted the manufacture of ‘hard-bake,’ -or ‘toffy,’ or ‘butter-scotch,’ by mixing sugar with butter, fusing -the mixture, and heating further until the well-known hard, brown -confection is produced? I venture to call this fried sugar. If heated -simply without the butter it may be called baked sugar. The scientific -name for this baked sugar is _caramel_. - -The chemical changes that take place in the browning of sugar have been -more systematically studied than those which occur in the constituents -of flesh when browned in the course of ordinary cookery. Believing -them to be nearly analogous, I will state, as briefly as possible, the -leading facts concerning the sugar. - -Ordinary sugar is crystalline, _i.e._ when it passes from the liquid -to the solid state it assumes regular geometrical forms. If the -solidification takes place undisturbed and slowly, the geometric -crystals are large, as in sugar-candy; if the water is rapidly -evaporated with agitation, the crystals are small, and the whole -mass is a granular aggregation of crystals, such as we see in loaf -sugar. If this crystalline sugar be heated to about 320° Fahr. it -fuses, and without any change of chemical composition undergoes -some sort of internal physical alteration that makes it cohere in a -different fashion. (The learned name for this action is _allotropism_, -and the substance is said to be _allotropic_, other conditioned; or -_dimorphic_, two-shaped). Instead of being crystalline the sugar -now becomes vitreous, it solidifies as a transparent amber-coloured -glass-like substance, the well-known barley-sugar, which differs from -crystalline sugar not only in this respect, but has a much lower -melting-point; it liquefies between 190° and 212°, while loaf-sugar -does not fuse below 320°. Left to itself, vitreous sugar returns -gradually to its original condition, loses transparency, and breaks up -into small crystals. In doing this it gives out the heat which during -its vitreous condition had been doing the work of breaking up its -crystalline structure, and therefore was not manifested as temperature. - -This return to the crystalline condition is retarded by adding vinegar -or mucilaginous matter to the heated sugar; hence the confectioners’ -name of ‘barley-sugar,’ which, in one of its old-fashioned forms, was -prepared by boiling down ordinary sugar in a decoction of pearl barley. - -The French cooks and confectioners carry on the heating of sugar -through various stages bearing different technical names, one of the -most remarkable of which is a splendid crimson variety, largely used -in fancy sweetmeats, and containing no foreign colouring matter, as -commonly supposed. Though nothing is added, something is taken away, -and this is some of the chemically-combined water of the original -sugar, in the parting with which not only a change of colour occurs, -but also a modification of flavour, as anybody may prove by experiment. - -When the temperature is gradually raised to 420°, the sugar loses two -equivalents of water, and becomes _caramel_—a dark-brown substance, no -longer sweet, but having a new flavour of its own. It further differs -from sugar by being incapable of fermentation. - -The first stage of this cookery of sugar has now an archæological -interest in connection with one of the lost arts of the kitchen, viz. -the ‘spinning’ of sugar. Within the reach of my own recollection no -evening party could pretend to be stylish unless the supper-table was -decorated with a specimen of this art—a temple, a pagoda, or something -of the sort done in barley-sugar. These were made by raising the sugar -to 320°, when it fused and became amorphous, or vitreous, as already -described. The cook then dipped a skewer into it; the melted vitreous -sugar adhered to this, and was drawn out as a thread, which speedily -solidified by cooling. While in the act of solidification it was woven -into the desired form, and the skilful artist did this with wonderful -rapidity. I once witnessed with childish delight the spinning of a -great work of art by the Duke of Cumberland’s French cook in St. -James’s Palace. It was a ship in full sail, the sails of edible wafer, -the hull a basketwork of spun sugar, the masts of massive sugar-sticks, -and the rigging of delicate threads of the same. As nearly as I can -remember, the whole was completed in about an hour. - -But to return from high art below stairs to chemical science. The -conversion of sugar into caramel is, as already stated, attended with -a change of flavour; a kind of bitterness replaces the sweetness. -This peculiar flavour, judiciously used, is a powerful adjunct to -cookery, and one which is shamefully neglected in our ordinary English -domestic kitchens. To test this, go to one of those Swiss restaurants -originally instituted in this country by that enterprising Ticinese, -the late Carlo Gatti, and which are now so numerous in London and our -other large towns; call for _maccheroni al sugo_; notice the rich brown -gravy, the ‘sugo.’ Many an English cook would use half a pound of gravy -beef to produce the like; but the basis of this is a halfpennyworth or -less of what I call a caramel compound, as an example of which I copy -the following recipe from the Household Edition of Gouffé’s ‘Royal -Cookery Book:’ ‘Melt half a pound of butter; add one pound of flour; -mix well, and leave on a slow fire, stirring occasionally until it -becomes of a light mahogany colour. When cool it may be kept in the -larder ready for use.’ Gouffé calls this ‘Liaison au Roux;’ the English -for _liaison_ is a thickening. It is really fried flour. Burnt onion is -another form of caramel, with a special flavour superadded. Plain sugar -caramel is improved by the use of a little butter, as in making toffee. -Thus prepared it is really a fried sugar rather than a baked sugar. -_Beurre noir_ (black butter) is another of the caramelised preparations -used by continental cooks. - -While engaged upon your macaroni, look around at the other dishes -served to other customers. Instead of the pale slices of meat spread -out in a little puddle of pale watery liquid, that are served in -English restaurants of corresponding class, you will see dainty -morsels, covered with rich brown gravy, or surrounded by vegetables -immersed in the same. This ‘sugo’ is greatly varied according to the -requirements, by additions of stock-broth, tarragon vinegar, ketchup, -&c., but burnt flour, burnt sugar, or burnt onions, or burnt something -is the basis of it all. - -To further test the flavouring properties of browning, take some -eels cut up as usual for stewing; divide into two portions; stew one -brutally—by this I mean simply in a little water—serving them with this -water as a pale gravy or juice. Let the second portion be well fried, -fully caramelised or browned, then stewed, and served with brown gravy. -Compare the result. Make a corresponding experiment with a beefsteak. -Cut it in two portions; stew one brutally in plain water; fry the -other, then stew it and serve brown. - -Take a highly-baked loaf—better one that is black outside; scrape off -the film of crust that is quite black, _i.e._ completely carbonised, -and you will come to a rich brown layer, especially if you operate -upon the bottom crust. Slice off a thin shaving of this and eat it -critically. Mark its high flavour as compared with the comparatively -insipid crumb of the same loaf, and note especially the resemblance -between this flavour and that of the caramel from sugar, and that of -the browned eels and browned steak. A delicate way of detecting the -flavour due to the browning of bread is to make two bowls of bread and -milk in the same manner, one with the crust the other with the crumb of -the same loaf. I am not suggesting these as examples of better or worse -flavour, but as evidence of the fact that much flavour of some sort is -generated. It may be out of place, as I think it is, in the bread and -milk, or it may be added with much advantage to other things, as it is -by the cook who manipulates caramel and its analogues skilfully. - -The largest constituent of bread is starch. Excluding water, it -constitutes about three-fourths of the weight of good wheaten flour. -Starch differs but little from sugar in composition. It is easily -converted into sugar by simply heating it with a little sulphuric -acid, and by other means, of which I shall have to speak more fully -hereafter, when I come to the cookery of vegetables. When simply -heated, it is converted into dextrin or ‘British gum,’ largely used -as a substitute for gum arabic. If the heat is continued a change of -colour takes place; it grows darker and darker, until it blackens just -as sugar does, the final result being nearly the same. Water is driven -off in both cases, but in carbonising sugar we start with more water, -sugar being starch plus water or the elements of water. Thus the brown -material of bread-crust or toast is nearly identical with sugar caramel. - -I have often amused myself by watching what occurs when toast and water -is prepared, and I recommend my readers to repeat the observation. -Toast a small piece of bread to blackness, and then float it on water -in a glass vessel. Leave the water at rest, and direct your attention -to the under side of the floating toast. Little threadlike streams of -brown liquid will be seen descending in the water. This is a solution -of the substance which, if I mistake not, is a sort of caramel, and -which ultimately tinges all the water. - -Some years ago I commenced a course of experiments with this substance, -but did not complete them. In case I should never do so, I will here -communicate the results attained. I found that this starch caramel -is a disinfectant, and that sugar caramel also has some disinfecting -properties. I am not prepared to say that it is powerful enough to -disinfect sewage, though at the time I had a narrow escape from the -Great Seal Office, where I thought of patenting it for this purpose as -a non-poisonous disinfectant that may be poured into rivers in any -quantity without danger. Though it may not be powerful enough for this, -it has an appreciable effect on water slightly tainted with decomposing -organic matter. - -This is a very curious fact. We do not know who invented toast and -water, nor, so far as I can learn, has any theory of its use been -expounded, yet there is extant a vague popular impression that the -toast has some sort of wholesome effect on the water. I suspect that -this must have been originally based on experience, probably on the -experience of our forefathers or foremothers, living in country places -where stagnant water was a common beverage, and various devices were -adopted to render it potable. - -Gelatin, fibrin, albumen, &c.—_i.e._ all the materials of animal -food—as already shown, are composed, like starch and sugar, of carbon, -hydrogen and oxygen, with, in the case of these animal substances, -the addition of nitrogen; but this does not prevent their partial -carbonisation (or ‘caramelising,’ if I may invent a name to express the -action which stops short of blackening). Animal fat is a hydrocarbon -which may be similarly browned, and, if I am right in my generalisation -of all these browning processes, an important practical conclusion -follows, viz. that cheap soluble caramel made by skilfully heating -common sugar or flour is really, as well as apparently, as valuable an -element in gravies, &c., as the far more expensive colouring matter of -brown meat gravies, and that our English cooks should use it far more -liberally than they usually do. - -The preparation of sugar caramel is easy enough; the sugar should be -gradually heated till it assumes a rich brown colour and has lost its -original sweetness. If carried just far enough, the result is easily -soluble in hot water, and the solution may be kept for a long time, -as it is by cooks who understand its merits. In connection with the -idea of its disinfecting action, I may refer to the cookery of tainted -meat or ‘high’ game. A hare that is repulsively advanced when raw may, -by much roasting and browning, become quite wholesome; and such is -commonly the case in the ordinary cooking of hares. If it were boiled -or merely stewed (without preliminary browning) in this condition, it -would be quite disgusting to ordinary palates. - -A leg of mutton for roasting should be hung until it begins to become -odorous; for boiling it should be as fresh as possible. This should be -especially remembered now that we have so much frozen meat imported -from the antipodes. When duly thawed it is in splendid condition for -roasting, but is not usually so satisfactory when boiled. I may here -mention incidentally that such meat is sometimes unjustly condemned on -account of its displaying a raw centre when cooked. This arises from -imperfect thawing. The heat required to thaw a given weight of ice and -bring it up to 60° is about the same as is demanded for the cookery of -an equal quantity of meat, and therefore, while the thawed portion of -the meat is being cooked, the frozen portion is but just thawed, and -remains quite raw. - -A much longer time is demanded for thawing—_i.e._ supplying 142° of -latent heat—than might be supposed. To ascertain whether the thawing is -completed, drive an iron skewer through the thickest part of the joint. -If there is a core of ice within it will be distinctly felt by its -resistance. - -A correspondent asks me which is the most nutritious—a slice of English -beef in its own gravy or the browned morsel as served in an Italian -restaurant with the caramel addition to the gravy? - -This is a very fair question, and not difficult to answer. If both are -equally cooked, neither overdone nor underdone, they must contain, -weight for weight, exactly the same constituents in equally digestible -form, so far as chemical composition is concerned. Whether they will -actually be digested with equal facility and assimilated with equal -completeness depends upon something else not measurable by chemical -analysis, viz. the relish with which they are respectively eaten. -To some persons the undisguised fleshiness of the English slice, -especially if underdone, is very repugnant. To these the corresponding -morsel, cooked according to Gouffé rather than Mrs. Beeton, would be -more nutritious. To the carnivorous John Bull, who regards such dishes -as ‘nasty French messes’ of questionable composition, the slice of -unmistakable ox-flesh, from a visible joint, would obtain all the -advantages of appreciative mastication, and that sympathy between the -brain and the stomach which is so powerful that, when discordantly -exerted, it may produce the effects that are recorded in the case of -the sporting traveller who was invited by a Red Indian chief to a -‘dog-fight,’ and ate with relish the savoury dishes at what he supposed -to be a preliminary banquet. Digestion was tranquilly and healthfully -proceeding, under the soothing influence of the calumet, when he asked -the chief when the fight would commence. On being told that it was -over, and that, in the final ragoût he had praised so highly, the -last puppy-dog possessed by the tribe had been cooked in his honour, -the normal course of digestion of the honoured guest was completely -reversed. - -Before leaving the subject of caramel, I should say a few words -about French coffee, or ‘Coffee as in France,’ of which we hear so -much. There are two secrets upon which depend the excellence of our -neighbours in the production of this beverage. First, economy in using -the water; second, flavouring with caramel. As regards the first, it -appears that English housewives have been demoralised by the habitual -use of tea, and apply to the infusion of coffee the popular formula for -that of tea, ‘a spoonful for each person and one for the pot.’ - -The French after-dinner coffee-cup has about one-third of the liquid -capacity of a full-sized English breakfast-cup, but the quantity -of solid coffee supplied to each cupful is more than equal to that -ordinarily allowed for the larger English measure of water. - -Besides this, the coffee is commonly, though not universally, flavoured -with a specially and skilfully-prepared caramel, instead of the chicory -so largely used in England. Much of the so-called ‘French coffee’ now -sold by our grocers in tins is caramel flavoured with coffee rather -than coffee flavoured with caramel, and many shrewd English housewives -have discovered that by mixing the cheapest of these French coffees -with an equal quantity of pure coffee they obtain a better result than -with the common domestic mixture of three parts coffee and one of -chicory. - -A few months ago a sample of ‘coffee-finings’ was sent to me for -chemical examination, that I might certify to its composition and -wholesomeness. I described it in my report as ‘a caramel, with a -peculiarly rich aroma and flavour, evidently due to the vegetable -juices or extractive matter naturally united with the saccharine -substance from which it is prepared.’ I had no definite information of -the exact nature of this saccharine substance, but have since learned -that it was a bye-product of sugar refining. - -Neither the juice of the beetroot nor the sap of the sugar-cane -consists entirely of pure sugar dissolved in pure water. They both -contain other constituents common to vegetable juices, and some -peculiar to themselves. These mucilaginous matters, when roughly -separated, carry down with them some sugar, and form a sort of coarse -sweetwort, capable by skilful treatment of producing a rich caramel -well suited for mixing with coffee. - -Returning to the subject of frying, we encounter a good illustration -of the practical importance of sound theory. A great deal of fish and -other kinds of food is badly and wastefully cooked in consequence of -the prevalence of a false theory of frying. It is evident that many -domestic cooks (not hotel or restaurant cooks) have a vague idea that -the metal plate forming the bottom of the frying-pan should directly -convey the heat of the fire to the fried substance, and that the bit of -butter or lard or dripping put into the pan is used to prevent the fish -from sticking to it or to add to the richness of the fish by smearing -its surface. - -The theory which I have propounded above is that the melted fat cooks -by convection of heat, just as water does in the so-called boiling of -meat. If this is correct, it is evident that the fish, &c., should -be completely immersed in a bath of melted fat or oil, and that the -turning over demanded by the greased-plate theory is unnecessary. -Well educated cooks understand this distinctly, and use a deeper -vessel than our common frying-pan, charge this with a quantity of -fat sufficient to cover the fish, which is simply laid upon a wire -support, or frying-basket and left in the hot fat until the browning -of its surface, or of the flour or bread-crumbs with which it is -coated indicates the sufficiency of the cookery. The illustration -is from Gouffé’s excellent cookery-book already quoted, and is -introduced because I have found it so little understood by English -housewives. Frying-kettles may now be purchased at all our best English -ironmongers, though until recently they were difficult to obtain. My -lectures and papers have largely extended the demand and consequent -supply. - -[Illustration: FIG. 7.] - -At first sight the deep fat bath appears extravagant, as compared -with the practice of greasing the bottom of the pan with a little -dab of fat, but any housewife who will apply to the frying of -sprats, herrings, &c., the method of quantitative inductive -research, described and advocated by Lord Bacon in his ‘Novum Organum -Scientiarum,’ may prove the contrary. - -‘Must I read the “Novum Organum,” and buy another dictionary, in -order to translate all this?’ she may exclaim in despair. ‘No!’ is -my reply. This Baconian inductive method, to which we are indebted -for all the triumphs of modern science, is nothing more nor less than -the systematic and orderly application of common sense and definite -measurement to practical questions. In this case it may be applied -simply by frying a weighed quantity of any kind of fish or cutlet, &c., -in a weighed quantity of fat used as a bath; then weighing the fat that -remains and subtracting the latter weight from the first, to determine -the quantity consumed. If the frying be properly performed, and this -quantity compared with that which is consumed by the method of merely -greasing the pan-bottom, the bath frying will be proved to be the more -economical as well as the more efficient method. - -The reason of this is simply that much or all of the fat is burnt -and wasted when only a thin film is spread on the bottom of the pan, -while no such waste occurs when the bath of fat is properly used. The -temperature at which the dissociation of fat _commences_ is below that -required for delicately browning the surface of the fish itself, or -of the flour or bread-crumbs, and therefore no fat is burnt away from -the bath, as it is by the over-heated portions of a merely greased -frying-pan; and as regards the quantity adhering to the fish itself, -this may be reduced to a minimum by withdrawing it from the bath when -_the whole_ is uniformly at the maximum cooking temperature, and -allowing the fluid fat to drain off at once. It may be supposed that -by complete immersion of the fish in the fat-bath, more fat will soak -into it, but such is not the case; the water amidst the fibres of the -fish is boiling and driving out steam so rapidly that no fat can enter -if the heat is well maintained to the last moment, and the frying not -continued too long. When cooked on the greased plate, one side is -necessarily cooling, and the fat settling down into the fish to occupy -the pores left vacuous by the condensing steam, while the other is -being heated from below. - -The temperature of the fat-bath may be tested by the ordinary cook’s -method—that of throwing into it a small piece of bread-crumb about the -size of a nut. If it frizzles and produces large bubbles of steam, the -full temperature of frying in the hottest of fat is reached; if it -frizzles slightly, and only gives out small steam-bubbles, you have the -temperature demanded for slow frying. - -The bath-frying demands separate supplies of fat[9]—one for fish, -another for cutlets and other similar kinds of meat, a third for such -goody-goodies as apple-fritters—a most wholesome and delicious dish, -too rarely seen on English tables. I suspect that the prevalence of the -greased frying-pan is the reason of its rarity. Cooked by this barbaric -device, apples are scarcely eatable, but when thin slices are immersed -in a bath of melted fat at a temperature of about 300° Fahr., the water -of their juice is suddenly boiled, and as this water is contained in -a multitude of little bladderlike cells, they burst, and the whole -structure is puffed out to a most delicate lightness, far more suitable -for following solid meats than soddened fruit enveloped in heavy -indigestible pudding-paste. Another advantage is that with proper -apparatus (wire basket, kettle, and store of special fat) the fritters -can be prepared and cooked in about one-tenth of the time demanded for -the preparation and cookery of an apple pudding or pie. A few seconds -of immersion in the fat-bath is sufficient. - -The fat used in frying requires occasional purification. I may -illustrate the principle on which it should be conducted by describing -the method adopted in the refining of mineral oils, such as petroleum -or the paraffin distillates of bituminous shales. These are dark, tarry -liquids of treacle-like consistency, with a strong and offensive odour. -Nevertheless they are, at but little cost, converted into the ‘crystal -oil’ used for lamps, and that beautiful pearly substance, the solid, -translucent paraffin now so largely used in the manufacture of candles. -Besides these, we obtain from the same dirty source an intermediate -substance, the well-known ‘Vaseline,’ now becoming the basis of most -of the ointments of the pharmacopœia. This purification is effected -by agitation with sulphuric acid, which partly carbonises and partly -combines with the impurities, and separates them in the form of a foul -and acrid black mess, known technically as ‘acid tar.’ When I was -engaged in the distillation of cannel and shale in Flintshire, this -acid tar was a terrible bugbear. It found its way mysteriously into the -Alyn river and poisoned the trout; but now, if I am correctly informed, -the Scotch manufacturers have turned it to profitable account. - -Animal fat and vegetable oils are similarly purified. Very -objectionable refuse fat of various kinds is thus made into tallow, -or material for the soap-maker, and grease for lubricating machinery. -Unsavoury stories have been told about the manufacture of butter from -Thames mud or the nodules of fat that are gathered therefrom by the -mudlarks, but they are all false (see paper on ‘The Oleaginous Product -of Thames Mud’ in ‘Science in Short Chapters’). It may be possible -to purify fatty matter from the foulest of admixtures, and do this -so completely as to produce a soft, tasteless fat, _i.e._ a butter -substitute, but such a curiosity would cost more than half a crown per -pound, and therefore the market is safe, especially as the degree of -purification required for soap-making and machinery grease costs but -little and the demand for such fat is very great. - -These methods of purification are not available in the kitchen, as oil -of vitriol is a vicious compound. During the siege of Paris some of the -Academicians devoted themselves very earnestly to the subject of the -purification of fat in order to produce what they termed ‘siege butter’ -from the refuse of slaughter-houses, &c., and edible salad oils from -crude colza oil, from the rancid fish oils used by the leather-dresser, -&c. Those who are specially interested in the subject may find some -curious papers in the ‘Comptes Rendus’ of that period. In vol. lxxi., -page 36, M. Boillot describes his method of mixing kitchen-stuff and -other refuse fat with lime-water, agitating the mixture when heated, -and then neutralising with an acid. The product thus obtained is -described as admirably adapted for culinary operations, and the method -is applicable to the purpose here under consideration. - -Further on in the same volume is a ‘Note on Suets and Alimentary Fats’ -by M. Dubrunfaut, who tells us that the most tainted of alimentary fats -and rancid oils may be deprived of their bad odours by ‘appropriate -frying.’ His method is to raise the temperature of the fat to 140° -to 150° Cent. (284° to 302° Fahr.) in a frying-pan; then cautiously -sprinkle upon it small quantities of water. The steam carries off -the volatile fatty acids which produce the rancidity in such as fish -oils, and also removes the neutral offensive fatty matters that are -decomposable by heat. In another paper by M. Fua this method is applied -to the removal of cellular tissue of crude fats from slaughter-houses. -It is really nothing more than the old farmhouse proceeding of -‘rendering’ lard, by frying the membranous fat until the membranous -matter is browned and aggregated into small nodules, which constitute -the ‘scratchings’—a delicacy greatly relished by our British ploughboys -at pig-killing time, but rather too rich in pork-fat to supply a -suitable meal for people of sedentary vocations. - -The action of heat thus applied and long-continued is similar to that -of the strong sulphuric acid. The impurities of the fat are organic -matters more easily decomposable than the fat itself, or otherwise -stated, they are dissociated into carbon and water at about 300° Fahr., -which is a lower temperature than that required for the dissociation of -the pure oil or fat. By maintaining this temperature, these compounds -become first caramelised, then carbonised nearly to blackness, when all -their powers of offensiveness vanish. - -In the more violent factory process of purification by sulphuric acid -the similar action which occurs is due to the powerful affinity of -this acid for water: this may be strikingly shown by adding to thick -syrup or pounded sugar about its own bulk of oil of vitriol, when a -marvellous commotion occurs, and a magnified black cinder is produced -by the separation of the water from the sugar. - -The following simple practical formula may be reduced from these data. -When a considerable quantity of much-used frying-fat is accumulated, -heat it to about 300° Fahr., as indicated by the crackling of water -when sprinkled on it, or, better still, by a properly-constructed -thermometer. Then pour the melted fat on hot water. This must be -done carefully, as a large quantity of fat at 300° poured upon a -small quantity of boiling water will illustrate the fact that water -when suddenly heated is an explosive compound. The quantity of water -should exceed that of the fat, and the pouring be done gradually. -Then agitate the fat and water together, and, if the operator is -sufficiently skilful and intelligent, the purification may be carried -further by carefully boiling the water under the fat and allowing its -steam to pass through; but this is a little dangerous, on account of -the possibility of what the practical chemist calls ‘bumping,’ or the -sudden formation of a big bubble of steam that would kick a good deal -of the superabundant fat into the fire. - -Whether this supplementary boiling is carried out or not, the fat and -the water should be left together to cool gradually, when a dark layer -of carbonised impurities will be found resting on the surface of the -water, and adhering to the bottom of the cake of fat. This may be -peeled off and put into the waste grease-pot to be further refined with -the next operation. Ultimately the worst of it will sink to the bottom -of the water. - -A careful cook may keep the supply of frying fat continually good, by -simply pouring it into a basin (a deep pudding-basin with small area -at bottom is best), letting it solidify there, and then paring away -the bottom sediment. Even this dirty-looking sediment need not be -altogether wasted. When a considerable quantity has accumulated it may -be purified by the method of Dubrunfaut and Fua above described. - -As ordinary thermometers register but little above 212°, and laboratory -thermometers are too delicately constructed for kitchen use, I -requested Messrs. Davis & Co. to construct a special thermometer for -testing the temperature of heated fat. They have accordingly made an -instrument that answers the purpose very well. It is like a laboratory -thermometer, _i.e._ a glass tube with long bulb and the degrees -engraved on the glass itself, but the bulb is turned at right angles to -the tube, so that it is horizontal when the tube stands perpendicular, -and lies under a stand just above the level of the bottom of the -kettle. The instrument thus stands alone firmly, with its bulb fully -immersed even in a very shallow bath of fat. - -Gouffé says: ‘Fat is the best for frying; the light-coloured dripping -of roast meat, and the fat taken off broth are to be preferred. These -failing, beef suet, chopped fine and melted down on a slow fire, -without browning, will do very well; when the bottom of the stewpan can -be seen through the suet, it is sufficiently melted.’ He is no advocate -for lard, ‘as it always leaves an unpleasant coating of fat on whatever -is fried in it.’ Olive oil of the best quality is almost absolutely -tasteless, and having as high a boiling point as animal fats it is -the best of all frying media. In this country there is a prejudice -against the use of such oil. I have noticed at some of those humble but -most useful establishments where poor people are supplied with penny -or twopenny portions of well-cooked, good fish, that in the front is -an inscription stating ‘only the best beef-dripping is used in this -establishment.’ This means a repudiation of oil. - -On my first visit to Arctic Norway I arrived before the garnering -and exportation of the spring cod harvest was completed. The packet -stopped at a score or so of stations on the Lofodens and the mainland. -Foggy weather was no impediment, as an experienced pilot free from -catarrh could steer direct to the harbour by ‘following his nose.’ Huge -cauldrons stood by the shore in which were stewing the last batches of -the livers of codfish caught a month before and exposed in the meantime -to the continuous Arctic sunshine. Their condition must be imagined, -as I abstain from description of details. The business then proceeding -was the extraction of the oil from these livers. It is, of course, -‘cod-liver oil,’ but is known commercially as ‘fish oil,’ or ‘cod oil.’ -That which is sold by our druggists as cod-liver oil is described -in Norway as ‘medicine oil,’ and though prepared from the same raw -material, is extracted in a different manner. Only fresh livers are -used for this, and the best quality, the ‘cold-drawn’ oil, is obtained -by pressing the livers without stewing. Those who are unfortunately -familiar with this carefully-prepared, highly-refined product, know -that the fishy flavour clings to it so pertinaciously that all attempts -to completely remove it without decomposing the oil have failed. This -being the case, it is easily understood that the fish oil stewed so -crudely out of the putrid or semi-putrid livers must be nauseous -indeed. It is nevertheless used by some of the fish-fryers, and refuse -‘Gallipoli’ (olive oil of the worst quality) is sold for this purpose. -The oil obtained in the course of salting sardines, herrings, &c., is -also used. - -Such being the case, it is not surprising that the use of oil for -frying should, like the oil itself, be in bad odour. - -I dwell upon this because we are probably on what, if a fine writer, I -should call the ‘eve of a great revolution’ in respect to frying media. - -Two new materials, pure, tasteless, and so cheap as to be capable -of pushing pig-fat (lard) out of the market, have recently been -introduced. These are cotton-seed oil and poppy-seed oil. The first -has been for some time in the market offered for sale under various -fictitious names, which I will not reveal, as I refuse to become a -medium for the advertisement of anything—however good in itself—that is -sold under false pretences. - -As every bale of cotton yields half a ton of seed, and every ton -of seed may be made to yield 28 lbs. to 32 lbs. of crude oil, the -available quantity is very great. At present only a small quantity -is made, the surplus seed being used as manure. Its fertilising -value would not be diminished by removing the oil, which is only a -hydro-carbon, _i.e._ material supplied by air and water. All the -fertilising constituents of the seed are left behind in the oil-cake -from which the oil has been pressed. - -Hitherto cotton-seed oil has fallen among thieves. It is used as an -adulterant of olive oil; sardines and pilchards are packed in it. The -sardine trade has declined lately, some say from deficient supplies of -the fish. I suspect that there has been a decline in the demand due to -the substitution of this oil for that of the olive. Many people who -formerly enjoyed sardines no longer care for them, and they do not know -why. The substitution of cotton-seed oil explains this in most cases. -It is not rancid, has no decided flavour, but still is unpleasant when -eaten raw, as with salads or sardines. It has a flat, cold character, -and an after taste that is faintly suggestive of castor oil; but faint -as it is, it interferes with the demand for a purely luxurious article -of food. This delicate defect is quite inappreciable in the results -of its use as a frying medium. The very best lard or ordinary kitchen -butter, eaten cold, has more of objectionable flavour than refined -cotton-seed oil. - -I have not tasted poppy-seed oil, but am told that it is similar -to that from the cotton-seed. As regards the quantities available, -some idea may be formed by plucking a ripe head from a garden poppy -and shaking out the little round seeds through the windows on the -top. Those who have not tried this will be astonished at the numbers -produced by each flower. As poppies are largely cultivated for the -production of opium, and the yield of the drug itself by each plant is -very small, the supplies of oil may be considerable; 571,542 cwt. of -seeds were exported from India last year, of which 346,031 cwt. went to -France. - -Palm oil, though at present practically unknown in the kitchen, may -easily become an esteemed material for the frying-kettle. At present, -the familiar uses of palm oil in candle-making and for railway grease -will cause my suggestion to shock the nerves of many delicate people, -but these should remember that before palm oil was imported at all, -the material from which candles and soap were made, and by which -cart wheels and heavy machinery were greased, was tallow—_i.e._ the -fat of mutton and beef. The reason why our grandmothers did not use -candles for frying when short of dripping or suet was that the mutton -fat constituting the candle was impure, so are the yellow candles -and yellow grease in the axle-boxes of the railway carriages. This -vegetable fat is quite as inoffensive in itself, quite as wholesome, -and—sentimentally regarded—less objectionable, than the fat obtained -from the carcass of a slaughtered animal. - -When common sense and true sentiment supplant mere unreasoning -prejudice, vegetable oils and vegetable fats will largely supplant -those of animal origin in every element of our dietary. We are but just -beginning to understand them. Chevreul, who was the first to teach us -the chemistry of fats, is still living, and we are only learning how to -make butter (not ‘inferior Dorset,’ but ‘choice Normandy’) without the -aid of dairy produce. There is, therefore, good reason for anticipating -that the inexhaustible supplies of oil obtainable from the vegetable -world—especially from tropical vegetation—will ere long be freely -available for kitchen uses, and the now popular product of the Chicago -hog factories will be altogether banished therefrom, and used only for -greasing cart-wheels and other machinery. - -As a practical conclusion of this part of my subject, I will quote -from the ‘Oil Trade Review’ of this month, December 1884, the current -wholesale prices of some of the oils possibly available for frying -purposes: olive oil, from 43_l._ to 90_l._ per tun of 252 gallons; -cod oil, 36_l._ per tun; sardine or train (_i.e._ the oil that drains -from pilchards, herrings, sardines, &c., when salted), 27_l._ 10_s._ -to 28_l._ per tun; cocoanut, from 35_l._ to 38_l._ per ton of 20 cwt. -(This, in the case of oil, is nearly the same as the measured tun.) -Palm, from 38_l._ to 40_l._ 10_s._ per ton; palm-nut or copra, 31_l._ -10_s._ per ton; refined cotton-seed, 30_l._ 10_s._ to 31_l._ per ton; -lard, 53_l._ to 55_l._ per ton. The above are the extreme ranges of -each class. I have not copied the technical names and prices of the -intermediate varieties. One penny per lb. is = 9_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._ per -ton, or, in round numbers, 1_l._ per ton may be reckoned as 1/9th of a -penny per lb. Thus the present price of best refined cotton-seed oil -is 3½_d._ per lb.; of cocoanut oil, 3¾_d._; palm oil, from 3½_d._ to -4½_d._, while lard costs 6_d._ per lb. wholesale. - -I should add, in reference to the seed-oils, that there is a possible -objection to their use as frying media. Oils extracted from seeds -contain more or less of _linoleine_ (so named from its abundance in -linseed oil), which, when exposed to the air, combines with oxygen, -swells and dries. If the oil from cotton-seed or poppy-seed contains -too much of this, it will thicken inconveniently when kept for a length -of time exposed to the air. Palm oil is practically free from it, but -I am doubtful respecting palm-nut oil, as most of the nut oils are -‘driers.’ - -Extravagant cooks delude confiding mistresses by demanding butter for -ordinary frying. A veneration for costliness is one of the vulgar -vices, especially dominant below stairs. In many cases a worse motive -induces the denunciation of the dripping and skimmed fat recommended by -Gouffé as above, and the substitution of lard or butter for it. This is -the practice of selling the dripping as ‘kitchen stuff.’ - -FOOTNOTE: - -[9] The necessity for this is not so great as may appear theoretically. -I have tried the experiment of having veal cutlets fried in a bath -previously used for fish, and was not able to detect any fishy flavour -as I expected I should. This was the case even when I knew that the -fish fat had been used, and I was consequently far more critical than -under ordinary circumstances. Even apple-fritters may be cooked in fat -that has been used for fish. I have tried this since the above was -written and am surprised at the result. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -STEWING. - - -SOME of my readers may think that I ought to have treated this in -connection with the boiling of meat, as boiling and stewing are -commonly regarded as mere modifications of the same process. According -to my mode of regarding the subject, _i.e._ with reference to the -object to be attained, they are opposite processes. - -The object in the so-called ‘boiling’ of, say, a leg of mutton, is to -raise the temperature of the meat throughout just up to the cooking -temperature in such a manner that it shall as nearly as possible retain -all its juices; the hot water merely operating as a vehicle or medium -for conveying the heat. - -In stewing nearly all this is reversed. The juices are to be extracted -more or less completely, and the water is required to act as a solvent -as well as a heat-conveyor. Instead of the meat itself surrounding and -enveloping the juices as it should when boiled, roasted, grilled, or -fried, we demand in a stew that the juices shall surround or envelop -the meat. In some cases the separation of the juices is the sole -object, as in the preparation of certain soups and gravies, of which -‘beef-tea’ may be taken as a typical example. _Extractum carnis_, or -Liebig’s ‘Extract of Meat’ is beef-tea (or mutton-tea) concentrated by -evaporation. - -The juices of lean meat may be extracted very completely without -cooking the meat at all, merely by mincing it and then placing it in -cold water. _Maceration_ is the proper name for this treatment. The -philosophy of this is interesting, and so little understood in the -kitchen that I must explain its rudiments. - -If two liquids capable of mixing together, but of different densities, -be placed in the same vessel, the denser at the bottom, they will -mix together in defiance of gravitation, the heavy liquid rising and -spreading itself throughout the lighter, and the lighter descending and -diffusing itself through the heavier. - -Thus, concentrated sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol) which has nearly -double the density of water, may be placed under water by pouring water -in a tall glass jar, and then carefully pouring the acid down a funnel -with a long tube, the bottom end of which touches the bottom of the -jar. At first the heavy liquid pushes up the lighter, and its upper -surface may be distinctly seen with that of the lighter resting upon -it. This is better shown if the water be coloured by a blue tincture -of litmus, which is reddened by the acid. A red stratum indicates the -boundaries of the two liquids. Gradually the reddening proceeds upwards -and downwards, the whole of the water changes from blue to red, and the -acid becomes tinged. - -Graham worked for many years upon the determination of the laws of this -diffusion, and the rates at which different liquids diffused into each -other. His method was to fill small jars of uniform size and shape -(about 4 oz. capacity) with the saline or other dense solution, place -upon the ground mouth of the jar a plate-glass cover, then immerse it, -when filled, in a cylindrical glass vessel containing about 20 oz. of -distilled water. The cover being very carefully removed, diffusion was -allowed to proceed for a given time, and then by analysis the amount of -transfer into the distilled water was determined. - -I must resist the temptation to expound the very interesting results -of these researches, merely stating that they prove this diffusion -to be no mere accidental mixing, but an action that proceeds with a -regularity reducible to simple mathematical laws. One curious fact -I may mention—viz. that on comparing the solutions of a number of -different salts, those which crystallise in the same forms have similar -rates of diffusion. The law that bears the most directly upon cookery -is that ‘the quantity of any substance diffused from a solution of -uniform strength increases as the temperature rises.’ The application -of this will be seen presently. - -It may be supposed that if the jar used in Graham’s diffusion -experiments were tied over with a mechanically air-tight and -water-tight membrane, the brine or other saline solution thus confined -in the jar could not diffuse itself into the pure water above and -around it; people who are satisfied with anything that ‘stands to -reason’ would be quite sure that a bladder which resists the passage of -water, even when the water is pressed up to the bursting-point, cannot -be permeable to a most gentle and spontaneous flow of the same water. -The true philosopher, however, never trusts to any reasoning, not even -mathematical demonstration, until its conclusions are verified by -observations and experiment. In this case all rational preconceptions -or mathematical calculations based upon the amount of attractive force -exerted between the particles of the different liquids are outraged by -the facts. - -If a stout, well-tied bladder that would burst rather than allow a -drop of water to be squeezed mechanically through it be partially -filled with a solution of common washing soda, and then immersed in -distilled water, the soda will make its way out of the bladder by -passing through its walls, and the pure water will go in at the same -time; for if, after some time is allowed, the outer water be tested by -dipping into it a strip of red litmus paper, it will be turned blue, -showing the presence of the alkali therein, and if the contents of the -bladder be weighed or measured, they will be found to have increased by -the inflow of fresh water. This inflow is called _endosmosis_, and the -outflow of the solution is called _exosmosis_. If an indiarubber bottle -be filled with water and immersed in alcohol or ether, the endosmosis -of the spirit will be so powerfully exerted as to distend the bottle -considerably. If the bottle be filled with alcohol or ether, and -surrounded by water, it will nearly empty itself. - -The force exerted by this action is displayed by the rising of the sap -from the rootlets of a forest giant to the cells of its topmost leaves. -Not only plants, but animals also, are complex osmotic machines. There -is scarcely any vital function—if any at all—in which this osmosis does -not play an important part. I have no doubt that the mental effort I am -at this moment exerting is largely dependent upon the endosmosis and -exosmosis that is proceeding through the delicate membranes of some of -the many miles of blood-vessels that ramify throughout the grey matter -of my brain. - -But I must wander no farther beyond the kitchen, having already said -enough to indicate that _diosmosis_ (which is the general term used -for expressing the actions of endosmosis and exosmosis as they occur -simultaneously) does the work of extracting the permanent juices of -meat when it is immersed in either hot or cold water. - -I say _permanent_ juices with intent, in order to exclude the albumen, -which being coagulable at the lowest cooking temperature is not -permanent. It is one of that class of bodies to which Graham gave the -name of colloids (glue-like), such as starch, dextrin, gum, &c., to -distinguish them from another class, the crystalloids, or bodies that -crystallise on solidification. The latter diffuse and pass through -membranes by diosmosis readily, the colloids very sluggishly. Thus a -solution of Epsom salts diffuses seven times as rapidly as albumen, and -fourteen times as rapidly as caramel. - -The difference is strikingly illustrated by the different diffusibility -of a solution of ordinary crystalline sugar and that of barley-sugar -and caramel, the latter being amorphous or formless colloids that dry -into a gummy mass when their solutions are evaporated, instead of -forming crystals as the original sugar did. - -Some of the juices of meat, as already explained, exist between its -fibres, others are within those fibres or cells, enveloped in the -sheath or cell membrane. It is evident that the loose or free juices -will be extracted by simple diffusion, those enveloped in membranes by -exosmosis through the membrane. The result must be the same in both -cases; the meat will be permeated by the water, and the surrounding -water will be permeated by the juices that originally existed within -the meat. As the rate of diffusion—other conditions being equal—is -proportionate to the extent of the surfaces of the diverse liquids that -are exposed to each other, and as the rate of diosmosis is similarly -proportioned to the exposure of membrane, it is evident that the -cutting-up of the meat will assist the extraction of its juices by the -creation of fresh surfaces; hence the well-known advantage of mincing -in the making of beef-tea. - -It is interesting to observe the condition of lean meat that has thus -been minced and exposed for a few hours to these actions by immersion -in cold water. On removing and straining such minced meat it will be -found to have lost its colour, and if it is now cooked it is insipid, -and even nauseous if eaten in any quantity. It has been given to dogs -and cats and pigs; these, after eating a little, refuse to take more, -and when supplied with this juiceless meat alone, they languish, become -emaciated, and die of starvation if the experiment is continued. -Experiments of this kind contributed to the fallacious conclusions of -the French Academicians. Although the meat from which the juices are -thus completely extracted is quite worthless _alone_, and meat from -which they are partially extracted is nearly worthless _alone_, either -of them becomes valuable when eaten with the juices. The stewed beef -of the Frenchman would deserve the contempt bestowed upon it by the -prejudiced Englishman if it were eaten as the Englishman eats his roast -beef; but when preceded by a _potage_ containing the juices of the beef -it is quite as nutritious as if roasted, and more easily digested. - -Graham found that increase of temperature increases the rate of -diffusion of liquids, and in accordance with this the extraction of the -juices of meat is effected more rapidly by warm than by cold water; -but there is a limit to this advantage, as will be easily understood -from what has already been explained in Chapter III. concerning the -coagulation of albumen, which at the temperature of 134° Fahr. begins -to show signs of losing its fluidity; at 160° becomes a semi-opaque -jelly; at the boiling point of water is a rather tough solid; and if -kept at this temperature, shrinks, and becomes harder and harder, -tougher and tougher, till it attains a consistence comparable to that -of horn tempered with gutta-percha. - -I have spoken of beef-tea, or _Extractum carnis_ (Liebig’s ‘Extract of -Meat’), as an extreme case of extracting the juices of meat, and must -now explain the difference between this and the juices of an ordinary -stew. Supposing the juices of the meat to be extracted by maceration in -cold water, and the broth thus obtained to be heated in order to alter -its raw flavour, a scum will be seen to rise upon the surface; this is -carefully removed in the manufacture of Liebig’s ‘Extract,’ or in the -preparation of beef-tea for an invalid, but in thus skimming we remove -a highly-nutritious constituent—viz. the albumen, which has coagulated -during the heating. The pure beef-tea, or _Extractum carnis_, contains -only the kreatine, kreatinine, the soluble phosphates, the lactic -acid, and other non-coagulable saline constituents, that are rather -stimulating than nutritious, and which, properly speaking, are not -digested at all—_i.e._ they are not converted into chyme in the -stomach, do not pass through the pylorus into the duodenum, &c., but, -instead of this, their dilute solution passes, like the water we drink, -directly into the blood by endosmosis through the delicate membrane of -that marvellous network of microscopic blood-vessels which is spread -over the surface of every one of the myriads of little upstanding -filaments which, by their aggregation, constitute the villous or velvet -coat of the stomach. In some states of prostration, where the blood -is insufficiently supplied with these juices, this endosmosis is like -pouring new life into the body, but it is not what is required for the -normal sustenance of the healthy body. - -For ordinary food, all the nutritious constituents should be retained, -either in the meat itself or in its liquid surrounding. Regarding it -theoretically, I should demand the retention of the albumen in the -meat, and insist upon its remaining there in the condition of tender -semi-solidity, corresponding to the white of an egg when perfectly -cooked, as described in page 22. Also that the gelatin and fibrin be -softened by sufficient digestion in hot water, and that the saline -juices (those constituting beef-tea) be _partially_ extracted. I say -‘partially,’ because their complete extraction, as in the case of -the macerated minced-meat, would too completely rob the meat of its -sapidity. How, then, may these theoretical desiderata be attained? - -It is evident from the principles already expounded that cold -extraction takes out the albumen, therefore this must be avoided; also -that boiling water will harden the albumen to leathery consistence. -This may be shown experimentally by subjecting an ordinary beefsteak to -the action of boiling water for about half an hour. It will come out in -the abominable condition too often obtained by English cooks when they -make an attempt at stewing—an unknown art to the majority of them. Such -an ill-used morsel defies the efforts of ordinary human jaws, and is -curiously curled and distorted. This toughening and curling is a result -of the coagulation, hardening, and shrinkage of the albumen as already -described. - -It is evident, therefore, that neither cold water nor boiling water -should be used in stewing, but water at the temperature at which -albumen just begins to coagulate—_i.e._ about 134°, or between this and -160° as the extreme. My definition of stewing demands a qualification -as regards the albumen. Although this is one of the juices of the -meat when cold, it should not be extracted in ordinary stewing, as it -is in the maceration for beef-tea, and thereby appear as a scum to be -rejected. It should be barely coagulated, and thus retained in the meat -in as tender a condition as possible. Being a colloid (see _ante_, -page 115) its liability to diffusion is small. But here we encounter -a serious difficulty. How is the unscientific cook to determine and -maintain this temperature? If you tell her that the water must not -boil, she shifts her stewpan to the side of the fire, where it shall -only simmer, and she firmly believes that such simmering water has a -lower temperature than water that is boiling violently over the fire. -‘It stands to reason’ that it must be so, and if the experimental -philosopher appeals to fact and the evidence of the thermometer, he is -a ‘theorist.’ - -The French cook escapes this simmering delusion by her common use of -the _bain-marie_ or ‘water-bath,’ as we call it in the laboratory, -where it is also largely used for ‘digesting’ at temperatures below -212°. This is simply a vessel immersed in an outer vessel of water. -The water in the outer vessel may boil, but that in the inner vessel -cannot, as its evaporation keeps it below the temperature of the water -from which its heat is derived. A carpenter’s glue-pot is a very good -and compact form of water-bath. Some ironmongers keep in stock a form -of water-bath which they call a ‘milk-scalder.’ This resembles the -glue-pot, but has an inner vessel of earthenware which is, of course, a -great improvement upon the carpenter’s device, as it may be so easily -cleaned. Captain Warren’s, and other similar ‘cooking-pots,’ may be -used as water-baths by removing the cover of the inner vessel. - -One of the incidental advantages of the _bain-marie_ is that the -stewing may be performed in earthenware or even glass vessels, seeing -that they are not directly exposed to the fire. Other forms of such -double vessels are obtainable at the best ironmongers. I have lately -seen a very neat apparatus of this kind, called ‘Dolby’s Extractor,’ -made by Messrs. Griffiths & Browett of Birmingham. This consists of -an earthenware vessel that rests on a ledge, and thus hangs in an -outer tin-plate vessel; but, instead of water, there is an air space -surrounding the earthenware pot. A top screws over this, and the whole -stands in an ordinary saucepan of water. The heat is thus very slowly -and steadily communicated through an air-bath, and it makes excellent -beef-tea. - -At temperatures _below the boiling point_ evaporation proceeds -superficially, and the rate of evaporation at a given temperature -is proportionate to the surface exposed, irrespective of the total -quantity of water; therefore, the shallower the inner vessel of the -_bain-marie_, and the greater its upper outspread, the lower will be -the temperature of its liquid contents when its sides and bottom are -heated by boiling water. The water in a basin-shaped inner vessel will -have a lower temperature than that in a vessel of similar depth, with -upright sides, and exposing an equal water surface. A good water-bath -for stewing may be extemporised by using a common pudding-basin (I mean -one with projecting rim, as used for tying down the pudding-cloth), and -selecting a saucepan just big enough for this to drop into, and rest -upon its rim. Put the meat, &c., to be stewed into the basin, pour hot -water over them, and hot water into the saucepan, so that the basin -shall be in a water-bath; then let this outer water simmer—very gently, -so as not to jump the basin with its steam. Stew thus for about double -the time usually prescribed in English cookery-books, and compare the -result with similar materials stewed in boiling or ‘simmering’ water. - -I have already (page 91) referred to the frying that, in most cases, -should precede stewing. It not only supplies the caramel browning there -described, but moderates the extraction of the juices which, as I have -said above, is desirable on the part of the meat itself when gravy is -not the primary object. - -Some further explanation is here necessary, as it is quite possible to -obtain what commonly passes for tenderness by a very flagrant violation -of the principles above expounded. This is done on a large scale and -in extreme degree in the preparation of ordinary Australian tinned -meat. A number of tins are filled with the meat, and soldered down -close, all but a small pin-hole. They are then placed in a bath charged -with a saline substance, such as chloride of zinc, which has a higher -boiling point than water. This is heated up to its boiling point, -and consequently the water which is in the tins with the meat boils -vigorously, and a jet of steam mixed with air blows from the pin-hole. -When all the air is expelled, and the jet is of pure steam only (a -difference detected at once by the trained expert), the tin is removed, -and a little melted solder skilfully dropped on the hole to seal the -tin hermetically. An examination of one of these tins will show this -final soldering with, in some, a flap below to prevent any solder from -falling in amongst the meat. The object of this is to exclude all air, -for if only a very small quantity remains, oxidation and putrefaction -speedily ensues, as shown by a bulging of the tins instead of the -partial collapse that should occur when the steam condenses, the -display of which collapse is an indication of the good quality of the -contents. - -By ‘good quality’ I mean good of its kind; but, as everybody knows who -has tried beef and mutton thus prepared, it is not satisfactory. The -preservation from putrefactive decomposition is perfectly successful, -and all the original constituents of the meat are there. It is -_apparently_ tender, but _practically_ tough—_i.e._ it falls to pieces -at a mere touch of the knife, but these fragments offer to the teeth -a peculiar resistance to proper mastication. I may describe their -condition as one of pertinacious fibrosity. The fibres separate, but -they are stubborn fibres still. - -This is a very serious matter, for, were it otherwise, the great -problem of supplying our dense population with an abundance of cheap -animal food would have been solved about twenty years ago. As it is, -the plain tinned-meat enterprise has not developed to any important -extent beyond affording a variation with salt junk on board ship. - -What is the _rationale_ of this defect? Beyond the general statement -that the meat is ‘overdone,’ I have met with no attempt at explanation, -but am not, therefore, disposed to give up the riddle without -attempting a solution. - -Reverting to what I have already said concerning the action of heat on -the constituents of flesh, it is evident that in the first place the -long exposure to the boiling point must harden the albumen. _Syntonin_, -or _muscle-fibrin_, the material of the ultimate contractile fibres -of the muscle, is coagulated by boiling water, and further hardened -by continuous boiling, in the same manner as albumen. Thus the -muscle-fibres themselves, and the lubricating liquor[10] in which they -are imbedded, must be simultaneously toughened by the method above -described, and this explains the pertinacious fibrosity of the result. - -But how is the apparent tenderness, the facile separation of the -fibres of the same meat produced? A little further examination of the -anatomy and chemistry of muscle will, I think, explain this quite -satisfactorily. The ultimate fibres of the muscles are enveloped in -a very delicate membrane; a bundle of these is again enveloped in a -somewhat stronger membrane (_areolar tissue_); and a number of these -bundles of _fasciculi_ are further enveloped in a proportionally -stronger sheath of similar membrane. All these binding membranes are -mainly composed of gelatin, or the substance which produces gelatin -when boiled. The boiling that is necessary to drive out all the air -from the tins is sufficient to dissolve this, and effect that easy -separability of the muscular fibres, or fasciculi of fibres, that gives -to such overcooked meat its fictitious tenderness. - -I am, however, doubtful whether _all_ the gelatin of these membranes -is thus dissolved. The jelly existing in the tins shows that some -is dissolved and hydrated, if my theory of the cookery is right; -but there does not appear to be as much of this jelly as would be -formed by the stewing of a corresponding quantity of meat at a lower -temperature. Some of the membranous gelatin is, I suspect, dehydrated -when the highest temperature of the process is attained—_i.e._ when -the concentration of the juices raises the boiling point of their -solution considerably above that of pure water. This, if I am right, -would check further solution of the membrane, would hydrate and harden -the remainder, and thus contribute to the hardening of the fibre above -described. - -I have entered into these anatomical and chemical details because it is -only by understanding them that the difference between true tenderness -and spurious tenderness of stewed meat can be soundly understood, -especially in this country, where stewed meats are despised because -scientific stewing is practically and generally an unknown art. Ask an -English cook the difference between boiled beef or mutton and stewed -beef or mutton, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred her reply -will be to the effect that stewed meat is that which has been boiled or -simmered for a longer time than the boiled meat. - -She proceeds, in accordance with this definition, when making an Irish -stew or similar dish, by ‘simmering’ at 212° until, by the coagulation -and hardening of the albumen and syntonin, a leathery mass is obtained; -then she continues the simmering until the gelatin of the areolar -tissue is partially dissolved, and the toughened fibres separate -or become readily separable. Having achieved this disintegration, -she supposes the meat to be tender, the fact being that the fibres -individually are tougher than they were at the leathery stage. The -mischief is not limited to the destruction of the flavour of the meat, -but includes the destruction of the nutritive value of its solid -portion by rendering it all indigestible, with the exception of the -gelatin, which is dissolved in the gravy. - -This exception should be duly noted, inasmuch as it is the one -redeeming feature of such proceeding that renders it fairly well -adapted for the cookery of such meat as cow-heels, sheeps’-trotters, -calves’-heads, shins of beef, knuckles of veal, and other viands which -consist mainly of membranous, tendinous, or integumentary matter -composed of gelatin. To treat the prime parts of good beef or mutton in -this manner is to perpetrate a domestic atrocity. - -I may here mention an experiment that I have made lately. I killed a -superannuated hen—more than six years old, but otherwise in very good -condition. Cooked in the ordinary way she would have been uneatably -tough. Instead of being thus cooked, she was gently stewed about -four hours. I cannot guarantee to the maintenance of the theoretical -temperature, having suspicion of _some_ simmering. After this she -was left in the water until it cooled, and on the following day was -roasted in the usual manner—_i.e._ in a roasting oven. The result was -excellent; as tender as a full-grown chicken roasted in the ordinary -way, and of quite equal flavour, in spite of the very good broth -obtained by the preliminary stewing. This surprised me. I anticipated -the softening of the tendons and ligaments, but supposed that the -extraction of the juices would have spoiled the flavour. It must have -diluted it, and that so much remained was probably due to the fact that -an old fowl is more fully flavoured than a young chicken. The usual -farmhouse method of cooking old hens is to stew them simply, the rule -in the Midlands being one hour in the pot for every year of age. The -feature of the above experiment was the supplementary roasting. As the -laying season comes to an end, old hens become a drug in the market; -and those among my readers who have not a hen-roost of their own will -much oblige their poulterers by ordering a hen that is warranted to -be four years old or upwards. If he deals fairly he will supply a -specimen upon which they may repeat my experiment very cheaply. It -offers the double economy of utilising a nearly waste product, and -obtaining chicken-broth and roast fowl simultaneously. - -Another experiment on the cooking of old hens was recently made by a -neighbour at my suggestion, and proved very successful. The bird was -cut up and gently stewed in fat like the small joints of my experiments -described in p. 57. - -I have not yet repeated this experiment, but when I do shall use bacon -liquor (the surplus fat from grilled bacon) for the bath, and hope -thereby to obtain an approach to the effect of ‘larding,’ as practised -in luxurious cookery. - -One of the great advantages of stewing is that it affords a means of -obtaining a savoury and very wholesome dish at a minimum of cost. A -small piece of meat may be stewed with a large quantity of vegetables, -the juice of the meat savouring the whole. Besides this, it costs far -less fuel than roasting. - -The wife of the French or Swiss landed proprietor—_i.e._ a working -peasant—cooks the family dinner with less than a tenth of the -expenditure of fuel used in England for the preparation of an inferior -meal. A little charcoal under her _bain-marie_ does it all. The economy -of time corresponds to the economy of fuel, for the mixture of viands -required for the stew once put into the pot is left to itself until -dinner-time, or at most an occasional stirring of fresh charcoal into -the embers is all that is demanded. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[10] I have ventured to ascribe this lubricating function to the -albumen which envelopes the fibres, though doubtful whether it is quite -orthodox to do so. Its identity in composition with the synovial liquor -of the joints, and the necessity for such lubricant, justify this -supposition. It may act as a nutrient fluid at the same time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -CHEESE. - - -I NOW come to a very important constituent of animal food, although -it is not contained in beef, mutton, pork, poultry, game, fish, or -any other organised animal substance, unless in egg yolk, as Lehmann -states (see page 23). It is not even proved satisfactorily to exist in -the blood, although it is somehow obtained from the blood by special -glands at certain periods. I refer to _casein_, the substantial basis -of cheese, which, as everybody knows, is the consolidated curd of milk. - -It is evident at once that casein must exist in two forms, the soluble -and insoluble, so far as the common solvent, water, is concerned. It -exists in the soluble form, and completely dissolved in milk, and -insoluble in cheese. When precipitated in its insoluble or coagulated -form as the curd of new milk it carries with it the fatty matter or -cream, and therefore, in order to study its properties in a state of -purity, we must obtain it otherwise. This may be done by allowing the -fat globules of the milk to float to the surface, and then removing -them by separating the cream as by the ordinary dairy method. We thus -obtain in the skimmed milk a solution of casein, but there still -remains some of the fat. This may be removed by evaporating the -solution down to solidity, and then dissolving out the fat by means -of ether, which leaves the soluble casein behind. The adhering ether -being evaporated, we have a fairly pure specimen of casein in its -original or soluble form. - -This, when dry, is an amber-coloured translucent substance, devoid of -odour, and insipid. The insipidity and absence of odour of the pure -and separated casein are noteworthy, as showing that the condition in -which it exists in milk is very different from that of the casein of -cheese. My object in pointing this out is to show that in the course -of the manufacture of cheese new properties are developed. Skim-milk—a -solution of casein—is tasteless and inodorous, while fresh cheese, -whether made from skimmed or whole milk, has a very decided flavour and -odour. - -If we now add some of our dry casein to water, it dissolves, forming a -yellowish viscid fluid, which, on evaporation, becomes covered with a -slight film of insoluble casein, which may be readily drawn off. Some -of my readers will recognise in this description the resemblance of a -now well-known domestic preparation of soluble casein, condensed milk, -where it is mixed with much cream, and in the ordinary preparation also -much sugar. The cream dilutes the yellowness, but does not quite mask -it, and the viscidity is shown by the strings which follow the spoon -when a spoonful is lifted. If a concentrated solution of pure casein is -exposed to the air it rapidly putrefies, and passes through a series of -changes that I must not tarry to describe, beyond stating that ammonia -is given off, and some crystalline substances, such as _leucine_, -_tyrosine_, &c., very interesting to the physiological chemist, but not -important in the kitchen, are formed. - -A solution of casein in water is not coagulated by boiling; it may be -repeatedly evaporated to dryness and redissolved. Upon this depends -the practicability of preserving milk by evaporating it down, or -‘condensing.’ - -This condensed milk, however, loses a little; its albumen is -sacrificed, as everybody will understand who has dipped a spoon in -freshly-boiled milk and observed the skin which the spoon removes from -the surface. This is coagulated albumen. - -If alcohol is added to a concentrated solution of casein in water, -a pseudo-coagulation occurs; the casein is precipitated as a white -substance like coagulated albumen, but if only a little alcohol is -used, the solid may be redissolved in water; if, however, it is thus -treated with strong alcohol, the casein becomes difficult of solution, -or even quite insoluble. Alcohol added to solid soluble casein renders -it opaque, and gives it the appearance of coagulated albumen. The -alcohol itself dissolves a little of this. - -The characteristic coagulation of casein, or its conversion from the -soluble to the insoluble form, is produced rather mysteriously by -rennet. Acids generally precipitate it either from aqueous solution -or from milk. The coagulation effected by mineral acids from aqueous -solutions is not so complete as that produced by lactic acid from milk, -or vinegar, the former coagulum being more readily redissolved by -alkalies or weaker basic substances than the latter. - -A calf has four stomachs, the fourth being that which corresponds to -ours, both in structure and functions. It is lined with a membrane -from which is secreted the gastric juice and other fluids concerned in -effecting the conversion of food into chyme. A weak infusion made from -a small piece of this ‘mucous membrane’ will coagulate the casein of -three thousand times its own quantity of milk, or the coagulation may -be effected by placing a small piece of the stomach (usually salted -and dried for the purpose) in the milk, and warming it for a few hours. - -Many theoretical attempts have been made to explain this action of the -rennet. Simon and Liebig suppose that it acts primarily as a ferment, -converting the sugar of milk into lactic acid, and that this lactic -acid coagulates the casein. This theory has been controverted by Selmi -and others, but the balance of evidence is decidedly in its favour. The -coagulation which occurs in the living stomach when milk is taken as -food appears to be due to the lactic acid of the gastric juice. - -Casein, when thoroughly coagulated by rennet, then purified and dried, -is a hard and yellowish hornlike substance. It softens and swells in -water, but does not dissolve therein, nor in alcohol nor weak acids. -Strong mineral acids decompose it. Alkalies dissolve it readily, and if -concentrated, decompose it on the application of heat. When moderately -heated, it softens and may be drawn into threads, and becomes elastic; -at a higher temperature it fuses, swells up, carbonises, and develops -nearly the same products of distillation as the other protein compounds. - -Note the differences between this and the soluble casein above -described, viz. that obtained by simply removing the fat from the milk, -then evaporating away the water, but using no rennet. - -I have good and sufficient reasons for thus specifying the properties -of this constituent of food. I regard it as the most important of all -that I have to describe in connection with my subject—the science -of cookery. It contains (as I shall presently show) more nutritious -material than any other food that is ordinarily obtainable, and its -cookery is singularly neglected, is practically an unknown art, -especially in this country. We commonly eat it raw, although in its -raw state it is peculiarly indigestible, and in the only cooked form -familiarly known among us here, that of a Welsh rabbit, or rarebit, it -is too often rendered still more indigestible, though this need not be -the case. - -Here, in this densely-populated country, where we import so much of -our food, cheese demands our most profound attention. The difficulties -and cost of importing all kinds of meat, fish, and poultry are great, -while cheese may be cheaply and deliberately brought to us from any -part of the world where cows or goats can be fed, and it can be stored -more readily and kept longer than other kinds of animal food. All that -is required to render it, next to bread, the staple food of Britons is -scientific cookery. - -If I shall be able, in what is to follow, to impart to my -fellow-countrymen, and more especially countrywomen, my own convictions -concerning the cookability, and consequent improved digestibility, of -cheese, I shall have ‘done the State some service!’ - -Taking muscular fibre without bone—_i.e._ selected best part of the -meat—beef contains on an average 72½ per cent. of water; mutton, 73½; -veal, 74½; pork, 69¾; fowl, 73¾; while Cheshire cheese contains only -30⅓, and other cheeses about the same. Thus, at starting, we have in -every pound of cheese rather more than twice as much solid food as in -a pound of the best meat, or comparing with the average of the whole -carcass, including bone, tendons, &c., the cheese has an advantage of -three to one. - -The following results of Mulder’s analysis of casein, when compared -with those by the same chemist of albumen, gelatin and fibrin, -show that there is but little difference in the ultimate chemical -composition of these, so far as the constituents there named are -concerned: - - Casein - - Carbon 53·83 - Hydrogen 7·15 - Nitrogen 15·65 - Oxygen } - Sulphur } 23·37 - - Albumen Gelatin Fibrin - - Carbon 53·5 50·40 52·7 - Hydrogen 7·0 6·64 6·9 - Nitrogen 15·5 18·34 15·4 - Oxygen 22·0 24·62 23·5 - Sulphur 1·6 ” 1·2 - Phosphorus 0·4 ” 0·3 - -We may therefore conclude that, regarding these from the point of -view of nitrogenous or flesh-forming, and carbonaceous or heat-giving -constituents, these chief materials of flesh and of cheese are about -equal. - -The same is the case as regards the fat. The quantity in the carcass -of oxen, calves, sheep, lambs, and pigs varies, according to Dr. -Edward Smith, from 16 per cent. to 31·3 per cent. in moderately fatted -animals; while in whole-milk cheeses it varies from 21·68 per cent. to -32·31 per cent., coming down in skim-milk cheeses as low as 6·3. Dr. -Smith includes Neufchâtel cheese, containing 18·74 per cent., among the -whole-milk cheeses. He does not seem to be aware that the cheese made -up between straws and sold under that name is a _ricotta_, or crude -curd of skim-milk cheese. Its just value is about threepence per pound. -In Italy, where it forms the basis of some delicious dishes (such as -_budino di ricotta_[11]), it is sold for about twopence per pound, or -less. - -There is a discrepancy in the published analyses of casein which -demands explanation here, as it is of great practical importance. They -generally correspond to the above of Mulder within small fractions, as -shown below in those of Scherer and Dumas: - - Scherer Dumas - - Carbon 54·665 53·7 - Hydrogen 7·465 7·2 - Nitrogen 15·724 16·6 - Oxygen, sulphur 22·146 22·5 - ------- ----- - 100·000 100·0 - -In these the 100 parts are made up without any phosphate of lime, -while, according to Lehmann (‘Physiological Chemistry,’ vol. i. p. -379, Cavendish Edition), ‘casein that has not been treated with acids -contains about 6 per cent. of phosphate of lime; more, consequently, -than is contained in any of the protein compounds we have hitherto -considered.’ - -From this it appears that we may have casein with, and casein without, -this necessary constituent of food. In precipitating casein for -laboratory analysis, acids are commonly used, and thus the phosphate -of lime is dissolved out; but I am unable at present to tell my -readers the precise extent to which this actually occurs in practical -cheese-making where rennet is used. What I have at present learned -only indicates generally that this constituent of cheese is very -variable; and I hereby suggest to those chemists who are professionally -concerned in the analysis of food, that they may supply a valuable -contribution to our knowledge of this subject by simply determining -the phosphate of lime contained in the ash of different kinds of -cheese. I would do this myself, but, having during some ten years past -nearly forsaken the laboratory for the writing-table, I have not the -leisure for such work; and, worse still, have not that prime essential -to practical research (especially of endowed research), a staff of -obedient assistants to do the drudgery. - -The comparison specially demanded is between cheeses made with rennet, -and those Dutch and factory cheeses the curd of which has been -precipitated by hydrochloric acid. Theoretical considerations point to -the conclusion that in the latter much or even all of the phosphate of -lime may be left in solution in the whey, and thus the food-value of -the cheese seriously lowered. We must, however, suspend judgment in the -meantime. - -In comparing the nutritive value of cheese with that of flesh, the -retention of this phosphate of lime corresponds with the retention of -some of the juices of the meat, among which are the phosphates of the -flesh. - -These phosphates of lime are the bone-making material of food, and have -something to do in building up the brain and nervous matter, though not -to the extent that is supposed by those who imagine that there is a -special connection between phosphorus and the brain, or phosphorescence -and spirituality. Bone contains about eleven per cent. of phosphorus, -brain less than one per cent. - -The value of food in reference to its phosphate of lime is not merely -a matter of percentage, as this salt may exist in a state of solution, -as in milk, or as a solid very difficult of assimilation, as in bones. -That retained in cheese is probably in an intermediate condition—not -actually in solution, but so finely divided as to be readily dissolved -by the acid of the gastric juice. - -I may mention, in reference to this, that when a child or other -young animal takes its natural food in the form of milk, the milk is -converted into unpressed cheese, or curd, prior to its digestion. - -Supposing that, on an average, cheese contains only one-half of the -6 per cent. of phosphate of lime found, as above, in the casein, and -taking into consideration the water contained in flesh, the bone, &c., -we may conclude generally that one pound of average cheese contains as -much nutriment as three pounds of the average material of the carcass -of an ox or sheep as prepared for sale by the butcher; or otherwise -stated, a cheese of 20 lbs. weight contains as much food as a sheep -weighing 60 lbs. as it hangs in the butcher’s shop. - -Now comes the practical question. Can we assimilate or convert into our -own substance the cheese-food as easily as we may the flesh-food? - -I reply that we certainly cannot, if the cheese is eaten raw; but have -no doubt that we may, if it be suitably cooked. Hence the paramount -importance of this part of my subject. A Swiss or Scandinavian -mountaineer can and does digest and assimilate raw cheese as a staple -article of food, and proves its nutritive value by the result; but -feebler bipeds of the plains and towns cannot do the like. - -I may here mention that I have recently made some experiments on -the dissolving of cheese by adding sufficient alkali (carbonate of -potash) to neutralise the acid it contains, in order to convert the -casein into its original soluble form as it existed in the milk, and -have partially succeeded both with water and milk as solvents; but -before reporting these results in detail I will describe some of the -practically-established methods of cooking cheese that are so curiously -unknown or little known in this country. - -In the fatherland of my grandfather, Louis Gabriel Mattieu, one of the -commonest dishes of the peasant who tills his own freehold and grows -his own food is a _fondu_. This is a mixture of cheese and eggs, the -cheese grated and beaten into the egg as in making omelettes, with a -small addition of new milk or butter. It is placed in a little pan like -a flower-pot saucer, cooked gently, served as it comes off the fire, -and eaten from the vessel in which it is cooked. I have made many a -hearty dinner on one of these, _plus_ a lump of black bread and a small -bottle of genuine but thin wine; the cost of the whole banquet at a -little _auberge_ being usually less than sixpence. The cheese is in a -pasty condition, and partly dissolved in the milk or butter. I have -tested the sustaining power of such a meal by doing some very stiff -mountain climbing and long fasting after it. It is rather too good—over -nutritious—for a man only doing sedentary work. - -A diluted and delicate modification of this may be made by taking -slices of bread, or bread and butter, soaking them in a batter made -of eggs and milk—without flour—then placing the slices of soaked -bread in a pie-dish, covering each with a thick coating of grated -cheese, and thus building up a stratified deposit to fill the dish. -The surplus batter may be poured over the top; or if time is allowed -for saturation, the trouble of preliminary soaking may be saved by -simply pouring all the batter thus. This, when gently baked, supplies -a delicious and highly nutritious dish. We call it ‘cheese pudding’ -at home, but my own experience convinces me that we make a mistake in -using it to supplement the joint. It is far too nutritious for this; -its savoury character tempts one to eat it so freely that it would be -far wiser to use it as the Swiss peasant uses his _fondu_—_i.e._ as the -substantial dish of a wholesome dinner. - -I have tested its digestibility by eating it heartily for supper. No -nightmare has followed. If I sup on a corresponding quantity of raw -cheese my sleep is miserably eventful. - -A correspondent writes as follows from the Charlotte Square Young -Ladies’ Institution: ‘I have been trying the various ways of cooking -cheese mentioned in your articles in “Knowledge,” and have one or two -improvements to suggest in the making of cheese pudding. I find the -result is much better when the bread is grated like the cheese, and -thoroughly mixed with it; then the batter poured over both. I think you -will also find it better when baked in a shallow tin, such as is used -for Yorkshire pudding. This gives more of the browned surface, which -is the best of it. Another improvement is to put some of the crumbled -bread (on paper) in the oven till brown, and eat with it (as for game). -I have not succeeded in making any improvement in the _fondu_ (see page -139), which is delightful.’ - -My recollections of the _fondu_ of the Swiss peasant being so -eminently satisfactory on all points—nutritive or sustaining value, -appetising flavour and economy—I have sought for a recipe in several -cookery-books, and find at last a near approach to it in an old edition -of Mrs. Rundell’s ‘Domestic Cookery.’ A similar dish is described in -that useful book ‘Cre-Fydd’s Family Fare,’ under the name of ‘_Cheese -Soufflé_ or _Fondu_.’[12] I had looked for it in more pretentious -works, especially in the most pretentious and the most disappointing -one I have yet been tempted to purchase, viz. the 27th edition of -Francatelli’s ‘Modern Cook,’ a work which I cannot recommend to anybody -who has less than 20,000_l._ a year and a corresponding luxury of liver. - -Amidst all the culinary monstrosities of these ‘high-class’ manuals, I -fail to find anything concerning the cookery of cheese that is worth -the attention of my readers. Francatelli has, under the name of ‘Eggs -à la Suisse,’ a sort of _fondu_, but decidedly inferior to the common -_fondu_ of the humble Swiss osteria, as Francatelli lays the eggs upon -slices of cheese, and prescribes especially that the yolks shall not be -broken; omits the milk, but substitutes (for high-class extravagance’ -sake, I suppose) ‘a gill of double cream,’ to be poured over the top. -Thus the cheese is not intermingled with the egg, lest it should spoil -the appearance of the unbroken yolks, its casein is made leathery -instead of being dissolved, and the substitution of sixpenny worth of -double cream for a halfpenny worth of milk supplies the high-class -victim with fivepence halfpenny worth of biliary derangement. - -In Gouffé’s ‘Royal Cookery Book’ (the Household Edition of which -contains a great deal that is really useful to an English housewife) I -find a better recipe under the name of ‘_Cheese Soufflés_.’ He says: -‘Put two ounces and a quarter of flour in a stewpan, with one pint and -a half of milk; season with salt and pepper; stew over the fire till -boiling, and should there be any lumps, strain the _soufflé_ paste -through a tammy cloth; add seven ounces of grated Parmesan cheese, and -seven yolks of eggs; whip the whites till they are firm, and add them -to the mixture; fill some paper cases with it, and bake in the oven for -fifteen minutes.’ - -Cre-Fydd says: ‘Grate six ounces of rich cheese (Parmesan is the best); -put it into an enamelled saucepan, with a teaspoonful of flour of -mustard, a saltspoonful of white pepper, a grain of cayenne, the sixth -part of a nutmeg, grated, two ounces of butter, two tablespoonfuls of -baked flour, and a gill of new milk; stir it over a slow fire till -it becomes like smooth, thick cream (but it must not boil); add the -well-beaten yolks of six eggs, beat for ten minutes, then add the -whites of the eggs beaten to a stiff froth; put the mixture into a tin -or a cardboard mould, and bake in a quick oven for twenty minutes. -Serve immediately.’ - -Here is a true cookery of cheese by solution, and the result is an -excellent dish. But there is some unnecessary complication and kitchen -pedantry involved. The _soufflé_ part of the business is a mere puffing -up of the mixture for the purpose of displaying the cleverness of the -cook, being quite useless to the consumer, as it subsides before it -can be eaten. It further involves practical mischief, as it cannot be -obtained without toasting the surface of the cheese into an air-tight -leathery skin that is abnormally indigestible. The following is my own -simplified recipe: - -Take a quarter of a pound of grated cheese; add it to a gill of -milk in which is dissolved as much powdered _bicarbonate of potash_ -as will stand upon a threepenny-piece; mustard, pepper, &c., as -prescribed above by Cre-Fydd.[13] Heat this carefully until the cheese -is completely dissolved. Then beat up three eggs, yolks and whites -together, and add them to this solution of cheese, stirring the whole. -Now take a shallow metal or earthenware dish or tray that will bear -heating; put a little butter on this, and heat the butter till it -frizzles. Then pour the mixture into the tray, and bake or fry it until -it is nearly solidified. - -A cheaper dish may be made by increasing the proportion of cheese—say, -six to eight ounces to three eggs, or only one egg to a quarter of a -pound of cheese for a hard-working man with powerful digestion. - -Mr. E. D. Girdlestone writes as follows (I quote with permission): ‘As -regards the “cheese _fondu_,” your recipe for which has enabled me to -turn cheese to practical account as _food_, you may be glad to hear -that it has become a common dish in our microscopic _ménage_. Indeed -cheese, which formerly was poison to me, is now alike pleasant and -digestible. But some of your readers may like to know that the addition -of _bread-crumbs_ is, in my judgment at least, a great improvement, -giving greater lightness to the compost, and removing the harshness -of flavour otherwise incidental to a mixture which comprises so large -a proportion of cheese. We (my wife and I) think this a _great_ -improvement.’ - -I have received two other letters making, quite independently, the same -suggestion concerning the bread-crumbs. I have tried the addition, -and agree with Mr. Girdlestone that it is a great improvement as food -for such as ourselves, who are brain-workers, and for all others -whose occupations are at all sedentary. The undiluted _fondu_ is too -nutritious for us, though suitable for the mountaineer. - -The chief difficulty in preparing this dish conveniently is that of -obtaining suitable vessels for the final frying or baking, as each -portion should be poured into, and fried or baked in, a separate dish, -so that each may, as in Switzerland, have his own _fondu_ complete, -and eat it from the dish as it comes from the fire. As demand creates -supply, our ironmongers, &c., will soon learn to meet this demand if it -arises. I have written to Messrs. Griffiths & Browett, of Birmingham, -large manufacturers of what is technically called ‘hollow ware’—_i.e._ -vessels of all kinds knocked up from a single piece of metal without -any soldering—and they have made suitable _fondu_ dishes according to -my specification, and supply them to the shopkeepers. - -The bicarbonate of potash is an original novelty that will possibly -alarm some of my non-chemical readers. I advocate its use for two -reasons: first, it effects a better solution of the casein by -neutralising the free lactic acid that inevitably exists in milk -supplied to towns, and any free acid that may remain in the cheese. -At a farmhouse, where the milk is just drawn from the cow, it is -unnecessary for this purpose, as such new milk is itself slightly -alkaline. - -My second reason is physiological, and of greater weight. Salts of -potash are necessary constituents of human food. They exist in all -kinds of wholesome vegetables and fruits, and in the juices of _fresh_ -meat, but _they are wanting in cheese_, having, on account of their -great solubility, been left behind in the whey. - -This absence of potash appears to me to be the one serious objection to -the free use of cheese diet. The Swiss peasant escapes the mischief by -his abundant salads, which eaten raw contain all their potash salts, -instead of leaving the greater part in the saucepan, as do cabbages, -&c., when cooked in boiling water. In Norway, where salads are scarce, -the bonder and his housemen have at times suffered greatly from scurvy, -especially in the far north, and would be severely victimised but for -special remedies that they use (the mottebeer, cranberry, &c., grown -and preserved especially for the purpose). The Laplanders make a broth -of scurvy-grass and similar herbs; I have watched them gathering these, -and observed that the wild celery was a leading ingredient. - -Scurvy on board ship results from eating salt meat, the potash of which -has escaped by exosmosis into the brine or pickle. The sailor now -escapes it by drinking citrate of potash in the form of lime-juice, and -by alternating salt junk with rations of tinned meats. - -I once lived for six days on bread and cheese only, tasting no other -food. I had, in company with C. M. Clayton (son of the Senator of -Delaware, who negotiated the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty), taken a passage -from Malta to Athens in a little schooner, and expecting a three days’ -journey we took no other rations than a lump of Cheshire cheese and a -supply of bread. Bad weather doubled the expected length of our journey. - -We were both young, and proud of our hardihood in bearing privations, -were staunch disciples of Diogenes; but on the last day we succumbed, -and bartered the remainder of our bread and cheese for some of the -boiled horse-beans and cabbage-broth of the forecastle. The cheese, -highly relished at first, had become positively nauseous, and our -craving for the forecastle vegetable broth was absurd, considering the -full view we had of its constituents and of the dirtiness of its cooks. - -I attribute this to the lack of potash salts in the cheese and bread. -It was similar to the craving for common salt by cattle that lack -necessary chlorides in their food. I am satisfied that cheese can never -take the place in an economic dietary, otherwise justified by its -nutritious composition, unless this deficiency of potash is somehow -supplied. My device of using it with milk as a solvent supplies it in a -simple and natural manner. - -The milk is not necessary, though preferable. I find that a solution -of cheese may be made in water by simply grating or thinly slicing -the cheese, and adding it to about its own bulk of water in which the -bicarbonate of potash is dissolved. - -The proportion of bicarbonate, which I theoretically estimate as -demanded for supplying the deficiency of potash, is at the rate of -about a quarter of an ounce to the pound of cheese; and I find that -it will bear this quantity without the flavour of the potash being -detected. The proportion of potash in cows’ milk is more than double -the quantity thus supplied, but I assume that the cheese loses about -half of its original supply, and base this assumption on the fact that -ordinary cheese contains an average of about 4 per cent. of saline -matter, while the proportion of saline matter to the casein and fat of -the milk amounts to 5 per cent. This is a rough practical estimate, -kept rather below the actual quantity demanded; therefore more than the -quarter ounce may be used with impunity. I have doubled it in some of -my experiments, and thus have just detected the bitter flavour of the -salt. - -As regards the solubility of the cheese, I should add that there are -great differences in different samples. Generally speaking, the newer -and milder the cheese the more soluble. Some that I have tried leave a -stubbornly insoluble residuum, which is detestably tough. I found the -same cheese to be unusually indigestible when eaten with bread in the -ordinary raw state, and have reason to believe that it is what I have -called ‘bosch cheese,’ to be described presently. - -The successful solution, in either alkalised milk or alkalised water, -cools into a custard-like mass, the thickness or viscosity varying, of -course, with the quantity of solvent. It may be kept for use a short -time (from two or three days to two or three weeks, according to the -weather), after which it becomes putrescent. - -As now well known to all concerned, a great deal of ‘butterine,’ or -‘oleomargarine,’ or ‘margarine,’ or ‘bosch,’ is made by extracting from -the waste fat of oxen and sheep some of its harder constituents, the -palmitic and stearic acids, then working up the softer remainder with -a little milk, or even without the milk, into a resemblance to butter. -When properly prepared and honestly sold for what it is, no fair -grounds for objection exist; but it is too commonly sold for what it is -not—_i.e._ as butter. For cookery purposes a fair sample of ‘bosch’ is -quite as good as ‘inferior dosset.’ I have tasted some that is scarcely -distinguishable from best Devonshire fresh. - -More recently this enterprise has been further developed. Genuine -butter is made from cream skimmed from the milk. The skimmed milk is -then curdled, and to the whey thus precipitated a sufficient quantity -of bosch is added to replace the butter that has been sent to market. -A still more objectionable compound is made by using hogs’ lard as -a substitute for the natural cream. These extraneous fats render -the cheese more indigestible. The curd precipitated from skim-milk -is harder and tougher than that thrown down from whole milk, and -these added fats merely envelop the broken fragments of this. Hence -my suspicion that the cheese leaving the above-described insoluble -residuum was a sample of ‘bosch’ cheese. - - * * * * * - -Since the above was written I have met with the following in the -_Times_, bringing the subject up to latest date, and I take the liberty -of reprinting the larger part of this interesting and clearly-written -communication: - - ‘IMITATED DAIRY PRODUCTS. - - ‘The profitable utilisation of refuse products has - always been one of the most difficult problems which - have confronted manufacturers. Until recently the - disposal of skim-milk was one of the difficulties of - the managers of butter factories, or “creameries” as - they are termed in the United States. Similarly, the - sale of the internal fat of animals slaughtered for - food, with the exception of lard, was practically - restricted to the manufacturers of soap and candles. - It was reserved to a Frenchman, M. Mège-Mauries, to - discover the first step towards a more profitable use - of these substances. He showed that by a judicious - combination of milk and the clarified fat of animals - a substance could be produced which closely resembled - butter. So close, indeed, is the resemblance of - imitation butter to the real article that the skill - of the chemist must be invoked to render detection - positive, if the artificial butter is good of its kind. - So recondite, indeed, is the test of the chemist that - it depends upon the percentage of volatile oils in - butter-fat and in caul-fat respectively. - - ‘Artificial butter is the result of several processes. - The internal fat of cattle is first chopped into small - pieces, and then passed through a huge and somewhat - modified sausage-machine. The finely-divided suet is - afterwards placed in suitable vessels, and heated - up to 122° Fahr., but a higher temperature must be - avoided, otherwise a portion of the stearine, or true - tallow of the suet, becomes inextricably mixed with - the oleomargarine. It need scarcely be added that the - tallow taste would be fatal to the manufacture of a - first-class article. The melted fat is transferred to - casks and left to cool; afterwards it is put in small - quantities into coarse bags, several of which are made - into a pile with iron plates between them, and placed - in a hydraulic press. The result is the expression of - the pure oleomargarine as a clear yellow oil, the solid - stearine remaining in the bags. - - ‘The next step is the manufacture of this oleomargarine - into the substance which has been designated - “butterine,” and which is quoted on the London market - as “bosch.” The “oleo” is remelted at the lowest - possible temperature, mixed with a certain proportion - of milk and of butter, and then churned. The result is - the production of a material closely resembling butter, - in fact practically identical so far as appearance is - concerned. It is washed, worked, and otherwise treated - like real butter, and packed to simulate the kinds of - butter which are most in demand on the market to which - it is sent. In London all kinds of butter are sold, and - we believe that they are all more or less imitated. - - ‘Unfortunately for the consumer of butterine, not - all that is sold, even as butter, is made with so - much regard to care and cleanliness, or with such - comparatively unobjectionable materials. The demand for - oleomargarine, which constitutes about 60 per cent. - of the mass that is churned, has naturally raised its - price, and various substitutes have been tried with - more or less success. Lard has been extensively used, - and is said to answer fairly well. Oils of various - kinds have also had their trial, but used alone their - melting point is too low. Earth-nut oil is used in - small quantities by some makers in order to impart - an agreeable flavour, especially in cases where the - artificial butter has been “weighted” by the addition - of water to the milk, or meal to an inferior oil. - - ‘The adaptation of M. Mège’s process to the imitation - of other dairy products is a natural sequence to the - success, in a commercial sense, which has attended - the manufacture of artificial butter. The skim-milk - difficulty in the American butter factories has set - their managers to work at the problem of its conversion - into something saleable for some time past. This - difficulty has been increased of late years by the - invention of the cream separator, which deprives the - milk of practically all its cream; but on the large - dairy farms of Denmark, where from 100 to 300 cows are - kept and these separators are used, the skim-milk is - made into skim-cheese, and the working classes in that - country do not object to eat a nutritious article of - diet which they can buy at about fourpence per pound. - But neither the American nor the English labourer, as a - general rule, likes a cheese that is at the same time - exceedingly poor in fat and excessively hard to bite. - - ‘Obviously the first step was to add fat to the - skim-milk so as to replace the cream which had been - taken off. This, however, was no easy matter, for - neither oleomargarine nor lard would mix with the - skim-milk when directly applied. The imitation cheese - attempted to be made in this way was wretchedly bad; - and, when cut, the added fatty matter was found in - streaks, and to a great extent oozed out in its - original condition. “Lard-cheese,” in fact, soon - became a by-word and a reproach, and it is stated that - last year a large quantity of poor, unsophisticated - cheese was sold under that name, and thus increased its - evil reputation. - - ‘But the utilisation of the skim-milk still remained a - necessity to the managers of the “creameries,” if they - were to be commercially successful. The question was, - therefore, considered whether it would not be possible - to make an artificial cream which should replace the - natural cream which had been taken off the milk. This - idea was soon put to a practical test, and with most - remarkable results. - - ‘The process now adopted begins with the manufacture - of artificial cream as follows: A certain quantity of - skim-milk is heated to about 85° Fahr., and one-half - the quantity of either lard, oleomargarine, or olive - oil, as the case may be. These substances are conveyed - through separate pipes into an “emulsion” machine, - which subdivides both materials to a surprising degree, - while it mixes them thoroughly together—the arrangement - insuring that the machine is regularly fed with the due - proportions of the substances which are being used. It - is stated that the artificial cream made with olive oil - in this way is not objected to in the United States for - use in tea and coffee. - - ‘For the manufacture of imitation cheese, about 4½ - per cent. of this imitation cream is added to the - skim-milk. The latter being raised to 85° Fahr., and - the former to 135° Fahr. or upwards, the mixture - attains a temperature of about 90° Fahr. The remainder - of the process is identical with that used in the - manufacture of American Cheddar cheese, except that - a special mechanical agitator is used to insure that - the curd shall be evenly stirred and cooked, so as - to avoid any loss of fat in the whey. Success or - failure in the manufacture of imitation cheese seems - to depend chiefly upon the perfect emulsion of the - skim-milk with the fat in the preliminary process of - making artificial cream. That having been accomplished, - the remaining processes are said to be perfectly easy - and satisfactory. It has been asserted by competent - judges that the best descriptions of oleomargarine - cheese can with difficulty, if at all, be detected from - the ordinary American Cheddar of commerce; but the - imitation product has nevertheless a tendency to become - rapidly mouldy after having been cut. - - ‘The trade in imitation butter is now something - enormous and increases every year; in the Netherlands - alone there are sixty or seventy factories. Imitation - cheese is only just beginning to appear on the London - market, but there can be little doubt that before long - it will compete successfully with all but the best and - most delicate descriptions of the real article, unless - it is branded so as to show its true character. One - firm alone, in New York State, made 200,000 lbs. of - imitation cheese last year, and their factories are in - full work again this year.’ - -My first acquaintance with the rational cookery of cheese was in the -autumn of 1842, when I dined with the monks of St. Bernard. Being the -only guest, I was the first to be supplied with soup, and then came -a dish of grated cheese. Being young and bashful, I was ashamed to -display my ignorance by asking what I was to do with the cheese, but -made a bold dash, nevertheless, and sprinkled some of it into my soup. -I then learned that my guess was quite correct; the prior and the monks -did the same. - -On walking on to Italy I learned that there such use of cheese is -universal. Minestra without Parmesan would in Italy be regarded as we -in England should regard muffins and crumpets without butter. During -the forty years that have elapsed since my first sojourn in Italy, my -sympathies are continually lacerated when I contemplate the melancholy -spectacle of human beings eating thin soup without any grated cheese. - -Not only in soups, but in many other dishes, it is similarly used. -As an example, I may name ‘_Risotto à la Milanese_,’ a delicious, -wholesome, and economical dish—a sort of stew composed of rice and the -giblets of fowls, usually charged about twopence to threepence per -portion at Italian restaurants. This, I suppose, is the reason why I -find no recipe for it in the ‘high-class’ cookery-books. It is always -served with grated Parmesan. The same with the many varieties of paste, -of which macaroni and vermicelli are the best known in this country. - -In all these the cheese is sprinkled over, and then stirred into the -soup, &c., while it is hot. The cheese being finely divided is fused -at once, and thus delicately cooked. This is quite different from the -‘macaroni cheese’ commonly prepared in England by depositing macaroni -in a pie-dish, then covering it with a stratum of grated cheese, -and placing this in an oven or before a fire until the cheese is -desiccated, browned, and converted into a horny, caseous form of carbon -that would induce chronic dyspepsia in the stomach of a wild boar if he -fed upon it for a week. - -In all preparations of Italian pastes, risottos, purées, &c., the -cheese is intimately mixed throughout, and softened and diffused -thereby in the manner above described. - -The Italians themselves imagine that only their own Parmesan cheese -is fit for this purpose, and have infected many Englishmen with the -same idea. Thus it happens that fancy prices are paid in this country -for that particular cheese, which nearly resembles the cheese known in -our midland counties as ‘skim dick’—sold there at about fourpence per -pound, or given by the farmers to their labourers. It is cheese ‘that -has sent its butter to market,’ being made from the skim-milk which -remains in the dairy after the pigs have been fully supplied. - -I have used this kind of cheese as a substitute for Parmesan, and I -find it answers the purpose, though it has not the fine flavour of the -best qualities of Parmesan. The only fault of our ordinary whole-milk -English and American cheeses is that they are too rich, and cannot be -so finely grated on account of their more unctuous structure, due to -the cream they contain. - -I note that in the recipes of high-class cookery-books, where Parmesan -is prescribed, cream is commonly added. Sensible English cooks, who use -Cheshire, Cheddar, or good American cheese, are practically including -the Parmesan and the cream in natural combination. By allowing these -cheeses to dry, or by setting aside the outer part of the cheese for -the purpose, the difficulty of grating is overcome. - -I have now to communicate another result of my cheese-cooking -researches, viz. a new dish—_cheese-porridge_—or, I may say, a new -class of dishes—cheese-porridges. They are not intended for epicures, -who only live to eat, but for men and women who eat in order to live -and work. These combinations of cheese are more especially fitted -for those whose work is muscular, and who work in the open air. -Sedentary brain-workers should use them carefully, lest they suffer -from over-nutrition, which is but a few degrees worse than partial -starvation. - -My typical cheese-porridge is ordinary oatmeal-porridge made in the -usual manner, but to which grated cheese, or some of the cheese -solution above described, is added, either while in the cookery-pot -or after it is taken out, and yet as hot as possible. It should be -sprinkled gradually and well stirred in. - -Another kind of cheese-porridge or cheese-pudding is made by adding -cheese to _baked_ potatoes—the potatoes to be taken out of their skins -and well mashed while the grated cheese is sprinkled and intermingled. -A little milk may or may not be added, according to taste and -convenience. This is better suited for those whose occupations are -sedentary, potatoes being less nutritious and more easily digested than -oatmeal. They are chiefly composed of starch, which is a heat-giver -or fattener, while the cheese is highly nitrogenous, and supplies the -elements in which the potato is deficient, the two together forming a -fair approach to the theoretically demanded balance of constituents. - -I say _baked_ potatoes rather than boiled, and perhaps should explain -my reasons, though in doing so I anticipate what I shall explain more -fully when on the subject of vegetable food. - -Raw potatoes contain potash salts which are easily soluble in water. -I find that when the potato is boiled some of the potash comes out -into the water, and thus the vegetable is robbed of a very valuable -constituent. The baked potato contains all its original saline -constituents which, as I have already stated, are specially demanded as -an addition to cheese-food. - -Hasty pudding made, as usual, of wheat flour, may be converted from an -insipid to a savoury and highly nutritious porridge by the addition of -cheese in like manner. - -The same with boiled rice, whether whole or ground, also sago, tapioca, -and other forms of edible starch. Supposing whole rice is used—and I -think this is the best—the cheese may be sprinkled among the grains of -rice and well stirred or mashed up with them. The addition of a little -brown gravy to this, with or without chicken giblets, gives us an -Italian _risotto_. The Indian-corn stirabout of the poor Irish cottier -would be much improved both in flavour and nutritive value by the -addition of a little grated cheese. - -Pease pudding is not improved by cheese. The chemistry of this will -come out when I explain the composition of peas, beans, &c. The same -applies to pea soup. - -I might enumerate other methods of cooking cheese by thus adding it in -a finely-divided state to other kinds of food, but if I were to express -my own convictions on the subject I should stir up prejudice by naming -some mixtures which many people would denounce. As an example I may -refer to a dish which I invented more than twenty years ago—viz. fish -and cheese pudding, made by taking the remains from a dish of boiled -codfish, haddock, or other _white_ fish, mashing it with bread-crumbs, -grated cheese, and ketchup, then warming in an oven and serving after -the usual manner of scalloped fish. Any remains of oyster sauce may be -advantageously included. - -I find this delicious, but others may not. I frequently add grated -cheese to boiled fish as ordinarily served, and have lately made a fish -sauce by dissolving grated cheese in milk with the aid of a little -bicarbonate of potash, and adding this to ordinary melted butter. -I suggest these cheese mixtures to others with some misgivings as -regards palatability, after learning the revelations of Darwin on the -persistence of heredity. It is quite possible that, being a compound of -the Swiss Mattieu with the Welsh Williams (cheese on both sides), I may -inherit an abnormal fondness for this staple food of the mountaineers. - -Be this as it may, so far as the mere palate is concerned; but in the -chemistry of all my advocacy of cheese and its cookery I have full -confidence. Rendered digestible by simple and suitable cookery, and -added with a little potash salt to farinaceous food of all kinds, it -affords exactly what is required to supply a theoretically complete and -a most economical dietary, without the aid of any other kind of animal -food. The potash salts may be advantageously supplied by a liberal -second course of fruit or salad. - -One more of my heretical applications of grated cheese must be -specified. It is that of sprinkling it freely over ordinary stewed -tripe, which thus becomes _extraordinary_ stewed tripe. Or a solution -of cheese may be mixed with liquor of the stew. It may not be generally -known that stewed tripe is the most easily digestible of all solid -animal food. This was shown by the experiments of Dr. Beaumont on his -patient, Alexis St. Martin, who was so obliging (from a scientific -point of view) as to discharge a gun in such a manner that it shot away -the front of his own stomach and left there, after the healing of the -wound, a valved window through which, with the aid of a simple optical -contrivance, the work of digestion could be watched. Dr. Beaumont found -that while beef and mutton required three hours for digestion, tripe -was digested in one hour.[14] - -I add by way of postscript a recipe for a dish lately invented by my -wife. It is vegetable marrow _au gratin_, prepared by simply boiling -the vegetable as usual, slicing it, placing the slices in a dish, -covering them with grated cheese, and then browning slightly in an oven -or before the fire, as in preparing the well-known ‘cauliflower _au -gratin_.’ I have modified this (with improvement, I believe) by mashing -the boiled marrow and stirring the grated cheese into the midst of it -whilst as hot as possible; or, better still, by adding a little of the -solution of cheese above described to the purée of mashed marrow and -stirring it well in while hot. To please the ladies, and make it look -pretty on the table, a little more grated cheese may be sprinkled on -the top of this and browned in the oven or with a salamander. People -with weak digestive powers should set aside the pretty. - -Turnips may be similarly treated as ‘mashed turnips _au gratin_.’ -I recommend this especially to my vegetarian friends, who have no -objection to cheese, but do not properly appreciate it. - -Taking as I do great interest in their efforts, regarding them as -pioneers of a great and certainly approaching reform, I have frequently -dined at their restaurants (always do so when within reach, as I am -only a flesh-eater for convenience’ sake), and by the experience thus -afforded of their cookery, am convinced that they are losing many -converts by the lack of cheese in many of their most important dishes. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[11] I am greatly disgusted with the cookery-books, especially the -pretentious volume of Francatelli’s, on being unable to find any recipe -for this delicious Italian dish, and a similar absence of a dozen or -two of equally common and excellent preparations familiar to all who -have dined at the Lepre (Rome), or other good Italian restaurants. - -[12] Forty or fifty years ago these cheese _fondus_ were one of the -usual courses at many-course banquets, but now they are rarely found in -the _menu_ of such dinners. There is good reason for this. They are far -too nutritious to be eaten with a dozen other things. Their proper use -is to substitute the joint in an ordinary respectable meal of meat and -pudding. - -[13] Before the Adulteration Act was passed, mustard flour was usually -mixed with well-dried wheaten flour, whereby the redundant oil was -absorbed, and the mixture was a dry powder. Now it is different, being -pure powdered mustard seed, and usually rather damp. It not only lies -closer, but is much stronger. Therefore, in following any recipe of old -cookery-books, only about half the stated quantity should be used. - -[14] The reader who desires further information on this and kindred -subjects will find it clearly and soundly treated (without any of the -noxious pedantry that too commonly prevails in such treatises) in Dr. -Andrew Combe’s _Physiology of Digestion_, which, although written -by a dying man nearly half a century ago, still remains, like his -_Principles of Physiology_, the best popular work on the subject. -Subsequent editions have been edited and brought up to date by his -nephew, Sir James Coxe. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -FAT—MILK. - - -WE all know that there is a considerable difference between raw fat -and cooked fat; but what is the _rationale_ of this difference? Is it -anything beyond the obvious fusion or semi-fusion of the solid? - -These are very natural and simple questions, but in no work on -chemistry or technology can I find any answer to them, or even any -attempt at an answer. I will therefore do the best I can towards -solving the problem in my own way. - -All the cookable and eatable fats fall into the class of ‘fixed oils,’ -so named by chemists to distinguish them from the ‘volatile oils,’ -otherwise described as ‘essential oils.’ The distinction between these -two classes is simple enough. The volatile oils (mostly of vegetable -origin) may be distilled or simply evaporated away like water or -alcohol, and leave no residue. The fixed oils similarly treated are -dissociated more or less completely. This has been already explained in -Chapter VII. - -Otherwise expressed, the boiling point of the volatile oils is -below their dissociation point. The fixed oils are those which are -dissociated at a temperature below their boiling point. - -My object in thus expressing this difference will be understood upon -a little reflection. The volatile oils, when heated, being distilled -without change are uncookable; while the fixed oils if similarly -heated suffer various degrees of change as their temperature is raised, -and may be completely decomposed by steady application of heat in a -closed vessel without the aid of any other chemical agent than the heat -itself. This ‘destructive distillation’ converts them into solid carbon -and hydro-carbon gases, somewhat similar to those we obtain by the -destructive distillation of coal. - -If we watch the changes occurring as the heat advances to this complete -dissociation point we may observe a minor or partial dissociation -proceeding gradually onward, resembling that which I have already -described as occurring when sugar is similarly treated (Chapter VII. -page 87). - -But in ordinary cooking we do not go so far as to carbonise the fat -itself, though we do brown or partially carbonise the membrane which -envelopes the fat. What then is the nature of this minor dissociation, -if such occurs? - -Before giving my answer to this question I must explain the chemical -constitution of fat. It is a compound of a very weak base with very -weak acids. The basic substance is glycerine, the acids (not sour at -all, but so named because they combine with bases as the actually sour -acids do) are stearic acid, palmitic acid, oleic acid, &c., and bear -the general name of ‘fatty acids.’ They are solid or liquid, according -to temperature. When solid they are pearly crystalline substances, when -fused they are oily liquids. - -To simplify, I will take one of these as a type, and that the one which -is the chief constituent of animal fats, viz. stearic acid. I have a -lump of it before me. Newly broken through, it might at a distance -be mistaken for a piece of Carrara marble. It is granular, like the -marble, but not so hard, and, when rubbed with the hand, differs from -the marble in betraying its origin by a small degree of unctuousness, -but it can scarcely be described as greasy. - -I find by experiment that this may be mixed with glycerine without -combination taking place, that when heated with glycerine just to its -fusing point, and the two are agitated together, the combination is by -no means complete. Instead of obtaining a soft, smooth fat, I obtain -a granular fat small stearic crystals with glycerine amongst them. It -is a _mixture_ of stearic acid and glycerine, not a chemical compound; -it is stearic acid and glycerine, but not a stearate of glycerine or -glycerine stearate. - -A similar separation is what I suppose to occur in the cooking of -animal fat. I find that mutton-fat, beef-fat, or other fat when raw -is perfectly smooth, as tested by rubbing a small quantity, free from -membrane, between the finger and thumb, or by the still more delicate -test of rubbing it between the tip of the tongue and the palate. -But dripping, whether of beef, or mutton, or poultry, is granular, -as anybody who has ever eaten bread and dripping knows well enough, -and the manufacturers of ‘butterine,’ or ‘bosch,’ know too well, -the destruction or prevention of this granulation being one of the -difficulties of their art. - -My theory of the cookery of fat is simply that heat, when continued -long enough, or raised sufficiently high, effects an incipient -dissociation of the fatty acids from the glycerine, and thus assists -the digestive organs by presenting the base and the acids in a -condition better fitted (or advanced by one stage) for the new -combinations demanded by assimilation. Some physiologists have lately -asserted that the fat of our food is not assimilated at all—not laid -down again as fat, but is used directly as fuel for the maintenance of -animal heat. - -If this is correct, the advantage of the preliminary dissociation is -more decided, for the combustible portion of the fat is its fatty -acids; the glycerine is an impediment to combustion, so much so that -the modern candle-maker removes it, and thereby greatly improves the -combustibility of his candles. - -It may be that the glycerine of the fat we eat is assimilated like -sugar, while the fatty acids act directly as fuel. This view may -reconcile some of the conflicting facts (such as the existence of fat -in the carnivora) that stand in the way of the theory of the uses of -fat food above referred to, according to which fat is not fattening, -and those who would ‘Bant’ should eat fat freely to maintain animal -heat, while very abstemious in the consumption of sugar and farinaceous -food. - -The difference between tallow and dripping is instructive. Their -origin is the same; both are melted fats—beef or mutton fats—and both -contain the same fatty acids and glycerine, but there is a visible and -tangible difference in their molecular condition. Tallow is smooth and -homogeneous, dripping decidedly granular. - -I attribute this difference to the fact that in rendering tallow, the -heat is maintained no longer than is necessary to effect the fusion; -while, in the ordinary production of dripping, the fat is exposed in -the dripping-pan to a long continuance of heat, besides being highly -heated when used in basting. Therefore the dissociation is carried -farther in the case of the dripping, and the result becomes sensible. - -I have observed that home-rendered lard, that obtained in English -farmhouses, where the ‘scratchings’ (_i.e._ the membranous parts) -are frizzled, is more granular than the lard we now obtain in such -abundance from Chicago and other wholesale hog regions. I have not -witnessed the lard rendering at Chicago, but have little doubt that -economy of fuel is practised in conducting it, and therefore less -dissociation would be effected than in the domestic retail process. - -Some of the early manufacturers of ‘bosch’ purified their fat by -the process recommended and practised by the French Academicians -MM. Dubrunfaut and Fua (see page 102). I wrote about it in 1871, -and consequently received some samples of artificial butter thus -made in the Midlands. It was pure fat, perfectly wholesome, but, -although coloured to imitate butter, had the granular character -of dripping. Since that time great progress has been made in this -branch of industry. I have lately tasted samples of pure ‘bosch’ or -‘oleomargarine’ undistinguishable from churned cream or good butter, -though offered for sale at 8½_d._ per lb. in wholesale packages. In -the preparation of this the high temperatures of the process of the -Academicians are carefully avoided, and the smoothness of pure butter -is obtained. I mention this now merely in confirmation of my theory of -the _rationale_ of fat cookery, but shall return to this subject of -‘bosch’ or butterine again, as it has considerable intrinsic interest -in reference to our food supplies, and should be better understood than -it is. - -If this theory of fat cookery and the preceding theoretical -explanations of the cookery of gelatin and fibrin are correct, a -broad practical deduction follows, viz. that in the cookery of fat -the full temperature of 212° or even a much higher temperature does -no mischief, or may be desirable, while all the other constituents of -meat are better cooked at a temperature not exceeding 212°; the albumen -especially at a considerably lower temperature. - -There is neither coagulation nor dehydration to be feared as regards -the fat, unless the heat is raised to that of the dissociation of the -fixed oils, which, as already explained, is much above 212°; the change -which then takes place in the fat (analogous to that caramelising -sugar) is not dehydration properly so called, although the _elements_ -of water or hydrogen may be driven off. - -Hydration is a combining of water _as water_, not with the elements of -water as elements, and the water of most hydrates becomes dissociated -at a temperature a little above the boiling point of water. - -My own experiments on gelatin show that hydration occurs when crude -gelatin is exposed to the action of water at or below the boiling -point, and that dehydration takes place at and above the boiling point, -or otherwise stated, the boiling point is the critical temperature -where either hydration or dehydration may occur according to the -circumstances. - -The original membrane _immersed in water_ at 212° becomes hydrated, -while hydrated gelatin heated to 212° and exposed to the air is -dehydrated. Fat is only dissociated as regards its glycerine, and is -cooked thereby. - -The dietetic value of milk is obvious enough from the fact that the -young of the human species and all the mammalia, whether carnivorous, -graminivorous, or herbivorous, are entirely fed upon it during the -period of their most rapid growth. This, however, does not justify -the practice of describing milk as a model diet and tabulating its -composition as that which should represent the composition of food -for adults. The fallacy of this is evident from the fact that grass -is the model food of the cow, and milk that of the calf. Although the -grass contains all the constituents of the milk, their proportions are -widely different; besides this the grass contains a very great deal of -material that does not exist in milk—silica for example. - -The constituents of milk are first water, constituting from 65 to -90 per cent. Nitrogenous matter, consisting of the casein above -described and a little albumen. Fat, sugar, and saline substances. The -proportions of these vary so greatly in the milk from different animals -of the same species, and in that from the same animal at different -times that tabular statements of the percentage composition of the milk -of different animals are very variable. I have five such tables before -me, assembled for the purpose of supplying material for my readers, but -they are so contradictory, though all by good chemists, that I am at a -loss in making a choice. The following is Dr. Miller’s statement of the -mean result of several analyses: - - +------------------------+-------+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - | | Woman | Cow | Goat | Ass | Sheep | Bitch | - +------------------------+-------+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - | Water | 88·6 | 87·4 | 82·0 | 90·5 | 85·6 | 66·3 | - | Fat | 2·6 | 4·0 | 4·5 | 1·4 | 4·5 | 14·8 | - | Sugar and soluble salts| 4·9 | 5·0 | 4·5 | 6·4 | 4·2 | 2·9 | - | Nitrogenous compounds }| | | | | | | - | and insoluble salts }| 3·9 | 3·6 | 9·0 | 1·7 | 5·7 | 16·0 | - +------------------------+-------+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - -The fat exists in the form of minute globules of oil suspended in the -water. The rising of these to the surface forms the cream. When the -milk is new it is slightly alkaline, and this assists in the admixture -of the oil with the water, forming an emulsion which may be imitated by -whipping olive or other similar oil in water. If the water is slightly -alkaline the milky-looking emulsion is more easily obtained than in -neutral water, still more so than when there is acid in the water. - -As milk becomes older lactic acid is formed; at first alkalinity is -exchanged for neutrality, and afterwards the milk becomes acid. This -assists in the separation of the cream. - -Butter is merely the oil globules aggregated by agitation or churning. -The condition of the casein has been already described. The sugar of -milk or ‘lactine’ is much less sweet than cane sugar. - -The cookery of milk is very simple, but by no means unimportant. That -there is an appreciable difference between raw and boiled milk may be -proved by taking equal quantities of each (the boiled sample having -been allowed to cool down), adding them to equal quantities of the -same infusion of coffee, then critically tasting the mixtures. The -difference is sufficient to have long since established the practice -among all skilful cooks of scrupulously using boiled milk for making -_café au lait_. I have tried a similar experiment on tea, and find that -in this case the cold milk is preferable. Why this should be—why boiled -milk should be better for coffee and raw milk for tea—I cannot tell. -If any of my readers have not done so already, let them try similar -experiments with condensed milk, and I have no doubt that the verdict -of the majority will be that it is passable with coffee, but very -objectionable in tea. This is milk that has been very much cooked. - -The chief definable alteration effected by the boiling of milk is -the coagulation of the small quantity of albumen which it contains. -This rises as it becomes solidified, carrying with it some of the -fat globules of the milk, and a little of its sugar and saline -constituents, thus forming a skin-like scum on the surface, which may -be lifted with a spoon and eaten, as it is perfectly wholesome, and -very nutritious. - -If all the milk that is poured into London every morning were to flow -down a single channel, it would form a respectable little rivulet. -An interesting example of the self-adjusting operation of demand and -supply is presented by the fact that, without any special legislation -or any dictating official, the quantity required should thus flow with -so little excess that, in spite of its perishable qualities, little or -none is spoiled by souring; and yet at any moment anybody may buy a -pennyworth within two or three hundred yards of any part of the great -metropolis. There is no record of any single day on which the supply -has failed, or even been sensibly deficient. - -This is effected by drawing the supplies from a great number of -independent sources, which are not likely to be simultaneously -disturbed in the same direction. Coupled with this advantage is a -serious danger. It has been demonstrated that certain microbia (minute -living abominations), which are said to disseminate malignant diseases, -may live in milk, feed upon it, increase and multiply therein, and by -it be transmitted to human beings with possibly serious and even fatal -results. - -This general germ theory of disease has been recently questioned by -some men whose conclusions demand respect. Dr. B. W. Richardson stoutly -opposes it, and in the particular instance of the ‘comma-shaped’ -bacillus, so firmly described as the origin of cholera, the refutation -is apparently complete. - -The alternative hypothesis is that the class of diseases in question -are caused by a _chemical_ poison, not necessarily organised as a plant -or animal, and therefore not to be found by the microscope. - -I speak the more feelingly on this subject, having very recently had -painful experience of it. One of my sons went for a holiday to a -farm-house in Shropshire, where many happy and health-giving holidays -have been spent by all the members of my family. At the end of two or -three weeks he was attacked by scarlet fever, and suffered severely. He -afterwards learned that the cowboy had been ill, and further inquiry -proved that his illness was scarlet fever, though not acknowledged to -be such; that he had milked before the scaling of the skin that follows -the eruption could have been completed, and it was therefore most -probable that some of the scales from his hands fell into the milk. -My son drank freely of uncooked milk, the other inmates of the farm -drinking home-brewed beer, and only taking milk in tea or coffee hot -enough to destroy the vitality of fever germs. He alone suffered. This -infection was the more remarkable, inasmuch as a few months previously -he had been assisting a medical man in a crowded part of London where -scarlet fever was prevalent, and had come into frequent contact with -patients in different stages of the disease without suffering infection. - -Had the milk from this farm been sent to London in the usual manner -in cans, and the contents of these particular cans mixed with those -of the rest received by the vendor, the whole of his stock might have -been infected. As some thousands of farms contribute to the supplying -of London with milk, the risk of such contact with infected hands -occurring occasionally in one or another of them is very great, and -fully justifies me in urgently recommending the manager of every -household to strictly enforce the boiling of every drop of milk that -enters the house. At the temperature of 212° the vitality of all -_dangerous_ germs is destroyed, and the boiling point of milk is a -little above 212°. The temperature of tea or coffee, as ordinarily -used, may do it, but is not to be relied upon. I need only refer -generally to the cases of wholesale infection that have recently been -traced to the milk of particular dairies, as the particulars are -familiar to all who read the newspapers. - -The necessity for boiling remains the same, whether we accept the -germ theory or that of chemical poison, as such poison must be of -organic origin, and, like other similar organic compounds, subject to -dissociation or other alteration when heated to the boiling point of -water. - -It is an open question whether butter may or may not act as a -dangerous carrier of such germs; whether they rise with the cream, -survive the churning, and flourish among the fat. The subject is of -vital importance, and yet, in spite of the research fund of the Royal -Society, the British Association, &c., we have no data upon which to -base even an approximately sound conclusion. - -We may theorise, of course; we may suppose that the bacteria, bacilli, -&c., which we see under the microscope to be continually wriggling -about or driving along are doing so in order to obtain fresh food from -the surrounding liquid, and therefore that if imprisoned in butter -they would languish and die. We may point to the analogies of ferment -germs which demand nitrogenous matter, and therefore suppose that the -pestiferous wanderers cannot live upon a mere hydro-carbon like butter. -On the other hand, we know that the germs of such things can remain -dormant under conditions that are fatal to their parents, and develop -forthwith when released and brought into new surroundings. These -speculations are interesting enough, but in such a matter of life and -death to ourselves and our children we require positive facts—direct -microscopic or chemical evidence. - -In the meantime the doubt is highly favourable to ‘bosch.’ To -illustrate this, let us suppose the case of a cow grazing on a -sewage-farm, manured from a district on which enteric fever has -existed. The cow lies down, and its teats are soiled with liquid -containing the chemical poison or the germs which are so fearfully -malignant when taken internally. In the course of milking a thousandth -part of a grain of the infected matter containing a few hundred germs -enters the milk, and these germs increase and multiply. The cream that -rises carries some of them with it, and they are thus in the butter, -either dead or alive—we know not which, but have to accept the risk. - -Now, take the case of ‘bosch.’ The cow is slaughtered. The waste -fat—that before the days of palm oil and vaseline was sold for -lubricating machinery—is skilfully prepared, made up into 2 lb. rolls, -delicately wrapped in special muslin, or prettily moulded and fitted -into ‘Normandy’ baskets. What is the risk in eating this? - -None at all provided always the ‘bosch’ is not adulterated with -cream-butter. The special disease germs do not survive the chemistry of -digestion, do not pass through the glandular tissues of the follicles -that secrete the living fat, and therefore, even though the cow should -have fed on sewage grass, moistened with infected sewage water, its fat -would not be poisoned. - -What we require in connection with this is commercial honesty: that -the thousands of tons of ‘bosch’ now annually made shall be sold as -‘bosch,’ or, if preferred, as ‘oleomargarine,’ or ‘butterine,’ or -any other name that shall tell the truth. In order to render such -commercial honesty possible to shopkeepers, more intelligence is -demanded among their customers. A dealer, on whom I can rely, told -me lately that if he offered the ‘bosch’ or ‘butterine’ to his other -customers as he was then offering it to me, at 8½_d._ per lb. in -24-lb. box, or 9_d._ retail, he could not possibly sell it, and his -reputation would be injured by admitting that he kept it; but that the -same people who would be disgusted with it at 9_d._ will buy it freely -at double the price as prime Devonshire fresh butter; and, he added, -significantly, ‘I cannot afford to lose my business and be ruined -because my customers are fools.’ To pastrycooks and others in business -it is sold honestly enough for what it is, and used instead of butter. - -In the ‘Journal of the Chemical Society’ for January 1844, page 92, is -an account of experiments made by A. Mayer in order to determine the -comparative nutritive value of ‘bosch’ and cream-butter. They were made -on a man and a boy. The result was that on an average a little above 1½ -per cent. less of the ‘bosch’ was absorbed into the system than of the -cream-butter. This is a very trifling difference. - -Before leaving the subject of animal food I may say a few words on -the latest, and perhaps the greatest, triumph of science in reference -to food supply—_i.e._ the successful solution of the great problem of -preserving fresh meat for an almost indefinite length of time. It has -long been known that meat which is frozen remains fresh. The Aberdeen -whalers were in the habit of feasting their friends on returning home -on joints that were taken out fresh from Aberdeen, and kept frozen -during a long Arctic voyage. In Norway game is shot at the end of -autumn, and kept in a frozen state for consumption during the whole -winter and far into the spring. - -The early attempts to apply the freezing process for the carriage of -fresh meat from South America and Australia by using ice, or freezing -mixtures of ice and salt, failed, but now all the difficulties are -overcome by a simple application of the great principle of the -conservation of energy, whereby the burning of coal may be made to -produce a degree of cold proportionate to the amount of heat it gives -out in burning. - -Carcasses of sheep are thereby frozen to stony hardness immediately -they are slaughtered in New Zealand and Australia, then packed in close -refrigerated cars, carried to the ship, and there stowed in chambers -refrigerated by the same means, and thus brought to England in the same -state of stony hardness as that originally produced. I dined to-day -on one of the legs of a sheep that I bought a week ago, and which -was grazing at the Antipodes three months before. I prefer it to any -English mutton ordinarily obtainable. - -The grounds of this preference will be understood when I explain that -English farmers, who manufacture mutton as a primary product, kill -their sheep as soon as they are full grown, when a year old or less. -They cannot afford to feed a sheep for two years longer merely to -improve its flavour without adding to its weight. Country gentlemen, -who do not care for expense, occasionally regale their friends on a -haunch or saddle of three-year-old mutton, as a rare and costly luxury. - -The Antipodean graziers are wool growers. Until lately mutton was -merely used as manure, and even now it is but a secondary product. The -wool crop improves year by year until the sheep is three or four years -old; therefore it is not slaughtered until this age is attained; and -thus the sheep sent to England are similar to those of the country -squire, and such as the English farmer could not send to market under -eighteenpence per pound. - -There is, however, one drawback; but I have tested it thoroughly -(having supplied my own table during the last six months with no other -mutton than that from New Zealand), and find it so trifling as to -be imperceptible unless critically looked for. It is simply that, in -thawing, a small quantity of the juice of the meat oozes out. This is -more than compensated by the superior richness and fulness of flavour -of the meat itself, which is much darker in colour than young mutton. -Legs of frozen mutton should be hung with the thick cut part upwards. -With this precaution the loss of juice is but nominal. If the frozen -sheep is not cut up until completely thawed and required for cooking -there is no loss. - -Another successful method of meat-preserving has been more lately -introduced. It is based upon the remarkable antiseptic properties of -boric acid (or boracic acid as it is sometimes named); this is the -characteristic constituent of borax, and, like the fatty acids above -described, has no sour flavour. - -The speciality of this process, invented by Mr. Jones, a -Gloucestershire surgeon, is the method by which a small quantity of the -antiseptic is made to permeate the whole of the carcass. - -The animal is rendered insensible, either by a stunning blow or by an -anæsthetic, with the heart still beating. A vein—usually the jugular—is -opened, and a small quantity of blood let out. Then a corresponding -quantity of a solution of boric acid, raised to blood heat, is made -to flow into the vein from a vessel raised to a suitable height above -it. The action of the heart carries this through all the capillary -vessels into every part of the body of the animal. The completeness -of this diffusion may be understood by reflecting on the fact that we -cannot puncture any part of the body with the point of a needle without -drawing blood from some of these vessels. - -After the completion of this circulation the animal is bled to death in -the usual manner. From three to four ounces of boric acid is sufficient -for a sheep of average weight, and much of this comes away with the -final bleeding. On April 2, 1884, I made a hearty meal on the roasted, -boiled, and stewed flesh of a sheep that was killed on February 8, -the carcass hanging in the meantime in the basement of the Society of -Arts. It was perfectly fresh, and without any perceptible flavour of -the boric acid: very tender, and full-flavoured as fresh meat. On July -19, 1884, I purchased a haunch of the prepared mutton, and hung it -in an ill-constructed larder during the excessively hot weather that -followed. On August 10, after twenty-two days of this severe ordeal, -it was still in good condition. The 11th and 12th were two of the -hottest days of the present century in England. On the 13th I examined -the haunch very carefully, and detected symptoms of giving way. It had -become softer, and was pervaded throughout with a slight malodour. On -the 14th it became worse, and then I had it roasted. It was decidedly -gamey; the fat, or rather the membranous junction between fat and -lean, and the membranous sheaths of the muscles had succumbed, but the -substance of the muscles, the firm lean parts of the meat, were quite -eatable, and eaten by myself and other members of my family. There was -no taste of boric acid, and the meat was unusually tender. - -The curious element of this process is the very small quantity of the -boric acid which does the work so effectually. - -For some time past most of the milk that is supplied to London has been -similarly treated by adding borax or a preparation chiefly composed of -borax, and named ‘glacialine.’ This suppresses the incipient lactic -fermentation, which, in the course of a few hours, otherwise produces -the souring of milk, and thus prepared the milk remains for a long time -unaltered. - -The small quantity of borax that we thus imbibe with our tea, coffee, -&c., is quite harmless. M. de Cyon, who has studied this subject -experimentally, affirms that it is very beneficial. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE COOKERY OF VEGETABLES. - - -MY readers will remember that I referred to Haller’s statement, -‘Dimidium corporis humani gluten est,’ which applies to animals -generally, viz. that half of their substance is gelatin, or that which -by cookery becomes gelatin. This abundance depends upon the fact that -the walls of the cells and the frame-work of the tissues are composed -of this material. - -In the vegetable structure we encounter a close analogy to this. -Cellular structure is still more clearly defined than in the animal, as -may be easily seen with the help of a very moderate microscopic power. -Pluck one of the fibrils that you see shooting down into the water -of hyacinth glasses, or, failing one of these, any other succulent -rootlet. Crush it between two pieces of glass and examine. At the end -there is a loose spongy mass of rounded cells; these merge into oblong -rectangular cells surrounding a central axis of spiral tube or tubes -or greatly elongated cell structure. Take a thin slice of stem, or -leaf, or flower, or bark, or pith, examine in like manner, and cellular -structure of some kind will display itself, clearly demonstrating -that whatever may be the contents of these round, oval, hexagonal, -oblong, or otherwise regular or irregular cells, we cannot cook and -eat any whole vegetable, or slice of vegetable, without encountering -a large quantity of cell wall. It constitutes far more than half of -the substance of most vegetables, and therefore demands prominent -consideration. - -It exists in many forms with widely differing physical properties, but -with very little variation in chemical composition, so little that -in many chemical treatises cellular tissue, cellulose, lignin, and -woody fibre are treated as chemically synonymous. Thus, Miller says: -‘Cellular tissue forms the groundwork of every plant, and when obtained -in a pure state, its composition is the same, whatever may have been -the nature of the plants which furnished it, though it may vary greatly -in appearance and physical characters; thus, it is loose and spongy in -the succulent shoots of germinating seeds, and in the roots of plants, -such as the turnip and the potato; it is porous and elastic in the pith -of the rush and the elder; it is flexible and tenacious in the fibres -of hemp and flax; it is compact in the branches and wood of growing -trees; and becomes very hard and dense in the shells of the filbert, -the peach, the cocoanut, and the _Phytelephas_ or vegetable ivory.’ - -Its composition in all these cases is that of a _carbo-hydrate_, _i.e._ -carbon united with the elements of water, which, by the way, should -not be confounded with a _hydro-carbon_, or compound of carbon with -hydrogen simply, such as petroleum, fats, essential oils, and resins. - -There is, however, some little chemical difference between wooden -tissue and the pure cellulose that we have in finely carded cotton, in -linen, and pure paper pulp, such as is used in making the filtering -paper for chemical laboratories, which burns without leaving a -weighable quantity of ash. The woody forms of cellular tissue owe -their characteristic properties to an incrustration of _lignin_, which -is often described as synonymous with cellulose, but is not so. It -is composed of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, like cellulose, but the -hydrogen is in excess of the proportion required to form water by -combination with the oxygen. - -My own view of the composition of this incrustation (lignin properly -is called) is that it consists of a carbo-hydrate united with a -hydro-carbon, the latter having a resinous character; but whether the -hydro-carbon is chemically combined with the carbo-hydrate (the resin -with the cellulose), or whether the resin only mechanically envelopes -and indurates the cellulose I will not venture to decide, though I -incline to the latter theory. - -As we shall presently see, this view of the constitution of the -indurated forms of cellular tissue has an important practical bearing -upon my present subject. To indicate this in advance, I will put it -grossly as opening the question of whether a very great refinement of -scientific cookery may or may not enable us to convert nutshells, wood -shavings, and sawdust into wholesome and digestible food. I have no -doubt whatever that it may. - -It could be done at once if the incrusting resinous matter were -removed; for pure cellulose in the form of cotton and linen rags -has been converted into sugar artificially in the laboratory of the -chemist; and in the ripening of fruits such conversion is effected on -a large scale in the laboratory of nature. A Jersey pear, for example, -when full grown in autumn is little better than a lump of acidulated -wood. Left hanging on the leafless tree, or gathered and carefully -stored for two or three months, it becomes by nature’s own unaided -cookery the most delicious and delicate pulp that can be tasted or -imagined. - -Certain animals have a remarkable power of digesting ligneous tissue. -The beaver is an example of this. The whole of its stomach, and more -especially that secondary stomach the _cæcum_, is often found crammed -or plugged with fragments of wood and bark. I have opened the crops of -several Norwegian ptarmigans, and found them filled with no other food -than the needles of pines, upon which they evidently feed during the -winter. The birds, when cooked, were scarcely eatable on account of the -strong resinous flavour of their flesh. - -If my theory of the constitution of such woody tissues is correct, -these animals only require the power of secreting some solvent for -the resin, on the removal of which their food would consist of the -same material as the tissue of the succulent stems and leaves eaten by -ordinary herbivorous animals. The resinous flavour of the flesh of the -ptarmigan indicates such solution of resin. - -I may here, by the way, correct the commonly accepted version of a -popular story. We are told that when Marie Antoinette was informed of a -famine in the neighbourhood of the Tyrol, and of the starving of some -of the peasants there, she replied, ‘I would rather eat pie-crust’ -(some of the story-tellers say ‘pastry’) ‘than starve.’ Thereupon the -courtiers giggled at the ignorance of the pampered princess, who could -suppose that starving peasants had such an alternative food as pastry. -The ignorance, however, was all on the side of the courtiers and those -who repeat the story in its ordinary form. The princess was the only -person in the Court who really understood the habits of the peasants -of the particular district in question. They cook their meat, chiefly -young veal, by rolling it in a kind of dough made of sawdust mixed -with as little coarse flour as will hold it together; then place this -in an oven or in wood embers until the dough is hardened to a tough -crust, and the meat is raised throughout to the cooking point. Marie -Antoinette said that she would rather eat _croûtons_ than starve, -knowing that these _croûtons_, or meat pie-crusts, are given to the -pigs; that the pigs digest them, and are nourished by them in spite of -the wood sawdust. - -When on the subject of cooking animal food, I had to define the cooking -temperature as determined by that at which albumen coagulates, and to -point out the mischief arising from exceeding that temperature and thus -rendering the albumen horny and indigestible. - -No such precautions are demanded in the boiling of vegetables. The -work to be done in cooking a cabbage or a turnip, for example, is to -soften the cellular tissue by the action of hot water; there is nothing -to avoid in the direction of over-heating. Even if the water could be -raised above 212°, the vegetable would be rather improved than injured -thereby. - -The question that now naturally arises is whether modern science can -show us that anything more can be done in the preparation of vegetable -tissue than the mere softening in boiling water. I have already said -that the practice of using the digestive apparatus of sheep, oxen, &c., -for the preparation of our food is merely a transitory barbarism, to be -ultimately superseded by scientific cookery, by preparing vegetables -in such a manner that they shall be as easily digested as the prepared -grass we call beef and mutton. I do not mean by this that the vegetable -we should use shall be grass itself, or that grass should be one of -the vegetables. We must, for our requirement, select vegetables that -contain as much nutriment in a given bulk as our present mixed diet, -but in doing so we encounter the serious difficulty of finding that the -readily soluble cell wall or main bulk of animal food—the gelatin—is -replaced in the vegetable by the cellulose, or woody fibre, which is -not only more difficult of solution, but is not nitrogenous, is only a -compound of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen. - -Next to the enveloping tissue, the most abundant constituent of the -vegetables we use as food is starch. Laundry associations may render -the Latin name ‘_fecula_’, or ‘_farina_’, more agreeable when applied -to food. We feed very largely on starch, and take it in a multitude -of forms. Excluding water, it constitutes above three-fourths of our -‘staff of life,’ a still larger proportion of rice, which is the -staff of Oriental life, and nearly the whole of arrowroot, sago, and -tapioca, which may be described as composed of starch and water. Peas, -beans, and every kind of seed and grain contain it in preponderating -proportions; potatoes the same, and even those vegetables which we eat -raw, all contain within their cells considerable quantities of starch. - -Take a small piece of dough, made in the usual manner by moistening -wheat flour, put it in a piece of muslin and work it with the fingers -under water. The water becomes milky, and the milkiness is seen to be -produced by minute granules that sink to the bottom when the agitation -of the water ceases. These are starch granules. They may be obtained by -similar treatment of other kinds of flour. Viewed under a microscope -they are seen to be ovoid particles with peculiar concentric markings -that I must not tarry to describe. The form and size of these granules -vary according to the plant from which they are derived, but the -chemical composition is in all cases the same, excepting, perhaps, that -the amount of water associated with the actual starch varies, producing -some small differences of density or other physical variations. - -Arrowroot may be taken as an example. To the chemist arrowroot is -starch in as pure a form as can be found in nature, and he applies -this description to all kinds of arrowroot; but, looking at the ‘price -current’ in the ‘Grocer’ of the current week, November 22, 1884, -I find under the first item, which is ‘Arrowroot,’ the following: -‘Bermuda, per lb. 10_d._ to 1_s._ 5_d._;’ ‘St. Vincent and Natal, -1¼_d._ to 7¼_d._;’ and this is a fair example of the usual differences -of price of this commodity. Five farthings to 53 farthings is a wide -range, and should express a wide difference of quality. I have on -several occasions, at long intervals apart, obtained samples of the -highest-priced Bermuda, and even ‘Missionary’ arrowroot, supposed to -be perfect, brought home by immaculate missionaries themselves, and -therefore worth 3_s._ 6_d._ per lb., and have compared this with the -‘St. Vincent and Natal.’ I find that the only difference is that on -boiling in a given quantity of water the Bermuda produces a somewhat -stiffer jelly, the which additional tenacity is easily obtainable by -using a little more of the 1½_d._ (or say 3_d._ to allow a profit on -retailing) to the same quantity of water. Both are starch, and starch -is neither more nor less than starch, unless it be that the best -Bermuda, sold at 3_s._ per lb., is starch _plus_ humbug.[15] - -The ultimate chemical composition of starch is the same as that -of cellulose—carbon and the elements of water, and in the same -proportions; but the difference of chemical and physical properties -indicates some difference in the arrangement of these elements. It -would be quite out of place here to discuss the theories of molecular -constitution which such differences have suggested, especially as they -are all rather cloudy. The percentage is—carbon 44·4, oxygen 49·4, -and hydrogen 6·2. The difference between starch and cellulose that -most closely affects my present subject, that of digestibility, is -considerable. The ordinary food-forms of starch, such as arrowroot, -tapioca, rice, &c., are among the most easily digestible kinds of food, -while cellulose is peculiarly difficult of digestion; in its crude and -compact forms it is quite indigestible by human digestive apparatus. - -Neither of them are capable of sustaining life alone; they contain none -of the nitrogenous material required for building up muscle, nerve, and -other animal tissue. They may be converted into fat, and may supply -fuel for maintaining animal heat, and may possibly supply some of the -energies demanded for organic work. - -Serious consequences have resulted from ignorance of this. The popular -notion that anything which thickens to a jelly when cooked must be -proportionally nutritious is very fallacious, and many a victim has -died of starvation by the reliance of nurses on this theory, and -consequently feeding an emaciated invalid on mere starch in the form of -arrowroot, &c. The selling of a fancy variety at ten times its proper -value has greatly aided this delusion, so many believing that whatever -is dear must be good. I remember when oysters were retailed in London -at fourpence per dozen. They were not then supposed to be exceptionally -nutritious, were not prescribed by fashionable physicians to invalids, -as they have been lately, since their price has risen to threepence -each. - -More than half a century has elapsed since Dr. Beaumont published the -results of his experiments on Alexis St. Martin. These showed that -fresh raw oysters required 2 hours 55 minutes, and stewed fresh oysters -3½ hours for digestion, against 1 hour for boiled tripe and 3 hours for -roast or boiled beef or mutton. Oysters contain more than 80 per cent. -of water, and are, weight for weight, far less nutritious than beef or -mutton; less than the easily digestible tripe. But tripe is cheap and -vulgar, therefore kitchenmaids, footmen, and fashionable physicians -despise it. - -The change which takes place in the cookery of starch may, I think, be -described as simple hydration, or union with water; not that definite -chemical combination which may be expressed in terms of chemical -equivalents, but a sort of hydration of which we have so many other -examples, where something unites with water in any quantity, the union -being accompanied with an evolution of some amount of heat. Striking -illustrations of this are presented on placing a piece of hydrated -soda or potash in water, or mixing sulphuric acid, already combined -chemically with an equivalent of water, with more water. Here we -have aqueous adhesion and considerable evolution of heat, without -the definitive quantitative chemical combination demanded by atomic -theories. - -In the experiment above described for separating the starch from wheat -flour, the starch thus liberated sinks to the bottom of the water and -remains there undissolved. The same occurs if arrowroot be thrown into -water. This insolubility is not entirely due to the intervention of the -envelope of the granules, as may be shown by crushing the granules, -_while dry_, and then dropping them into water. Such a mixture of -starch and cold water remains unchanged for a long time—Miller says ‘an -indefinite time.’ - -When heated to a little above 140° Fahr., an absorption of water takes -place through the enveloping membrane of the granules, they swell -considerably, and the mixture becomes pasty or viscous. If this paste -be largely diluted with water, the swollen granules still remain as -separate bodies and slowly sink, though a considerable exosmosis of the -true starch has occurred, as shown by the thickening of the water. I -suppose that in their original state the enveloping membrane is much -folded, and that these folds form the curious marking of concentric -rings which constitutes the characteristic microscopic structure of -starch granules, and that when cooked, at the temperature named, the -very delicate membrane becomes fully distended by the increased bulk of -the hydrated and diluted starch, and thus the rings disappear. - -A very little mechanical violence, mere stirring, now breaks up these -distended granules, and we obtain the starch paste so well known to the -laundress, and to all who have seen cooked arrowroot. If this paste be -dried by evaporation it does not regain its former insolubility, but -readily dissolves in hot or cold water. This is what I should describe -as cooked starch. - -If the heat is now raised from 140° to the boiling point, and the -boiling continued, the gelatinous mass becomes thicker and thicker; -and if there are more than fifty parts of water to one of starch a -separation takes place, the starch settling down with its fifty parts -of water, the excess of water standing above it. Carefully dried starch -may be heated to above 300° without becoming soluble, but at 400° a -remarkable change commences. The same occurs to ordinary commercial -starch at 320°, the difference evidently depending on the water -retained by it. If the heat is continued a little beyond this it is -converted into _dextrin_, otherwise named ‘British gum,’ ‘gommeline,’ -‘starch gum,’ and ‘Alsace gum,’ from its resemblance to gum-arabic, -for which it is now very extensively substituted. Solutions of this in -bottles are sold in the stationers’ shops under various names for desk -uses. - -The remarkable feature of this conversion of starch into dextrin is, -that it is accompanied by no change of chemical composition. Starch -is composed of six equivalents of carbon, ten of hydrogen, and five -of oxygen—C_{6}H_{10}O_{5}, _i.e._ six of carbon and five of water or -its elements. Dextrin has exactly the same composition; so also has -gum-arabic when purified. But their properties differ considerably. -Starch, as everybody knows, when dried is white and opaque and -pulverent; dextrin, similarly dried, is transparent and brittle; -gum-arabic the same. If a piece of starch, or a solution of starch, is -touched by a solution of iodine, it becomes blue almost to blackness, -if the solution is strong; no such change occurs when the iodine -solution is added to dextrin or gum. A solution of dextrin when mixed -with potash changes to a rich blue colour when a little sulphate of -copper is added; no such effect is produced by gum-arabic, and thus -we have an easy test for distinguishing between true and fictitious -gum-arabic. - -The technical name for describing this persistence of composition with -changes of properties is _isomerism_, and bodies thus related are said -to be _isomeric_ with each other. Another distinguishing characteristic -of dextrin is that it produces a right-handed rotation on a ray of -polarised light, hence its name, from _dexter_, the right. - -The conversion of starch into dextrin is a very important element of -the subject of vegetable cooking, inasmuch as starch food cannot be -assimilated until this conversion has taken place, either before or -after we eat it. I will therefore describe other methods by which this -change may be effected. - -If starch be boiled in a dilute solution of almost any acid, it is -converted into dextrin. A solution containing less than one per cent. -of sulphuric or nitric acid is sufficiently strong for this purpose. -One method of commercial manufacture (Payen’s) is to moisten 10 parts -of starch with 3 of water, containing 1/150th of its weight of nitric -acid, spreading the paste upon shelves, allowing it to dry in the air, -and then heating it for an hour-and-a-half at about 240° Fahr. - -But the most remarkable and interesting agent in effecting this -conversion is _diastase_. It is one of those mysterious compounds which -have received the general name of ‘ferments.’ They are disturbers of -chemical peace, molecular agitators that initiate chemical revolutions, -which may be beneficent or very mischievous. The morbific matter of -contagious diseases, the venom of snake-bite, and a multitude of other -poisons, are ferments. Yeast is a familiar example of a ferment, and -one that is the best understood. - -I must not be tempted into a dissertation on this subject, but may -merely remark that modern research indicates that many of these -ferments are microscopic creatures, linking the vegetable with the -animal world; they may be described as living things, seeing that they -grow from germs and generate other germs that produce their like. Where -this is proven, we can understand how a minute germ may, by falling -upon suitable nourishment, increase and multiply, and thus effect upon -large quantities of matter the chemical revolution above named. - -I have already described the action of rennet upon milk, and the very -small quantity which produces coagulation. There appears to be no -intercession of living microbia in this case, nor have any been yet -demonstrated to constitute the ferment of diastase, though they may be -suspected. Be this as it may, diastase is a most beneficent ferment. It -communicates to the infant plant its first breath of active life, and -operates in the very first stage of animal digestion. - -In a grain of wheat, for example, the embryo is surrounded with its -first food. While the seed remains dry above ground there is no -assimilation of the insoluble starch or gluten, no growth, nor other -sign of life. But when the seed is moistened and warmed, the starch -is changed to dextrin by the action of diastase, and the dextrin is -further converted into sugar. The food of the germ thus gradually -rendered soluble penetrates its tissues; it is thereby fed and grows, -unfolds its first leaf upwards, throws downward its first rootlet, -still feeding on the converted starch until it has developed the organs -by which it can feed on the carbonic acid of the air and the soluble -minerals of the soil. But for the original insolubility of the starch -it would be washed away into the soil, and wasted ere the germ could -absorb it. - -The maltster, by artificial heat and moisture, hastens this formation -of dextrin and sugar; then by a roasting heat kills the baby plant just -as it is breaking through the seed-sheath. Blue Ribbon orators miss a -point in failing to notice this. It would be quite in their line to -denounce with scathing eloquence such heartless infanticide. - -Diastase may be obtained by simply grinding freshly germinated barley -or malt, moistening it with half its weight of warm water, allowing it -to stand, and then pressing out the liquid. One part of diastase is -sufficient to convert 2,000 parts of starch into dextrin, and from -dextrin to sugar, if the action is continued. The most favourable -temperature for this is 140° Fahr. The action ceases if the temperature -be raised to the boiling point. - -The starch which we take so abundantly as food appears to have no -more food-value to us than to the vegetable germ until the conversion -into dextrin or sugar is effected. From what I have already stated -concerning the action of heat upon starch, it is evident that this -conversion is more or less effected in some processes of cookery. In -the baking of bread an incipient conversion probably occurs throughout -the loaf, while in the crust it is carried so far as to completely -change most of the starch into dextrin, and some into sugar. Those -of us who can remember our bread-and-milk may not have forgotten the -gummy character of the crust when soaked. This may be felt by simply -moistening a piece of crust in hot water and rubbing it between the -fingers. A certain degree of sweetness may also be detected, though -disguised by the bitterness of the caramel, which is also there. - -The final conversion of starch food into dextrin and sugar is effected -in the course of digestion, especially, as already stated, in the first -stage—that of insalivation. Saliva contains a kind of diastase, which -has received the name of _salivary diastase_ and _mucin_. It does not -appear to be exactly the same substance as vegetable diastase, though -its action is similar. It is most abundantly secreted by herbivorous -animals, especially by ruminating animals. Its comparative deficiency -in carnivorous animals is shown by the fact that if vegetable matter is -mixed with their food, starch passes through them unaltered. - -Some time is required for the conversion of the starch by this animal -diastase, and in some animals there is a special laboratory or kitchen -for effecting this preliminary cookery of vegetable food. Ruminating -animals have a special stomach cavity for this purpose in which the -food, after mastication, is held for some time and kept warm before -passing into the cavity which secretes the gastric juice. The crop of -grain-eating birds appears to perform a similar function. It is there -mixed with a secretion corresponding to saliva, and is thus partially -malted—in this case _before_ mastication in the gizzard. - -At a later stage of digestion, the starch that has escaped conversion -by the saliva is again subjected to the action of animal diastase -contained in the pancreatic juice, which is very similar to saliva. - -It is a fair inference from these facts that creatures like ourselves, -who are not provided with a crop or compound stomach, and manifestly -secrete less saliva than horses or other grain-munching animals, -require some preliminary assistance when we adopt graminivorous habits; -and one part of the business of cookery is to supply such preliminary -treatment to the oats, barley, wheat, maize, peas, beans, &c., which we -cultivate and use for food. - -I may add that the stomach itself appears to do very little, possibly -nothing, towards the digestion of starch. The primary conversion into -dextrin is effected by the saliva, and the subsequent digestion of this -takes place in the duodenum and following portions of the intestinal -canal. This applies equally to the less easily digested material of the -vegetable tissue described in the preceding chapter. Hence the greater -length of the intestinal canal in herbivorous animals as compared with -the carnivora. - -Having described the changes effected by heat upon starch, and referred -to its further conversion into dextrin and sugar, I will now take some -practical examples of the cookery of starch foods, beginning with those -which are composed of pure, or nearly pure, starch. - -When arrowroot is merely stirred in cold water, it sinks to the bottom -undissolved and unaltered. When cooked in the usual manner to form the -well-known mucilaginous or jelly-like food, the change is a simple case -of the swelling and breaking up of the granules already described as -occurring in water at the temperature of 140° Fahr. There appears to be -no reason for limiting the temperature, as the same action takes place -from 140° upwards to the boiling point of water. - -I may here mention a peculiarity of another form of nearly pure starch -food, viz. tapioca, which is obtained by pulping and washing out -the starch granules of the root of the _Manihot_, then heating the -washed starch in pans, and stirring it while hot with iron or wooden -paddles. This cooks and breaks up the granules, and agglutinates the -starch into nodules which, as Mr. James Collins explains (‘Journal of -Society of Arts,’ March 14, 1884), are thereby coated with dextrin, to -which gummy coating some of the peculiarities of tapioca pudding are -attributable. It is a curious fact that this _Manihot_ root, from which -our harmless tapioca is obtained, is terribly poisonous. The plant is -one of the large family of nauseous spurgeworts (_Euphorbiaceæ_). The -poison resides in the milky juice surrounding the starch granules, but -being both soluble in water and volatile, most of it is washed away -in separating the starch granules, and any that remains after washing -is driven off by the heating and stirring, which has to reach 240° in -order to effect the changes above described. - -I suspect that the difference between the forms of tapioca and -arrowroot has arisen from the necessity of thus driving off the last -traces of the poison, with which the aboriginal manufacturers are -so well acquainted as to combine the industry of poisoning their -arrows with that of extracting the starch-food from the same root. -No certificate from the public analyst is demanded to establish the -absence of the poison from any given sample of tapioca, as the juice of -the Manihot root, like that of other spurges, is unmistakably acrid and -nauseous. - -Sago, which is a starch obtained from the pith of the stem of the -sago-palm and other plants, is prepared in grains like tapioca, with -similar results. Both sago and tapioca contain a little gluten, and -therefore have more food-value than arrowroot. - -The most familiar of our starch foods is the potato. I place it -among the starch foods as next to water; starch is its prevailing -constituent, as the following statement of average compositions will -show: Water, 75 per cent.; starch, 18·8; nitrogenous materials, 2; -sugar, 3; fat, 0·2; salts, 1. The salts vary considerably with the kind -and age of the potato, from 0·8 to 1·3 in full-grown. Young potatoes -contain more. In boiling potatoes, the change effected appears to -be simply a breaking up or bursting of the starch granules, and a -conversion of the nitrogenous gluten into a more soluble form, probably -by a certain degree of hydration. As we all know, there are great -differences among potatoes; some are waxy, others floury; and these, -again, vary according to the manner and degree of cooking. I cannot -find any published account of the chemistry of these differences, and -must, therefore, endeavour to explain them in my own way. - -As an experiment, take two potatoes of the floury kind; boil or steam -them together until they are just softened throughout, or, as we say, -‘well done.’ Now leave one of them in the saucepan or steamer, and -very much over-cook it. Its floury character will have disappeared, -it will have become soft and gummy. The reader can explain this by -simply remembering what has already been explained concerning the -formation of dextrin. It is due to the conversion of some of the -starch into dextrin. My explanation of the difference between the -waxy and floury potato is that the latter is so constituted that -all the starch granules may be disintegrated by heat in the manner -already described before any considerable proportion of the starch is -converted into dextrin, while the starch of the waxy potatoes for some -reason, probably a larger supply of diastase, is so much more readily -convertible into dextrin, that a considerable proportion becomes gummy -before the whole of the granules are broken up, _i.e._ before the -potato is cooked or softened throughout. - -I must here throw myself into the great controversy of jackets or no -jackets. Should potatoes be peeled before cooking, or should they be -boiled in their jackets? I say most decidedly in jackets, and will -state my reasons. From 53 to 56 per cent. of the above-stated saline -constituents of the potato is potash, and potash is an important -constituent of blood—so important that in Norway, where scurvy once -prevailed very seriously, it has been banished since the introduction -of the potato, and, according to Lang and other good authorities, -this is owing to the use of potatoes by a people who formerly were -insufficiently supplied with saline vegetable food. - -Potash salts are freely soluble in water, and I find that the water in -which potatoes have been boiled contains potash, as may be proved by -boiling it down to concentrate, then filtering and adding the usual -potash test, platinum chloride. - -It is evident that the skin of the potato must resist this passage of -the potash into the water, though it may not fully prevent it. The -bursting of the skin only occurs at quite the latter stage of the -cookery. The greatest practical authorities on the potato, Irishmen, -appear to be unanimous. I do not remember to have seen a pre-peeled -potato in Ireland. I find that I can at once detect by the difference -of flavour whether a potato has been boiled with or without its jacket, -and that this difference is evidently saline. - -These considerations lead to another conclusion, viz. that baked -potatoes and fried potatoes, or potatoes cooked in such a manner as to -be eaten with their own broth, as in Irish stew (in which cases the -previous peeling does no mischief), are preferable to boiled potatoes. -Steamed potatoes probably lose less of their potash juices than when -boiled; but this is uncertain, as the modicum of distilled water -condensed upon the potato and continually renewed may wash away as much -as the larger quantity of hard water in which the boiled potato is -immersed. - -Those who eat an abundance of fruit, of raw salads, and other -vegetables supplying a sufficiency of potash to the blood, may peel and -boil their potatoes; but the poor Irish peasant, who depends upon the -potato for all his sustenance, requires that they shall supply him with -potash. - -When travelling in Ireland (I explored every county of that country -rather exhaustively during three successive summers when editing the -4th edition of Murray’s ‘Handbook’), I was surprised at the absence -of fruit-trees in the small farms where one might expect them to -abound. On speaking of this the reason given was that all trees are -the landlord’s property; that if a tenant should plant them they -would suggest luxury and prosperity, and therefore a rise of rent; or -otherwise stated, the tenant would be fined for thus improving the -value of his holding. This was before the passing of the Land Act, -which we may hope will put an end to such legalised brigandage. With -the abolition of rack-renting the Irish peasant may grow and eat fruit; -may even taste jam without fear and trembling; may grow rhubarb and -make pies and puddings in defiance of the agent. When this is the case, -his craving for potato-potash will probably diminish, and his children -may actually feed on bread. - -I have been told by an American lady that in the fatherland of -potatoes, as well as in their adopted country, they are always boiled -or steamed in their jackets: that American cooks, like those of -Ireland, would consider it an outrage to cut off the protecting skin -of the potato before cooking it; that they are more commonly mashed -there than here, and that the mashing is done by rapidly removing the -skins and throwing the stripped potato into a supplementary saucepan or -other vessel, in which they may be kept hot until the preparation is -completed. - -As regards the nutritive value of the potato, it is well to understand -that the common notion concerning its cheapness as an article of food -is a fallacy. Taking Dr. Edward Smith’s figures, 760 grains of carbon -and 24 grains of nitrogen are contained in 1 lb. of potatoes; 2½ lbs. -of potatoes are required to supply the amount of carbon contained in -1 lb. of bread; and 3½ lbs. of potatoes are necessary for supplying -the nitrogen of 1 lb. of bread. With bread at 1½_d._ per lb., potatoes -should cost less than ½_d._ per lb. in order to be as cheap as bread -for the hard-working man who requires an abundance of nitrogenous food. - -Potatoes contain 17 per cent. of carbon; oatmeal has 73 per cent. -Taking nitrogenous matter also into consideration, 1 lb. of oatmeal is -worth 6 lbs. of potatoes. - -My own observations in Ireland have fully convinced me of the wisdom -of William Cobbett’s denunciation of the potato as a staple article of -food. The bulk that has to be eaten, and is eaten, in order to sustain -life, converts the potato feeder into a mere assimilating machine -during a largo part of the day, and renders him unfit for any kind of -vigorous mental or bodily exertion. If I were the autocratic Czar of -Ireland, my first step towards the regeneration of the Irish people -would be the introduction, acclimatising, and dissemination of the -Colorado beetle, in order to produce a complete and permanent potato -famine. The effect of potato feeding may be studied by watching the -work of a potato-fed Irish mower or reaper who comes across to work -upon an English farm where the harvestmen are fed in the farmhouse and -the supply of beer is not excessive. The improvement of his working -powers after two or three weeks of English feeding is comparable to -that of a horse when fed upon corn, beans, and hay, after feeding for a -year on grass only. - -My strictures on the potato do not apply to them as used in England, -where the prevailing vice of our ordinary diet is that it is too -carnivorous. The potatoes we eat with our meat serve to dilute it, and -supply the farinaceous element in which flesh is deficient. - -The reader may have observed that most of the starch foods are derived -from the roots or stems of plants. Many others are used in tropical -climates where little labour is demanded or done, and, therefore, but -little nitrogenous food required. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[15] In fairness to retailers I should state that the price of -arrowroot just now is unusually low; the ordinary range is from -twopence to two shillings. People who are afraid of having their -arrowroot adulterated should ask themselves what can be used to cheapen -the St. Vincent at the above-quoted prices, which are those of the -unquestionably genuine article. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -GLUTEN—BREAD. - - -HAVING treated the cookery of the chief constituents of the roots -and stems of the plant, the fibre and the starch, I now come to food -obtained from the seeds and the leaves. - -Taking the seeds first, as the more important, it becomes necessary to -describe the nitrogenous constituents which are more abundant in them -than in any other part of the plant, though they also contain starch -and cell material, or woody fibre, as already stated. - -In the preceding chapter I described a method of separating starch from -flour by washing a piece of dough in water, and thereby removing the -starch granules, which fall to the bottom of the water. If this washing -is continued until no further milkiness of the water is produced, the -piece of dough will be much reduced in dimensions, and changed into a -grey, tough, elastic, and viscous or glutinous substance, which has -been compared to bird-lime, and has received the appropriate name of -_gluten_. When dried, it becomes a hard, horny, transparent mass. It is -insoluble in cold water, and partly soluble in hot water. It is soluble -in strong vinegar, and in weak solutions of potash or soda. If the -alkaline solution is neutralised by an acid, the gluten is precipitated. - -If crude gluten, obtained as above, is subjected to the action -of hot alcohol, it is separated into two distinct substances, one -soluble and the other insoluble. As the solution cools, a further -separation takes place of a substance soluble in hot alcohol but -not in cold, and another soluble in either hot or cold alcohol. -The first, viz. that insoluble in either hot or cold alcohol, has -been named _gluten-fibrin_; that soluble in hot alcohol, but not -in cold, _gluten-casein_; and that soluble in either hot or cold -alcohol, _glutin_. I give these names and explain them, as my readers -may be otherwise puzzled by meeting them in books where they are -used without explanation, especially as there is another substance -presently to be described, to which the name of ‘vegetable casein’ -has also been applied. The gluten-fibrin is supposed to correspond -with blood-fibrin, gluten-casein with animal-casein, and glutin with -albumen. Their composition is as follows, which I append for what it -is worth in connection with this theory, but mainly to show how small -is the difference between the chemical composition of the nitrogenous -constituents of animals and those of plants. I shall come to this -subject again: - - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - | -- | Gluten-Fibrin | Gluten-Casein | Glutin | - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - | Carbon | 53·23 | 53·46 | 53·27 | - | Hydrogen | 7·01 | 7·13 | 7·17 | - | Nitrogen | 16·41 | 16·04 | 15·94 | - | Oxygen and sulphur | 23·35 | 23·37 | 23·62 | - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - | | Blood-Fibrin | | | - | -- | (Scherer) | Animal-Casein | Albumen| - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - | Carbon | 53·57 | 53·83 | 53·50 | - | Hydrogen | 6·90 | 7·15 | 7·00 | - | Nitrogen | 15·72 | 15·65 | 15·50 | - | Oxygen and sulphur | 22·81 | 23·37 | 24·00 | - +--------------------+---------------+---------------+--------+ - -Gluten is usually described as ‘partly soluble in hot water.’ My own -examination of this substance suggests that ‘partially soluble’ is a -better description than ‘partly soluble’ (Miller) or ‘very slightly -soluble’ (Lehmann). This difference is not merely a verbal quibble, but -very real and practical in reference to the _rationale_ of its cookery. -A partially soluble substance is one which is composed of soluble and -also of insoluble constituents, which, as already stated, is strictly -the case with gluten in reference to the solvent action of hot alcohol. -A very slightly soluble substance is one that dissolves completely, but -demands a very large quantity of the solvent. I find that the action of -hot water on gluten, as applied in cookery, is to effect what may be -described as a partial solution—that is, it effects a loosening of the -bonds of solidity without going so far as to render it completely fluid. - -It appears to be a sort of hydration similar to that which is effected -by hot water on starch, but less decided. - -To illustrate this, wash some flour in cold water so as to separate -the gluten in the manner already described; then boil some flour as in -making ordinary bill-stickers’ paste, and wash this in cold water. The -gluten will come out with difficulty from this, and, when separated, -will be softer and less tenacious than the cold-washed specimen. This -difference remains until some of the water it contains is driven out, -for which reason I regard it as hydrated, though I am not prepared to -say that the hydration is of a truly chemical character—a definite -chemical combination of gluten with water; it may be only a mechanical -combination—a loosening of solidity by a molecular intermingling of -water. - -The importance of this in the cookery of grain-food is very great, as -anybody who aspires to the honour of becoming a martyr to science may -prove by simply making a meal on raw wheat, masticating the grains -until reduced to small pills of gluten, and then swallowing them. Mild -indigestion or acute spasms will follow, according to the quantity -taken and the digestive energies of the experimenter. Raw flour will -act similarly, but less decidedly. - -Bread-making is the most important, as well as a typical example, of -the cookery of grain-food. The grinding of the grain is the first -process of such cookery; it vastly increases the area exposed to the -subsequent actions. - -The next stage is that of surrounding each grain of the flour with -a thin film of water. This is done in making the dough by careful -admixture of a modicum of water and kneading, in order to squeeze -the water well between all the particles. The effect of insufficient -enveloping in water is sometimes seen in a loaf containing a white -powdery kernel of unmixed flour. - -If nothing more than this were done, and such simple dough were baked, -the starch granules would be duly broken up and hydrated, the gluten -also hydrated, but, at the same time, the particles of flour would be -so cemented together as to form a mass so hard and tough when baked, -that no ordinary human teeth could crush it. Among all our modern -triumphs of applied science, none can be named that is more refined and -elegant than the old device by which this difficulty is overcome in the -everyday business of making bread. Who invented it, and when, I do not -know. Its discovery was certainly very far anterior to any knowledge -of the chemical principles involved in its application, and probably -accidental. - -The problem has a very difficult aspect. Here are millions of -particles, each of which has to be moistened on its surface, but each, -when thus moistened, becomes remarkably adhesive, and therefore sticks -fast to all its surrounding neighbours. We require, without altogether -suppressing this adhesiveness, to interpose a barrier that shall sunder -these millions of particles from each other so delicately as neither to -separate them completely nor allow them to completely adhere. - -It is evident that, if the operation that supplies each particle with -its film of moisture can simultaneously supply it with a partial -atmosphere of gaseous matter, the difficult and delicate problem will -be effectively solved. It is thus solved in making bread. - -As already explained, the seed which is broken up into flour contains -diastase as well as starch, and this diastase, when aided by moisture -and moderate warmth, converts the starch into dextrin and sugar. This -action commences when the dough is made; this alone would only increase -the adhesiveness of the mass, if it went no further, but the sugar -thus produced may, by the aid of a suitable ferment, be converted into -alcohol. As the composition of alcohol corresponds to that of sugar, -minus carbonic acid, the evolution of carbonic acid gas is an essential -part of this conversion. - -With these facts before us, their practical application in bread-making -is easily understood. To the water with which the flour is to be -moistened some yeast is added, and the yeast-cells, which are very -much smaller than the grains of flour, are diffused throughout the -water. The flour is moistened with this liquid, which only demands a -temperature of about 70° Fahr. to act with considerable energy on every -granule of flour that it touches. Instead, then, of the passive, lumpy, -tenacious dough produced by moistening the flour with mere water, a -lively ‘sponge,’ as the baker calls it, is produced, which ‘rises’ -or grows in bulk by the evolution and interposition of millions of -invisibly small bubbles of gas. This sponge is mixed with more flour -and water, and kneaded and kneaded again to effect a complete and equal -diffusion of the gas bubbles, and finally, the porous mass of dough is -placed in an oven previously raised to a temperature of about 450°. - -The baker’s old-fashioned method of testing the temperature of his oven -is instructive. He throws flour on the floor. If it blackens without -taking fire, the heat is considered sufficient. It might be supposed -that this is too high a temperature, as the object is to cook the -flour, not to burn it. But we must remember that the flour which has -been prepared for baking is mixed with water, and the evaporation of -this water will materially lower the temperature of the dough itself. -Besides this, we must bear in mind that another object is to be -attained. A hard shell or crust has to be formed, which will so encase -and support the lump of dough as to prevent it from subsiding when the -further evolution of carbonic acid gas shall cease, which will be the -case some time before the cooking of the mass is completed. It will -happen when the temperature reaches the point at which the yeast-cells -can no longer germinate, which temperature is considerably below the -boiling point of water. - -In spite of this high outside temperature, that of the inner part of -the loaf is kept down to a little above 212° by the evaporation of -the water contained in the bread. The escape of this vapour and the -expansion of the carbonic acid bubbles by heat combine to increase the -porosity of the loaf. - -The outside being heated considerably above the temperature of the -inner part, this variation produces the differences between the -crust and the crumb. The action of the high temperature in directly -converting some of the starch into dextrin will be understood from what -I have already stated, and also the partial conversion of this dextrin -into caramel, which was described in Chapter VII. - -Thus we have in the crust an excess of dextrin as compared with -the crumb, and the addition of a variable quantity of caramel. In -lightly-baked bread, with a crust of uniform pale yellowish colour, the -conversion of the dextrin into caramel has barely commenced, and the -gummy character of the dextrin coating is well displayed. Some such -bread, especially the long staves of life common in France, appear as -though they had been varnished, and their crust is partially soluble in -water. - -This explains the apparent paradox that hard crust, or dry toast, is -more easily digested than the soft crumb of bread; the cookery of the -crumb not having been carried beyond the mere hydration of the gluten -and the starch, and such degree of dextrin formation as was due to -the action of the diastase of the grain during the preliminary period -of ‘rising.’ In the crust some of the work of insalivation is already -done by the baker. The digestibility of toast is doubtless aided by its -brittleness, causing it to be more broken up and mixed with the saliva. - -Everybody has, of course, heard of ‘unfermented bread,’ and many have -tasted it. Several methods have been devised, some patented, for -effecting an evolution of gas in the dough without having recourse to -the fermentation above described. One of these is that of adding a -little hydrochloric acid to the water used in moistening the flour, and -mixing bicarbonate of soda in powder with the flour (to every 4 lbs. -of flour ½ oz. bicarbonate and 4½ fluid drachms of hydrochloric acid of -1·16 specific gravity). These combine and form sodium chloride, common -salt, with evolution of carbonic acid. The salt thus formed takes the -place of that usually added in ordinary bread-making, and the carbonic -acid gas evolved acts like that given off in fermentation; but the -rapidity of the action of the acid and carbonate presents a difficulty. -The bread must be quickly made, as the action is soon completed. It -does not go on steadily increasing and stopping just at the right -moment, as in the case of fermentation. - -Other methods similar in principle have been adopted, such as adding -ammonia carbonate with the soda carbonate. The ammonia salt is volatile -itself, besides evolving carbonic acid by its union with the acid. - -In spite of the great amount of ingenuity expended upon the manufacture -of such unfermented bread, and the efforts to bring it into use, but -little progress has been made. The general verdict appears to be that -the unfermented bread is not so ‘sweet,’ that it lacks some element of -flavour, is ‘chippy’ or tasteless as compared with good old-fashioned -wheaten bread, free from alum or other adulteration. My theory of this -difference is that it is due to the absence of those changes which -take place while the sponge or dough is rising, when, if I am right, -the diastase of the grain is operating, as in germination, to produce -a certain quantity of dextrin and sugar, and possibly acting also on -the gluten. Deficiency of dextrin is, I think, the chief cause of the -chippy character of aerated bread. It must be remembered that, in -ordinary bread-making, the fermentation is protracted over several -hours, during which the temperature most favourable to germination is -steadily maintained. - -The practical importance of the fermentation is strikingly shown by the -fact that, in the course of sponge rising, dough rising, and baking, -a loaf becomes about four times as large as the original mixture of -flour, water, &c., of which it was made; or, otherwise stated, an -ordinary loaf is made up of one part of solid bread to more than three -parts of air bubbles or pores. French rolls and some other kinds of -fancy bread are still more gaseous. - -So far I have only named the flour, water, salt, and yeast. These, -with a little sugar or milk, added according to taste and custom, are -the ingredients of home-made bread, but ‘bakers’ bread’ is commonly, -though not necessarily, somewhat more complex. There is the material -technically known as ‘fruit,’ and another which bears the equivocal -name of ‘stuff,’ or ‘rocky.’ The _fruit_ are potatoes. The quantity -of these prescribed in Knight’s ‘Guide to Trade’ is one peck to the -sack of flour. This proportion is so small (about 3 per cent. by -weight) that, if not exceeded, it cannot be regarded as a fraudulent -adulteration, for the additional cost involved in the boiling, -skinning, and general preparing of the small addition exceeds the -saving in the price of raw material. The fruit, therefore, is not added -merely because it is cheaper than flour, as many people suppose. - -The instructions concerning its use given in the work above named -clearly indicate that the potato flour is used to assist fermentation. -These instructions prescribe that the peck of potatoes shall be boiled -in their skins, mashed in the ‘seasoning tub,’ then mixed with two or -three quarts of water, the same quantity of patent yeast, and three or -four pounds of flour. The mixture is left to stand for six or twelve -hours, when it will have become what is called a _ferment_. After -straining through a sieve, to separate the skins of the fruit, it is -mixed with the sack of flour, water, &c. - -It is evident from this that it would not pay to add such a quantity in -such a manner as a mere adulterant. The baker uses it for improving the -bread, from his point of view. - -The _stuff_ or _rocky_ consists, according to Tomlinson, of one part of -alum to three parts of common salt. The same authority tells us that -the bakers buy this at 2_d._ per packet, containing 1 lb. in each, and -that they believe it to be ground alum. They buy it thus for immediate -use, being subject to a heavy fine if they keep alum on the premises. -The quantity of the mixture ordinarily used is 8 oz. to each sack of -flour weighing 280 lbs., so that the proportion of alum is but 2 oz. to -280 lbs. As one sack of flour is (with water) made into eighty loaves -weighing 4 lbs. each, the quantity of alum in 1 lb. of bread amounts to -1/160th of an oz. - -The _rationale_ of the action of this small quantity of alum is still -a chemical puzzle. That it has an appreciable effect in improving -the _appearance_ of the bread is unquestionable, and it may actually -improve the quality of bread made from inferior flour. - -One of the baker’s technical tests of quality is the manner in which -the loaves of a batch separate from each other. That they should break -evenly and present a somewhat silky rather than a lumpy fracture, is a -matter of trade estimation. When the fracture is rough and lumpy, one -loaf pulling away some of the just belongings of its neighbour, the -feelings of the orthodox baker are much wounded. The alum is said to -prevent this impropriety, while an excess of salt aggravates it. - -It appears to be a fact that this small quantity of alum whitens the -bread. In this, as in so many other cases of adulteration, there -are two guilty parties—the buyer who demands impossible or unnatural -appearances, and the manufacturer or vendor who supplies the foolish -demand. The judging of bread by its whiteness is a mistake which has -led to much mischief, against which the recent agitation for ‘whole -meal’ is, I think, an extreme reaction. - -If the husk, which is demanded by the whole-meal agitators, were as -digestible as the inner flour, they would unquestionably be right, but -it is easy to show that it is not, and that in some cases the passage -of the undigested particles may produce mischievous irritation in the -intestinal canal. My own opinion on this subject (it still remains in -the region of opinion rather than of science) is that a middle course -is the right one, viz. that bread should be made of moderately-dressed -or ‘seconds’ flour rather than over-dressed ‘firsts’ or undressed -‘thirds’—_i.e._ unsifted whole-meal flour. - -Such seconds flour does not fairly produce white bread, and consumers -are unwise in demanding whiteness. In my household we make our own -bread, but occasionally, when the demand exceeds ordinary supply, a -loaf or two is bought from the baker. I find that, with corresponding -or identical flour, the baker’s bread is whiter than the home-made, and -proportionally inferior. I may describe it as colourless in flavour, -it lacks the characteristic of wheaten sweetness. There are, however, -exceptions to this, as certain bakers are now doing a great business in -supplying what they call ‘home-made’ or ‘farmhouse’ bread. It is darker -in colour than ordinary bread, but is sold nevertheless at a higher -price, and I find that it has the flavour of the bread made in my own -kitchen. When their customers become more intelligent, all the bakers -will doubtless cease to incur the expense of buying packets of ‘stuff’ -or ‘rocky,’ or any other bleaching abomination. - -Liebig asserts that in certain cases the use of lime-water improves the -quality of bread. Tomlinson says that ‘in the time of bad harvests, -when the wheat is damaged, the flour may be considerably improved, -without any injurious result whatever, by the addition of from 20 to 40 -grains of carbonate of magnesia to every pound of flour.’ It is also -stated that chalk has been used for the same purpose. These would all -act in nearly the same manner by neutralising any acid, such as acetic, -that might already exist or be generated in the course of fermentation. - -When gluten is kept in a moist state, it slowly loses its soft, -elastic, and insoluble condition; if kept in water for a few days, it -gradually runs down into a turbid, slimy solution, which does not form -dough when mixed with starch. The gluten of imperfectly-ripened wheat, -or of flour or wheat that has been badly kept in the midst of humid -surroundings, appears to have fallen partially into this condition, the -gluten being an actively hygroscopic substance. - -Liebig’s experiments show that flour in which the gluten has undergone -this partial change may have its original qualities restored by mixing -100 parts of flour with 26 or 27 parts of saturated lime-water and a -sufficiency of ordinary water to work it into dough. I suspect that -the action of the alum is of a similar kind, though this does not -satisfactorily account for the bleaching. - -The action of sulphate of copper, which has been used in Belgium and -other places for improving the appearance and sponginess of loaves, is -still more mysterious than that of alum. Kuhlmann found that a single -grain in a 4-lb. loaf produced a marked alteration in the appearance -of the bread. Fortunately this adulteration, if perpetrated to a -mischievous extent, may be easily detected by acidulating the crumb, -and then moistening with a solution of ferrocyanide of potassium. -The brown colour thus produced betrays the presence of copper. The -detection of alum in small quantities is extremely difficult. - -I should add that the ancient method of effecting the fermentation of -bread, which I understand is still employed to some extent in France, -differs somewhat from the ordinary modern English practice. - -When flour made into dough is kept for some time moderately warm, it -undergoes spontaneous fermentation, formerly described as ‘panary -fermentation,’ and supposed to be of a different nature from the -fermentation which produces yeast. - -Dough in this condition is called _leaven_, and when kneaded with fresh -flour and water its fermentation is communicated to the whole lump; -hence the ancient metaphors. In practice the leaven was obtained by -setting aside some of the dough of a previous batch, and adding this -to the next when its fermentation had reached its maximum activity. -One reason why the modern method has superseded this appears to be -that the leaven is liable to proceed onward beyond the first stage of -fermentation, or that producing alcohol, and run into the acetous, or -vinegar-forming fermentation, producing sour bread. Another reason may -be that the potato mixture above described, which is but another kind -of leaven, is more effectual and convenient. - -Dr. Dauglish’s method (patented in 1856, 1857, and 1858) is based on -the fact that water under pressure absorbs and holds in solution a -large quantity of carbonic acid gas, which escapes when the pressure -is diminished, as in uncorking soda-water, &c. Dr. Dauglish places the -flour in a strong, air-tight iron vessel, then forces water saturated -with carbonic acid under high pressure into this; kneading-knives mix -the dough by their rotation. When the mixture is completed a trap at -the lower part of the globular iron vessel is opened. The pressure of -the confined carbonic acid above forces the dough through this in a -cylindrical jet or flat ribbon as required, and this squirted cylinder -or ribbon is fashioned by suitable cutters, &c., into loaves. The -compressed gas expands, and the loaves are smartly baked before the -expansive energy of the gas is exhausted. It is justly claimed for this -process that it is far more cleanly than the ordinary method of making -bread, as with suitable machinery such ‘aerated bread’ can be made -without handling. - -The difference between new and stale bread is familiar enough, but -the nature of the difference is by no means so commonly understood. -It is generally supposed to be a simple result of mere drying. That -this is not a true explanation may be easily proved by repeating the -experiments of Boussingault, who placed a very stale loaf (six days -old) in an oven for an hour, during which time it was, of course, -being further dried; but, nevertheless, it came out as a new loaf. He -found that during the six days, while becoming stale, it only lost 1 -per cent. of its weight by drying, and that during the one hour in the -oven it lost 3½ per cent. in becoming new, and apparently more moist. -By using an air-tight case instead of an ordinary oven, he repeated -the experiment several times in succession on the same piece of bread, -making it alternately stale and new each time. - -For this experiment the oven should be but moderately heated—260° -to 300° Fahr. is sufficient. I am fond of hot rolls for breakfast, -and frequently have them _à la Boussingault_, by treating stale -bread-crusts in this manner. My wife tells me that when the crusts -have been long neglected, and are thin, the Boussingault hot rolls are -improved by dipping the crust in water before putting it into the oven. -This is not necessary in experimenting with a whole loaf or a thick -piece of stale bread. - -The crumb of bread, whether new or stale, contains about 45 per cent. -of water. Miller says ‘the difference in properties between the two -depends simply upon difference in molecular arrangement.’ - -This ‘molecular arrangement’ is the customary modern method of -explaining a multitude of similar physical and chemical problems, or, -as I would rather say, of evading explanation under the cover of a -vague conventional phrase. - -I have made some simple experiments which supply a visible explanation -of the facts without invoking the aid of any invisible atoms or -molecules, or any imaginary arrangements or rearrangements of these -imaginary entities. - -I find that, as bread becomes stale, its porosity _appears_ to -increase, and that when renewed by reheating, it returns to its -original _apparently_ smaller degree of porosity. That this change can -be only apparent is evident from the facts that the total quantity of -solid material in the loaf remains the same, and its total dimensions -are retained more or less completely by the rigidity of the crust. -I say ‘more or less,’ because this depends upon the thickness -and hardness of the crust, and also upon the completeness of its -surrounding. Lightly-baked loaves shrink a little in dimensions in -becoming stale, and partly regain the loss on reheating, but this -difference only exaggerates the apparent paradox of varying porosity, -as the diminished bulk of a given quantity of material displays -increased porosity, and the increase of total dimensions accompanies -the diminished porosity. - -I have obtained a reconciliation of this paradox by careful examination -of the structure of the crumb. This shows that the larger or decidedly -visible pores are cells having walls of somewhat silky appearance. The -silky lustre and structure is, I have no doubt, due to a varnish of -dextrin, the gummy nature of which I have already described. On looking -a little more closely at this inner surface of the big blow-holes -with the aid of a hand-lens of moderate power, I find that it is not -a continuous varnish of gum, but a net-work or agglomeration of gummy -fibres and particles, barely touching each other. - -My theory of the change that takes place as the bread becomes stale is, -that these fibres and particles gradually approach each other either -by shrinkage or adhesive attraction, and thus consolidate and harden -the walls of each of the millions of easily visible pores, these walls -forming the solid material of which the loaf is made up. In doing so -they naturally increase the dimensions of the visible pores, while the -microscopic interstices or spaces between the minute fibres of the cell -walls are diminished by the approximation or adhesion of the fibres to -each other. - -This adhesion is probably aided by an oozing out or efflorescence -of the vapour held by the fibres, and its condensation on their -surfaces. This point, be it understood, is merely hypothetical, as -the efflorescence is not visible. All the other phenomena I have just -described are visible either with the naked eye or by the aid of a lens. - -When the stale bread is again heated, a general expansion occurs by -the conversion of liquid water into aqueous vapour, every grain of -water thus converted expanding to 1,700 times its former bulk. As -this happens throughout, _i.e._ upon the surface of every one of the -countless fibres or particles, there must be a general elbowing in -the crowd, breaking up the recent adhesion between these fibres and -thrusting them all apart in the directions of least resistance; _i.e._ -towards the open spaces of the larger and visible pores, producing that -_apparent_ diminution of porosity that I have observed as the easily -visible characteristic of the change. - -This explanation may be further demonstrated by cutting a loaf through -the middle from top to bottom, and exposing the cut surfaces. In this -case the bread becomes unequally stale, more so near the cut surface -than within. The unequal pull due to the greater approximation and -adhesion of the fibres and small particles causes a rupture of the -exposed surface of the crumb, which becomes cracked or fissured without -any perceptible alteration of the size of the visible pores. If the two -broken faces be now accurately placed together, the halves thus closely -joined, firmly tied, and placed for an hour in the oven, it will be -seen on separating them that the chasms are considerably closed, though -not quite healed. Careful examination of the structure of the inside, -by breaking out a portion of the crumb, will reveal that loosening -which I have described. - -‘Popped corn’ is a peculiar example of starch cookery. Here a certain -degree of porosity is given to an originally close-compacted structure -of starch by the simple operation of explosive violence due to the -sudden conversion into vapour of the water naturally associated with -the starch. The operation is too rapid for the production of much -dextrin. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -VEGETABLE CASEIN AND VEGETABLE JUICES. - - -AS most of my readers doubtless know, peas, beans, lentils and other -seeds of leguminous plants are more nutritious, theoretically, than the -seeds of grasses, such as wheat, barley, oats, maize, &c. I was glad -to see at the Health Exhibition a fine series of the South Kensington -cases, displaying in the simplest and most demonstrative manner the -proximate analyses of the chief materials of animal and vegetable food. -I refer to them now because they did not receive the attention they -deserve. On the opening day there was, out of all the crowd, only one -other besides myself bestowing any attention upon them. These cases -show 1 lb. of wheat, oats, potatoes, peas, &c. &c., on trays; by the -side of these are bottles, containing the quantity of water in the 1 -lb., and other trays, containing the other constituents of the same -quantity; the starch, gluten, casein, the mineral matter, &c., thus -displaying at a glance the nutritious value of each so far as chemical -analysis can display it. Those Irishmen and others who think I have -been too hard upon the potato, will do well to take its nutritive -measure thus, and compare it with that of other vegetable foods. I -should add that these cases form a part of the permanent collection of -the South Kensington Museum, and therefore may be studied at any time. - -All the leguminous seeds, the ground-nuts, &c., have their nitrogenous -constituents displayed under the name of ‘casein.’ The use of this term -is rather confusing. In many modern books it does not appear at all in -connection with the vegetable kingdom, but is replaced by ‘legumin.’ -Liebig regarded this nitrogenous constituent of the leguminous seeds, -almonds, &c., as identical with the casein of milk, and it was a -pupil and friend of Liebig’s—the late Prince Consort—who devised and -originally supervised this graphic method of displaying the chemistry -of food.[16] - -I will not here discuss the vexed question of whether the analyses -of Liebig, identifying legumin with casein, or rather those of Dumas -and Cahours, who state that the vegetable casein is not of the same -composition as animal casein, are correct. - -The following figures display my justification for thus lightly -treating the discussion: - - +--------------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+ - | -- | Casein | Legumin | Legumin | Legumin | - +--------------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+ - | Carbon | 53·7 | 50·50 | 55·05 | 56·24 | - | Hydrogen | 7·2 | 6·78 | 7·59 | 7·97 | - | Nitrogen | 16·6 | 18·17 | 15·89 | 15·83 | - | Oxygen and Sulphur | 22·5 | 24·55 | 21·47 | 19·96 | - +--------------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+ - -The first column shows the results of Dumas for animal casein; the -second, those of Dumas and Cahours for legumin; the third, those of -Jones for the same; and the fourth, those of Rochleder; all as quoted -by Lehmann. Here it will be seen that the differences upon which -Dumas and Cahours base their supposed refutation of the identity of -the animal with the vegetable principle are much smaller than the -differences between the results of different analyses of the latter. -These differences I suspect are all due to the difficulty of isolating -the substances in question, especially of the vegetable substance, -which is so intimately mixed with the starch, &c., in its natural -condition that complete separation is of questionable possibility. The -difficulty (or impossibility) of driving off all the adhering water, -without removing the combined elements of water, is a further source of -discrepancy. - -This will be understood by the following description of the method of -separation as given by Miller (‘Elements of Chemistry,’ vol. iii.). -‘Legumin is usually extracted from peas or from almonds, by digesting -the pulp of the crushed seeds in warm water for two or three hours. The -undissolved portion is strained off by means of linen, and the turbid -liquid allowed to deposit the starch which it holds in suspension; it -is then filtered and mixed with dilute acetic acid. A white flocculent -precipitate is thus formed, which must be collected on a filter and -washed.’ - -This is but a mechanical process, and its liability to variation -in result may be learned by anybody who will repeat it, or who has -separated the gluten of flour by similar treatment. - -Practically regarded in relation to our present subject, casein and -legumin may be considered as the same. Their nutritive values are -equal, and exceptionally high, supposing they can be digested and -assimilated. One is the most difficult of digestion of the nitrogenous -constituents of vegetable food, and the other enjoys the same -distinction among those of animal food. Both primarily exist in a -soluble form; both are rendered solid and insoluble in water by the -action of acids; _both are precipitated as a curd by rennet_, and both -are rendered soluble after precipitation, or are retained in their -original soluble form by the action of alkalies. They nearly resemble -_in flavour_, and John Chinaman makes actual cheese from peas and beans. - - Pease-pudding hot, pease-pudding cold, - Pease-pudding in the pot, nine days old. - -I leave to Mr. Clodd the historical problem of determining whether this -notable couplet is of Semitic, Aryan, Neolithic, or Paleolithic origin. -Regarded from my point of view, it expresses a culinary and chemical -principle of some importance, and indicates an ancient practice that is -worthy of revival. - -I have lately made some experiments on the ensilage of human food, -whereby the cellular tissue of the vegetable may be gradually subjected -to that breaking up of fibre already described. One of the curious -achievements of chemical metamorphoses that is often quoted as a matter -for wonderment is the conversion of old rags into sugar by treating -them with acid. The wonderment of this is diminished, and its interest -increased, when we remember that the cellulose or woody fibre of which -the rags are composed has the same composition as starch, and thus -its conversion into sugar corresponds to the every-day proceedings -described in Chapter XI. All that I have read and seen in connection -with the recent ensilage experiments on cattle fodder indicate that -it is a process of slow vegetable cookery, a digesting or maceration -of fibrous vegetables in their own juices, which loosens the fibre, -renders it softer and more digestible, and not only does this, but, to -some extent, converts it into dextrin and sugar. - -I hereby recommend those gentlemen who have ensilage-pits and are -sufficiently enterprising to try bold experiments, to water the fodder, -as it is being packed down, with dilute hydrochloric acid or acetic -acid, which, if I am not deluded by plausible theory, will materially -increase the sugar-forming action of the ensilage. The acid, if -not over-supplied, will find ammonia and other bases with which to -neutralise itself. - -Such ensilage will correspond to that which occurs when we gather -Jersey or other superlatively fine pears in autumn as soon as they are -full grown. They are then hard, woody, and acid, quite unfit for food, -but by simply storing them for a month, or two, or three, they become -lusciously tender and sweet; the woody fibres are converted into sugar, -the acid neutralised, and all this by simply fulfilling the conditions -of ensilage, viz. close packing of the fibre, exclusion of air by the -thick rind of the fruit, _plus_ the other condition which I have just -suggested, viz. the diffusion of acid among the well-packed fibres of -the ensilage material. - -In my experiments on the ensilage of human food I have encountered -the same difficulty as that which has troubled graziers in their -experiments, viz. that small-scale results do not fairly represent -those obtained with large quantities. There is besides this another -element of imperfection in my experiments respecting which I am bound -to be candid to my readers, viz. that the idea of thus extending the -principle was suggested in the course of writing this series, and, -therefore, a sufficient time has not yet elapsed to enable me (with -much other occupation) to do practical justice to the investigation. - -I find that oatmeal-porridge is greatly improved by being made some -days before it is required, then stored in a closed jar, brought -forth and heated for use. The change effected is just that which -theoretically may be expected, viz. a softening of the fibrous -material, and a sweetening due to the formation of sugar. This -sweetening I observed many years ago in some gruel that was partly -eaten one night and left standing until next morning, when I thought -it tasted sweeter; but to be assured of this I had it warmed again two -nights afterwards, so that it might be tasted under the same conditions -of temperature, palate, &c., as at first. The sweetness was still more -distinct, but the experiment was carried no further. - -I have lately learned that my ensilage notion is not absolutely new. -A friend who read my Cantor Lectures tells me that he has long been -accustomed to have his porridge made some days before eating it, then -having it warmed up when required. He finds the result more digestible -than newly-made porridge. The classical nine days’ old pease-pudding -is a similar anticipation, and I find, rather curiously, that nine -days is about the limit to which it may be practically kept in a cool -place before mildew—mouldiness—is sufficiently established to spoil -the pudding. I have not yet tried a barrel full of pease-pudding or -moistened pease-meal, closely covered and powerfully pressed down, but -hope to do so. - -Besides these we have a notable example of ensilage in sour-kraut—a -foreign luxury that John Bull, with his usual blindness, denounces, -as a matter of course. ‘Horrid stuff!’ ‘beastly mess!’ and such-like -expressions I hear whenever I name it to certain persons. Who are -these persons? Simply English men and English women who have never -seen, never tasted, and know nothing whatever of what they denounce -so violently, in spite of the fact that it is a staple article of food -among millions of highly-intelligent people. Common sense (to say -nothing of that highest result of true scientific training, the faculty -of suspending judgment until the arrival of knowledge) should suggest -that some degree of investigation should precede the denunciation. - -In the cases of the sour-kraut and the ripening pear there is acid at -work upon the fibre, which, as I have before stated, assists in the -conversion of this indigestible constituent into soluble and digestible -dextrin and sugar. - -The demand for the solution of the vegetable casein or legumin, which -has such high nutritive value and is so abundant in peas, &c., is of -the opposite kind. Acids solidify and harden casein, alkalies soften -and dissolve it. Therefore the chemical agent suggested as a suitable -aid in the ensilage or slow cookery, or the boiling or rapid cookery, -of leguminous food is such an alkali as may be wholesome and compatible -with the demands for nutrition. - -The analyses of peas, beans, lentils, &c., show a deficiency of -potash salts as compared with the quantity of nitrogenous nutriment -they contain; therefore I propose, as in the case of cheese food, -that we should add this potash in the convenient and safe form of -bicarbonate—not merely add it to the water in which the vegetables may -be boiled, and which water is thrown away (as in the common practice -of adding soda when boiling greens), but add the potash to the actual -pease-porridge, pease-pudding, lentil soup, &c., and treat it as a part -of the food as well as an adjunct to the cookery. This is especially -required when we use dried peas, dried beans of any kind, such as -haricots, dried lentils, &c. - -I find that taking the ordinary yellow split-peas and boiling them -in a weak solution of bicarbonate of potash for two or three hours, a -partial solution of the casein is effected, producing pease-pudding, or -pease-porridge, or _purée_ (according to the quantity of water used), -which is softer and more gelid than that which is obtained by similarly -boiling without the potash. The undissolved portion evidently consists -of the fibrous tissue of the peas, the gelatinous or dissolved portion -being the starch, with more or less of casein. I say ‘more or less,’ -because at present I have not been able to determine whether or not the -casein is _all_ rendered soluble. - -The flavour of the clear pea-soup which I obtained by filtering through -flannel shows that some of the casein is dissolved; this is further -demonstrated by adding an acid to the clear solution, which at once -precipitates the dissolved casein. The filtered pea-soup sets to a -stiff jelly on cooling, and promises to be a special food of some -value, but for the reasons above stated, I am not yet able to speak -positively as to its quantitative value. The experience of any one -person is not sufficient for this, the question being, not whether -it contains nutritive material—this is unquestionable—but whether it -is easily digested and assimilated. As we all know, a food of this -kind may ‘agree’ with some persons and not with others—_i.e._ it may -be digested and assimilated with ease or with difficulty according -to personal idiosyncrasies. The cheesy character of the abundant -precipitate which I obtain by acidulating this solution is very -interesting and instructive, regarded from a chemical point of view. -The solubility of the casein is increased by soaking the peas for some -hours, or, better still, a few days, in the solution of bicarbonate of -potash. - -Another question is opened by these experiments, viz. what is the -character and the value of the fibrous solid matter remaining behind -after filtering out the clear pea-soup? Has the alkali acted in an -opposite manner to the acid in the ripening pear? Is it merely a -fibrous refuse only fit for pig-food, or is it deserving of further -attention in the kitchen? Should it be treated with dilute acid—say -a little vinegar—to break up the fibre, and thereby be made into -good porridge? Other questions crop up here as they have been -cropping continually since I committed myself to the writing of these -papers, and so abundantly that if I could afford to set up a special -laboratory, and endow it with a staff of assistants, there would be -some years’ work for myself and staff before I could answer them -exhaustively, and, doubtless, the answers would suggest new questions, -and so on _ad infinitum_. I state this in apology for the merely -suggestive crudity of many of the ideas that I have thrown out. - -Before leaving the subject of peas, I must here repeat a practical -suggestion that I published in the ‘Birmingham Journal,’ about twenty -years ago, viz. that the water in which green peas are boiled should -not be thrown away. It contains much of the saline constituents of the -peas, some soluble casein, and has a fine flavour, the very essence -of the peas. If to this, as it comes from the saucepan, be added a -little stock, or some Liebig’s ‘Extract,’ a delicious soup is at once -produced, requiring nothing more than ordinary seasoning. With care, -it may form a clear soup such as just now is in fashion among the -fastidious, but prepared however roughly, it is a very economical, -wholesome, and appetising soup, and costs a minimum of trouble. - -I must here add a few words in advocacy of the further adoption in -this country of the French practice of using as _potage_ the water in -which vegetables generally (excepting potatoes) have been boiled. -When we boil cabbages, turnips, carrots, &c., we dissolve out of them -a very large proportion of their saline constituents; salts which are -absolutely necessary for the maintenance of health; salts without which -we become victims of gout, rheumatism, lumbago, neuralgia, gravel, and -all the ills that human flesh with a lithic acid diathesis is heir -to; _i.e._ about the most painful series of all its inheritances. The -potash of these salts existing therein in combination with organic -acids is separated from these acids by organic combustion, and is -then and there presented to the baneful lithic acid of the blood and -tissues, the stony torture-particles of which it converts into soluble -lithate of potash, and thus enables them to be carried out of the -system. - -I know not which of the Fathers of the Church invented fast-day and -_soupe maigre_, but could almost suppose that he was a scientific monk, -a profound alchemist, like Basil Valentine, who, in his seekings for -the _aurum potabile_, the elixir of life, had learned the beneficent -action of organic potash salts on the blood, and therefore used the -authority of the Church to enforce their frequent use among the -faithful. - -The above remarks when published in ‘Knowledge’ invoked much -correspondence, including many inquiries for further information -concerning the salts that should be contained in our food, and in what -other form they might be obtained. - -I therefore add the following, especially as I can speak from practical -experience of the miseries that may be escaped by understanding and -applying it. I inherit what is called a ‘lithic acid diathesis.’ My -father and his brothers were martyrs to rheumatic gout, and died early -in consequence. I had a premonitory attack of gout at the age of -twenty-five, and other warning symptoms at other times, but have kept -the enemy at bay during forty years by simply understanding that this -lithic acid (stony acid) combines with potash, forming thus a soluble -salt, which is safely excreted. Otherwise it is deposited here or -there, producing gout, rheumatism, stone, gravel, and other dreadfully -painful diseases, which are practically incurable when the deposit is -fairly established. By effecting the above-named combination in the -blood the deposition is _prevented_. - -The potash required for the purpose exists in several conditions. -First, in its uncombined state as caustic potash. This is poison, for -the simple reason that it combines so vigorously with organic matter -that it would decompose the digestive organs themselves if presented to -them. The lower carbonate is less caustic, the bicarbonate nearly, but -not quite, neutral. Even this, however, should not be taken as _food_, -because it is capable of combining with the acid constituents of the -gastric juice. - -The proper compounds to be used are those which correspond to the -salts existing in the juices of vegetables and flesh, viz. compounds -of potash with _organic_ acids, such as tartaric acid, which forms the -potash salt of the grape; such as citric acid, with which potash is -combined in lemons and oranges; malic acid, with which it is combined -in apples and many other fruits; the natural acids of vegetables -generally; lactic acid in milk, &c. - -All these acids, and many others of similar origin, are composed of -carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, held together with such feeble affinity -that they are easily dissociated or decomposed by heat. This may be -shown by heating some cream of tartar or tartaric acid on a strip of -metal or glass. It will become carbonised to a cinder, like other -organic matter. If the heat is raised sufficiently this cinder will all -burn away to carbonic acid and water in the case of the pure acid, or -will leave carbonate of potash if cream of tartar or other potash salt -is thus burned. - -Unless I am mistaken, this represents violently what occurs gradually -and mildly in the human body, which is in a continuous state of slow -combustion so long as it is alive. The organic acids of the potash -salts suffer slow combustion, give off their excess of carbonic acid -and water to be breathed out, evaporated, and ejected, leaving behind -their potash, which combines with the otherwise stony lithic acid just -when and where it comes into separate existence by the organic actions -which effect the above-described slow combustion. - -If we take potash in combination with a mineral acid, such as the -sulphuric, nitric, or hydrochloric, no such decomposition is possible; -the bonds uniting the elements of the mineral acid are too strong to -be sundered by the mild chemistry of the living body, and the mineral -acid, if separated from its potash base, would be most mischievous, as -it precipitates the lithic acid in its worst form. - -For this reason, all free mineral acids are poisons to those who have -a lithic acid diathesis; they may even create it where it did not -previously exist. Hence the iniquity of cheapening the manufacture of -lemonade, ginger-beer, &c., by using dilute sulphuric or hydrochloric -acid as a substitute for citric or tartaric acid. I shall presently -come to the cookery of wines, and have something to say about the -mineral acids used in producing the choicer qualities of some very -‘dry,’ high-priced samples which, according to my view of the subject, -have caused the operations of lithotomy and lithotrity to be included -among the luxuries of the rich. - -It should be understood that when I recommended the use of bicarbonate -of potash for the solution of casein, all these principles were kept -in view, including the objection to the bicarbonate itself. In the -case of the cheese, the quantity recommended was based on an estimate -of the quantity of lactic acid existing in the cheese and capable of -leaving the casein to go over to the potash. In the case of the peas -the quantity is difficult to estimate, owing to its variability. The -more correct determination of such quantities is among the objects of -further research to which I have before alluded. - -Speaking generally it is not to the laboratory of the chemist that we -should go for our potash salts, but to the laboratory of nature, and -more especially to that of the vegetable kingdom. They exist in the -green parts of all vegetables. This is illustrated by the manufacture -of commercial potash from the ashes of the twigs and leaves of timber -trees. The more succulent the vegetable the greater the quantity of -potash it contains, though there are some minor exceptions to this. As -I have already stated, we extract and waste a considerable proportion -of these salts when we boil vegetables and throw away the _potage_, -which our wiser and more thrifty neighbours add to their every-day -_menu_. When we eat raw vegetables, as in salads, we obtain all their -potash. - -Fruits generally contain important quantities of potash salts, and -it is upon these especially that the possible victims of lithic acid -should rely. Lemons and grapes contain them most abundantly. Those who -cannot afford to buy these as articles of daily food may use cream of -tartar, which, when genuine, is the natural salt of the grape, thrown -down in the manner I shall describe when on the subject of the cookery -of wines. - -At the risk of being accused of presumption, I must here protest, as a -chemist, against one of ‘the fallacies of the faculty,’ or of certain -members of the faculty, viz. that of indiscriminately prohibiting to -gouty and rheumatic patients the use of acids or anything having an -acid taste. - -This has probably arisen from experience of the fact that _mineral_ -acids do serious mischief, and that alkaline carbonate of potash -affords relief. The difference between the organic acids, which are -decomposed in the manner I have described, and the fixed composition of -the mineral acids, does not appear to have been sufficiently studied by -those who prohibit fruit and vegetables on account of their acidity. -It must never be forgotten that nearly all the organic compounds of -potash, as they exist in vegetables and fruit, are acid. It may be -desirable, in some cases, to add a little bicarbonate of potash to -neutralise this excess of acid and increase the potash supply. I have -found it advantageous to throw a half-saltspoonful of this into a -tumbler of water containing the juice of a lemon, and have even added -it to stewed or baked rhubarb and gooseberries. In these it froths like -whipped cream, and diminishes the demand for sugar, an excess of which -appears to be mischievous to those who require much potash. - -I must conclude this sermon on the potash text by adding that it is -quite possible to take an excess of this solvent. Such excess is -depressing; its action is what is called ‘lowering.’ I will not venture -upon an explanation of the _rationale_ of this lowering, or discuss -the question of whether or not the blood is made watery, as sometimes -stated. - -Intimately connected with this part of my subject is another vegetable -principle that I have not yet named. This is vegetable jelly, or -_pectin_, the jelly of fruits, of turnips, carrots, parsnips, &c. -Fremy has named it _pectose_. Like the saline juices of meat it is -very little changed by cookery. An acid may be separated from it which -has been named ‘pectic acid,’ the properties and artificial compounds -of which appear to me to suggest the theory that the natural jelly of -fruits largely consists of compounds of this acid with potash or soda -or lime. We all know the appearance and flavour of currant jelly, apple -jelly, &c., which are composed of natural vegetable jelly plus sugar. - -The separation of these jellies is an operation of cookery, and one -that deserves more attention than it receives. I shall never forget -the _rahat lakoum_, prepared for the Sultana, which I once had the -privilege of eating in the kitchen of the Seraglio of Stamboul, where -it was presented to me by his Excellency the Grand Confectioner as -a sample of his masterpiece. Its basis was the pure pectose of many -fruits, the inspissated juices of grapes, peaches, pine-apples, and I -know not what others. The sherbet was similar, but liquid. Well may -they obey the Prophet and abstain from the grosser concoctions that -we call wine when such ambrosial nectar as this is supplied in its -place! It is to Imperial Tokay as tokay is to table-beer! I tasted many -other choice confections there, and when I find myself defending the -Turk against his many enemies, my conscience sometimes asks whether my -politics have been influenced by the remembrance of that visit. - -The ‘lumps of delight’ sold by our confectioners are imitations made of -flavoured gelatin. Similar substitutes are sold in Constantinople. The -same as regards the sherbet. - -I conclude this part of my subject by re-echoing Mr. Gladstone’s -advocacy of the extension of fruit culture. We shamefully neglect the -best of all food, in eating and drinking so little fruit. As regards -cooked fruit, I say jam for the million, jelly for the luxurious, and -juice for all. With these in abundance, the abolition of alcoholic -drinks will follow as a necessary result of natural nausea. - -I may add that besides the letters asking for the further information -here given, I have since received several others from readers who have -adopted the diet above prescribed with good practical results. - -I have further learned that vegetarians are remarkably free from the -lithic acid troubles above named, and that many who were sufferers -before they became vegetarians have subsequently escaped. - -The testimony of a large number is demanded in such subjects, as -individual examples may depend upon individual peculiarities of -constitution. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[16] Shortly after the close of the Great Exhibition of 1851, when the -South Kensington Museum was only in embryo, I had occasion to call -on Dr. Lyon Playfair at the ‘boilers,’ and there found the Prince -hard at work giving instructions for the arrangement and labelling of -these analysed food products and the similarly displayed materials of -industry, such as whalebone, ivory, &c. I then, by inquiry, learned how -much time and labour he was devoting, not only to the general business -of the collection, but also to its minor details. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -COUNT RUMFORD’S COOKERY AND CHEAP DINNERS. - - -I MUST not leave the subject of vegetable cookery without describing -Count Rumford’s achievements in feeding the paupers, rogues, and -vagabonds of Munich. An account of this is the more desirable, from the -fact that the ‘soup’ which formed the basis of his dietary is still -misunderstood in this country, for reasons that I shall presently state. - -After reorganising the Bavarian army, not only as regards military -discipline, but in the feeding, clothing, education, and useful -employment of the men, in order to make them good citizens as well -as good soldiers, he attacked a still more difficult problem—that of -removing from Bavaria the scandal and burden of the hordes of beggars -and thieves which had become intolerable. He tells us that ‘the number -of itinerant beggars of both sexes, and all ages, as well foreigners -as natives, who strolled about the country in all directions, levying -contributions from the industrious inhabitants, stealing and robbing, -and leading a life of indolence and most shameless debauchery, was -quite incredible;’ and, further, that ‘these detestable vermin swarmed -everywhere, and not only their impudence and clamorous importunity were -without any bounds, but they had recourse to the most diabolical acts -and most horrid crimes in the prosecution of their infamous trade. -Young children were stolen from their parents by these wretches, -and their eyes put out, or their tender limbs broken and distorted, -in order, by exposing them thus maimed, to excite the pity and -commiseration of the public.’ He gives further particulars of their -trading upon the misery of their own children, and their organisation -to obtain alms by systematic intimidation. Previous attempts to cure -the evil had failed, the public had lost all faith in further projects, -and therefore no support was to be expected for Rumford’s scheme. -‘Aware of this,’ he says, ‘I took my measures accordingly. To convince -the public that the scheme was feasible, I determined first, by a great -exertion, to carry it into complete execution, and _then_ to ask them -to support it.’ - -He describes the military organisation by which he distributed the -army throughout the country districts to capture all the strolling -provincial beggars, and how, on Jan. 1, 1790, he bagged all the beggars -of Munich in less than an hour by means of a well-organised civil and -military _battue_, New Year’s Day being the great festival when all -the beggars went abroad to enforce their customary black-mail upon -the industrious section of the population. Though very interesting, I -must not enter upon these details, but cannot help stepping a little -aside from my proper subject to quote his weighty words on the ethical -principles upon which he proceeded. He says that ‘with persons of this -description, it is easy to be conceived that precepts, admonitions, and -punishments would be of little avail. But where precepts fail, _habits_ -may sometimes be successful. To make vicious and abandoned people -happy, it has generally been supposed necessary, _first_, to make them -virtuous. But why not reverse this order? Why not make them first -_happy_ and then virtuous? If happiness and virtue be _inseparable_, -the end will as certainly be attained by one method as by the other; -and it is most undoubtedly much easier to contribute to the happiness -and comfort of persons in a state of poverty and misery than, by -admonitions and punishments, to improve their morals.’ - -He applied these principles to his miserable material with complete -success, and, referring to the result, exclaims, ‘Would to God that -my success might encourage others to follow my example!’ Further -examination of his proceedings shows that, in order to follow such -example, a knowledge of first principles and a determination to carry -them out in bold defiance of vulgar ignorance, general prejudice, and, -vilest of all, polite sneering, is necessary. - -Having captured the beggars thus cleverly, he proceeded to carry out -the above-stated principle by taking them to a large building already -prepared, where ‘everything was done that could be devised to make -them _really comfortable_.’ The first condition of such comfort, he -maintains, is cleanliness, and his dissertation on this, though written -so long ago, might be quoted in letters of gold by our sanitarians of -to-day. - -Describing how he carried out his principles, he says of the prisoners -thus captured: ‘Most of them had been used to living in the most -miserable hovels, in the midst of vermin and every kind of filthiness, -or to sleep in the streets and under the hedges, half naked and -exposed to all the inclemencies of the seasons. A large and commodious -building, fitted up in the neatest and most comfortable manner, was -now provided for their reception. In this agreeable retreat they found -spacious and elegant apartments kept with the most scrupulous neatness; -well warmed in winter and well lighted; a good warm dinner every day, -_gratis_, cooked and served up with all possible attention to order and -cleanliness; materials and utensils for those that were able to work; -masters _gratis_ for those who required instruction; the most generous -pay, _in money_, for all the labour performed; and the kindest usage -from every person, from the highest to the lowest, belonging to the -establishment. Here in this asylum for the indigent and unfortunate, -no ill-usage, no harsh language is permitted. During five years that -the establishment has existed, not a blow has been given to anyone, not -even to a child by his instructor.’ - -This appears like the very expensive scheme of a benevolent utopian; -but, to set my readers at rest on this point, I will anticipate a -little by stating that, although at first some expense was incurred, -all this was finally repaid, and, at the end of six years, there -remained a net profit of 100,000 florins, ‘after expenses of every -kind, salaries, wages, repairs, &c., had been deducted.’ - -When will _our_ workhouses be administered with similar results? - -I must not dwell upon his devices for gradually inveigling the lazy -creatures into habits of industry, for he understood human nature too -well to adopt the gaoler’s theory, which assumes that every able-bodied -man can do a day’s work daily, in spite of previous habits. Rumford’s -patients became industrious ultimately, but were not made so at once. - -This development of industry was one of the elements of financial -and moral success, and the next in importance was the economy of the -commissariat, which depended on Rumford’s skilful cookery of the -cheapest viands, rendering them digestible, nutritious, and palatable. -Had he adopted the dietary of an English workhouse or an English -prison, his financial success would have been impossible, and his -patients would have been no better fed, nor better able to work. - -The staple food was what he calls a ‘soup,’ but I find, on following -out his instructions for making it, that I obtain a porridge rather -than a soup. He made many experiments, and says: ‘I constantly found -that the richness or quality of a soup depended more upon a proper -choice of the ingredients, and a proper management of the fire in the -combination of these ingredients, than upon the quantity of solid -nutritious matter employed;—much more upon the art and skill of the -cook than upon the sum laid out in the market.’ - -Our vegetarian friends will be interested in learning that at first he -used meat in the soup provided for the beggars, but gradually omitted -it, and the change was unnoticed by those who ate, and no difference -was observable as regards its nutritive value. - -In 1790, little, or rather nothing, was known of the chemistry of food. -Oxygen had been discovered only sixteen years before, and chemical -analysis, as now understood, was an unknown art. In spite of this -Rumford selected as the basis of his soup just that proximate element -which we now know to be one of the most nutritious that he could have -obtained from either the animal or vegetable kingdom—viz. _casein_. -He not only selected this, but he combined it with those other -constituents of food which our highest refinements of modern practical -chemistry and physiology have proved to be exactly what are required to -supplement the casein and constitute a complete dietary. By selecting -the cheapest form of casein and the cheapest sources of the other -constituents, he succeeded in supplying the beggars with good hot -dinners daily at the cost of less than one halfpenny each. The cost of -the mess for the Bavarian soldiers under his command was rather more, -viz. twopence daily, three farthings of this being devoted to pure -luxuries, such as beer, &c. - -Some of his chemical speculations, however, have not been confirmed. -The composition of water had just been discovered, and he found by -experience that a given quantity of solid food was more satisfying to -the appetite and more effective in nutrition when made into soup by -long boiling with water. This led him to suppose that the water itself -was decomposed by cookery, and its elements recombined or united with -other elements, and thus became nutritious by being converted into the -tissues of plants and animals. - -Thus, speaking of the barley which formed an important constituent of -his soup, he says: ‘It requires, it is true, a great deal of boiling; -but when it is properly managed, it thickens a vast quantity of water, -and, as I suppose, _prepares it for decomposition_’ (the italics are -his own). - -We now know that this idea of decomposing water by such means is a -mistake; but, in my own opinion, there is something behind it which -still remains to be learned by modern chemists. In my endeavours to -fathom the _rationale_ of the changes which occur in cookery, I have -been (as my readers will remember) continually driven into hypotheses -of hydration, _i.e._ of supposing that some of the water used in -cookery unites to form true chemical compounds with certain of the -constituents of the food. As already stated, when I commenced this -subject I had no idea of its suggestiveness, of the wide field of -research which it has opened out. One of these lines of research is -the determination of the nature of this hydration of cooked gelatin, -fibrin, cellulose, casein, starch, legumin, &c. That water is _with_ -them when they are cooked is evident enough, but whether that water is -brought into actual chemical combination with them in such wise as to -form new compounds of additional nutritive value proportionate to the -chemical addition of water, demands so much investigation that I have -been driven to merely theorise where I ought to have demonstrated. - -The fact that the living body which our food is building up and -renewing contains about 80 per cent. of water, some of it combined, and -some of it uncombined, has a notable bearing on the question. We may -yet learn that hydration and dehydration have more to do with the vital -functions than has hitherto been supposed. - -The following are the ingredients used by Rumford in ‘Soup No. 1’: - - Weight - Avoirdupois. Cost. - lbs. oz. £ s. d. - 4 _viertels_ of pearl barley, equal to about 20⅓ - gallons 141 2 0 11 7½ - 4 _viertels_ of peas 131 4 0 7 3¼ - Cuttings of fine wheaten bread 69 10 0 10 2¼ - Salt 19 13 0 1 2½ - 24 _maass_, very weak beer, vinegar, or rather - small beer turned sour, about 24 quarts 46 13 0 1 5½ - Water, about 560 quarts 1,077 0 -- - --------- --------- - 1,485 10 1 11 9 - - Fuel, 88 lbs. dry pine wood 0 0 2¼ - Wages of three cook maids, at 20 florins a year each 0 0 3⅔ - Daily expense of feeding the three cook maids, at 10 creutzers - (3⅔ pence sterling) each, according to agreement 0 0 11 - Daily wages of two men servants 0 1 7¼ - Repairs of kitchen furniture (90 florins per ann.) daily 0 0 5½ - --------- - Total daily expenses when dinner is provided for - 1,200 persons 1 15 2⅔ - -This amounts to 422/1200, or a trifle more than ⅓ of a penny for each -dinner of this No. 1 soup. The cost was still further reduced by the -use of the potato, then a novelty, concerning which Rumford makes the -following remarks, now very curious. ‘So strong was the aversion of the -public, particularly the poor, against them at the time when we began -to make use of them in the public kitchen of the House of Industry in -Munich, that we were absolutely obliged, at first, to introduce them by -stealth. A private room in a retired corner was fitted up as a kitchen -for cooking them; and it was necessary to disguise them, by boiling -them down entirely, and destroying their form and texture, to prevent -their being detected.’ The following are the ingredients of ‘Soup No. -2,’ with potatoes: - - Weight - Avoirdupois. Cost. - lbs. oz. £ s. d. - 2 _viertels_ of pearl barley 70 9 0 5 9-13/22 - 2 _viertels_ of peas 65 10 0 3 7⅝ - 8 _viertels_ of potatoes 230 4 0 1 9-9/11 - Cuttings of bread 69 10 0 10 2-4/11 - Salt 19 13 0 1 2½ - Vinegar 46 13 0 1 5½ - Water 982 15 -- - Fuel, servants, repairs, &c., as before 0 3 5-5/12 - ----------- - Total daily cost of 1,200 dinners 1 7 6⅔ - -This reduces the cost to a little above one farthing per dinner. - -In the essay from which the above is quoted, there is another account, -reducing all the items to what they would cost in London in November -1795, which raises the amount to 2¾ farthings per portion for No. 1, -and 2½ farthings for No. 2. In this estimate the expenses for fuel, -servants, kitchen furniture, &c. are stated at three times as much as -the cost at Munich, and the other items at the prices stated in the -printed report of the Board of Agriculture of November 10, 1795. - -But since 1795 we have made great progress in the right direction. -Bread then cost one shilling per loaf, barley and peas about 50 per -cent. more than at present, salt is set down by Rumford at 1¼_d._ -per lb. (now about one farthing). Fuel was also dearer. But wages -have risen greatly. As stated in money, they are about doubled (in -purchasing power—_i.e._ real wages—they are threefold). Making all -these allowances, charging wages at six times those paid by him, I -find that the present cost of Rumford’s No. 1 soup would be a little -over one halfpenny per portion, and No. 2 just about one halfpenny. I -here assume that Rumford’s directions for the construction of kitchen -fireplaces and economy of fuel are carried out. We are in these matters -still a century behind his arrangements of 1790, and nothing short of a -coal-famine will punish and cure our criminal extravagance. - -The cookery of the above-named ingredients is conducted as follows: -‘The water and pearl barley first put together in the boiler and made -to boil, the peas are then added, and the boiling is continued over a -gentle fire about two hours; the potatoes are then added (peeled), and -the boiling is continued for about one hour more, during which time the -contents of the boiler are frequently stirred about with a large wooden -spoon or ladle, in order to destroy the texture of the potatoes, and to -reduce the soup to one uniform mass. When this is done, the vinegar and -salt are added; and, last of all, at the moment that it is to be served -up, the cuttings of bread.’ No. 1 is to be cooked for three hours -without the potatoes. - -As already stated, I have found, in carrying out these instructions, -that I obtain a _purée_ or porridge rather than a soup. I found -the No. 1 to be excellent, No. 2 inferior. It was better when very -small potatoes were used; they became more jellied, and the _purée_ -altogether had less of the granular texture of mashed potatoes. I -found it necessary to conduct the whole of the cooking myself; the -inveterate kitchen superstition concerning simmering and boiling, the -belief that anything rapidly boiling is hotter than when it simmers, -and is therefore cooking more quickly, compels the non-scientific cook -to shorten the tedious three-hour process by boiling. This boiling -drives the water from below, bakes the lower stratum of the porridge, -and spoils the whole. The ordinary cook, were she ‘at the strappado, -or all the racks in the world,’ would not keep anything barely boiling -for three hours with no visible result. According to her positive and -superlative experience, the mess is cooked sufficiently in one-third of -the time, as soon as the peas are softened. She don’t, and she won’t, -and she can’t, and she shan’t understand anything about hydration. -‘When it’s done, it’s done, and there’s an end to it, and what more do -you want?’ Hence the failures of the attempts to introduce Rumford’s -porridge in our English workhouses, prisons, and soup kitchens. I find, -when I make it myself, that it is incomparably superior and far cheaper -than the ‘skilly’ at present provided, though the sample of skilly that -I tasted was superior to the ordinary slop. - -The weight of each portion, as served to the beggars, &c., was 19·9 oz. -(1 Bavarian pound); the solid matter contained was 6 oz. of No. 2, or -4¾ oz. of No. 1, and Rumford states that this ‘is quite sufficient to -make a good meal for a strong, healthy person,’ as ‘abundantly proved -by long experience.’ He insists, again and again, upon the necessity of -the three-hours’ cooking, and I am equally convinced of its necessity, -though, as above explained, not on the same theoretical grounds. No -repetition of his experience is fair unless this be attended to. I have -no hesitation in affirming that the 4¾ oz. of No. 1, when thus boiled -for 3 hours, will supply more nutriment than 6 oz. boiled only 1½ hour. - -The bread should _not_ be cooked, but added just before serving the -soup. In reference to this he has published a very curious essay, -entitled ‘Of the Pleasure of Eating, and of the Means that may be -Employed for Increasing it.’ - -Rumford used wood as fuel, and his kitchen-ranges were constructed of -brickwork with a separate fire for each pot, the pot being set in in -the brickwork immediately above the fireplace in such manner that the -flame and heated products of combustion surrounded the pot on their way -to the exit flue. The quantity of fuel was adjusted to each operation, -and with wood embers a long sustained moderate heat was easily obtained. - -With coal-fires such separate firing would be troublesome, as -coal cannot be so easily kindled on requirement as wood. With our -roaring, wasteful kitchen furnaces and still more wasteful cooks, the -long-sustained moderate heat is not practicable without some further -device. I found that, by using a ‘milk scalder,’ which is a water-bath -similar to a glue-pot, but on a large scale, I could obtain Rumford’s -results over a common kitchen-range with very little trouble, and no -risk of baking the bottom part of the porridge. - -I further found that even a longer period of stewing than he prescribes -is desirable. - -I made a hearty meal on No. 1 soup, and found it as satisfactory as -any dinner of meat, potatoes, &c., of any number of courses; and, -as a chemist, I assert without any hesitation, that such a meal is -demonstrably of equal or superior nutritive value to an ordinary -Englishman’s slice of beef diluted with potatoes. The No. 2 soup is -not so satisfactory. Rumford was wrong in his estimate of the value of -potatoes. - -In the formula for Rumford’s soup it is stated that the bread -should not be cooked, but added just before serving the soup. Like -everything else in his practical programmes, this was prescribed with -a philosophical reason. His reasons may have been fanciful sometimes, -but he never acted stupidly, as the vulgar majority of mankind usually -do when they blindly follow an established custom without knowing any -reason for so doing, or even attempting to discover a reason. - -In his essay on ‘The Pleasure of Eating, and of the Means that may be -Employed for Increasing it,’ he says: ‘The pleasure enjoyed in eating -depends, first, on the agreeableness of the taste of the food; and, -secondly, upon its power to affect the palate. Now, there are many -substances extremely cheap, by which very agreeable tastes may be given -to food, particularly when the basis or nutritive substance of the food -is tasteless; and the effect of any kind of palatable solid food (of -meat, for instance) upon the organs of taste may be increased, almost -indefinitely, by reducing the size of the particles of such food, and -causing it to act upon the palate by a larger surface. And if means be -used to prevent its being swallowed too soon, which may easily be done -by mixing it with some hard and tasteless substance, such as crumbs -of bread rendered hard by toasting, or anything else of that kind, by -which a long mastication is rendered necessary, the enjoyment of eating -may be greatly increased and prolonged.’ He adds that ‘the idea of -occupying a person a great while, and affording him much pleasure at -the same time in eating a small quantity of food, may perhaps appear -ridiculous to some; but those who consider the matter attentively -will perceive that it is very important. It is perhaps as much so as -anything that can employ the attention of the philosopher.’ - -Further on he adds: ‘If a glutton can be made to gormandise two hours -upon two ounces of meat, it is certainly much better for him than to -give himself an indigestion by eating two pounds in the same time.’ - -This is amusing as well as instructive; so also are his researches -into what I may venture to describe as the _specific sapidity_ of -different kinds of food, which he determined by diluting or intermixing -them with insipid materials, and thereby ascertaining the amount of -surface over which they might be spread before their particular flavour -disappeared. He concluded that a red herring has the highest specific -sapidity—_i.e._ the greatest amount of flavour in a given weight of any -kind of food he had tested, and that, comparing it on the basis of cost -for cost, its superiority is still greater. - -He tells us that ‘the pleasure of eating depends very much indeed upon -the _manner_ in which the food is applied to the organs of taste,’ and -that he considers ‘it necessary to mention, and even to illustrate in -the clearest manner, every circumstance which appears to have influence -in producing these important effects.’ As an example of this, I may -quote his instructions for eating hasty pudding: ‘The pudding is then -eaten with a spoon, each spoonful of it being dipped into the sauce -before it is carried to the mouth, care being had in taking it up to -begin on the outside, or near the brim of the plate, and to approach -the centre by regular advances, in order not to demolish too soon -the excavation which forms the reservoir for the sauce.’ His solid -Indian-corn pudding is, in like manner, ‘to be eaten with a knife and -fork, beginning at the circumference of the slice, and approaching -regularly towards the centre, each piece of pudding being taken up with -the fork and dipped into the butter, or dipped into it _in part only_, -before it is carried to the mouth.’ - -As a supplement to the cheap soup recipes I will quote one which -Rumford gives as the cheapest food which in his opinion can be provided -in England: Take of water 8 gallons, mix it with 5 lbs. of barley-meal, -boil it to the consistency of a thick jelly. Season with salt, vinegar, -pepper, sweet herbs, and four red herrings pounded in a mortar. Instead -of bread, add 5 lbs. of Indian corn made into a _samp_, and stir it -together with a ladle. Serve immediately in portions of 20 oz. - -_Samp_ is ‘said to have been invented by the savages of North America, -who have no corn-mills.’ It is Indian corn deprived of its external -coat by soaking it ten or twelve hours in a lixivium of water and wood -ashes.[17] This coat or husk, being separated from the kernel, rises -to the surface of the water, while the grain remains at the bottom. -The separated kernel is stewed for about two days in a kettle of water -placed near the fire. ‘When sufficiently cooked, the kernels will be -found to be swelled to a great size and burst open, and this food, -which is uncommonly sweet and nourishing, may be used in a great -variety of ways; but the best way of using it is to mix it with milk, -and with soups and broths as a substitute for bread.’ He prefers it to -bread because ‘it requires more mastication, and consequently tends -more to prolong the pleasure of eating.’ - -The cost of this soup he estimates as follows: - - s. d. - 5 lbs. barley meal, at 1½_d._ per. lb., or 5_s._ 6_d._ - per bushel 0 7½ - 5 lbs. Indian corn, at 1¼_d._ per lb. 0 6¼ - 4 red herrings 0 3 - Vinegar 0 1 - Salt 0 1 - Pepper and sweet herbs 0 2 - ----- - 1 8¾ - -This makes 64 portions, which thus cost rather less than one-third of -a penny each. As prices were higher then than now, it comes down to -little more than one farthing, or one-third of a penny, as stated, when -cost of preparation in making on a large scale is included. I have not -been successful in making this soup; failed in the ‘samp,’ as explained -in the foot-note. By substituting ‘raspings’ (the coarse powder rasped -off the surface of rolls or over-baked loaves) or bread-crumbs browned -in an oven, I obtain a fair result for those who have no objection to a -diffused flavour of red herring. - -By using grated cheese instead of the herring, as well as substituting -bread-crumbs or raspings for the Indian corn, I have completely -succeeded; but for economy and quality combined, the No. 1 soup, as -supplied at Munich, is preferable. - -The feeding of the Bavarian soldiers is stated in detail in vol. i. -of Rumford’s ‘Essays.’ I take one characteristic example. It is from -an official report on experiments made ‘in obedience to the orders of -Lieut.-General Count Rumford, by Sergeant Wickelhof’s mess, in the -first company of the first (or Elector’s Own) regiment of Grenadiers at -Munich.’ - -JUNE 10, 1795.—BILL OF FARE. Boiled beef, with soup and bread dumplings. - -DETAILS OF THE EXPENSE. First, for the boiled beef and the soup. - - lb. loths. Creutzers. - 2 0 beef 16 - 0 1 sweet herbs 1 - 0 0¼ pepper 0½ - 0 6 salt 0½ - 1 14½ ammunition bread cut fine 2⅞ - 9 20 water 0 - ------------ ---- - Total 13 9¾ Cost 20⅞ - -The Bavarian pound is a little less than 1¼ lb. avoirdupois, and is -divided into 32 loths. - -All these were put into an earthenware pot and boiled for two hours and -a quarter; then divided into twelve portions of 26-7/12 loths each, -costing 1¾ creutzer. - -Second, for the bread dumpling. - - lb. loths. Creutzers. - 10 13 f fine semel bread 10 - 1 0 of fine flour 4½ - 0 6 salt 0½ - 3 0 water 0 - ----- --- - Total 5 19 Cost 15 - -This mass was made into dumplings, which were boiled half an hour in -clear water. Upon taking them out of the water they were found to weigh -5 lbs. 24 loths, giving 15⅓ loths to each portion, costing 1¼ creutzer. - -The meat, soup, and dumplings were served all at once, in the same -dish, and were all eaten together at dinner. Each member of the mess -was also supplied with 10 loths of rye bread, which cost 5/16 of a -creutzer. Also with 10 loths of the same for breakfast, another piece -of same weight in the afternoon, and another for his supper. - -A detailed analysis of this is given, the sum total of which shows that -each man received in avoirdupois weight daily: - - lb. oz. - 2 2-34/100 of solids - 1 2-84/100 of ‘prepared water’ - ------------- - 3 5-18/100 total solids and fluids. - -which cost 5-17/48 creutzers, or twopence sterling, very nearly. Other -bills of fare of other messes, officially reported, give about the -same. This is exclusive of the cost of fuel, &c., for cooking. - -All who are concerned in soup-kitchens or other economic dietaries -should carefully study the details supplied in these ‘Essays’ of Count -Rumford; they are thoroughly practical, and, although nearly a century -old, are highly instructive at the present day. With their aid large -basins of good, nutritious soup might be supplied at one penny per -basin, leaving a profit for establishment expenses; and if such were -obtainable at Billingsgate, Smithfield, Leadenhall, Covent Garden, and -other markets in London and the provinces, where poor men are working -at early hours on cold mornings, the dram-drinking which prevails so -fatally in such places would be more effectually superseded than by any -temperance missions, which are limited to mere talking. Such soup is -incomparably better than tea or coffee. It should be included in the -bill of fare of all the coffee-palaces and such-like establishments. - -Since the above appeared in ‘Knowledge,’ I have had much correspondence -with ladies and gentlemen who are benevolently exerting themselves -in the good work of providing cheap dinners for poor school-children -and poor people generally. I may mention particularly the Rev. W. -Moore Ede, Rector of Gateshead-on-Tyne, a pioneer in the ‘Penny -Dinner’ movement, and who has published a valuable penny tract on the -subject, ‘Cheap Food and Cheap Cookery,’ which I recommend to all his -fellow-workers. (He supplies distribution copies at 6_d._ per 100.) His -‘Penny Dinner Cooker,’ now commercially supplied by Messrs. Walker and -Emley, Newcastle, overcomes the difficulties I have described in the -slow cookery of Rumford’s soup. It is a double vessel on the glue-pot -principle, heated by gas. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[17] Such lixivium is essentially a dilute solution of carbonate of -potash in very crude form, not conveniently obtained by burners of pit -coal. I tried the experiment of soaking some ordinary Indian corn in -a solution of carbonate of potash, exceeding the ten or twelve hours -specified by Count Rumford. The external coat was not removed even -after two days’ soaking, but the corns were much swollen and softened. -I suspect that this difference is due to the condition of the corn -which is imported here. It is fully ripened, dried, and hardened, while -that used by the Indians was probably fresh gathered, barely ripe, and -much softer. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -COUNT RUMFORD’S SUBSTITUTE FOR TEA AND COFFEE. - - -TAKE eight parts by weight of meal (Rumford says ‘wheat or rye meal,’ -and I add, or oatmeal), and one part of butter. Melt the butter in a -clean _iron_ frying-pan, and, when thus melted, sprinkle the meal into -it; stir the whole briskly with a broad wooden spoon or spatula till -the butter has disappeared and the meal is of a uniform brown colour, -like roasted coffee, great care being taken to prevent burning on the -bottom of the pan. About half an ounce of this roasted meal boiled in -a pint of water, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and vinegar, forms -‘burnt soup,’ much used by the wood-cutters of Bavaria, who work in the -mountains far away from any habitations. Their provisions for a week -(the time they commonly remain in the mountains) consist of a large -loaf of rye bread (which, as it does not so soon grow dry and stale as -wheaten bread, is always preferred to it); a linen bag, containing a -small quantity of roasted meal, prepared as above; another small bag of -salt, and a small wooden box containing some pounded black pepper; and -sometimes, but not often, a small bottle of vinegar; but _black pepper_ -is an ingredient never omitted. The rye bread, which eaten alone or -with cold water would be very hard fare, is rendered palatable and -satisfactory, Rumford thinks also more wholesome and nutritious, by the -help of a bowl of hot soup, so easily prepared from the roasted meal. -He tells us that this is not only used by the wood-cutters, but that -it is also the common breakfast of the Bavarian peasant, and adds that -‘it is infinitely preferable, in all respects, to that most pernicious -wash, _tea_, with which the lower classes of the inhabitants of this -island drench their stomachs and ruin their constitutions.’ He adds -that ‘when tea is taken with a sufficient quantity of sugar and good -cream, and with a large quantity of bread-and-butter, or with toast -and boiled eggs, and, above all, _when it is not drunk too hot_, it is -certainly less unwholesome; but a simple infusion of this drug, drunk -boiling hot, as the poor usually take it, is certainly a poison, which, -though it is sometimes slow in its operation, never fails to produce -fatal effects, even in the strongest constitutions, where the free use -of it is continued for a considerable length of time.’ - -This may appear to many a very strong condemnation of their favourite -beverage; nevertheless, I am satisfied that it is sound; and my opinion -is not hastily adopted, nor borrowed from Rumford, but a conclusion -based upon many observations, extending over a long period of years, -and confirmed by experiments made upon myself. - -I therefore strongly recommend this substitute, especially as so -many of us have to submit to the beneficent domestic despotism of -the gentler and more persevering sex, one of the common forms of -this despotism being that of not permitting its male victim to drink -cold water at breakfast. This burnt soup has the further advantage -of rendering imperative the boiling of the water, a most important -precaution against the perils of sewage contamination, not removable by -mere filtration. - -The experience of every confirmed tea-drinker, when soundly -interpreted, supplies condemnation of his beverage; the plea commonly -urged on its behalf being, when understood, an eloquent expression of -such condemnation. ‘It is so refreshing;’ ‘I am fit for nothing when -tea-time comes round until I have had my tea, and then I am fit for -anything.’ The ‘fit for nothing’ state comes on at 5 P.M., when the -drug is taken at the orthodox time, or even in the early morning, in -the case of those who are accustomed to have a cup of tea brought to -their bedside before rising. Some will even plead for tea by telling -that by its aid one can sit up all night long at brain-work without -feeling sleepy, provided ample supplies of the infusion are taken from -time to time. - -It is unquestionably true that such may be done; that the tea-drinker -is languid and weary at tea-time, whatever be the hour, and that the -refreshment produced by ‘the cup that cheers’ and is _said_ not to -inebriate, is almost instantaneous. - -What is the true significance of these facts? - -The refreshment is certainly not due to nutrition, not to the -rebuilding of any worn-out or exhausted organic tissue. The total -quantity of material conveyed from the tea-leaves into the water is -ridiculously too small for the performance of any such nutritive -function; and besides this, the action is far too rapid, there is not -sufficient time for the conversion of even that minute quantity into -organised working tissue. The action cannot be that of a food, but -is purely and simply that of a stimulating or irritant drug, acting -directly and abnormally on the nervous system. - -The five-o’clock lassitude and craving is neither more nor less -than the reaction induced by the habitual abnormal stimulation; or -otherwise, and quite fairly, stated, it is the outward symptom of a -diseased condition of brain produced by the action of a drug; it may be -but a mild form of disease, but it is truly a disease nevertheless. - -The active principle which produces this result is the crystalline -alkaloid, the _theine_,[18] a compound belonging to the same class -as strychnine and a number of similar vegetable poisons. These, when -diluted, act medicinally—that is, produce disturbance of normal -functions as the tea does, and, like theine, most of them act specially -on the nervous system; when concentrated they are dreadful poisons, -very small doses causing death. The volatile oil, of which tea contains -about 1 per cent., probably contributes to this effect. Johnston -attributes the headaches and giddiness to which tea-tasters are subject -to this oil, and also ‘the attacks of paralysis to which, after a -few years, those who are employed in packing and unpacking chests of -tea are found to be liable.’ As both the alkaloid and the oil are -volatile, I suspect that they jointly contribute to these disturbances, -the narcotic business being done by the volatile oil, the paralysis -supplied by the alkaloid. - -The non-tea-drinker does not suffer any of the five-o’clock symptoms, -and, if otherwise in sound health, remains in steady working condition -until his day’s work is ended and the time for rest and sleep arrives. -But the habitual victim of any kind of drug or disturber of normal -functions acquires a diseased condition, displayed by the loss of -vitality or other deviation from normal function, which is temporarily -relieved by the usual dose of the drug, but only in such wise as to -generate a renewed craving. I include in this general statement all the -vice-drugs (to coin a general name), such as alcohol, opium, tobacco -(whether smoked, chewed, or snuffed), arsenic, haschisch, betel-nut, -coca-leaf, thorn-apple, Siberian fungus, maté, &c., all of which are -excessively ‘refreshing’ to their victims, and of which the use may -be, and has been, defended by the same arguments as those used by the -advocates of habitual tea-drinking. - -Speaking generally, the reaction or residual effect of these on the -system is nearly the opposite of that of their immediate effect, and -thus larger and larger doses are demanded to bring the system to its -normal condition. The non-tea-drinker or moderate drinker is kept awake -by a cup of tea or coffee taken late at night, while the hard drinker -of these beverages scarcely feels any effect, especially if accustomed -to take it at that time. - -The practice of taking tea or coffee by students, in order to work -at night, is downright madness, especially when preparing for an -examination. More than half of the cases of breakdown, loss of memory, -fainting, &c., which occur during severe examinations, and far more -frequently than is commonly known, are due to this. - -I continually hear of promising students who have thus failed; and, -on inquiry, have learned—in almost every instance—that the victim has -previously drugged himself with tea or coffee. Sleep is the rest of the -brain; to rob the hard-worked brain of its necessary rest is cerebral -suicide. - -My old friend, the late Thomas Wright (the archæologist), was a victim -of this terrible folly. He undertook the translation of the ‘Life of -Julius Cæsar,’ by Napoleon III., and to do it in a cruelly short time. -He fulfilled his contract by sitting up several nights successively by -the aid of strong tea or coffee (I forget which). I saw him shortly -afterwards. In a few weeks he had aged alarmingly, had become quite -bald; his brain gave way and never recovered. There was but little -difference between his age and mine, and but for this dreadful cerebral -strain, rendered possible only by the stimulant (for otherwise he would -have fallen to sleep over his work, and thereby saved his life), he -might still be amusing and instructing thousands of readers by fresh -volumes of popularised archæological research. - -I need scarcely add that all I have said above applies to coffee as to -tea, though not so seriously _in this country_. The active alkaloid is -the same in both, but tea contains weight for weight above twice as -much as coffee. In this country we commonly use about 50 per cent. more -coffee than tea to each given measure of water. On the Continent they -use about double our quantity (this is the true secret of ‘Coffee as in -France’), and thus produce as potent an infusion as our tea. - -I need scarcely add that the above remarks are exclusively applied to -the _habitual_ use of these stimulants. As medicines, used occasionally -and judiciously, they are invaluable, provided always that they are not -used as ordinary beverages. In Italy, Greece, and some parts of the -East, it is customary, when anybody feels ill with indefinite symptoms, -to send to the druggist for a dose of tea. From what I have seen of -its action on non-tea-drinkers, it appears to be specially potent in -arresting the premonitory symptoms of fever, the fever headache, &c. - -Since the publication of the above in ‘Knowledge,’ I have been reminded -of the high authorities who have defended the use of the alkaloids, -and more particularly of Liebig’s theory, or the theory commonly -attributed to Liebig, but which is Lehmann’s, published in Liebig’s -‘Annalen,’ vol. lxxxvii., and adopted and advocated by Liebig with his -usual ability. - -Lehmann watched _for some weeks_ the effects of coffee upon two persons -in good health. He found that it retarded the waste of the tissues of -the body, that the proportion of phosphoric acid and of urea excreted -by the kidneys was diminished by the action of the coffee, the diet -being in all other respects the same. Pure caffeine (which is the same -as theine) produced a similar effect; the aromatic oil of the coffee, -given separately, was found to exert a stimulating effect on the -nervous system. - -Johnston (‘Chemistry of Common Life’) closely following Liebig, and -referring to the researches of Lehmann, says: ‘_The waste of the body -is lessened by the introduction of theine into the stomach—that is, -by the use of tea._ And if the waste be lessened, the necessity for -food to repair it will be lessened in an equal proportion. In other -words, by the consumption of a certain quantity of tea, the health -and strength of the body will be maintained in an equal degree upon a -smaller quantity of ordinary food. _Tea, therefore, saves food_—stands -to a certain extent in the place of food—while, at the same time, it -soothes the body and enlivens the mind.’ - -He proceeds to say that ‘in the old and infirm it serves also another -purpose. In the life of most persons a period arrives when the stomach -no longer digests enough of the ordinary elements of food to make -up for the natural daily waste of the bodily substance. The size -and weight of the body, therefore, begin to diminish more or less -perceptibly. At this period _tea comes in as a medicine to arrest -the waste_, to keep the body from falling away so fast, and thus to -enable the less energetic powers of digestion still to supply as much -as is needed to repair the wear and tear of the solid tissues.’ No -wonder, therefore, says he, ‘_that the aged female, who has barely -enough income to buy what are called the common necessaries of life, -should yet spend a portion of her small gains in purchasing her ounce -of tea. She can live quite as well on less common food when she takes -her tea along with it_; while she feels lighter at the same time, more -cheerful, and fitter for her work, because of the indulgence.’ (The -italics are my own for comparison with those that follow.) - -All this is based upon the researches of Lehmann and others, who -measured the work of the vital furnace by the quantity of ashes -produced—the urea and phosphoric acid excreted. But there is also -another method of measuring the same, that of collecting the expired -breath and determining the quantity of carbonic acid given off by -combustion. This method is imperfect, inasmuch as it only measures a -portion of the carbonic acid which is given off. The skin is also a -respiratory organ, co-operating with the lungs in evolving carbonic -acid. - -Dr. Edward Smith adopted the method of measuring the respired carbonic -acid only. His results were first published in ‘The Philosophical -Transactions’ of 1859, and again in Chapter XXXV. of his volume on -‘Food,’ International Scientific Series. - -After stating, in the latter, the details of the experiments, which -include depth of respiration as well as amount of carbonic acid -respired, he says: ‘Hence it was proved beyond all doubt that tea is -a most powerful respiratory excitant. As it causes an evolution of -carbon greatly beyond that which it supplies, it follows that it must -powerfully promote those vital changes in food which ultimately produce -the carbonic acid to be evolved. Instead, therefore, of supplying -nutritive matter, it causes the assimilation and transformation of -other foods.’ - -Now, note the following practical conclusions, which I quote in Dr. -Smith’s own words, but take the liberty of rendering in italics those -passages that I wish the reader to specially compare with the preceding -quotations from Johnston: ‘In reference to nutrition, we may say that -_tea increases waste_, since it promotes the transformation of food -without supplying nutriment, and increases the loss of heat without -supplying fuel, and _it is therefore especially adapted to the wants -of those who usually eat too much_, and after a full meal, when the -process of assimilation should be quickened, but _is less adapted to -the poor and ill-fed_, and during fasting.’ He tells us very positively -that ‘to take tea before a meal is as absurd as not to take it after -a meal, unless the system be at all times replete with nutritive -material.’ And, again: ‘Our experiments have sufficed to show how tea -may be _injurious if taken with deficient food, and thereby exaggerate -the evils of the poor_;’ and, again: ‘The conclusions at which we -arrived after our researches in 1858 were, that tea should not be taken -without food, unless after a full meal; or with insufficient food; -or by the young or very feeble; and that _its essential action is to -waste the system or consume food_, by promoting vital action which it -does not support, and they have not been disproved by any subsequent -scientific researches.’ - -This final assertion may be true, and to those who ‘go in for the last -thing out,’ the latest novelty or fashion in science, literature, or -millinery, the absence of any refutation of later date is quite enough. - -But how about the previous ‘scientific researches’ of Lehmann, who, -on all such subjects, is about the highest authority that can be -quoted. His three volumes on ‘Physiological Chemistry,’ translated -and republished by the Cavendish Society, stand pre-eminent as the -best-written, most condensed, and complete work on the subject, and his -original researches constitute a lifetime’s work, not of mere random -change-ringing among the elements of obscure and insignificant organic -compounds, but of judiciously selected chemical work, having definite -philosophical aims and objects. - -It is evident from the passages I have emphatically quoted that Dr. -Smith flatly contradicts Lehmann, and arrives at directly contradictory -physiological results and practical inferences. - -Are we, therefore, to conclude that he has blundered in his analysis, -or that Lehmann has done so? - -On carefully comparing the two sets of investigations, I conclude that -there is no necessary contradiction _in the facts_: that both may be, -and in all probability are, quite correct as regards their chemical -results; but that Dr. Smith has only attacked half the problem, while -Lehmann has grasped the whole. - -All the popular stimulants, refreshing drugs, and ‘pick-me-ups’ have -two distinct and opposite actions—an immediate exaltation which lasts -for a certain period, varying with the drug and the constitution of -its victim, and a subsequent depression proportionate to the primary -exaltation, but, as I believe, always exceeding it either in duration -or intensity, or both, thus giving as a nett or mean result a loss of -vitality. - -Dr. Smith’s experiments only measured the carbonic acid exhaled from -the lungs _during the first stage_, the period of exaltation. His -experiments were extended to 50 minutes, 71 minutes, 65 minutes, and -in one case to 1 hour and 50 minutes. It is worthy of note that, in -Experiment 1, 100 grains of black tea were given to two persons, and -the duration of the experiment was 50 and 71 minutes; the average -increase was 71 and 68 cubic inches per minute, while in No. 6, with -the same dose and the carbonic acid collected during 1 hour and 50 -minutes, the average increase per minute was only 47·5 cubic inches. -These indicate a decline of the exaltation, and the curves on his -diagrams show the same. His coffee results were similar. - -We all know that the ‘refreshing’ action of tea often extends over -a considerable period. My own experiments on myself show that it -continues about three or four hours, and that of beer or wine less than -one hour (moderate doses in each case). - -I have tested this by walking measured distances after taking the -stimulant and comparing with my walking powers when taking no other -beverage than cold water. The duration of the tea stimulation has been -also measured (painfully so) by the duration of sleeplessness when -female seduction has led me to drink tea late in the evening. The -duration of coffee is about one-third less than tea. - -Lehmann’s experiments extending over weeks (days instead of minutes), -measured the whole effect of the alkaloid and oil of the coffee during -both the periods of exaltation and depression, and, therefore, supplied -a mean or total result which accords with ordinary everyday experience. -It is well known that the pot of tea of the poor needlewoman subdues -the natural craving for food; the habitual smoker claims the same merit -for his pipe, and the chewer for his quid. Wonderful stories are told -of the long abstinence of the drinkers of maté, chewers of betel-nut, -Siberian fungus, coca-leaf, and pepper-wort, and the smokers and eaters -of haschisch, &c. Not only is the sense of hunger allayed, but less -food is demanded for sustaining life. - -It is a curious fact that similar effects should be produced, and -similar advantages claimed, for the use of a drug which is totally -different in its other chemical properties and relations. ‘White -arsenic,’ or arsenious acid, is the oxide of a metal, and far as the -poles asunder from the alkaloids, alcohols, and aromatic resins in -chemical classification. But it does check the waste of the tissues, -and is eaten by the Styrians and others with physiological effects -curiously resembling those of its chemical antipodeans above named. -Foremost among these physiological effects is that of ‘making the food -appear to go farther.’ - -It is strange that Liebig or any physiologist who accepts his views -of vital chemistry, should claim this diminution of the normal waste -and renewal of tissue as a merit, seeing that, according to Liebig, -life itself is the product of such change, and death the result of its -cessation. But in the eagerness that has been displayed to justify -existing indulgences, this claim has been extensively made by men who -ought to know better than to admit such a plea. - -I speak, as before, of the _habitual_ use of such drugs, not of their -occasional medicinal use. The waste of the body may be going on with -killing rapidity, as in fever, and then such medicines may save life, -provided always that the body has not become ‘tolerant,’ or partially -insensible, to them by daily usage. I once watched a dangerous case -of typhoid fever. Acting under the instructions of skilful medical -attendants, and aided by a clinical thermometer and a seconds watch, -I so applied small doses of brandy at short intervals as to keep down -both pulse and temperature within the limits of fatal combustion. The -patient had scarcely tasted alcohol before this, and therefore it -exerted its maximum efficacy. I was surprised at the certain response -of both pulse and temperature to this most valuable medicine and most -pernicious beverage. - -The argument that has been the most industriously urged in favour of -all the vice-drugs, and each in its turn, is that miserable apology -that has been made for every folly, every vice, every political abuse, -every social crime (such as slavery, polygamy, &c.), when the time has -arrived for reformation. I cannot condescend to seriously argue against -it, but merely state the fact that the widely-diffused practice of -using some kind of stimulating drug has been claimed as a sufficient -proof of the necessity or advantage of such practice. I leave my -readers to bestow on such a plea the treatment they may think it -deserves. Those who believe that a rational being should have rational -grounds for his conduct will treat this customary refuge of blind -conservatism as I do. - -I recommend tea drinkers who desire to practically investigate the -subject for themselves to repeat the experiment that I have made. After -establishing the habit of taking tea at a particular hour, suddenly -relinquish it altogether. The result will be more or less unpleasant, -in some cases seriously so. My symptoms were a dull headache and -intellectual sluggishness during the remainder of the day—and if -compelled to do any brain-work, such as lecturing or writing, I did it -badly. This, as I have already said, is the diseased condition induced -by the habit. These symptoms vary with the amount of the customary -indulgence and the temperament of the individual. A rough, lumbering, -insensible navvy may drink a quart or two of tea, or a few gallons of -beer, or several quarterns of gin, with but small results of any kind. -I know an omnibus-driver who makes seven double journeys daily, and -his ‘reglars’ are half a quartern of gin at each terminus—_i.e._ 1¾ -pints daily, exclusive of extras. This would render most men helplessly -drunk, but he is never drunk, and drives well and safely. - -Assuming, then, that the experimenter has taken sufficient daily tea -to have a sensible effect, he will suffer on leaving it off. Let him -persevere in the discontinuance, in spite of brain languor and dull -headache. He will find that day by day the languor will diminish, and -in the course of time (about a fortnight or three weeks in my case) -he will be weaned. He will retain from morning to night the full, -free, and steady use of all his faculties; will get through his day’s -work without any fluctuation of working ability (provided, of course, -no other stimulant is used). Instead of his best faculties being -dependent on a drug for their awakening, he will be in the condition -of true manhood—_i.e._ able to do his best in any direction of effort, -simply in reply to moral demand; able to do whatever is right and -advantageous, because his reason shows that it is so. The sense of duty -is to such a free man the only stimulus demanded for calling forth his -uttermost energies. - -If he again returns to his habitual tea, he will again be reduced to -more or less of dependence upon it. This condition of dependence is a -state of disease precisely analogous to that which is induced by opium -and other drugs that operate by temporary abnormal cerebral exaltation. -The pleasurable sensations enjoyed by the opium-eater or smoker or -morphia injector are more intense than those of the tea-drinker, and -the reaction proportionally greater. - -I must not leave this subject without a word or two in reference to a -widely prevailing and very mischievous fallacy. Many argue and actually -believe that because a given drug has great efficiency in curing -disease, it must do good if taken under ordinary conditions of health. - -No high authorities are demanded for the refutation of this. A little -common sense properly used is quite sufficient. It is evident that -a medicine, properly so-called, is something which is capable of -producing a disturbing or alterative effect on the body generally -or some particular organ. The skill of the physician consists in so -applying this disturbing agency as to produce an alteration of the -state of disease, a direct conversion of the state of disease to a -state of health, if possible (which is rarely the case), or more -usually the conversion of one state of disease into another of milder -character. But, when we are in a state of sound health, any disturbance -or alteration must be a change for the worse, must throw us out of -health to an extent proportionate to the potency of the drug. - -I might illustrate this by a multitude of familiar examples, but they -would carry me too far away from my proper subject. There is, however, -one class of such remedies which are directly connected with the -chemistry of cookery. I refer to the condiments that act as ‘tonics,’ -excluding common salt, which is an article of food, though often -miscalled a condiment. Salt is food simply because it supplies the -blood with one of its normal and necessary constituents, chloride of -sodium, without which we cannot live. A certain quantity of it exists -in most of our ordinary food, but not always sufficient. - -Cayenne pepper may be selected as a typical example of a condiment -properly so-called. Mustard is a food and condiment combined; this is -the case with some others. Curry powders are mixtures of very potent -condiments with more or less of farinaceous materials, and sulphur -compounds, which, like the oil of mustard, of onions, garlic, &c., may -have a certain amount of special nutritive value. - -The mere condiment is a stimulating drug that does its work directly -upon the inner lining of the stomach, by exciting it to increased -and abnormal activity. A dyspeptic may obtain immediate relief by -using cayenne pepper. Among the advertised patent medicines is a pill -bearing the very ominous name of its compounder, the active constituent -of which is cayenne. Great relief and temporary comfort is commonly -obtained by using it as a ‘dinner pill.’ If thus used only as a -temporary remedy for an acute and temporary, or exceptional, attack of -indigestion all is well, but the cayenne, whether taken in pills or -dusted over the food or stewed with it in curries or any otherwise, -is one of the most cruel of slow poisons when taken _habitually_. -Thousands of poor wretches are crawling miserably towards their graves, -the victims of the multitude of maladies of both mind and body that are -connected with chronic, incurable dyspepsia, all brought about by the -habitual use of cayenne and its condimental cousins. - -The usual history of these victims is, that they began by over-feeding, -took the condiment to force the stomach to do more than its healthful -amount of work, using but a little at first. Then the stomach became -tolerant of this little, and demanded more; then more, and more, and -more, until at last inflammation, ulceration, torpidity, and finally -the death of the digestive powers, accompanied with all that long -train of miseries to which I have referred. India is their special -fatherland. Englishmen, accustomed to an active life at home, and a -climate demanding much fuel-food for the maintenance of animal heat, -go to India, crammed, maybe, with Latin, but ignorant of the laws of -health; cheap servants promote indolence, tropical heat diminishes -respiratory oxidation, and the appetite naturally fails. - -Instead of understanding this failure as an admonition to take smaller -quantities of food, or food of less nutritive and combustive value, -such as carbohydrates instead of hydrocarbons and albumenoids, they -regard it as a symptom of ill-health, and take curries, bitter ale, and -other tonics or appetising condiments, which, however mischievous in -England, are far more so there. - -I know several men who have lived rationally in India, and they all -agree that the climate is especially favourable to longevity, provided -bitter beer, and all other alcoholic drinks, all peppery condiments, -and flesh foods are avoided. The most remarkable example of vigorous -old age I have ever met was a retired colonel eighty-two years of age, -who had risen from the ranks, and had been fifty-five years in India -without furlough; drunk no alcohol during that period; was a vegetarian -in India, though not so in his native land. I guessed his age to be -somewhere about sixty. He was a Scotchman, and an ardent student of the -works of both George and Dr. Andrew Combe. - -A correspondent inquires whether I class cocoa amongst the stimulants. -So far as I am able to learn, it should not be so classed, but I cannot -speak absolutely. Mere chemistry supplies no answer to this question. -It is purely a physiological subject, to be studied by observation of -effects. Such observations may be made by anybody whose system has not -become ‘tolerant’ of the substance in question. My own experience of -cocoa in all its forms is that it is not stimulating in any sensible -degree. I have acquired no habit of using it, and yet I can enjoy a -rich cup or bowl of cocoa or chocolate just before bed-time without -losing any sleep. When I am occasionally betrayed into taking a late -cup of coffee or tea, I repent it for some hours after going to bed. -My inquiries among other people, who are not under the influence of -that most powerful of all arguments, the logic of inclination, have -confirmed my own experience. - -I should, however, add that some authorities have attributed -exhilarating properties to the _theobromine_ or nitrogenous alkaloid -of cocoa. Its composition nearly resembles that of theine, as the -following (from Johnston) shows: - - Theine Theobromine - Carbon 49·80 46·43 - Hydrogen 5·08 4·20 - Nitrogen 28·83 35·85 - Oxygen 16·29 13·52 - ------ ------ - 100·00 100·00 - -It exists in the cocoa bean in about the same proportion as the theine -in tea, but in making a cup of cocoa we use a much greater weight -of cocoa than of tea in a cup of tea. If, therefore, the properties -of theobromine were similar to those of theine, we should feel the -stimulating effects much more decidedly. - -The alkaloid of tea and coffee in its pure state has been administered -to animals, and found to produce paralysis, but I am not aware that -theobromine has acted similarly. - -Another essential difference between cocoa and tea or coffee is that -cocoa is, strictly speaking, a food. We do not merely make an infusion -of the cacao bean, but eat it bodily in the form of a soup. It is -highly nutritious, one of the most nutritious foods in common use. When -travelling on foot in mountainous and other regions, where there was a -risk of spending the night _al fresco_ and supperless, I have usually -carried a cake of chocolate in my knapsack, as the most portable and -unchangeable form of concentrated nutriment, and have found it most -valuable. On one occasion I went astray on the Kjolenfjeld, in Norway, -and struggled for about twenty-four hours without food or shelter. I -had no chocolate then, and sorely repented my improvidence. Many other -pedestrians have tried chocolate in like manner, and all I know have -commended its great ‘staying’ properties, simply regarded as food. I -therefore conclude that Linnæus was not without strong justification in -giving it the name of _theobroma_ (food for the gods), but to confirm -this practically the pure nut, the whole nut, and nothing but the nut -(excepting the milk and sugar added by the consumer) should be used. -Some miserable counterfeits are offered—farinaceous paste, flavoured -with cocoa and sugar. The best sample I have been able to procure is -the ship cocoa prepared for the Navy. This is nothing but the whole nut -unsweetened, ground, and crushed to an impalpable paste. It requires -a little boiling, and when milk alone is used, with due proportion of -sugar, it is a _theobroma_. Condensed milk diluted, and without further -sweetening, may be used. - -The following are the results of the analyses of two samples of cocoa -by Payen: - - Cacao butter 48 50 - Albumen, fibrin, and other nitrogenous matter 21 20 - Theobromine 4 2 - Starch, with traces of sugar 11 10 - Cellulose 3 2 - Colouring matter, aromatic essence traces - Mineral matter 3 4 - Water 10 12 - --- --- - 100 100 - -The very large proportion of fat shows that the Italians are right in -their mode of using their breakfast cup of chocolate. They cut their -roll into ‘fingers,’ and dip it in the ‘aurora’ instead of spreading -butter on it. - -Vegetable food generally contains an excess of cellulose and a -deficiency of fat; therefore cocoa, with its excess of fat and -deficiency of cellulose, is theoretically indicated as a very desirable -adjunct to an ordinary vegetarian dietary. The few experiments I -have made by perpetrating the culinary heresy of adding cocoa to -oatmeal-porridge and other _purées_, to mashed potatoes, turnips, -carrots, boiled rice, sago, tapioca, &c., prove that vegetarians have -much to learn in the cookery of cocoa. During two months’ sojourn in -Milan my daily breakfast consisted of bread, grapes, and powdered -chocolate. Each grape was bitten across, one-half eaten pure and -simple, then the cut and pulpy face of the other half was dipped in the -chocolate powder, and eaten with as much as adhered to it. I have never -been better fed. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[18] Ordinary tea contains about 2 per cent. of this. It may easily -be obtained by making a strong infusion and _slowly_ evaporating -it to dryness, then placing this dried extract on a watch-glass or -evaporating-dish, covering it with an inverted wineglass, tumbler, or -conical cap of paper. A white fume rises and condenses on the cool -cover in the form of minute colourless crystals. The tea itself may -be used in the same manner as the dried extract, but the quantity of -crystals will be less. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE COOKERY OF WINE. - - -IN an unguarded moment I promised to include the above in this work, -and will do the best I can to fulfil the rash promise; but the utmost -result of this effort can only be a contribution to a subject which is -too profoundly mysterious to be fully grasped by any intellect that -is not sufficiently clairvoyant to penetrate paving-stones, and see -through them to the interiors of the closely-tiled cellars wherein the -mysteries are manipulated. - -I will first define what I mean by the cookery of wine. Grape juice -in its unfermented state may be described as ‘raw wine,’ or this name -may be applied to the juice after fermentation. I apply it in the -latter sense, and shall use it as describing grape juice which has -been spontaneously and recently fermented without the addition of any -foreign materials, or altered by keeping, or heating, or any other -process beyond fermentation. All such processes and admixture which -affect any chemical changes on the raw material I shall describe as -cookery, and the result as cooked wine. When I refer to wine made from -other juice than that of the grape it will be named specifically. - -At the outset a fallacy, very prevalent in this country, should be -controverted. The high prices charged for the cooked material sold to -Englishmen has led to absurdly exaggerated notions of the original -value of wine. I am quite safe in stating that the average market value -of rich wine in its raw state, in countries where the grape grows -luxuriantly, and where, in consequence, the average quality of the wine -is the best, does not exceed sixpence per gallon, or one penny per -bottle. I speak now of the newly-made wine. Allowing another sixpence -per gallon for barrelling and storage, the value of the commodity in -portable form becomes twopence per bottle. I am not speaking of thin, -poor wines, produced by a second or third pressing of the grapes, but -of the best and richest quality, and, of course, I do not include -the fancy wines—those produced in certain vineyards of celebrated -châteaux—that are superstitiously venerated by those easily-deluded -people who suppose themselves to be connoisseurs of choice wines. I -refer to ninety-nine per cent. of the _rich_ wines that actually come -into the market. Wines made from grapes grown in unfavourable climates -naturally cost more in proportion to the poorness of the yield. - -As some of my readers may be inclined to question this estimate of -average cost, a few illustrative facts may be named. In Sicily and -Calabria I usually paid at the roadside or village ‘osterias’ an -equivalent to one halfpenny for a glass or tumbler holding nearly half -a pint of common wine, thin, but genuine. This was at the rate of less -than one shilling per gallon, or twopence per bottle, and included the -cost of barrelling, storage, and innkeeper’s profit on retailing. In -the luxuriant wine-growing regions of Spain, a traveller halting at a -railway refreshment station and buying one of the sausage sandwiches -that there prevail, is allowed to help himself to wine to drink on -the spot without charge, but if he fills his flask to carry away he -is subjected to an extra charge of one halfpenny. It is well known -to all concerned that at vintage-time of fairly good seasons, in all -countries where the grape grows freely, a good empty cask is worth more -than the new wine it contains when filled; that much wine is wasted -from lack of vessels, and anybody sending two good empty casks to a -vigneron can have one of them filled in exchange for the other. Those -who desire further illustrations and verification should ask their -friends—_outside of the trade_—who have travelled in Southern wine -countries, and know the language and something more of the country than -is to be learned by being simply transferred from one hotel to another -under the guidance of couriers, ciceroni, valets de place, &c. - -Thus the five shillings paid for a bottle of rich port is made up of -one penny for the original wine, one penny more for cost of storage, -&c., about sixpence for duty and carriage to this country, and twopence -for bottling, making tenpence altogether; the remaining four shillings -and twopence is paid for cookery and wine-merchant’s profits. - -Under cookery I include those changes which may be obtained by simply -exposing the wine to the action of the temperature of an ordinary -cellar, or the higher temperature of ‘Pasteuring,’ to be presently -described. - -In the youthful days of chemistry the first of these methods of cookery -was the only one available, and wine was kept by wine-merchants with -purely commercial intent for a considerable number of years. - -A little reflection will show that this simple and original cookery was -very expensive, sufficiently so to legitimately explain the rise in -market value from tenpence to five shillings or more per bottle. - -Wine-merchants require a respectable profit on the capital they invest -in their business—at least ten per cent. per annum on the prime cost of -the wine laid down. Then there is the rental of cellars and offices, -the establishment expenses—such as wages, sampling, sending out, -advertising, losses by bad debts, &c.—to be added. The capital lying -dead in the cellar demands compound interest. At ten per cent. the -principal doubles in about seven and one-third years. Calling it seven -years, to allow very meagrely for establishment expenses, we get the -following result: - - £ s. d. - When 7 years old the tenpenny wine is worth 0 1 8 per bottle. - ” 14 ” ” ” 0 3 4 ” - ” 21 ” ” ” 0 6 8 ” - ” 28 ” ” ” 0 13 4 ” - ” 35 ” ” ” 1 6 8 ” - -Here, then, we have a fair commercial explanation of the high prices of -old-fashioned old wines; or of what I may _now_ call the traditional -value of wine. - -Of course, this is less when a man lays down his own wine in his own -cellar, in obedience to the maxim, ‘Lay down good port in the days of -your youth, and when you are old your friends will not forsake you.’ -He may be satisfied with a much smaller rate of interest than the -man engaged in business fairly demands. Still, when wine thus aged -was thrown into the market, it competed with commercially cellared -wine, and obtained remarkable prices, especially as it has a special -value for ‘blending’ purposes, _i.e._ for mixing with newer wines and -infecting them with its own senility. - -But why do I say that _now_ such values are traditional? Simply because -the progress of chemistry has shown us how the changes resulting from -years of cellarage may be effected by scientific cookery in a few -hours or days. We are indebted to Pasteur for the most legitimate—I -might say the only legitimate—method of doing this. The process is -accordingly called ‘Pasteuring.’ It consists in simply heating the -wine to the temperature of 60° C. = 140° Fahr., the temperature at -which, as will be remembered, the visible changes in the cookery of -animal food commences. It is worthy of note that this is also the exact -temperature at which diastase acts most powerfully in converting starch -into dextrin. Pasteuring is a process demanding considerable skill; no -portion of the wine during its cookery must be raised above 140°, yet -all must reach it; nor must it be exposed to the air. - -The apparatus designed by Rossignol is one of the best suited for this -purpose. It is a large metallic vat or boiler with air-tight cover and -a false bottom, from which rises a trumpet-shaped tube through the -middle of the vat, and passing through an air-tight fitting in the -cover. The chamber formed by the false bottom is filled with water by -means of this tube, the object being to prevent the wine at the lower -part from being heated directly by the fire which is below the water -chamber. A thermometer is also inserted air-tight in the lid, with its -bulb half-way down the vat. To allow for expansion a tube is similarly -fitted into the lid. This is bent syphon-like, and its lower end dipped -into a flask containing wine or water, so that air or vapour may escape -and bubble through, but none enter. Even in drawing off from the vat -the wine is not allowed to flow through the air, but is conveyed by -a pipe which bends down, and dips to the bottom of the barrel. The -apparatus is bulky and expensive. - -If heated with exposure to air, the wine acquires a flavour easily -recognised as the ‘_goût de cuit_,’ or flavour of cooking. When -Pasteur’s method is properly conducted the only changes effected -are those which would be otherwise produced by age. I have heard of -many failures made by English wine-merchants in their attempts at -Pasteuring, and am not at all surprised, seeing how secretly and -clumsily these attempts have been made. - -The changes thus produced are somewhat obscure. One effect is probably -that which more decidedly occurs in the maturing of whisky and other -spirits distilled from grain, viz. the reduction of the proportion -of amylic alcohol or fusel oil, which, although less abundantly -produced in the fermentation of grape juice than in grain or potato -spirit, is formed in varying quantities. Caproic alcohol and caprylic -alcohol are also produced by the fermentation of grape juice or the -‘marc’ of grapes—_i.e._ the mixture of the whole juice and the skins. -These are acrid, ill-flavoured spirits, more conducive to headache -than the ethylic alcohol, which is proper spirit of good wine. Every -wine-drinker knows that the amount of headache obtainable from a given -quantity of wine, or a given outlay of cash, varies with the sample, -and this variation appears to be due to these supplementary alcohols or -ethers. - -Another change appears to be the formation of ethers having choice -flavours and bouquets; _œnanthic ether_, or the ether of wine, is the -most important of these, and it is probably formed by the action of -the natural acid salts of the wine upon its alcohol. Johnston says: -‘So powerful is the odour of this substance, however, that few wines -contain more than one forty-thousandth part of their bulk of it. Yet -it is always present, can always be recognised by its smell, and is -one of the general characteristics of all grape wines.’ This ether is -stated to be the basis of _Hungarian wine oil_, which, according to -the same authority, has been sold for flavouring brandy at the rate of -sixty-nine dollars per pound. I am surprised that up to the present -time it has not been cheaply produced in large quantities. Chemical -problems that appear far more difficult have been practically solved. - -The paternal tenderness with which wine is regarded, both by its -producers and consumers, is amusing. They speak of it as being ‘sick,’ -describe its ‘diseases,’ and their remedies as though it were a -sentient being; and these diseases, like our own, are now attributed to -bacilli, bacteria, or other microbia. - -Pasteur, who has worked out this question of the origin of diseases in -wine as he is so well known to have done in animals, recommends (in -papers read before the French Academy in May and August 1865), that -these microbia be ‘killed’ by filling the bottles close up to the cork, -which is thrust in just with sufficient firmness to allow the wine on -expanding to force it out a little, but not entirely, thus preventing -any air from entering the bottle. The bottles are then placed in a -chamber heated to temperatures ranging from 45° to 100° C. (113° to -212° Fahr.), where they remain for an hour or two. They are then set -aside, allowed to cool, and the cork driven in. It is said that this -treatment kills the microbia, gives to the wine an increased bouquet -and improved colour—in fact, ages it considerably. Both old and new -wines may be thus treated. - -I simply state this on the authority of Pasteur, having made no direct -experiments or observations on these diseases, which he describes -as resulting in acetification, ropiness, bitterness, and decay or -decomposition. - -There is, however, another kind of sickness which I have studied, both -experimentally and theoretically. I refer to the temporary sickness -which sometimes occurs to rich wines when they are moved from one -cellar to another, and to light wines when newly exported from their -native climate to our own. Genuine wines are the most subject to -such sickness;—the natural, unsophisticated wines, those that have -not been subjected to ‘fortification,’ to ‘vinage,’ to ‘plastering,’ -‘sulphuring,’ &c.—processes of cookery to be presently described. - -This sickness shows itself by the wine becoming turbid, or opalescent, -then throwing down either a crust or a loose, troublesome sediment. - -Those of my readers who are sufficiently interested in this subject to -care to study it practically should make the following experiment: - -Dissolve in distilled water, or, better, in water slightly acidulated -with hydrochloric acid, as much cream of tartar as will saturate it. -This is best done by heating the water, agitating an excess of cream of -tartar in it, then allowing the water to cool, the excess of salt to -subside, and pouring off the clear solution. Now add to this solution, -while quite clear and bright, a little clear brandy, whisky, or other -spirit, and mix them by shaking. The solution will become ‘sick,’ like -the wine. Why is this? - -It depends upon the fact that the bitartrate of potash, or cream of -tartar, is soluble to some extent in water, but almost insoluble -in alcohol. In a mixture of alcohol and water its solubility is -intermediate—the more alcohol the smaller the quantity that can be held -in solution (hydrochloric and most other acids, excepting tartaric, -increase its solubility in water). Thus, if we have a saturated -solution of this salt either in pure water or acidulated water, or -wine, the addition of alcohol throws some of it down in solid form, and -this makes the solution sick or turbid. When pure water or acidulated -water is used, as in the above-described experiment, crystals of the -salt are freely formed, and fall down readily; but with a complex -liquid like wine, containing saccharine and mucilaginous matter, the -precipitation takes place very slowly; the particles are excessively -minute, become entangled with the mucilage, &c., and thus remain -suspended for a long time, maintaining the turbidity accordingly. - -Now, this bitartrate of potash is the characteristic natural salt -of the grape, and its unfermented juice is saturated with it. As -fermentation proceeds, and the sugar of the grape-juice is converted -into alcohol, the capacity of the juice for holding the salt in -solution diminishes, and it is gradually thrown down. But it does not -fall alone. It carries with it some of the colouring and extractive -matter of the grape-juice. This precipitate, in its crude state called -_argol_, or _roher Weinstein_, is the source from which we obtain the -tartaric acid of commerce, the cream of tartar, and other salts of -tartaric acid. - -Now let us suppose that we have a natural, unsophisticated wine. -It is evident that it is saturated with the tartrate, since only -so much argol was thrown down during fermentation as it was unable -to retain. It is further evident that if such a wine has not been -exhaustively fermented, _i.e._ if it still contains some of the -original grape-sugar, and if any further fermentation of this sugar -takes place, the capacity of the mixture for holding the tartrate in -solution becomes diminished, and a further precipitation must occur. -This precipitation will come down very slowly, will consist not merely -of pure crystals of cream of tartar, but of minute particles carrying -with it some colouring matter, extractives, &c., and thus spoiling the -brilliancy of the wine, making it more or less turbid. - -But this is not all. Boiling water dissolves ⅙th of its weight of cream -of tartar, cold water only 1/180th, and, at intermediate temperatures, -intermediate quantities. Therefore, if we lower the temperature of a -saturated solution, precipitation occurs. Hence, the sickening of wine -due to change of cellars or change of climate, even when no further -fermentation occurs. The lighter the wine, _i.e._ the less alcohol it -contains naturally, the more tartrate it contains, and the greater the -liability to this source of sickness. - -This, then, is the temporary sickness to which I have referred. I -have proved the truth of this theory by filtering such sickened wine -through laboratory filtering paper, thereby rendering it transparent, -and obtaining on the paper all the guilty disturbing matter. I found -it to be a kind of argol, but containing a much larger proportion of -extractive and colouring matter, and a smaller proportion of tartrate -than the argol of commerce. I operated upon rich new Catalan wine. - -This brings me at once to the source or origin of a sort of -wine-cookery by no means so legitimate as the Pasteuring already -described, as it frequently amounts to serious adulteration. The -wine-merchants are here the victims of their customers, who demand -an amount of transparency that is simply impossible as a permanent -condition of unsophisticated grape-wine. To anybody who has any -knowledge of the chemistry of wine, nothing can be more ludicrous -than the antics of the pretending connoisseur of wine who holds his -glass up to the light, shuts one eye (even at the stage before double -vision commences), and admires the brilliancy of the liquid, this very -brilliancy being, in nineteen samples out of twenty, the evidence of -adulteration, cookery, or sophistication of some kind. Genuine wine -made from pure grape-juice without chemical manipulation is a liquid -that is never reliably clear, for the reasons above stated. Partial -precipitation, sufficient to produce opalescence, is continually taking -place, and therefore the unnatural brilliancy demanded is obtained by -substituting the natural and wholesome tartrate by salts of mineral -acids, and even by the free mineral acid itself. At one time I deemed -this latter adulteration impossible, but have been convinced by direct -examination of samples of _high-priced_ (mark this, not _cheap_) dry -sherries that they contained free sulphuric and sulphurous acid. - -The action of this free mineral acid on the wine will be understood -by what I have already explained concerning the solubility of the -bitartrate of potash. This solubility is greatly increased by a little -of such acid, and therefore the transparency of the wine is by such -addition rendered stable, unaffected by changes of temperature. - -But what is the effect of such free mineral acid on the drinker of -the wine? If he is in any degree pre-disposed to gout, rheumatism, -stone, or any of the lithic acid diseases, his life is sacrificed, -with preceding tortures of the most horrible kind. It has been stated, -and probably with truth, that the late Emperor Napoleon III. drank dry -sherry, and was a martyr of this kind. I repeat emphatically that, -generally speaking, high-priced dry sherries are far worse than cheap -Marsala, both as regards the quantity they contain of sulphates and -free acid. - -Anybody who doubts this may convince himself by simply purchasing a -little chloride of barium, dissolving it in distilled water, and adding -to the sample of wine to be tested a few drops of this solution. - -Pure wine, containing its full supply of natural tartrate, will become -cloudy to a small extent, and gradually. A small precipitate will be -formed by the tartrate. The wine that contains either free sulphuric -acid or any of its compounds will yield _immediately_ a copious white -precipitate like chalk, but much more dense. This is sulphate of -baryta. The experiment may be made in a common wine-glass, but better -in a cylindrical test-tube, as, by using in this a fixed quantity in -each experiment, a rough notion of the relative quantity of sulphate -may be formed by the depth of the white layer after all has come down. -To determine this _accurately_, the wine, after applying the test, -should be filtered through proper filtering paper, and the precipitate -and paper burnt in a platinum or porcelain crucible and then weighed; -but this demands apparatus not always available, and some technical -skill. The simple demonstration of the copious precipitation is -instructive, and those of my readers who are practical chemists, but -have not yet applied this test to such wines, will be astonished, as I -was, at the amount of precipitation. - -I may add that my first experience was upon a sample of dry sherry, -brought to me by a friend who bought his wine of a respectable -wine-merchant, and paid a high price for it, but found that it -disagreed with him; it contained an alarming quantity of free sulphuric -acid. Since that I have tested scores of samples, some of the finest in -the market, sent to me by a conscientious importer as the best he could -obtain, and these contained sulphate of potash instead of bitartrate. - -My friend, the sherry-merchant, could not account for it, though he -was most anxious to do so. This was about three years ago. By dint of -inquiry and cross-examination of experts in the wine trade, I have, -I believe, discovered the origin of the sulphate of potash that is -contained in the samples that the British wine-merchant sells as he -buys, and conscientiously believes to be pure. - -At first I hunted up all the information I could obtain from books -concerning the manufacture of sherry; learned that the grapes are -usually sprinkled with a little powdered sulphur as they are placed -in the vats prior to stamping. The quantity thus added, however, is -quite insufficient to account for the sulphur compounds in the samples -of wine I examined. Another source is described in the books—that -from sulphuring the casks. This process consists simply of burning -sulphur inside a partially-filled or empty cask, until the exhaustion -of free oxygen and its replacement by sulphurous acid renders further -combustion impossible. The cask is then filled with the wine. This -would add a little of sulphurous acid, but still not sufficient. - -Then comes the ‘plastering,’ or intentional addition of gypsum (plaster -of Paris). This, if largely carried out, is sufficient to explain -the complete conversion of the natural tartrates into sulphates of -potash, and such plastering is admitted to be an adulteration or -sophistication. I obtained samples of sherry from a reliable source, -which I have no doubt the shipper honestly believed to have been -subjected to no such deliberate plastering; still,from these came down -an extravagantly excessive precipitate on the addition of chloride of -barium solution. - -I afterwards learned that ‘Spanish earth’ was used in the fining. Why -Spanish earth in preference to isinglass or white of egg, which are -quite unobjectionable and very efficient? To this question I could -get no satisfactory answer directly, but learned vaguely that the -fining produced by the white of egg, though complete at the time, was -not permanent, while that effected by Spanish earth, containing much -sulphate of lime, is permanent. The brilliancy thus obtained is not -lost by age or variations of temperature, and the dry sherries thus -cooked are preferred by English wine-drinkers. - -The sulphate of potash which, by the action of sulphate of lime, is -made to replace bitartrate, is so readily soluble that neither changes -of temperature nor increase of alcohol, due to further fermentation, -will throw it down; and thus the wine-maker and wine-merchant, -without any guilty intent, and ignorant of what he is really doing, -sophisticates the wine, alters its essential composition, and adds -an impurity in doing what he supposes to be a mere clarification or -removal of impurities. - -I have heard of genuine sherries being returned as bad to the shipper -because they were genuine, and had been fined without sophistication. - -My own experience of genuine wines in wine-growing countries teaches me -that such wines are rarely brilliant; and the variations of solubility -of the natural salt of the grape, which I have already explained, shows -why this is the case. If the drinkers of sherry and other white and -golden wines would cease to demand the conventional brilliancy, they -would soon be supplied with the genuine article, which really costs the -wine-merchant less than the cooked product they now insist upon having. -This foolish demand of his customers merely gives him a large amount of -unnecessary trouble and annoyance. - -So far, the wine-merchant; but how about the consumer? Simply that -the substitution of a mineral acid—the sulphuric for a vegetable acid -(the tartaric)—supplies him with a precipitant of lithic acid in his -own body; that is, provides him with the source of gout, rheumatism, -gravel, stone, &c., with which _English_ wine-drinkers are proverbially -tortured. - -I am the more urgent in propounding this view of the subject, because I -see plainly that not only the patients, but too commonly their medical -advisers, do not understand it. When I was in the midst of these -experiments I called upon a clerical neighbour, and found him in his -study with his foot on a pillow, and groaning with gout. A decanter of -pale, choice, very dry sherry was on the table. He poured out a glass -for me and another for himself. I tasted it, and then perpetrated the -unheard-of rudeness of denouncing the wine for which my host had paid -so high a price. He knew a little chemistry, and I accordingly went -home forthwith, brought back some chloride of barium, added it to his -choice sherry, and showed him a precipitate which made him shudder. He -drank no more dry sherry, and has had no serious relapse of gout. - -In this case his medical adviser prohibited port and advised dry sherry. - -The following from ‘The Brewer, Distiller, and Wine Manufacturer,’ by -John Gardner (Churchill’s ‘Technological Handbooks,’ 1883), supports my -view of the position of the wine-maker and wine-merchant. ‘Dupré and -Thudicum have shown by experiment that this practice of plastering, as -it is called, also reduces the yield of the liquid, as a considerable -part of the wine mechanically combines with the gypsum and is lost.’ -When an adulteration—justly so-called—is practised, the object is -to enable the perpetrator to obtain an increased profit on selling -the commodity at a given price. In this case an opposite result is -obtained. The gypsum, or Spanish earth, is used in considerable -quantity, and leaves a bulky residuum, which carries away some of the -wine with it, and thus increases the cost to the seller of the saleable -result. - -Having referred so often to dry wines, I should explain the chemistry -of this so-called dryness. The fermentation of wine is the result -of a vegetable growth, that of the yeast, a microscopic fungus -(_Penicillium glaucum_). The must, or juice of the grape, obtains the -germ spontaneously—probably from the atmosphere. Two distinct effects -are produced by this fermentation or growth of fungus: first, the sugar -of the must is converted into alcohol; second, more or less of the -albuminous or nitrogenous matter of the must is consumed as food by -the fungus. If uninterrupted, this fermentation goes on either until -the supply of sufficient sugar is stopped, or until the supply of -sufficient albuminous matter is stopped. The relative proportions of -these determine which of the two shall be first exhausted. - -If the sugar is exhausted before the nitrogenous food of the fungus, -a dry wine is produced; if the nitrogenous food is first consumed, -the remaining unfermented sugar produces a sweet wine. If the sugar -is greatly in excess, a _vin de liqueur_ is the result, such as the -Frontignac, Lunel, Rivesaltes, &c., made from the muscat grape. - -The varieties of grape are very numerous. Rusby, in his ‘Visit to the -Vineyards of Spain and France,’ gives a list of 570 varieties, and, as -far back as 1827, Cavalow enumerated more than 1,500 different wines in -France alone. - -From the above it will be understood that, _cæteris paribus_, the -poorer the grape the drier the wine; or that a given variety of grape -will yield a drier wine if grown where it ripens imperfectly, than if -grown in a warmer climate. But the quantity of wine obtainable from a -given acreage in the cooler climate is less than where the sun is more -effective, and thus the _naturally_ dry wines cost more to produce than -the _naturally_ sweet wines. - -The reader will understand, from what has already been stated -concerning the origin of the difference between natural sweet wines and -natural dry wines, that the conversion of either one into the other -is not a difficult problem. Wine is a fashionable beverage in this -country, and fashions fluctuate. These fluctuations are not accompanied -with a corresponding variation in the chemical composition of any -particular class of grapes, but somehow the wine produced therefrom -obeys the laws of supply and demand. For some years past the demand for -dry sherry has dominated in this country, though, as I am informed, the -weathercock of fashion is now on the turn. - -One mode of satisfying this demand for dry wine is, of course, to make -it from a grape which has little sugar and much albuminous matter, -but in a given district this is not always possible. Another is to -gather the grapes before they are fully ripened, but this involves a -sacrifice in the yield of alcohol, and probably of flavour. Another -method, obvious enough to the chemist, is to add as much albuminous -or nitrogenous material as shall continue to feed the yeast fungus -until all, or nearly all, the sugar in the grape shall be converted -into alcohol, thus supplying strength and dryness (or salinity) -simultaneously. Should these be excessive, the remedy is simple and -cheap wherever water abounds. It should be noted that the quantity of -sugar naturally contained in the ripe grape varies from 10 to 30 per -cent.—a very large range. The quantity of alcohol varies proportionally -when the must is fermented to dryness. According to Pavy, ‘there are -dry sherries to be met with that are free from sugar,’ while in other -wines the quantity of remaining sugar amounts to as much as 20 per cent. - -White of egg and gelatin are the most easily available and innocent -forms of nitrogenous material that may be used for sustaining or -renewing the fermentation of wines that are to be artificially dried. -My inquiries in the trade lead me to conclude that this is not -understood as well as it should be. Both white of egg and gelatin (in -the form of isinglass or otherwise) are freely used for fining, and -it is well enough known that wines that have been freely subjected to -such fining keep better and become drier with age, but I have never -yet met a wine-merchant who understood why, nor any sound explanation -of the fact in the trade literature. When thus added to the wine -already fermented, the effect is doubtless due to the promotion of a -slow, secondary fermentation. The bulk of the gelatin or albumen is -carried down with the sediment, but some remains in solution. There may -be some doubt as to the albumen thus remaining, but none concerning -the gelatin, which is freely soluble both in water and alcohol. The -truly scientific mode of applying this principle would be to add the -nitrogenous material to the must. - -I dwell thus upon this because, if fashion insists so imperatively -upon dryness as to compel artificial drying, this method is the least -objectionable, being a close imitation of natural drying, almost -identical; while there are other methods of inducing fictitious dryness -that are mischievous adulterations. - -Generally described, these consist in producing an imitation of the -natural salinity of the dry wine by the addition of factitious salts -and fortifying with alcohol. The sugar remains, but is disguised -thereby. It was a wine thus treated that first brought the subject -of the sulphates, already referred to, under my notice. It contained -a considerable quantity of sugar, but was not perceptibly sweet. It -was very strong and decidedly acid; contained free sulphuric acid and -alum, which, as all who have tasted it know, gives a peculiar sense of -dryness to the palate. - -The sulphuring, plastering, and use of Spanish earth increase the -dryness of a given wine by adding mineral acid and mineral salts. In -a paper recently read before the French Academy by L. Magnier de la -Source (‘Comptes Rendus,’ vol. xcviii. page 110), the author states -that ‘plastering modifies the chemical characters of the colouring -matter of the wine, and not only does the calcium sulphate decompose -the potassium hydrogen tartrate (cream of tartar), with formation of -calcium tartrate, potassium sulphate, and free tartaric acid, but it -also decomposes the neutral organic compounds of potassium which exist -in the juice of the grape.’ I quote from abstract in ‘Journal of the -Chemical Society’ of May 1884. - -In the French ‘Journal of Pharmaceutical Chemistry,’ vol. vi. pp. -118-123 (1882), is a paper, by P. Carles, in which the chemical and -hygienic results of plastering are discussed. His general conclusion -is, that the use of gypsum in clearing wines ‘renders them hurtful -as beverages;’ that the gypsum acts ‘on the potassium bitartrate in -the juice of the grape, forming calcium tartrate, tartaric acid, and -potassium sulphate, a large proportion of the last two bodies remaining -in the wine.’ Unplastered wines contain about two grammes of _free -acid_ per litre; after plastering, they contain ‘double or treble that -amount, and even more.’ - -A German chemist, Griessmayer, and more recently another, Kaiser, have -also studied this subject, and arrive at similar conclusions. Kaiser -analysed wines which were plastered by adding gypsum to the must, that -is to the juice before fermentation, and also samples in which the -gypsum was added to the ‘finished wine,’ _i.e._ for fining, so-called. -He found that ‘in the finished wine, by the addition of gypsum, the -tartaric acid is replaced by sulphuric acid, and there is a perceptible -increase in the calcium; the other constituents remain unaltered.’ -His conclusion is that the plastering of wine should be called -adulteration, and treated accordingly, on the ground that the article -in question is thereby deprived of its characteristic constituents, -and others, not normally present, are introduced. This refers more -especially to the plastering or gypsum fining of finished wines. -(Biedermann’s ‘Centralblatt,’ 1881, pp. 632, 633.) - -In the paper above named, by P. Carles, we are told that ‘owing to the -injurious nature of the impurities of plastered wines, endeavours have -been made to free them from these by a method called “deplastering,” -but the remedy proves worse than the defect.’ The samples analysed by -Carles contained barium salts, barium chloride having been used to -remove the sulphuric acid. In some cases excess of the barium salt was -found in the wine, and in others barium sulphate was held in suspension. - -Closely following the abstract of this paper, in the ‘Journal of -the Chemical Society,’ is another from the French ‘Journal of -Pharmaceutical Chemistry,’ vol. v. pp. 581-3, to which I now refer, -by the way, for the instruction of claret-drinkers, who may not be -aware of the fact that the phylloxera destroyed all the claret grapes -in certain districts of France, without stopping the manufacture or -diminishing the export of claret itself. In this paper, by J. Lefort, -we are told, as a matter of course, that ‘owing to the ravages of the -phylloxera among the vines, substitutes for grape-juice are being -introduced for the manufacture of wines; of these, the author specially -condemns the use of beet-root sugar, since, during its fermentation, -besides ethyl alcohol and aldehyde, it yields propyl, butyl, and amyl -alcohols, which have been shown by Dujardin and Audigé to act as -poisons in very small quantities.’ - -In connection with this subject I may add that the French Government -carefully protects its own citizens by rigid inspection and analysis of -the wines offered for sale to French wine-drinkers; but does not feel -bound to expend its funds and energies in hampering commerce by severe -examination of the wines that are exported to ‘John Bull et son Île,’ -especially as John Bull is known to have a robust constitution. Thus, -vast quantities of brilliantly coloured liquid, flavoured with orris -root, which would not be allowed to pass the barriers of Paris, but -must go somewhere, is drunk in England at a cost of four times as much -as the Frenchman pays for genuine grape-wine. The coloured concoction -being brighter, skilfully cooked, and duly labelled to imitate the -products of real or imaginary celebrated vineyards, is preferred by the -English _gourmet_ to anything that can be made from simple grape-juice. - -I should add that a character somewhat similar to that of natural -dryness is obtained by mixing with the grape-juice wine a secondary -product, obtained by adding water to the _marc_ (_i.e._ the residue -of skins, &c., that remains after pressing out the must or juice); -a minimum of sugar is dissolved in the water, and this liquor is -fermented. The skins and seeds contain much tannic acid or astringent -matter, and this roughness imposes upon many wine-drinkers, provided -the price charged for the wine thus cheapened be sufficiently high. - -Some years ago, while resident in Birmingham, an enterprising -manufacturing druggist consulted me on a practical difficulty which -he was unable to solve. He had succeeded in producing a very fine -claret (Château Digbeth, let us call it) by duly fortifying with silent -spirit a solution of cream of tartar, and flavouring this with a small -quantity of orris root. Tasted in the dark it was all that could be -desired for introducing a new industry to Birmingham; but the wine -was white, and every colouring material that he had tried producing -the required tint marred the flavour and bouquet of the pure Château -Digbeth. He might have used one of the magenta dyes, but as these were -prepared by boiling aniline over dry arsenic acid, and my Birmingham -friend was burdened with a conscience, he refrained from thus applying -one of the recent triumphs of chemical science. - -This was previous to the invasion of France by the phylloxera. During -the early period of that visitation, French enterprise being more -powerfully stimulated and less scrupulous than that of Birmingham, made -use of the aniline dyes for colouring spurious claret to such an extent -that the French Government interfered, and a special test paper named -Œnokrine was invented by MM. Lainville and Roy, and sold in Paris for -the purpose of detecting falsely-coloured wines. - -The mode of using the Œnokrine is as follows: ‘A slip of the paper is -steeped in pure wine for about five seconds, briskly shaken, in order -to remove excess of liquid, and then placed on a sheet of white paper -to serve as a standard. A second slip of the test-paper is then steeped -in the suspected wine in the same manner, and laid beside the former. -It is asserted that 1/100,000 of magenta is sufficient to give the -paper a violet shade, whilst a larger quantity produces a carmine red. -With genuine red wine the colour produced is a greyish blue, which -becomes lead-coloured on drying.’ I copy the above from the ‘Quarterly -Journal of Science’ of April 1877. The editor adds that the inventors -of this paper have discovered a method of removing the magenta from -wines without injuring their quality, ‘a fact of some importance, if it -be true that several hundred thousand hectolitres of wine sophisticated -with magenta are in the hands of the wine-merchants’ (a hectolitre is = -22 gallons). - -Another simple test that was recommended at the time was to immerse -a small wisp of raw silk[19] in the suspected wine, keeping it there -at a boiling heat for a few minutes. Aniline colours dye the silk -permanently; the natural colour of the grape is easily washed out. I -find on referring to the ‘Chemical News,’ the ‘Journal of the Chemical -Society,’ the ‘Comptes Rendus,’ and other scientific periodicals of -the period of the phylloxera plague, such a multitude of methods for -testing false colouring materials that I give up in despair my original -intention of describing them in detail. It would demand far more space -than the subject deserves. I will, however, just name a few of the -more harmless colouring adulterants that are stated to have been used, -and for which special tests have been devised by French and German -chemists: - -Beet-root, peach-wood, elderberries, mulberries, log-wood, -privet-berries, litmus, ammoniacal cochineal, Fernambucca-wood, -phytolacca, burnt sugar, extract of rhatany, bilberries; ‘jerupiga’ or -‘geropiga,’ a compound of elder juice, brown sugar, grape juice, and -crude Portuguese brandy’ (for choice tawny port); ‘tincture of saffron, -turmeric, or safflower’ (for golden sherry); red poppies, mallow -flowers, &c. - -Those of my readers who have done anything in practical chemistry -are well acquainted with blue and red litmus, and the general fact -that such vegetable colours change from blue to red when exposed to -an acid, and return to blue when the acid is overcome by an alkali. -The colouring matter of the grape is one of these. Mulder and Maumené -have given it the name of _œnocyan_ or _wine-blue_, as its colour, -when neutral, is blue; the red colour of genuine wines is due to the -presence of tartaric and acetic acid acting upon the wine-blue. There -are a few purple wines, their colour being due to unusual absence of -acid. The original vintage which gave celebrity to port wine is an -example of this. - -The bouquet of wine is usually described as due to the presence -of ether, _œnanthic_ ether, which is naturally formed during the -fermentation of grape juice, and is itself a variable mixture of other -ethers, such as caprilic, caproic, &c. The oil of the seed of the grape -contributes to the bouquet. The fancy values of fancy wines are largely -due, or more properly speaking _were_ largely due, to peculiarities -of bouquet. These peculiar wines became costly because their supply -was limited, only a certain vineyard, in some cases of very small -area, producing the whole crop of the fancy article. The high price -once established, and the demand far exceeding the possibilities of -supply from the original source, other and resembling wines are now -sold under the name of the celebrated locality with the bouquet or _a_ -bouquet artificially introduced. It has thus come about in the ordinary -course of business that the dearest wines of the choicest brands are -those which are the most likely to be sophisticated. The flavouring of -wine, the imparting of delicate bouquet, is a high art, and is costly. -It is only upon high-priced wines that such costly operations can be -practised. Simple ordinary grape-juice—as I have already stated—is -so cheap when and where its quality is the highest, _i.e._ in good -seasons and suitable climates, that adulteration with anything but -water renders the adulterated product more costly than the genuine. -When there is a good vintage it does not pay even to add sugar and -water to the marc or residue, and press this a second time. It is more -profitable to use it for making inferior brandy, or wine oil, _huile de -marc_, or even for fodder or manure. - -This, however, only applies where the demand is for simple genuine -wine, a demand almost unknown in England, where connoisseurs abound who -pass their glasses horizontally under their noses, hold them up to the -light to look for beeswings and absurd transparency, knowingly examine -the brand on the cork, and otherwise offer themselves as willing dupes -to be pecuniarily immolated on the great high altar of the holy shrine -of costly humbug. - -Some years ago I was at Frankfort, on my way to the Tyrol and Venice, -and there saw, at a few paces before me, an unquestionable Englishman, -with an ill-slung knapsack. I spoke to him, earned his gratitude at -once by showing him how to dispense with that knapsack abomination, -the breast-strap. We chummed, and put up at a genuine German hostelry -of my selection, the Gasthaus zum Schwanen. Here we supped with a -multitude of natives, to the great amusement of my new friend, who -had hitherto halted at hotels devised for Englishmen. The handmaiden -served us with wine in tumblers, and we both pronounced it excellent. -My new friend was enthusiastic; the bouquet was superior to anything -he had ever met with before, and if it could only be fined—it was -not by any means bright—it would be invaluable. He then took me into -his confidence. He was in the wine trade, assisting in his father’s -business; the ‘governor’ had told him to look out in the course of his -travels, as there were obscure vineyards here and there producing very -choice wines that might be contracted for at very low prices. This was -one of them; here was good business. If I would help him to learn all -about it, presentation cases of wine should be poured upon me for ever -after. - -I accordingly asked the handmaiden, ‘Was für Wein?’ &c. Her answer -was, ‘Apfel-Wein.’ She was frightened at my burst of laughter, and the -young wine-merchant also imagined that he had made acquaintance with a -lunatic, until I translated the answer, and told him that we had been -drinking cider. We called for more, and _then_ recognised the ‘curious’ -bouquet at once. - -The manufacture of bouquets has made great progress of late, and they -are much cheaper than formerly. Their chief source is coal-tar, the -refuse from gas-works. That most easily produced is the essence of -bitter almonds, which supplies a ‘nutty’ flavour and bouquet. Anybody -may make it by simply adding benzol (the most volatile portion of the -coal-tar), in small portions at a time, to warm, fuming nitric acid. -On cooling and diluting the mixture, a yellow oil, which solidifies -at a little above the freezing point of water, is formed. It may be -purified by washing first with water, and then with a weak solution of -carbonate of soda to remove the excess of acid. It is now largely used -in cookery as essence of bitter almonds. Its old perfumery name was -Essence of Mirbane. - -By more elaborate operations on the coal-tar product, a number of other -essences and bouquets of curiously imitative character are produced. -One of the most familiar of these is the essence of jargonelle pears, -which flavours the ‘pear drops’ of the confectioner so cunningly; -another is raspberry flavour, by the aid of which a mixture of -fig-seeds and apple-pulp, duly coloured, may be converted into a -raspberry jam that would deceive our Prime Minister. I do not say that -it now is so used (though I believe it has been), for the simple reason -that wholesale jam-makers now grow their own fruit so cheaply that the -genuine article costs no more than the sham. Raspberries can be grown -and gathered at a cost of about twopence per pound. - -With wine at 60_s._ to 100_s._ per dozen the case is different. The -price leaves an ample margin for the conversion of ‘Italian reds,’ -Catalans, and other sound ordinary wines into any fancy brands that -may happen to be in fashion. Such being the case, the mere fact that -certain emperors or potentates have bought up the whole produce of the -château that is named on the labels does not interfere with the market -supply, which is strictly regulated by the demand.[20] - -Visiting a friend in the trade, he offered me a glass of the wine that -he drank himself when at home, and supplied to his own family. He asked -my opinion of it. I replied that I thought it was genuine grape-juice, -resembling that which I had been accustomed to drink at country inns in -the Côte d’Or (Burgundy) and in Italy. He told me that he imported it -directly from a district near to that I first named, and could supply -it at 12_s._ per dozen with a fair profit. Afterwards, when calling at -his place of business in the West-end, he told me that one of his best -customers had just been tasting the various samples of dinner claret -then remaining on the table, some of them expensive, and that he had -chosen the same as I had, but what was my friend to do? Had he quoted -12_s._ per dozen, he would have lost one of his best customers, and -sacrificed his reputation as a high-class wine-merchant; therefore he -quoted 54_s._, and both buyer and seller were perfectly satisfied: the -wine-merchant made a large profit, and the customer obtained what he -demanded—a good wine at a ‘respectable price.’ He could not insult his -friends by putting cheap 12_s._ trash on _his_ table. - -Here arises an ethical question. Was the wine-merchant justified in -making this charge under the circumstances; or, otherwise stated, -who was to blame for the crookedness of the transaction? I say the -customer; my verdict is, ‘Sarve him right!’ - -In reference to wines, and still more to cigars, and some other useless -luxuries, the typical Englishman is a victim to a prevalent commercial -superstition. He blindly assumes that price must necessarily represent -quality, and therefore shuts his eyes and opens his mouth to swallow -anything with complete satisfaction, provided that he pays a good -price for it at a respectable establishment, _i.e._ one where only -high-priced articles are sold. - -If any reader thinks I speak too strongly, let him ascertain the market -price per lb. of the best Havanna tobacco leaves where they are grown, -also the cost of twisting them into cigar shape (a skilful workwoman -can make a thousand in a day), then add to the sum of these the cost of -packing, carriage, and duty. He will be rather astonished at the result -of this arithmetical problem. - -If these things were necessaries of life, or contributed in any degree -or manner to human welfare, I should protest indignantly; but seeing -what they are and what they do, I rather rejoice at the limitation of -consumption effected by their fancy prices. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[19] In repeating these experiments I find that the best form of silk -is that which the Coventry dyers technically call ‘boiled silk,’ _i.e._ -raw silk boiled in potash to remove its resinous varnish. In this state -the aniline dyes attach themselves to the fibre very readily and firmly. - -[20] The following is from _Knowledge_ of August 15, 1884. It is -editorial, not mine, though I have heard these ‘Spirit Flavours’ spoken -of by experts as ordinary merchandise. The Hungarian wine oil is one of -them: ‘I have just obtained what is expressively known as “a wrinkle” -from a wholesale price-list of a distiller which has fallen (no matter -how) into my hands. That it was never intended to be seen by any -mortal eyes outside of “the trade” goes without saying. In this highly -instructive document I find, under the head of “Spirit Flavours,” -“the attention of consumers in Australia and India” (we needn’t say -anything about England) “is particularly called to these very useful -and excellent flavours. One pound of either of these essences to -fifty gallons of plain spirit” (let us suppose potato spirit) “will -make immediately a fine brandy or old tom, &c., without the use of a -still.—See _Lancet_ report.” This is followed by a list of prices of -these “flavours,” and then follows a similar one of “Wine Aromas.” -A cheerful look-out all this presents, upon my word! The confiding -traveller calls at his inn for some old brandy, and they make it in -the bar while he is waiting. He orders a pint of claret or port, and -straightway he is served with some that has been two and a half minutes -in bottle! After the perusal of this price-list, I have come to the -conclusion that in the case of no articles of consumption whatever is -the motto _Caveat emptor_ more needful to be attended to than in that -of (so called) wines and spirits.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE VEGETARIAN QUESTION - - -IN my introductory chapter I said, ‘The fact that we use the digestive -and nutrient apparatus of sheep, oxen, &c., for the preparation of our -food is merely a transitory barbarism, to be ultimately superseded when -my present subject is sufficiently understood and applied to enable us -to prepare the constituents of the vegetable kingdom to be as easily -assimilated as the prepared grass which we call beef and mutton.’ - -This sentence, when it appeared in ‘Knowledge,’ brought me in -communication with a very earnest body of men and women, who at -considerable social inconvenience are abstaining from flesh food, -and doing it purely on principle. Some people sneer at them, call -them ‘crotchetty,’ ‘faddy,’ &c., but, for my own part, I have a great -respect for crotchetty people, having learned long ago that every first -great step that has ever been taken in the path of human progress was -denounced as a crotchet by those it was leaving behind. This respect is -quite apart from the consideration of whether I agree or disagree with -the crotchets themselves. - -I therefore willingly respond to the request that I should explain more -fully my view of this subject. The fact that there are now in London -eight exclusively vegetarian restaurants, and all of them flourishing, -shows that it is one of wide interest. - -At the outset it is necessary to brush aside certain false issues that -are commonly raised in discussing this subject. The question is not -whether we are herbivorous or carnivorous animals. It is perfectly -certain that we are neither. The carnivora feed on flesh _alone_, -and eat that flesh raw. Nobody proposes that we should do this. The -herbivora eat raw grass. Nobody suggests that we should follow _their_ -example. - -It is perfectly clear that man cannot be classed with the carnivorous -animals, nor the herbivorous animals, nor with the graminivorous -animals. His teeth are not constructed for munching and grinding raw -grain, nor his digestive organs for assimilating such grain in this -condition. - -He is not even to be classed with the omnivorous animals. He stands -apart from all as THE COOKING ANIMAL. - -It is true that there was a time when our ancestors ate raw flesh, -including that of each other. - -In the limestone caverns of this and other European countries we find -human bones gnawed by human teeth, and split open by flint implements -for the evident purpose of extracting the marrow, according to the -domestic economy of the period. - -The shell mounds that these prehistoric bipeds have left behind, show -that mussels, oysters, and other mollusca were also eaten raw, and -they doubtless varied the menu with snails, slugs, and worms, as the -remaining Australian savages still do. Besides these they probably -included roots, succulent plants, nuts, and such fruit as then existed. - -There are many among us who are very proud of their ancient lineage, -and who think it honourable to go back as far as possible and to -maintain the customs of their forefathers; but they all seem to -draw a line somewhere, none desiring to go as far back as to their -inter-glacial troglodytic ancestors, and, therefore, I need not discuss -the desirability of restoring their dietary. - -All human beings became cooks as soon as they learned how to make a -fire, and have all continued to be cooks ever since. - -We should, therefore, look at this vegetarian question from the -point of view of prepared food, which excludes nearly all comparison -with the food of the brute creation. I say ‘nearly all,’ because -there is one case in which all the animals that approach the nearest -to ourselves—the mammalia—are provided naturally with a specially -prepared food, viz. the mother’s milk. The composition of this -preparation appears to me to throw more light than anything else upon -this vegetarian controversy, and yet it seems to have been entirely -overlooked. - -The milk prepared for the young of the different animals in the -laboratory or kitchen of Nature is surely adapted to their structure -as regards natural food requirements. Without assuming that the human -dietetic requirements are identical with either of the other mammals, -we may learn something concerning our approximation to one class or -another by comparing the composition of human milk with that of the -animals in question. - -I find ready to hand in Dr. Miller’s ‘Chemistry’, vol. iii., a -comparative statement of the mean of several analyses of the milk of -woman, cow, goat, ass, sheep, and bitch. The latter is a moderately -carnivorous animal, nearly approaching the omnivorous character -commonly ascribed to man. The following is the statement: - - +------------------------+-----+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - | |Woman| Cow | Goat | Ass | Sheep | Bitch | - +------------------------+-----+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - | Water | 88·6| 87·4 | 82·0 | 90·5 | 85·6 | 66·3 | - | Fat | 2·6| 4·0 | 4·5 | 1·4 | 4·5 | 14·8 | - | Sugar and soluble salts| 4·9| 5·0 | 4·5 | 6·4 | 4·2 | 2·9 | - | Nitrogenous compounds | | | | | | | - | and insoluble salts | 3·9| 3·6 | 9·0 | 1·7 | 5·7 | 16·0 | - +------------------------+-----+------+------+------+-------+-------+ - -According to this it is quite evident that Nature regards our food -requirements as approaching much nearer to the herbivora than to the -carnivora, and has provided for us accordingly. - -If we are to begin the building-up of our bodies on a food more nearly -resembling that of the herbivora than that of the carnivora, it is only -reasonable to assume that we should continue on the same principle. - -The particulars of the difference are instructive. The food which -Nature provides for the human infant differs from that provided for the -young carnivorous animal, just in the same way as flesh food differs -from the cultivated and cooked vegetables and fruit within easy reach -of man. - -These contain less fat, less nitrogenous matter, more water, and more -sugar (or starch, which becomes sugar during digestion) than animal -food. - -Those who advocate the use of flesh food usually do so on the ground -that it is more nutritious, contains more nitrogenous material and more -fat than vegetable food. So much the worse for the human being, says -Nature, when _she_ prepares the food. - -But as a matter of practical fact there are no flesh-eaters among us, -none who avail themselves of this higher proportion of albuminoids and -fat. We all practically admit every day in eating our ordinary English -dinner, that this excess of nitrogenous matter and fat is bad; we do -so by mixing the meat with that particular vegetable which contains -an excess of the carbo-hydrates (starch) with the smallest available -quantity of albuminoids and fat. The slice of meat, diluted with the -lump of potato, brings the whole down to about the average composition -of a fairly-arranged vegetarian repast. When I speak of a vegetarian -repast, I do not mean mere cabbages and potatoes, but properly -selected, well cooked, nutritious vegetable food. As an example, I -will take Count Rumford’s No. 1 soup, already described, without the -bread, and in like manner take beef and potatoes without bread. Taking -original weights, and assuming that the lump of potato weighed the same -as the slice of meat, we get the following composition according to the -table given by Pavy, page 410: - - +----------------+-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | | Water | Albumen | Starch | Sugar | Fat | Salts | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | Lean beef | 72·00 | 19·30 | -- | -- | 3·60 | 5·10 | - | Potatoes | 75·00 | 2·10 | 18·80 | 3·20 | 0·20 | 0·70 | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | |147·00 | 21·40 | 18·80 | 3·20 | 3·80 | 5·80 | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - |Mean composition| | | | | | | - | of mixture | 73·50 | 10·70 | 9·40 | 1·60 | 1·90 | 2·90 | - +----------------+-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - -Rumford’s soup (without the bread afterwards added) was composed -of equal measures of peas and pearl barley, or barley meal, and -nearly equal weights. Their percentage composition as stated in the -above-named table is as follows: - - +----------------+-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | | Water | Albumen | Starch | Sugar | Fat | Salts | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | Peas | 15·00 | 23·00 | 55·40 | 2·00 | 2·10 | 2·50 | - | Barley meal | 15·00 | 6·30 | 69·40 | 4·90 | 2·40 | 2·00 | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - | | 30·00 | 29·30 | 134·80 | 6·90 | 4·50 | 4·50 | - | +-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - |Mean composition| | | | | | | - | of mixture | 15·00 | 14·65 | 62·40 | 3·45 | 2·25 | 2·25 | - +----------------+-------+---------+--------+-------+------+-------+ - -Here, then, in 100 parts of the material of Rumford’s halfpenny dinner, -as compared with the ‘mixed diet,’ we have 40 per cent. more of -nitrogenous food, more than six and a half times as much carbo-hydrate -in the form of starch, more than double the quantity of sugar, about -17 per cent. more of fat, and only a little less of salts (supplied by -the salt which Rumford added). Thus the ‘mixed diet’ falls short in all -the costly constituents, and only excels by its abundance of very cheap -water. - -This analysis supplies the explanation of what has puzzled many -inquirers, and encouraged some sneerers at this work of the great -scientific philanthropist, viz. that he allowed less than five ounces -of solids for each man’s dinner. He did so and found it sufficient, -because he was supplying far more nutritious material than beef and -potatoes; his five ounces was more satisfactory than a pound of beef -and potatoes, three-fourths of which is water, for which water John -Bull blindly pays a shilling or more per pound when he buys his prime -steak. - -Rumford added the water at pump cost, and, by long boiling, caused -some of it to unite with the solid materials (by the hydration I have -described), and then served the combination in the form of porridge, -raising each portion to 19¾ ounces. - -I might multiply such examples to prove the fallacy of the prevailing -notions concerning the nutritive value of the ‘mixed diet,’ a fallacy -which is merely an inherited epidemic, a baseless physical superstition. - -I will, however, just add one more example for comparison—viz. the -Highlander’s porridge. The following is the composition of oatmeal—also -from Pavy’s table: - - Water 15·00 - Albumen 12·60 - Starch 58·40 - Sugar 5·40 - Fat 5·60 - Salts 3·00 - -Compare this with the beef and potatoes above, and it will be seen that -it is _superior in every item excepting the water_. One hundred ounces -of oatmeal contain 1·9 ounce more of albumen than is contained in 100 -ounces of beef and potatoes mixed in equal proportions. The 100 ounces -of oatmeal supplies 39·6 ounces more of carbo-hydrate (starch). The 100 -ounces of oatmeal is superior to the extent of 3·8 ounces in sugar. It -has the advantage by 3·7 ounces in fat, and 0·9 ounce in salts, but -the mixed diet beats the oatmeal by containing 58½ ounces more water; -nearly four times as much. This deficiency is readily supplied in the -cookery. - -These figures explain a puzzle that may have suggested itself to some -of my thoughtful readers—viz. the smallness of the quantity of dry -oatmeal that is used in making a large portion of porridge. If we -could, in like manner, see our portion of beef or mutton and potatoes -reduced to dryness, the smallness of the quantity of actually solid -food required for a meal would be similarly manifest. An alderman’s -banquet in this condition would barely fill a breakfast cup. - -I cannot at all agree with those of my vegetarian friends who denounce -flesh-meat as a prolific source of disease, as inflaming the passions, -and generally demoralising. Neither am I at all disposed to make a -religion of either eating, or drinking, or abstaining. There are -certain albuminoids, certain carbo-hydrates, certain hydro-carbons, -and certain salts demanded for our sustenance. Excepting in fruit, -these are not supplied by nature in a fit condition for _our_ use. They -must be prepared. Whether we do _all_ the preparation in the kitchen -by bringing the produce of the earth directly there, or whether, on -account of our ignorance and incapacity as cooks, we pass our food -through the stomach, intestines, blood-vessels, &c., of sheep and -oxen, as a substitute for the first stages of scientific cookery, the -result is about the same as regards the dietic result. - -Flesh feeding is a nasty practice, but I see no grounds for denouncing -it as physiologically injurious, excepting in the fact that the -liability to gout, rheumatism, and neuralgia is increased by it. - -In my youthful days I was on friendly terms with a sheep that belonged -to a butcher in Jermyn Street. This animal, for some reason, had been -spared in its lamb-hood, and was reared as the butcher’s pet. It was -well-known in St. James’s by following the butcher’s men through the -streets like a dog. I have seen this sheep steal mutton-chops and -devour them raw. It preferred beef or mutton to grass. It enjoyed -robust health, and was by no means ferocious. - -It was merely a disgusting animal, with excessively perverted appetite; -a perversion that supplies very suggestive material for human -meditation. - -My own experiments on myself, and the multitude of other experiments -that I am daily witnessing among men of all occupations who have cast -aside flesh food after many years of mixed diet, prove incontestably -that flesh food is quite unnecessary; and also that men and women who -emulate the aforesaid sheep to the mild extent of consuming daily -about two ounces of animal tissue combined with six ounces of water, -and dilute this with such weak vegetable food as the potato, are not -measurably altered thereby so far as physical health is concerned.[21] - -On economical grounds, however, the difference is enormous. If all -Englishmen were vegetarians and fish-eaters, the whole aspect of the -country would be changed. It would be a land of gardens and orchards, -instead of gradually reverting to prairie grazing-ground as at present. -The unemployed miserables of our great towns, the inhabitants of our -union workhouses, and all our rogues and vagabonds, would find ample -and suitable employment in agriculture. Every acre of land would -require three or four times as much labour as at present, and feed five -or six times as many people. - -No sentimental exaggeration is demanded for the recommendation of such -a reform as this. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[21] Since the above was written I have met with some alarming -revelations concerning the increasing prevalence of cancer, which, if -confirmed, will force me to withdraw this conclusion. This horrible -disease has increased in England with increase of prosperity—with -increase of luxury in feeding—which in this country means more flesh -food. In the ten years from 1850 to 1860, the deaths from cancer had -increased by 2,000; from 1860 to 1870 the increase was 2,400; from 1870 -to 1880 it reached 3,200, above the preceding ten years. The proportion -of deaths is far higher among the well-to-do classes than among the -poorer classes. It seems to be the one disease that increases with -improved general sanitary conditions. The evidence is not yet complete, -but as far as it goes it points most ominously to a direct connection -between cancer and excessive flesh feeding among people of sedentary -habits. The most abundant victims appear to be women who eat much meat -and take but little out-of-door exercise. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MALTED FOOD. - - -A FEW years ago the ‘farmers’ friends’ were very sanguine on the -subject of using malt as cattle food. At agricultural meetings -throughout the country the iniquitous malt-tax was eloquently denounced -because it stood in the way of this great fodder reform. Then the -malt-tax was repealed, and forthwith the subject fell out of hearing. -Why was this? - -The idea of malt feeding was theoretically sound. By the malting of -barley or other grain its diastase is made to act upon its insoluble -starch, and to convert this more or less completely into soluble -dextrin, a change which is absolutely necessary as a part of the -business of digestion. Therefore, if you feed cattle on malted grain -instead of raw grain, you supply them with a food so prepared that a -part of the business of digestion is already done for them, and their -nutrition is thereby advanced. - -From what I am able to learn, the reason why this hopeful theory has -not been carried out is simply that it does not ‘pay.’ The advantage in -fattening the cattle is not sufficient to remunerate the farmers for -the extra cost of the malted food. - -This may be the case with oxen, but it does not follow that it should -be the same with human beings. Cattle feed on grass, mangold-wurzels, -&c., in their raw state, but we cannot; and, as I have already shown, -we are not graminivorous in the manner they are; we cannot digest raw -wheat, barley, oats, or maize. - -We cannot do this because we are not supplied with such effective -natural grinding apparatus as they have in their mouths, and, further, -because we have a much smaller supply of saliva and a shorter -alimentary canal. - -We can easily supply our natural deficiencies in the matter of -grinding, and do so by means of our flour mills, but at first thought -the idea of finding an artificial representative of the saliva of oxen -does not recommend itself. When, however, it is understood that the -chief active principle of the saliva so closely resembles the diastase -of malt that it has received the name of ‘animal diastase,’ and is -probably the same compound, the aspect of the problem changes. - -Not only is this the case with the secretion from the glands -surrounding the mouth, but the pancreas which is concerned in a later -stage of digestion is a gland so similar to the salivary glands that -in ordinary cookery both are dressed and served as ‘sweetbreads;’ the -‘pancreatic juice’ is a liquid closely resembling saliva, and contains -a similar diastase, or substance that converts starch into dextrin, and -from dextrin to sugar. Lehmann says, ‘It is now indubitably established -that the pancreatic juice possesses this sugar-forming power in a far -higher degree than the saliva.’ - -Besides this, there is another sugar-forming secretion, the ‘intestinal -juice,’ which operates on the starch of the food as it passes along the -intestinal canal. - -This being the case, we should, in exercising our privilege as cooking -animals, be able to assist the digestive functions of the saliva, the -pancreatic and intestinal secretions, just as we help our teeth by the -flour mill, and the means of doing this is offered by the diastase of -malt. - -In accordance with this reasoning I have made some experiments on -a variety of our common vegetable foods, by simply raising them—in -contact with water—to the temperature most favourable to the converting -action of diastase (140° to 150° Fahrenheit), and then adding a little -malt extract or malt flour. - -This extract may be purchased ready made, or prepared by soaking -crushed or ground malt in warm water, leaving it for an hour or two or -longer, and then pressing out the liquid. - -I find that oatmeal-porridge when thus treated is thinned by the -conversion of the bulk of its insoluble starch into soluble dextrin; -that boiled rice is similarly thinned; that a stiff jelly of arrowroot -is at once rendered watery, and its conversion into dextrin is -demonstrated by its altered action when a solution of iodine is added -to it. It no longer becomes suddenly of a deep blue colour as when it -was starch. - -Sago and tapioca are similarly changed, but not so completely as -arrowroot. This is evidently because they contain a little nitrogenous -matter and cellulose, which, when stirred, give a milkiness to the -otherwise clear and limpid solution of dextrin. - -Pease-pudding when thus treated behaves very instructively. Instead of -remaining as a fairly uniform paste, it partially separates into paste -and clear liquid, the paste being the cellulose and vegetable casein, -the liquid a solution of the dextrin or converted starch. - -Mashed turnips, carrots, potatoes, &c., behave similarly, the general -results showing that so far as starch is concerned there is no -practical difficulty in obtaining a conversion of the starch into -dextrin by means of a very small quantity of maltose. - -Hasty pudding made of boiled flour is similarly altered. Generally -speaking, the degree of visible alteration is proportionate to the -amount of starch, but the more intimately it is mixed with the -cellulose, the more slowly the change occurs. - -I have made malt-porridge by using malt flour instead of oatmeal. I -found it rather too sweet, but on mixing about one part of malt flour -with four to eight parts of oatmeal, an excellent and easily digestible -porridge is obtained, and one which I strongly recommend as a most -valuable food for strong people and invalids, children and adults. - -Further details of these experiments would be tedious, and are not -necessary, as they display no chemical changes that are new to science, -and the practical results may be briefly stated without such details, -as follows. - -I recommend, first, the production of malt flour by grinding and -sifting malted wheat, malted barley, or malted oats, or all of these, -and the retailing of this at its fair value as a staple article of -food. Every shopkeeper who sells flour or meal of any kind should sell -this. - -Secondly, that this malted flour, or the extract made from it as above -described, be mixed with the ordinary flour used in making pastry, -biscuits, bread, &c.,[22] and with all kinds of porridge, pastry, -pea-soup, and other farinaceous preparations, and that when these are - cooked they should be -slowly heated at first, in order that the maltose may act upon the -starch at its most favourable temperature (140° to 150° Fahr.). - -Thirdly, when practicable, such preparations as porridge, pea-soup, -pastry, &c., should be prepared by first cooking them in the usual -manner, then stirring the malt meal or malt extract into them, and -allowing the mixture to remain for some time. This time may vary -from a few minutes to several hours or days—the longer the better. -I have proved by experiments on boiled rice, oatmeal-porridge, -pease-pudding, &c., that complete conversion may thus be effected. When -the temperature of 140° to 150° is carefully obtained, the work of -conversion is done in half an hour or less. At 212° it is arrested. At -temperatures below 140°, it proceeds with a slowness varying with the -depression of temperature. The most rapid result is obtained by first -cooking the food as above, then reducing the temperature to 150°, and -adding the malt flour or malt extract, and maintaining the temperature -for a short time. The advantage of previous cooking is due to the -preliminary breaking-up and hydration of the starch granules. - -Fourthly, besides the malt meal or malt flour, I recommend the -manufacture of what I may call ‘pearl malt,’ that is, malt treated as -barley is treated in the manufacture of pearl barley. This pearl malt -may be largely used in soups, puddings, and for other purposes evident -to the practical cook. It may be found preferable to the malt flour for -some of the above-named purposes, especially for making a _purée_ like -Rumford’s soup. - -I strongly recommend such a soup to vegetarians—_i.e._ the Rumford soup -No. 1, already described, but with the admixture of a little pearl malt -with the pearl barley (or malt flour failing the pearl malt). A small -proportion of malt (one-twentieth, for example) has a considerable -effect, but a larger amount is desirable. In all cases this quantity -may be regulated by experience and according to whether a decided malt -flavour is or is not preferred. - -I have not yet met with any malted maize commercially prepared, but my -experiments on a small scale show that it is a very desirable product. - -As regards the action of vegetable diastase on cellulose, whether it -is capable of breaking it up or effecting its hydration and conversion -into digestible sugar, I am not yet able to speak positively, but the -following facts are promising. - -I treated sago, tapioca, and rice with the maltose as above, and found -that at a temperature of 140° to 150° all the starch disappears in -about half an hour, as proved by the iodine test. Still the liquid was -not clear: flocculi of cellulose, &c., were suspended in it. I kept -this on the top of a stove several days, where the temperature of the -liquid varied from 100° to 180° while the fire was burning, but fell to -that of the atmosphere during the night. The quantity of the insoluble -matter considerably diminished, but it was not entirely removed. - -This led me to make further experiments, still in progress, on the -ensilage of human food with the aid of diastase. These experiments are -on a small scale, and are sufficiently satisfactory to justify more -effective trials on a larger scale. It is well known that ordinary -ensilage succeeds much better on a large than on a small scale, and I -have no doubt that such will be the case with my diastase ensilage of -oatmeal, pease-pudding, mashed roots, &c. - -I am also treating such vegetable food material with various acids for -the same purpose. - -When by these or other means we convert vegetable tissue into dextrin -and sugar, as it is naturally converted in the ripening pear, and -as it has been artificially converted in our laboratories, we shall -extend our food supplies in an incalculable degree. Swedes, turnips, -mangold-wurzels, &c., will become delicate diet for invalids; horse -beans, far more nutritious than beef; delicate biscuits and fancy -pastry, as well as ordinary bread, will be produced from sawdust -and wood shavings, plus a little leguminous flour to supplement the -nitrogenous requirement. - -This may even be done now. Long ago I converted an old -pocket-handkerchief and part of an old shirt into sugar, but not -profitably as a commercial transaction. Other chemists have done the -like in their laboratories. It is yet to be done in the kitchen. - -I should add that the sugar referred to in all the above is not cane -sugar, but the sugar corresponding to that in the grape and in honey. -It is less sweet than cane or beet sugar, but is a better food. - -I have already spoken of the difficulty presented by the opposite -nature of the solvents demanded by the casein and the cellulose in my -experiments on the ensilage of pease-pudding. The action of diastase -indicates a possible solution of this difficulty. Let us suppose that -a sufficient amount of potash is used to dissolve the casein, its -solution separated as described (pages 218-219), the insoluble fibrous -remainder treated with maltose or malt flour, and its action allowed -to proceed to fermentation and effecting the formation of acetic acid. -Will this acid, by means of ensilage, act upon the cellulose as the -acid of the unripe pear acts upon its cellulose? - -This is another of the questions that I can only suggest, not having -had time and opportunity to supply experimental answer. - -Do fruits contain diastase? - -Two kinds of food are described by Pavy (‘Treatise on Food and -Dietetics,’ page 227), in the preparation of which the conversion of -starch into dextrin appears to be effected. As I have no acquaintance -with these, never met with them either in Scotland or Wales, I will -quote his description: - -‘_Sowans_, _seeds_, or _flummery_, which constitutes a very popular -article of diet in Scotland and South Wales, is made from the husks of -the grain (oats). The husks, with the starchy particles adhering to -them, are separated from the other parts of the grain and steeped in -water for one or two days, until the mass ferments and becomes sourish. -It is then skimmed and the liquid boiled down to the consistence of -gruel. In Wales this food is called _sucan_. _Budrum_ is prepared -in the same manner, except that the liquid is boiled down to a -sufficient consistency to form, when cold, a firm jelly. This resembles -blancmange, and constitutes a light, demulcent, and nutritious article -of food, which is well suited for the weak stomach.’ - -Here it is evident that solution takes place and a gummy substance is -formed; this and the fermentation and sourish taste all indicate the -action of the diastase of the seed converting the starch into dextrin -and sugar, the latter passing at once into acetic fermentation. Having -only just met with this passage, I am unable to supply any experimental -evidence, but suggest to any of my readers who may be on the spot where -either of these preparations are made, the simple experiment of adding -a little diluted tincture of iodine to the sowans or budrum, preferably -to the latter. If any of the starch remains as starch, a deep blue -tint will be immediately struck; if this is not the case it is _all_ -converted. - -I have just received a letter (while the proofs of this sheet are in -course of correction) from a retired barrister in his seventy-third -year, who, after a successful career in India, ‘retired in 1870 to -enjoy the _otium cum dig_.’ Among other interesting particulars -relating to animal and vegetable diet, he tells me that ‘somehow I -did not, with a purely vegetable diet, excite saliva sufficient for -digestion, and being constitutionally a gouty subject, I have suffered -very much from gout until comparatively lately (say the last eight -months), when an idea came into my head that by the use of potash I -might get rid of the calcareous deposit accompanying gout, and have -been taking 30 drops of liquor potassæ in my tea with very good effect. -But within the last ten days, thanks to your article in “Knowledge” -of January 16, 1885, I have, as it were by magic, become young again. -I was not aware that the diastase of malt had the same powers as -the salivary secretions. When I read your article, I commenced the -experiment on my morning food, namely, oatmeal-porridge, of which for -several years I have cooked daily four ounces, of which I could never -eat more than half without feeling distended for an hour or two, and -then again feeling hungry and a craving for more food. Since I followed -your directions I have been able to eat comfortably nearly the whole -(five ounces with the malt). I feel no distension for the time nor -craving afterwards; I am comfortably satisfied for hours; but what -is more, the diastased porridge has had the effect of removing the -tendency to costiveness, which was sore trouble, and it has rendered my -joints supple, and destroyed the tendency of my finger and toe-nails -to grow rapidly and brittle. All this seems to have changed, as if by -magic. I, therefore, write to you as a public benefactor, to thank you -for your seasonable hints.’ - -I quote this letter (with the permission of the writer, Mr. A. T. T. -Petersen) the more willingly and confidently from the fact that I have -lately adopted as a regular supper diet a porridge made of oatmeal, -to which about one-sixth or one-eighth of malt flour is added. I find -it in every respect advantageous, far better than ordinary simple -oatmeal-porridge. The following from Pavy, p. 229, indicates further -the desirability of assisting the salivary glands and pancreas in -digesting this otherwise excellent food. Speaking of oatmeal-porridge, -he says: ‘It is apt to disagree with some dyspeptics, having a tendency -to produce acidity and pyrosis, and cases have been noticed among those -who have been in the daily habit of consuming it, where dyspeptic -symptoms have subsided upon temporarily abandoning its use.’ - -My readers should try the following experiment. It supplies a striking -demonstration of the potency of the diastase of malt. - -Make a portion of oatmeal-porridge in the usual manner, but unusually -thick—a pudding rather than a porridge; then, while it is still hot -(150° or thereabouts) in the saucepan, add some _dry_ malt flour (equal -to one-eighth to one-fourth of the oatmeal used). Stir this dry flour -into it and a curious transformation will take place. The dry flour -instead of thickening the mixture acts like the addition of water, -and converts the thick pudding into a thin porridge. I find that this -paradox greatly astonishes the practical cook. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[22] I have lately learned that a patent was secured some years ago for -‘malt bread,’ and that such bread is obtainable from bakers who make -it under a license from the patentee. The ‘revised formula’ for 1884, -which I have just obtained, says: ‘Take of wheat meal 6 lbs., wheat -flour 6 lbs., malt flour 6 oz., German yeast 2 oz., salt 2 oz., water -sufficient. Make into dough (without first melting the malt), prove -well, and bake in tins.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE PHYSIOLOGY OF NUTRITION. - - -I HAVE repeatedly spoken of the nitrogenous and non-nitrogenous -constituents of food, assuming that the nitrogenous are the more -nutritious, are the plastic or flesh-building materials, and that the -non-nitrogenous materials cannot build up flesh or bone or nervous -matter, can only supply the material of fat, and by their combustion -maintain the animal heat. - -In doing so I have been treading on loose ground—I may say on a -scientific quicksand. When I first taught practical physiology to -children in Edinburgh, many years ago, this part of the subject was -much easier to teach than now. The simple and elegant theory of Liebig -was then generally accepted, and appeared quite sound. - -According to this, every muscular effort is performed at the expense -of muscular tissue; every mental effort, at the expense of cerebral -tissue; and so on with all the forces of life. This consumption or -degradation of tissue demands continual supplies of food for its -renewal, and as all the working organs of the animal are composed of -nitrogenous tissue, it is clearly necessary, according to this, that we -should be supplied with nitrogenous food to renew them, seeing that the -nitrogen of the air cannot be assimilated by animals at all. - -But besides doing mechanical and mental work, the animal body is -continually giving out heat, and its temperature must be maintained. -Food is also demanded for this, and the non-nitrogenous food is the -most readily combustible, especially the hydro-carbons or fats; the -carbo-hydrates—starch, sugar, &c.—also, but in lower degree. These, -then, were described as fuel food, or heat-producers. - -This view is strongly confirmed by a multitude of familiar facts. Men, -horses, and other animals cannot do continuous hard work without a -supply of nitrogenous food; the harder the work the more they require, -and the greater becomes their craving for it. On the other hand, when -such food is eaten in large quantities by idle people, they become -victims of inflammatory disease, or their health otherwise suffers, -according, probably, to whether they assimilate or reject it. - -Man is a cosmopolitan animal, and the variations of his natural demand -for food in different climates affords very direct support to Liebig’s -theory. Enormous quantities of hydro-carbon, in the form of fat, are -consumed by the Esquimaux and by Europeans when they winter in the -Arctic regions. They cannot live there without it. In hot climates -_some_ fuel food is required, and the milder form of carbo-hydrates is -chosen, and found to be most suitable; rice, which is mainly composed -of starch, is an example. Sugar also. Offer an Esquimaux a tallow -candle and a rice or tapioca pudding; he will reject the latter, and -eat the former with great relish. - -A multitude of other facts might be stated, all supporting Liebig’s -theory. - -There is one that just occurs to me as I write, which I will state, -as it appears to have been hitherto unnoticed. Some organs which act -in such wise that we can _see_ their mode of action are visibly -disintegrated and consumed by their own activity, and may be seen to -demand the perpetual renewal described by Liebig. There are glands of -cellular structure which cast off their terminal cells containing the -fluid they secrete; do their work by giving up their own structural -substance at their peripheral working surface. - -Where, then, is the quicksand? It is here. If muscular and mental work -were done at the expense of the nitrogenous muscular and cerebral -tissues, the quantity of nitrogen excreted should vary with the -amount of work done. This was formerly stated to be the case without -hesitation, as the following passage from Carpenter’s ‘Manual of -Physiology’ (3rd edition, 1856, page 256), shows: ‘Every action of the -nervous and muscular systems involves the death and decay of a certain -amount of the living tissue, as is indicated by the appearance of the -products of that decay in the excretions.’ - -More recent experiments by Fick and Wislicenus, Parkes, Houghton, -Ranke, Voit, Flint, and others are said to contradict this by showing -that the waste nitrogen varies with the quantity of nitrogenous food -that is eaten, but not with the muscular work done. For the details -of these experiments I must refer the reader to standard _modern_ -physiological treatises, as a full description of them would carry me -too far away from my immediate subject. (Dr. Pavy’s ‘Treatise on Food’ -has an introductory chapter on ‘The Dynamic Relations of Food,’ in -which this subject is clearly treated in sufficient detail for popular -reading.) - -It is quite the fashion now to rely upon these later experiments; but -for my own part, I am by no means satisfied with them—and for this -reason, that the excretions from the skin and from the lungs were not -examined. - -It is just these which are greatly increased by exercise, and their -normal quantity is very large, especially those from the skin, which -are threefold, viz. the insensible perspiration, which is transpired by -the skin as invisible vapour; the sweat, which is liquid, and the solid -particles of exuded cuticle. - -Lavoisier and Seguin long ago made very laborious experiments upon -themselves in order to determine the amount of the insensible -perspiration. Seguin enclosed himself in a bag of glazed taffeta, which -was tied over him with no other opening than a hole corresponding to -his mouth; the edges of this hole were glued to his lips with a mixture -of turpentine and pitch. He carefully weighed himself and the bag -before and after his enclosure therein. His own loss of weight being -partly from the lungs and partly from the skin, the amount gained by -the bag represented the quantity of the latter; the difference between -this and the loss of his own weight gave the amount exhaled from the -lungs. - -He thus found that the largest quantity of _insensible_ exhalation from -the lungs and skin together amounted to 3½ oz. per hour, or at the rate -of 5¼ lbs. per day. The smallest quantity was 1 lb. 14 oz., and the -mean was 3 lbs. 11 oz. Three-fourths of this was cutaneous. - -These figures only show the quantity of insensible perspiration during -repose. Valentin found that his hourly loss by cutaneous exhalation -while sitting amounted to 32·8 grammes, or rather less than 1¼ oz. On -taking exercise, with an empty stomach, in the sun, the hourly loss -increased to 89·3 grammes, or nearly three times as much. After a meal -followed by violent exercise, with the temperature of the air at 72° -F., it amounted to 132·7 grammes, or nearly 4½ times as much as during -repose. A robust man, taking violent exercise in hot weather, may give -off as much as 5 lbs. in an hour. - -The third excretion from the skin, the epithelial or superficial scales -of the epidermis, is small in weight, but it is solid, and of similar -composition to gelatin. It should be understood that this increases -largely with exercise. The practice of sponging and ‘rubbing down’ of -athletes removes the excess; but I am not aware of any attempt that has -been made to determine accurately the quantity thus removed. - -Does the skin excrete nitrogenous matter that may be, like urea, a -product of the degradation or destruction of muscular tissue? - -The following passage from Lehmann’s ‘Physiological Chemistry’ (vol. -ii. p. 389), shows that the skin throws out plenty of nitrogen obtained -from somewhere: ‘It has been shown by the experiments of Milly, Jurine, -Ingenhouss, Spallanzani, Abernethy, Barruel, and Collard di Martigny, -that _gases_, and especially _carbonic acid_ and _nitrogen_, are -likewise exhaled with the liquid secretion of the sudiparious glands. -According to the last-named experimentalist the ratio between these -two gases is very variable; thus, in the gas developed after vegetable -food there is a preponderance of carbonic acid, and, after animal food, -there is an excess of nitrogen. Abernethy found that on an average the -collective gas contained rather more than two-thirds of carbonic acid -and rather less than one-third of nitrogen.’ But it appears that less -gas is exhaled when there is much liquid perspiration. - -Lehmann’s summary of the experiments of Abernethy, Brunner, and -Valentin (vol. ii. p. 391), gives the amount of hourly exudation, under -ordinary circumstances, as 50·71 grammes of water, 0·25 of a gramme of -carbon, and 0·92 of a gramme of nitrogen. This amounts to 21½ grammes -of nitrogen per day in the _insensible_ perspiration; three-quarters of -an ounce avoirdupois, or as much nitrogen as is contained in one pound -and a half of natural living muscle. - -That the liquid perspiration contains compounds of nitrogen, and just -such compounds as would result from the degradation of nitrogenous -tissue, is unquestionable. As Lehmann says (vol. ii. p. 389), ‘the -sweat very easily decomposes, and gives rise to the secondary formation -of ammonia.’ Simon and Berzelius found salts of ammonia in the sweat: -that the ammonia is combined both with hydrochloric acid and with -organic acids: that it probably exists as carbonate of ammonia in -alkaline sweat. - -The existence of urea in sweat appears to be uncertain; some chemists -assert its presence, others deny it. Favre and Schottin, for example, -who have both studied the subject very carefully, are at direct -variance. I suspect that both are right, as its presence or absence is -variable, and appears to depend on the condition of the subject of the -experiment. - -Favre describes a special nitrogenous acid which he discovered -in sweat, and names it _hydrotic_ or _sudoric acid_. Its -composition corresponds, according to his analysis, to the formula -C_{10}H_{8}NO_{13}. - -I have summarised these facts, as they show clearly enough that -conclusions based on an examination of the quantity of nitrogen -excreted by the kidneys alone (and such is the sole basis of the -modern theories), are of little or no value in determining whether or -not muscular work is accompanied with degradation of muscular tissue. -The well known fact that the total quantity of excretory work done -by the skin increases with muscular work, while that from the kidneys -rather diminishes, indicates in the plainest possible manner that an -examination of the skin secretion should be primary in connection -with this question. To entirely neglect this in such a research is a -scientific parallel to the histrionic feat of performing the tragedy of -‘Hamlet’ with the Prince of Denmark omitted. - -Seeing that it has been entirely neglected, I am justified in -expressing, very plainly and positively, my opinion of the -worthlessness of all the modern research upon which the alleged -refutation of Liebig’s theory of the destruction and renewal of living -tissue in the performance of vital work is based, and my rejection of -the modern alternative hypothesis concerning the manner in which food -supplies the material demanded for muscular and mental work. - -I may be accused of rashness and presumption in thus attempting to -stem the overwhelming current of modern scientific progress. Such, -however, is not the case. It is modern scientific _fashion_, rather -than scientific _progress_, that I oppose. We have too much of this -millinery spirit in the scientific world just now; too much eagerness -to run after ‘the last thing out,’ and assume, with undue readiness, -that the ‘latest researches’ are, of course, the best—especially where -fashionable physicians are concerned. - -Having summarised Liebig’s theory of the source of vital power, and -its supposed refutation by modern experiments, I will now endeavour to -state the alternative modern hypothesis, though not without difficulty, -nor with satisfactory result, seeing that the recent theorists are -vague and self-contradictory. All agree that vital power or liberated -force is obtained at the expense of some kind of chemical action of a -destructive or oxidising character, and is, therefore, theoretically -analogous to the source of power in a steam-engine; but when they come -to the practical question of the demand for working fuel or food, they -abandon this analogy. - -Pavy says (‘Treatise on Food and Dietetics,’ page 6): ‘In the -liberation of actual force, a complete analogy may be traced between -the animal system and a steam-engine. Both are media for the conversion -of latent into actual force. In the animal system, combustible material -is supplied under the form of the various kinds of food, and oxygen is -taken in for the process of respiration. From the chemical energy due -to the combination of these, force is liberated in an active state; -and, besides manifesting itself as heat, and in other ways peculiar -to the animal system, is capable of performing mechanical work.’ In -another place (page 59 of same work), after describing Liebig’s view, -Dr. Pavy says: ‘The facts which have been already adduced’ (those -above described on the nitrogen eliminated by the kidneys), ‘suffice -to refute this doctrine. Indeed, it may be considered as abundantly -proved that food does not require to become organised tissue before it -can be rendered available for force-production.’ On page 81 he says: -‘While nitrogenous matter may be regarded as forming the essential -basis of structures possessing active or living properties, _the -non-nitrogenous principles may be looked upon as supplying the source -of power_. The one may be spoken of as holding the position of the -instrument of action, while the other supplies the motive power. -Nitrogenous alimentary matter may, it is true, by oxidation contribute -to the generation of the moving force, but, as has been explained, in -fulfilling this office there is evidence before us to show that it is -split up into two distinct portions, one containing _the nitrogen, -which is eliminated as useless, and a residuary non-nitrogenous portion -which is retained and utilised in force-production_.’ - -The italics are mine, for reasons presently to be explained. Pavy’s -work contains repetitions and further illustrations of this attribution -of the origin of force to the non-nitrogenous elements of food. - -Then we have a statement of the experiments of Joule on the mechanical -equivalent of heat, connected with experiments of Frankland with the -apparatus that is used for determining the calorific value of coal, -&c.—viz. a little tubular furnace charged with a mixture of the -combustible to be tested, and chlorate of potash. This being placed in -a tube, open below, and thrust under water, is fired, and gives out all -its heat to the surrounding liquid, the rise of temperature of which -measures the calorific value of the substance (see fig. 7, page 21, -‘Simple Treatise on Heat’). - -From this result is calculated the mechanical work obtainable from a -given quantity of different food materials. That from a gramme is given -as follows: - - Beef fat 27,778 } Units of work, - Starch (arrowroot) 11,983 } or number of - Lump sugar 10,254 } pounds lifted - Grape sugar 10,038 } one foot. - -In Dr. Edward Smith’s treatise on ‘Food,’ the foot-pound equivalent -of each kind of food is specifically stated in such a manner as to -lead the student to conclude that this represents its actual working -efficiency _as food_. Other modern writers represent it in like manner. - -Here, then, comes the bearing of these theories on my subject. A -practical dietary or _menu_ is demanded, say, for navvies or for -athletes in full work; another for sedentary people doing little work -of any kind. - -According to the new theory, the best possible food for the first class -is fat, butter being superior to lean beef in the proportion of 14,421 -to 2,829 (Smith), and beef fat having nearly eight times the value of -lean beef. Ten grains of rice give 7,454 foot-pounds of working-power, -while the same quantity of lean beef gives only 2,829; according to -which 1 lb. of rice should supply as much support to hard workers as 2½ -lbs. of beefsteak. None of the modern theorists dare to be consistent -when dealing with such direct practical applications. - -I might quote a multitude of other palpable inconsistencies of the -theory, which is so slippery that it cannot be firmly grasped. Thus, -Dr. Pavy (page 403), immediately after describing bacon fat as ‘the -most efficient kind of force-producing material,’ and stating that ‘the -_non-nitrogenous_ alimentary principles appear to possess a higher -dietetic value than the _nitrogenous_,’ tells us that ‘the performance -of work may be looked upon as necessitating a _proportionate supply_ -of _nitrogenous_ alimentary matter,’ and his reason for this admission -being that such nitrogenous material is required for the nutrition of -the muscles themselves. - -A pretty tissue of inconsistencies is thus supplied! Non-nitrogenous -food is the best force-producer—it corresponds to the fuel of the -steam-engine; the nitrogenous is necessary only to repair the machine. -Nevertheless, when force production is specially demanded, the food -required is not the force-producer, but the special builder of muscles, -the which muscles, according to theory, are _not_ used up and renewed -in doing the work. - -It must be remembered that the whole of this modern theoretical fabric -is built upon the experiments which are supposed to show that there is -no more elimination of nitrogenous matter during hard work than during -rest. Yet we are told that ‘the performance of work may be looked upon -as necessitating a proportionate supply of nitrogenous alimentary -matter,’ and that such material ‘is split up into two distinct -portions, one containing the nitrogen, which is eliminated as useless.’ -This thesis is proved by experiments showing (as asserted) that such -elimination is not so proportioned. - -In short, the modern theory presents us with the following pretty -paradox. The consumption of nitrogenous food is proportionate to work -done. The elimination of nitrogen is _not_ proportionate to work done. -The elimination of nitrogen _is_ proportionate to the consumption of -nitrogenous food. - -I have tried hard to obtain a rational physiological view of the modern -theory. When its advocates compare our food to the fuel of an engine, -and maintain that its combustion _directly_ supplies the moving power, -what do they mean? - -They cannot suppose that the food is thus oxidised as food, yet such is -implied. The work cannot be done in the stomach, nor in the intestinal -canal, nor in the mesenteric glands, nor in their outlet, the thoracic -duct. After leaving this, the food becomes organised living material, -the blood being such. The question, therefore, as between the new -theory and that of Liebig, must be whether work is effected by _the -combustion of the blood itself_ or by the degradation of the working -tissues, which are fed and renewed by the blood. Although this is so -obviously the only rational physiological question, I have not found it -thus stated. - -Such being the case, the supposed analogy to the steam-engine breaks -down altogether; the food is certainly assimilated, is converted into -the living material of the animal itself before it does any work, and -therefore it must be the wear and tear of the machine itself which -supplies the working power, and not that of the food as mere fuel -material shovelled directly into the animal furnace. - -I thus agree with Playfair, who says that the modern theory involves -a ‘false analogy of the animal body to a steam-engine,’ and that -‘incessant transformation of the acting parts of the animal machine -forms the condition for its action, while in the case of the -steam-engine it is the transformation of fuel external to the machine -which causes it to move.’ Pavy says that ‘Dr. Playfair, in these -utterances, must be regarded as writing behind the time.’ He may be -behind as regards the _fashion_, but I think he is in advance as -regards the _truth_. - -My readers, therefore, need not be ashamed of clinging to the -old-fashioned belief that their own bodies are alive throughout, and -perform all the operations of working, feeling, thinking, &c., by -virtue of their own inherent self-contained vitality, and that in doing -this they consume their own substance, which has to be perpetually -replaced by new material, its quality depending upon the manner of -working and the matter and manner of replacement. - -The course of our own evolution thus depends upon ourselves; we may, -according to our own daily conduct, be building up a better body and -a better mind, or one that shall be worse than the fair promise of -the original germ. Therefore the philosophy of the preparation of the -material of which the body and brain are built up and renewed must be -worthy of careful study. This philosophy is ‘THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY.’ - - - - -INDEX. - - - ACIDS, mineral and vegetable, 224 - - Aërated bread, 206 - - Albumen, 19 - coagulation of, 20 - of flesh, 24 - loss of in boiling fish and meat, 24 - - Allotropism, 88 - - Alum in bread, 203 - - Animal diastase, 186 - - Apple fritters, 101 - - Argol, 273 - - Arrowroot, 179 - - Arsenic eating, 256 - - - BAIN-MARIE, 22, 119 - - Baked meat, prejudice against, 64 - - Baking _versus_ roasting of meat, 65 - - Barley sugar, 88 - - Basting, 57 - - Bavarian beggars and Count Rumford, 229 - - Birds’-nests, edible, 35 - - Blood-fibrin, 43 - - ‘Boiled meat’ is not boiled, 14 - - Boiling of fat, 84 - of water, 8 - - Bone-soup Commission of French Academy, 36 - - Borized meat, 170 - milk, 171 - - Bosch _v._ butter, 167 - _v._ butterine, 144 - - Boussingault’s experiments on bread, 207 - - Bread, 197 - - British gum, 182 - - Browning of roasted meat, 78 - rationale of, 87 - - Budrum, 310 - - Butter, 163 - and infection, 166 - - - CALCAREOUS WATER, 10 - - Cancer and flesh eating, 301 - - Caramel, 87-89 - a disinfectant, 92 - - Carnivorous, a sheep, 301 - - Casein, 127 - changes of, 128 - vegetable, 211 - - Cayenne pepper, 260 - - Cellular tissue, 174, 180 - - Cheese, cookery of, 136 - digestibility of, 135 - in soup, 149 - nutritive value of, 131 - phosphates in, 133 - porridge, 151 - pudding, 136 - solubility of, 143 - - Chemical analysis and nutritive value of food, 6 - - Chinese and cooked water, 13 - - Chitin, 33 - - Chondrin, 33 - - Cocoa, 261 - - ‘Coffee as in France,’ 96 - - Colloids and crystalloids, 115 - - Composition of albumen, gelatin, and fibrin, 45 - kreatine and kreatinine, 46 - - Condensed milk, 129 - - Condiments, 259 - - Convection in roasting, 49 - - Cooked water, 10 - - Cream, 162 - - Crust of bread, 91, 136, 200 - - Curd of milk, 127 - - - DEXTRIN, 182, 185 - in bread, 200 - - Diastase, 184, 303 - - Diastased porridge, 305, 306, 311, 312 - - Difference between vegetable and animal food, 177, 297 - - Diffusion of liquids, 112 - - Digestion of starch, 186 - - Dinner of a French or Swiss peasant, 126 - - Diosmosis, 114 - - Disinfection of water by boiling, 12 - by toast, 92 - - Dissociation of flavours, 49 - - Dolby’s extractor, 120 - - Domestic chops and steaks, 52 - - Dough, 197 - - Dripping, 159 - - Drunkenness and cookery, 61 - - - ECONOMICAL FRYING, 98 - - Effects of diastased porridge, 311 - - Eggs, cookery of, 22 - nutritive value of, 19 - of feathered and featherless young birds, 20 - - Endosmosis and exosmosis, 114 - - English stewing, 124 - - Ensilage of human food, 214 - by means of diastase, 308 - - Excretion of nitrogen from the skin, 316 - - Expansion of well-grilled meat, 53 - - Experiment with Rumford’s roaster, 74 - - Explosion of water, 86 - - Extract of meat, 117 - - - FAT, 156 - action of heat on, 84, 158 - bath for joints, 57 - for frying, 101 - - Fermentation of bread, 198 - - Ferments, 184 - - Fibrin, 43 - - Fish, boiling of, 24, 27 - cooked in paper, 60 - roasting, 58 - with cheese, 153 - - Flames, different kinds of, and grilling, 51 - - Flavouring power of the juices of meat, 26 - - Flesh feeding, a temporary barbarism, 7 - - Flummery, 310 - - Fondu, 136 - - Forces of nature co-operating with man, 2 - - Frozen meat, 94, 168 - - Fruit jelly, 225 - - Frying, 84 - kettle, 98 - theory of, 97 - - Fuel wasted in boiling, 15 - - - GASTRIC JUICE, modification of, 44 - - Gelatin, fibrin, and the juices of meat, 32 - hydration of, 41 - solubility of, 32 - - Gluten, 194 - fibrin and gluten casein, 195 - - Glycerine, 157 - - Green-pea clear soup, 219 - - Grilling of chops and steaks, 52 - - Gum arabic, 183 - - - HASTY PUDDING AND CHEESE, 152 - - Hot rolls from stale bread, 208 - - Hydration of gelatin, 41 - of starch, 181 - - - INCRUSTATION OF BOILERS, kettles, &c., 11 - - Isinglass, 36, 41 - - Italian cookery, 90 - of cheese, 149 - - - JOHNSTON ON TEA AND COFFEE, 251 - - Juices of meat, 25, 40, 45 - - - KITCHEN A CHEMICAL LABORATORY, the, 4 - - Kitchener-ovens and roasters, 7 - - Kreatine and kreatinine, 45 - - - LARD, 159 - dissociation of, 85 - - Leaven, 206 - - Leg of mutton, how to boil, 26 - - Legumin, 212 - - Lehmann on coffee, 251 - - ‘Liaison au roux,’ 90 - - Liebig on gelatin, 36 - on tea and coffee, 251 - - Liebig’s extract of meat, 25, 37 - - Lignin, 174 - - Lime in bread, 205 - - Lobster suppers, 33 - - Locusts as food, 34 - - - MACERATION, 112 - - Magnesia in bread, 265 - - Malt, action on various foods, 305 - directions for using, 306, 312 - - Malted food, 303 - - Man, the cooking animal, 295 - - Man’s work on earth, 1 - - Marie Antoinette’s pie-crust, 176 - - Milk, a carrier of infection, 164 - composition of, 162 - cooking of, 163 - dietetic value of, 161 - for herbivora, carnivora, and man, 296 - supply to London, 163 - - Muscle fibrin, 43 - - - NEW AND STALE BREAD, 207 - - Nitrogenous principles of plants and animals compared, 195 - - Norwegian cooking apparatus, 24, 30 - - Nutrition, fashionable theory of, 315 - inconsistencies of fashionable theory of, 319 - Liebig’s theory of, 313 - Playfair on the physiology of, 324 - the physiology of, 313 - - Nutritive value of food as affected by cookery, 6 - of gelatin, 36 - - - ŒNANTHIC ETHER, 270 - - Oils for frying, 107 - volatile and fixed, 84 - - Old hens, how to roast, 125, 126 - - Oleomargarine, 146 - - Oven, construction of, 80 - - Oysters and invalids, 180 - - - PARMESAN CHEESE, 151, 220 - - Pasteuring of wine, 269 - - Peasants’ food in Italy and France, 61, 126 - - Pease-pudding, 214-218 - - Pectin, 225 - - Penny dinners, 244 - - Phosphates in milk and cheese, 133 - - Phosphorus in bones and brain, 134 - - Popped corn, 210 - - Porridge _v._ flesh, 299 - - Potage and stewed meat, 116 - value of, 219 - - Potash bitartrate, solubility of, 272 - food, 221 - in cheese cookery, 141 - in potatoes, 190 - scurvy, gout, &c., 142 - - Potatoes in bread, 202 - a curse of Ireland, 193 - and cheese porridge, 152 - and scurvy, 190 - cookery of, 189 - nutritive value of, 192 - - Purification of fat, 101 - - - RADIATION AND CONVECTION IN ROASTING, 49 - in grilling, 47 - - Rahat Lakoum, 225 - - Rationale of roasting, 48 - - Reaction from tea, 257 - - Rennet, 129 - - Rice and cheese, 153 - - ‘Risotto à la Milanese,’ 150 - - Roasting an ox, 56 - and grilling, 47 - before open fire, evils of, 60 - large joints, 55 - small joints, 53 - - Rumford, Count of, 5 - on boiling meat, 16 - on military rations, 241 - on the pleasure of eating, 238 - - Rumford’s cookery, 227 - - Rumford’s experiment on low temperature roasting, 29 - roaster, 63, 70 - roasting oven, 76 - soup, 231 - soup compared with flesh food, 298 - - - SAGO, 189 - - Saliva and diastase, 304 - - Salivary diastase, 186 - - Salmon cooking in Norway, 28 - - Samp, 240 - - Sauer-kraut, 216 - - Sawdust as food, 175 - - Science in the kitchen, 4 - - Seeds as food, 194 - - Sheep, a carnivorous and cannibal, 301 - - Sherbet, 225 - - Shrimps, fried, 34 - - Simmering and boiling, 14 - - Small joints and their cookery, 53 - - Smith, Dr., on tea, 254 - - Snail soup, 35 - - Soluble and insoluble casein, 130 - - Solution of vegetable casein, 217 - - South Kensington food exhibits, 211 - - Sowans, 310 - - Specific sapidity of food, 239 - - Spinning of sugar, 89 - - Starch, 178, 181 - - Stearic acid, 157 - - Stewing, 111 - and albumen, 119 - - Stirabout and cheese, 153 - - Sulphate of copper in bread, 205 - - Super-heaters, cost of, 75 - - Syntonin, 43 - - - TAPIOCA, 188 - - Tea and coffee, Rumford’s substitute for, 245 - physiological action of, 246 - - Technical and technological education, 3 - - Temperature for stewing, 118 - of vegetable cookery, 177 - - Tenderness, true and false, 121 - - Testing the temperature of fat bath, 100 - - Thermometers for the kitchen, 79 - for fat bath, 105 - - Thomson, Sir Henry, on roasting of fish, 58 - - Tinned meat, 121 - - Toast and water, 92 - - Tripe and cheese, 154 - - - UNFERMENTED BREAD, 200 - - - VAPOURS OF ROASTING MEAT, 78 - - Vegetable casein, 211 - diet, economy of, 301 - fibrin, casein and gluten, 195 - food and mixed diet compared, 297 - juices, 211 - -marrow _au gratin_, 155 - tissue, 173 - - Vegetables, the cookery of, 173 - - Vegetarian question, the, 294 - - - WARREN’S COOKING-POT, 81 - - Waste of fuel in boiling, 15 - - Water-bath cookery, 119 - - Water in fish, 86 - - Whole-meal bread, 6, 204 - - Wine, artificial bouquet of, 291 - artificial colour of, 288 - bouquet of, 288 - cookery of, 265 - cost of, 265-292 - drying of, 280 - natural colour of, 288 - Pasteuring of, 269 - plastering of, 277 - sickness of, 271 - sulphuric acid in, 276 - - - YOLK OF EGG, ITS COAGULATION, 23 - - _Spottiswoode & Co. Printers, New-street Square, London._ - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Larger vulgar fractions had been -printed with a hyphen instead of a slash. This was changed to a slash -for conformity. (1-30th is now 1/30th) - -Page 54, “is” changed to “it” (exposed, it is evident) - -Page 81, “judgment” changed to “judgement” (the judgement of which) - -Page 108, while it seems that this sentence is missing an object: - - When common sense and true sentiment supplant mere - unreasoning prejudice, vegetable oils and vegetable - fats will largely supplant those of animal origin in - every element of our dietary. - -It has been quoted in just that manner across numerous publications. - -Page 109, “facts” changed to “fats” (the chemistry of fats) - -Page 328, the text refers to the now more usually spelled “sauerkraut” -as “sour-kraut” in the text and “Sauer-kraut” in the index. These -usages were retained as printed. - -Page 328, “fath” changed to “fat” (for fat bath) - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Chemistry of Cookery, by W. Mattieu Williams - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY *** - -***** This file should be named 53458-0.txt or 53458-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5/53458/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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