XVIII.THE KITCHEN.
UNFORTUNATELY, many ladies have not health or strength sufficient to take such supervision as will secure a neat and well-arranged kitchen; and, still more unfortunately, there are many, and we fear the number is increasing, who have such repugnance to any care save the genteel arrangement of their parlors, or the fashionable adornment of their persons, that they shun their kitchens as they would the plague. They will give occasional directions for some fancy dish, or the more elaborate details, if preparing for company; and then, if their husbands attend to the marketing, relieving them from all care, and the cook and waiter have breakfast, dinner, and tea at the desired time and in proper shape, they are content. If their parlors and chambers appear neat and inviting, they ask no questions as to the condition of their kitchens, and never inquire if the supply of utensils is adequate to the amount and quality of the labor the cook is expected to perform, or if they are of a kind to expedite or simplify her work. Indeed, one would suppose that the kitchen was entirely out of the mistress’s domains,—a region for which the cook only was responsible. If any are content to eat what is set before them, “asking no questions,”—not “for conscience’ sake,” but for the sake of their own indolent self-indulgence,—that is theirright, and we would in no wise interfere with the full enjoyment of it.
But we know there are those who find no bliss in such ignorance, but prefer to know when and inwhattheir food is prepared, and willingly accept the care and, it may be, the annoyance which the knowledge will bring. In manyof the most palatial abodes, where comforts and luxuries of every character abound, little attention is paid to any comfort or convenience connected with the kitchen. Refusing to providestraw, Pharaoh exacted thefull tale of brickfrom the Israelites of old; and so some housekeepers exact the most elaborate meals, without any thought of providing the conveniences which will best enable the cook to gratify their wishes.
We once watched with a sick child belonging tothe richfamily of the town. The furniture, the silver and glass, were of the best. It was necessary to preparewine wheyfor the little sufferer during the night. The mother, exhausted with much watching and anxiety for the child, was sleeping, and, unwilling to wake her, we left a fellow-watcher in charge while we found our way to the kitchen,—if the miserable room could be called by that name. The floor was made of loose, rough boards, that sprang up with every step; an old, dilapidated table, minus one leg, was propped up on the back of a chair; broken dishes, worn-out saucepans,—in truth, we were at our wits’ ends to make even the simplewine wheyin such utensils as we found in that strange kitchen, and have often since marvelled by what skill the excellent dinners and suppers we have partaken at that house could ever have been manufactured in such a den and with such “conveniencies.”
Whenever it is possible, a large, airy kitchen should be provided, with every thing to expedite and simplify the labor, and with every facility for perfect ventilation,—a most important point. In the homes of the wealthy there is no reason why the kitchen should not be in all respects so arranged and furnished that the cook must be inexcusable if she does not keep it and its belongings in the most perfect order.
But for those who cannot command the means to build and furnish a kitchen of this kind, the necessity for thegreatest neatness and order in that department is still stronger. The occupants of second-class houses are often those who must themselves do or overlook much of the heaviest labor of the family, and therefore have no time to spend in the doubtful luxury of “clearing-up days.” Such days are generallywasteddays. Those who find them a necessity are mostly a class who, for five days in the week, never put anything in its proper place, leaving all in disorder till Saturday. Then everything is hunted out of its hiding-place, washed, scoured, polished, and put where it really belongs. The improvement is so striking that one would suppose the kitchen would never again be a scene of disorder and confusion; but probably before Monday’s sun has set carelessness and misrule will have again regained their empire, and taken unto themselves seven spirits worse, if that be possible, than the first. And thus Saturday’s labor will have been given in vain. There is not one servant in a hundred who does not need the watchful eye of a methodical mistress to enforce the necessity of order and neatness in the kitchen. If it is made and furnished in the best manner, it should certainly be carefully kept; but if it be small, inconvenient, and have a meagre supply of utensils, neatness and order become an imperative necessity.
Jules Gouffe, a famous French cook, says: “The more inconvenient a kitchen may be, the more need for cleanliness, carefulness, and for plentiful and good utensils to simplify one’s work. Cleanliness! Cleanliness!—the great essential in all cooking operations—should, I maintain, at the risk of being thought over-particular, be written in large capitals on the door of every kitchen, large or small. A kitchen may be small, badly arranged and lighted, but it should never, on any plea, be dirty. Failure in cooking is often attributable to want of attention to cleanliness. Nothing more than a dirty saucepan is often sufficient to spoil theeffect of a whole dinner. All kitchen utensils should be examined daily. Saucepans of all kinds cannot be kept too carefully; they should be washed, scoured with fine sand, and well rinsed each time they are used. The washing of many things in the same water should be carefully avoided; the greasiness this engenders adds much to the labor of cleaning. The brightness and cleanliness of the outside is very commendable; but the cleanliness of the inside must not be sacrificed to that.”
What would be Jules Gouffe’s sensations could he look into many of our kitchens? What would our good housekeepers themselves say—those of them that are not obliged to do the cooking for their families—if we should tell them that the pans in which their bread is baked are seldom washed out and dried, but are, unless thrown into the closet just as the bread was taken from them, wiped with a wet, greasy dishcloth, and bread baked in them over and over again, day after day, with no other cleansing? Said a good lady, “What is the reason that the bottom crust of my bread always tastes like rancid butter?” Examine your bread-pans, and you will no doubt find the reason, to your great surprise and vexation. How often, think you, is your molding-board set away without being washed after molding bread or rolling pastry, and the dough left to dry and sour on it, and the next batch molded on the same unwashed board? “That can’t be possible. I saw it hanging up in the store-room over the flour-barrel only this morning, and it was clean.” Turn it over, under side up, before you speak with too much certainty. How about the flour-sieve? Is it left in the flour-barrel,—thrown in with the sponge, from the cook’s wet hands, upon it, or a piece of unused pastry put in it? If so, when the barrel of flour is about half used, you will find that it has suddenly become sour.
Is it not well to watch over these things daily?