The beef tea interlude gives me flashbacks to Invalid Cookery.
In the household economy there is nothing of greater importance than that everything that goes into the kitchen should return its full value to the housekeeper - that there should be no waste, no extravagance.
Young housekeepers and cooks must remember that if two pennyworth of what are called pot vegetables can be procured, the plea, so common amongst us, of "nothing to cook with" cannot be allowed. A week ago I heard a cook say that she could not send up good dinners because her mistress allowed nothing to make things nice with. On inquiry I found that she could have herbs, vegetables, lemons, sugar and dripping, but the grievance was that no sauces were allowed. I consider that she was no cook if she could not do without these expensive adjuncts.
Count Rumford, a very clever man, and a write ron scientific cookery, said that he found the richness and quality of soup did not depend on the nutritious ingredients employed, but on the proper choice of them, and the management of the fire in the combination of ingredients. I believe this to be true to a great extent, but not so entirely as to advocate the following recipe, which I saw in an English pamphlet a short time ago:- "A substitute for beef tea: Stew half a pint of kidney beans in a quart of water in the oven; strain off the liquor, season and serve (without the beans). If too rich (?) add more water." now, I do not think the best cook in the world could make anything at all approaching beef tea out of kidney beans alone.
There are so many things that one does habitually, because they are customary, without knowing the reasons for them, that I shall endeavour in this and my next article to give the xplanation of these customs. It is scarcely an intelligent way of working to do things without understanding the reason, and not a way in which the readers of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER can like to work.
We will first consider the boiling of water. When the bubbles rise to the top of a pan of water the water boils - that is to say, it has reached a temperature of 212 deg., or boiling point; but suppose you get it to boil fast, as people call it,the water is then no hotter, but a good deal is wasted in steam, as there must be evaporation. In our ways of heating water I believe it is impossible to raise the temperature above boiling point; therefore when the kettle boils it is best to make the tea at once, and not wait for it to boil fast, for every minute you keep the water boiling tends to spoil the tea and make it flat, as you boil all the air out of the water.
If you take two pans, one of well boiled cold water and one of unboiled, and put a live fish in each, you wlil find that the fish in the boiled water will be uncomfortable and will soon die, while, of course, the other will live. It is to be remembered that water that has been kept boiling is too hard to use for cooking purposes.
Meat should be put into water that is nearly boiling; the reason is that it contains albumen, and albumen coagulates in water that is boiling or just below boiling point. When meat is put in very hot water the albumen coagulates, and forms a sort of film on the outside of it; this film suffices to keep the juices in the meat, but as meat is not a heat conductor like metal, the heat of the water is not at once communicated to the inside of it where we do not wish to coagulate the albumen, as it would make the meat hard to do so. Having put it in hot water, it must be cooked without being allowed to come to a boil. For the same reason fish must be put in hot water, with the exception of mackerel, which must only be put in warm water; this difference is on account of their very tender skins, which break if the water is hot, and that spoils the appearance of the fish. I have seen salmon come to table quite white from being put into cold water to cook. It reminded me of what I have often heard is done by the inhabitants of some places where salmon is a staple food; they cut it up into little pieces, and put it in plenty of cold water to boil it, in order to draw out all the flavour. Well, salmon is not so abundant in England that we need tire of having it with the flavour in it.
If fish or meat is to be used for soup, of course the treatment is just the reverse, as we then want the nourishment out of the materials instead of in them, so we put our stock meat in cold water, and let it get hot slowly (albumen dissolves in cold water), nor should salt be put in the stock pot until the meat is cooked, for the reason that it tends to keep the meat in the same way as hot water does.
Beef for beef tea should never boil, nor should beef tea need to be skimmed; in reality the juice from lean meat can all be drawn out by chopping the meat fine or cutting it up and pounding it in a mortar and soaking it in cold water. When beef tea is boiled and skimmed the albumen is lost. The best way to make it is to chop the meat, put it in a covered jar, 1 lb. of beef to half a pint of cold water and a few black pepper corns, no salt, and keep the jar in a saucepan of boiling water for three hours. The saucepan lid need not be put on; with the evaporation from the water sufficient heat will not be communicated to the jar to make the meat boil. Supposing you put the beef in a saucepan and boil it well and skim it as the scum rises, you will obtain quite a different result, for while the beef tea made in the jar will be a brown gravy, that made in the saucepan will be a lighter colour, and probably a jelly, much more resembling Liebig's extract in its nutritive qualities than proper beef tea.
We use bones for stock for the sake of the gelatine which they contain. They should be put in cold water - plenty of water. Suppose it takes a pint of water to cover the bones, add another pint, and reduce by evaporation in boiling to half the quantity; it is necessary to keep the water quite boiling to extract the gelatine. While writing of bones, I would remind my readers that gelatine is of very little value as food, but I think many soups and gravies are much improved by the addition of stock from bones; it gives them a consistence that they have not without it.
Useful jelly can be made quite as well from fish bones as from others. If the jelly from fish bones is to be used for adding to meat soup, the bones must first be scalded, then laid for a short time in cold water, then they may be boiled down. Of course if they are to be used for making fish soup or sauce they need no preparation. The bones of turbot, brill or plaice will, with a calf's foot, make excellent mock turtle. A rusty nail kept in soup in hot weather will often prevent its turning sour; this is not a fiction, like most of the sayings about old iron, but a fact that can be chemically accounted for.
While on the subject of boiling, I would recommend my readers to avail themselves of a very simple contrivance for cooking some delicate things and warming up others; this is having a pudding basin with a rim just the size of a saucepan, the rim of the basin to lodge on the top of the saucepan. Put water in the saucepan, then put the basin in, and a saucer to fit, with a weight in it, over. We frequently have slices from a cooked leg of mutton warmed this way in gravy: if the water is kept boiling they take about three quarters of an hour to get hot, and are never hard.
All vegetables except potatoes should be put in boiling water; even when they are used for flavouring only; the stock must be boiling when they are put in. This is because what we wish to do is to soften the tissue of which they are principally composed; this tissue is partially soluble in hot water. If we could raise water above boiling point in cooking vegetables it would be rather an advantage than otherwise,
Eggs are lighter and more digestible if they are not boiled; they may be very easily cooked otherwise. The white of an egg is almost pure albumen (the word is derived from the Latin Albus, white). Albumen coagulates, or as we call it, the "white sets" at a temperature of 180 deg., so no greater is needed to cook an egg. If you put an egg into a pint of boiling water, stand it on the side of the stove, or cover it over well ti keep it hot, and let it stand from ten to fifteen minutes; you will find a well cooked egg, of which the white is set, but not hard. In the same way an egg poached in a teacup stood in boiling water is more digestible than one put directly into a saucepan.
Passing from the boiling of water, stock, etc., we come to what is called the boiling of fat, but before I speak of cooking it I would call readers' attention to the fact that two kinds of lard are brought to market - the best the lard in bladders, the other the lard in tin pails; this latter is always apparently cheaper - I say apparently because it is not really. Very frequently it is the same quality as the bladder lard, but it contains a certain percentage of water; if that were removed it would be found that a shilling's worth of bladder lard and a shilling's worth of lard out of a tin pail weighed about the same. Of course the lard with water in it is not nearly as nice to cook with; it splutters dreadfully in a frying pan, and does not make such light pastry. I do not much care to use lard, and generally make dripping, as we do not (our family being small) have very many joints, but use a great deal of fat. I buy fat at the butcher's for the purpose. Veal suet, when it can be got, is far better than any other. I make dripping, clear skimmings off the stock pot, and purify fat that has been used, in the following way: Chop finely 3 lbs. of fat, place it in a saucepan with 1 1/2 pint of cold water, put it over a slow fire, stir often with a strong skimmer, which press on the bottom to break the pieces. When there are only bits of skin at the bottom, and little beads rise to the top, it is done. Take from the fire, stand by five minutes, strain the fat through tammy into a dry stone jar into which you have put some bay leaves, which remain in the dripping to perfume it. Note that to render fat well you must have a nice lined saucepan; an old black one will not do as well.
Unlike water, fat or oil are not boiling when they bubble. The bubbles are caused by the moisture in the fat; in fact it is the water in the fat that is boiling; when this is thrown off in steam the fat is ready for cooking in. We are accustomed to say that fat is boiling when it is quiescient after bubbling; that is not quite the fact, but near enough, as it is the cooking point. An experienced cook should try her fat before she begins to cook anything in it by throwing in a little piece of bread; if the fat is ready for use the bread will at once take a gold colour. It is much better to boil things in fat than to fry them. I sue a brass lined pan into which a wire frying basket fits. I need scarcely say both are kept bright. I keep three pans of fat; one is used for fish, one for meat, and the third for such things as apple fritters. Each pan is purified now and then in the above mentioned way. Being carefully used in the bright pan, it never gets burnt, and is added to from time to time. I prefer boiling in fat to frying, because things are not so rich. I think people will not believe this without my explaining the reason why they are less rich. It is very simple. Suppose you plunge a fish or a cutlet into boiling fat, steam is immediately generated in the article you have put in, and this steam keep sthe fat out of it; but suppose, instead, you place your cutlet in a pan in which there is a quarter of an inch of fat, as the meat gets hot the steam is thrown off on the side not covered with fat, and the fat can get in. If anyone would cook two croquettes or rissoles in the two different ways, they would notice, if they were served immediately cut in two, the fried one would be hot, but the boiled one would be hotter - steaming hot in fact; when it was cut, they would understand how the boiling had imprisoned the moisture.
There is another kind of boiling, differing from both water and fat - namely sugar boiling, but it is not of sufficient general utility to be treated of here, beyond the making of caramel for colouring or for pudding sauce. Caramel for pudding sauce or to serve on the top of baked custard or milk puddings is made thus:- Dissolve over a gentle fire in a brass or copper lined saucepan two good tablespoonfuls of pounded loaf sugar, stir it all the time with a wooden spoon. When it is a golden brown then add a quarter of a pound of loaf sugar; boil for a few minutes, let it stand aside to get a little cool, then bottle for use. It may have: a little vanilla essence added if wished. Caramel for colouring is made thus:- Put the sugar in the pan, stir it until it is quite brown, add the water only (no more sugar), boil a few minutes and bottle for use. This is a much better and more economical colouring than a bit of sugar burnt in an old spoon.
We must next consider baking, a thing frequently done in a very slovenly way. Because it is easy, no trouble is taken, and things are very often burnt and spoilt. In baking meat, water should always be mixed with the dripping (unless a double pan taking water in the lower part is used) to prevent the fat burning and giving a disagreeable flavour to the meat. The reason is that the steam from the water prevents the fat getting hot enough to burn. I do not think that many things annoy me more than to hear an oven door slammed when cakes, bread or pastry are baking; it should be shut as gently as possible. I have known an ovenful of light pastry quite spoilt by the door being slammed. It is quite easy to understand the reason of this. We open the oven door when we think the pastry has risen, to turn it (which should also be done very gently, as a jar or a knock may send it down again); then if we shut the door gently we have let the steam out, and teh pastry will set. But suppose we slam the door, we send a current of cold air in which the paste has risen, and if it is at all delicately made it will probably sink as flat as when it was put in the oven.
Grilling or broiling is an operation not always well performed. Chops, fish, or other things must be broiled over a glowing fire. There should be no black coals in it; red cinders give off more heat, and do not smoke the thing to be cooked. It is quite certain though, that when you put a fat chop on the gridiron over the brightest of fires the fat will drop on the embers and make a smoke, but this smoke though it may black the chop, will not make it smoky, as cooks know. The reason is simply this: the black coals would give off coal smoke, which has not at all the same flavour as coal smoke.
In my next paper I shall treat of bread and pastry making, and the use of different cereals.
Showing posts with label how I keep house on 250 a year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how I keep house on 250 a year. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
Friday, 4 October 2013
6 December 1884 - 'How I Keep House on £250 A Year' by Mary Pocock - Part 3: How I Arrange the Daily Routine Work
In chapter 3 Mary Pocock describes her daily routine of household management, and breaks down the housecleaning into a weekly routine. Chapter 1 is here. Chapter 2 is here.
In this paper I purpose going through the house work day by day, but before doing so I will take the work that has to be done every day. It is hardly possible that this should be the same in any two houses, yet I am sure that many young housekeepers will find it an assistance to see on paper the ordinary work to be done in a house. One is so apt to say "Oh, the servants have only so-and-so to do", forgetting the numerous small things that take time. The result is, we often expect too much then complain of work being negligently done.
Our servants are down by half-past six. As I object to disturbing the rest of the household by ringing for the servants, I never call them; if they say they cannot get up without, I tell them they must wake or go. The result is that they do wake. Perhaps being an early riser myself keeps them to it. I always come down at ten minutes to eight, and certainly should not be pleased if everything were not in order and prepared for me. at the same time, I make a point of not appearing before my usual hour. Every day before breakfast the cook lights the kitchen fire and cleans the hearth, cleans the boots, does the dining-room, and prepares the breakfast; the housemaid does the drawing room or sweeps the stairs, takes the hot water to the bedrooms at seven o'clock, lays the breakfasts in the dining room and in the kitchen, and after prayers put our breakfast on the table at exactly eight o'clock, and goes down to her own.
They finish breakfast in the kitchen before we do in the dining room. Cook then does the door and steps, and the housemaid goes up to strip the beds and open the windows. In each room the bed clothes are stripped right off the bed and placed on two chairs, and the mattress is turned over the foot of the bedstead; every bed has to remain open an hour to get it thoroughly aired and cool, except on Sunday mornings, when they are made as soon as the washstands are done, to enable the housemaid to get to church in good time. When the beds are stripped the housemaid attends to the baths and washstands. As soon as she has done them and filled the jugs and cans and put filtered water in the water bottles, she goes downstairs, washes out her basin cloths, hangs them up to dry, and fills up the filter. Meanwhile, the cook has washed up the breakfast things, tidied the kitchen, and been out to the larder with me, and is ready to go up with the housemaid to make the beds. The housemaid carries up with her whatever she will need in the way of brooms, dust pans, cover sheets, etc., for any room she is going to clean. The cook answers all bells during the morning, and lays the luncheon and the kitchen dinner; the housemaid brings up lunch, we wait on ourselves, and she goes down to her dinner. If we are to partake of any dish that is intended for the kitchen we take at once what we wish, and the dish goes down again immediately. The cook washes all up after lunch, except the silver and glass does; afterwards she washes out her teacloth and puts it to dry, so as to have it nice for the dinner glasses. She always has two teacloths in use, and washes one out every day. In the afternoon, any dusting that there has not been time for in the morning has to be done by the housemaid, who then gets the kitchen tea. After tea a little needlework is done, either for me or for herself, until it is time to lay the cloth for dinner. A clean washleather is kept in the sideboard drawer, and I always expect each spoon and fork to have a rub with it before being placed on the table; if this is done regularly, silver wants very little cleaning and always looks nice. The table has to be ready a quarter of an hour before dinner time, and everything (such as cold sweets or cheese) that can be brought into the room before dinner is placed on the sideboard ready. By adopting this plan of having the table ready a little before time, I find my little maids rarely forget anything, and soon become quite good waitresses; it gives them confidence to know all is ready, whereas if they lay the table in a hurry they are flurried and nervous all dinner time.
There is in each bedroom a second jug or small can. Half an hour before dinner, and again when she goes to bed, the housemaid takes up a large can of hot water, and from it pours some water into each of the jugs provided for the purpose. The cook washes up the dinner things after dinner, and the housemaid her glass and silver, takes the latter upstairs, and prepares her bedrooms for the night. They have supper in the kitchen at nine, and go to bed at ten.
If hot water bottles are required, the servants take them up with them when they go to bed. To prevent the bottles singing, and the water oozing out, they should be screwed down as soon as filled, then after they are taken upstairs unscrewed again to let the steam escape, and screwed up again as tightly as possible.
In the afternoon, while she is cooking the dinner, the cook stews down any bones she may have, or makes soup for the next day, or if there is a cake or pastry to bake it is done while the late dinner is being cooked, as doing so saves the expense of much fire being kept up during the morning.
If there is suet in the house, that is chopped in the afternoon so as to be ready for use, and it keeps better when the veins are taken out and it is chopped and covered with a little flour. Any pieces of bread should, at the same time, be carefully dried white (not brown), pounded in a pestle and mortar, and put in a tin ready for frying fish or other things. The housemaid (as we call her) being really a very young girl, the other servant has to help upstairs some mornings in the week, so that anything that can be arranged the afternoon before the midday meal.
Having gone through the general work, I will now take the special work of each day:-
Monday morning. - Housemaid sweeps stairs before breakfast. Immediately after, the beds are made, the clothes are looked out for the wash, I sort out and write down the things that are to go to the laundress, and put aside those that are to be washed at home, and also see what wants mending, for table linen, sheets, etc., should always be repaired before being washed; shirts and starched things should be rough dried before they are mended. The mending done, I go down to the kitchen and give my orders and take a look round; occasionally the inside of the dust bin and the coal cellar are examined, the former to see that there is no waste of cinders, coals, or other things, the latter to notice whether the dust and small coal are being burnt fairly with the lumps of coal.
I always arrange on Saturdays that there shall be enough in the house for Monday's meals without my going out, so I have a clear morning to look after things in general, see to my cupboards, and give out soap and starch for the washing. I have so often lived in places where all the washing for the household is done in cold water at the edge of a lake or stream, or in a sort of stone trough, through which water is always running - done, too, with most satisfactory results as to colour and cleanliness - that I have long abandoned the idea that it is necessary to boil clothes; even our kitchen cloths keep nice washed in cold water. The great advantage of our way is that we have no smell of washing in the house. My cook manages the wash in the following way:-
A quart to half a pound of cold water soap (depending on the amount of washing to be done) is cut up and boiled in two quarts of water. The saucepan must be kept covered to avoid the smell of soap in the house. When the soap is all melted one quart of the liquid is mixed with three or six quarts of cold water, according to the quantity of soap used. The things to be washed are put in two pans or tubs, and the boiled soap that has had the water added is poured over them. They are then left to soak until Tuesday morning, but occasionally, as cook passes, she gives them a stir with a copper stick. Tuesday morning the things are taken out of the water in which they have been soaked (and which is always quite dirty), and washed in the remainder of the boiled soap, to which sufficient cold (or in winter just tepid) water is added; no extra soap is used, but plenty of clean cold water is used for rinsing in. I believe those who try cold water washing for the first time will be astonished at the result, for the things are often nearly clean when taken out of soak; but I warn them that they will have a good deal of prejudice to overcome on the part of servants who cannot understand that hot water often fixes the dirt in things; but I find that when they once get into the way of it, they do not seem to mind how much washing they do, for of course there is no steam to make them warm, it is much quicker out of the way, and cold water does not draw the hands as much as warm does.
This process does not answer for coloured goods or flannels. The latter should not be put in soak, but should be washed out quickly in warm water in which soap has been boiled (no soap rubbed on), and rinsed in plenty of warm water.
After the clothes are sorted on Monday morning, and the beds made, the housemaid turns out and sweeps the largest bedroom, cleaning the washstands, fittings, windows, etc.; this occupies her until lunchtime. In the afternoon, after she is dressed, she dusts the other bedrooms.
Tuesday morning. - While the cook is washing, the housemaid does the second large bedroom, and dusts before lunch. In the afternoon the clothes are folded and put ready for the mangle, and any starching is done.
Wednesday. - The stairs are swept before breakfast, and after the housemaid does the two remaining bedrooms. The mattresses on one bed are brushed each week in turn, and the blankets shaken in the garden; in this way every mattress is brushed and every blanket shaken once a month. The cook cleans her tins and coppers, and scrubs her kitchen during the morning; in the afternoon the fire is made up, and they do the ironing between them.
Thursday morning. - After breakfast, the drawing room is done; the two servants do it together, so to get the hall clear again as early as possible. The housemaid dusts the bedrooms after the drawing room is finished, and in the afternoon when she is dressed she cleans the silver; as it is always carefully washed and kept rubbed, it really requires very little cleaning.
Friday morning. - The dining room is thoroughly done, the grate before the remainder after breakfast; the two servants do it together. The cook then does the hall, and the housemaid the stairs and landing thoroughly, cleaning sides of stairs and rods when necessary. Cook cleans her larder in the afternoon.
Saturday. - The kitchen flues are cleaned before breakfast; after the breakfast things are washed up and the beds are made, the kitchen is cleaned, so that the horse can go round the fire and the linen for the week be aired. Then, too, sometimes I like to make a little pastry or some cakes on Saturday, and a clean kitchen is pleasanter to work in. Saturday morning I give out the wood, black lead, soda, kitchen tea, sugar, etc., and anything that may be wanted; also fill dining room caddy, sugar basins, etc. I then go out and do my shopping, which takes me until lunch time.
At half-past two I go into the kitchen; the servants' dinner is cleared away, and all looks clean and tidy; what I require is on the table ready for me, and while I am making any little things I wish, I superintend the airing of the clean clothes and also the drying and sorting of what the laundress has brought home, and see if any buttons or strings are off. Meanwhile cook is cleaning her scullery, passages and lower stairs.
The housemaid cleans her pantry on Saturdays, and also looks to her water bottles, filters, bread platter, knife box, etc.
I am about an hour in the kitchen doing what I have to do. I generally spend the rest of the afternoon in the garden. The housemaid comes to me as soon as she has finished, and we get an hour or an hour and a half's work done there before tea.
Sundays I have as little work done as possible. The housemaid goes to church in the morning, and as I do not require her to be back until half-past one, she can if she likes take a little walk after service.
The cook lays the dinner cloth, and she may go out as soon as she has washed up from dinner, tidied her kitchen, and put ready what will be required for the dining-room tea. The cook has to come in at half-past nine punctually. I always interest myself in her movements, and, without my appearing inquisitive, I frequently learn the nature of her outings, the church she has attended, and the friends she has visited. I nhever allow the housemaid out in the evening, but occasionally the cook dresses herself for the afternoon to allow the housemaid to go for a walk.
I expect the servants to fasten up properly at night, but I go down now and then after they have gone to bed, and examine the bolts and bars and see that the kitchen fire is quite out, and everything left as it should be. The knowledge that I may go down keeps things right. Small as our household is, it must not be imagined that it can always be managed without trouble, nor can a young girl who probably knows worse than nothing be at once turned into a good little servant; it takes time and great patience to accomplish this. I often think of what a noted violin player said to a pupil who had learnt a little before he went to him: "I can always teach, and my pupils make progress, but it is the unteaching that troubles me".
Having to study economy in every part of my housekeeping, I have adopted a plan that I find considerably lessens breakages. I have a list of the kitchen crockery pasted up in the kitchen, and a list of the housemaid's glass and china fixed up in the pantry. At the bottom of each list is a blank space; in these spaces is written what is broken, when, and by whom. These lists are revised every six months, and, of course, account for all missing things. Servants much dislike posting their breakages, so are generally more careful. Of course, this plan has also an advantage for them as one is apt to forget when a thing has been broken upstairs. In going through the crockery, sometimes I find something that does not quite match the set, but I always pass it without comment, understanding that the breaker has done her best to remedy the accident in preference to posting it, and will be more careful in the future.
In this paper I purpose going through the house work day by day, but before doing so I will take the work that has to be done every day. It is hardly possible that this should be the same in any two houses, yet I am sure that many young housekeepers will find it an assistance to see on paper the ordinary work to be done in a house. One is so apt to say "Oh, the servants have only so-and-so to do", forgetting the numerous small things that take time. The result is, we often expect too much then complain of work being negligently done.
Our servants are down by half-past six. As I object to disturbing the rest of the household by ringing for the servants, I never call them; if they say they cannot get up without, I tell them they must wake or go. The result is that they do wake. Perhaps being an early riser myself keeps them to it. I always come down at ten minutes to eight, and certainly should not be pleased if everything were not in order and prepared for me. at the same time, I make a point of not appearing before my usual hour. Every day before breakfast the cook lights the kitchen fire and cleans the hearth, cleans the boots, does the dining-room, and prepares the breakfast; the housemaid does the drawing room or sweeps the stairs, takes the hot water to the bedrooms at seven o'clock, lays the breakfasts in the dining room and in the kitchen, and after prayers put our breakfast on the table at exactly eight o'clock, and goes down to her own.
They finish breakfast in the kitchen before we do in the dining room. Cook then does the door and steps, and the housemaid goes up to strip the beds and open the windows. In each room the bed clothes are stripped right off the bed and placed on two chairs, and the mattress is turned over the foot of the bedstead; every bed has to remain open an hour to get it thoroughly aired and cool, except on Sunday mornings, when they are made as soon as the washstands are done, to enable the housemaid to get to church in good time. When the beds are stripped the housemaid attends to the baths and washstands. As soon as she has done them and filled the jugs and cans and put filtered water in the water bottles, she goes downstairs, washes out her basin cloths, hangs them up to dry, and fills up the filter. Meanwhile, the cook has washed up the breakfast things, tidied the kitchen, and been out to the larder with me, and is ready to go up with the housemaid to make the beds. The housemaid carries up with her whatever she will need in the way of brooms, dust pans, cover sheets, etc., for any room she is going to clean. The cook answers all bells during the morning, and lays the luncheon and the kitchen dinner; the housemaid brings up lunch, we wait on ourselves, and she goes down to her dinner. If we are to partake of any dish that is intended for the kitchen we take at once what we wish, and the dish goes down again immediately. The cook washes all up after lunch, except the silver and glass does; afterwards she washes out her teacloth and puts it to dry, so as to have it nice for the dinner glasses. She always has two teacloths in use, and washes one out every day. In the afternoon, any dusting that there has not been time for in the morning has to be done by the housemaid, who then gets the kitchen tea. After tea a little needlework is done, either for me or for herself, until it is time to lay the cloth for dinner. A clean washleather is kept in the sideboard drawer, and I always expect each spoon and fork to have a rub with it before being placed on the table; if this is done regularly, silver wants very little cleaning and always looks nice. The table has to be ready a quarter of an hour before dinner time, and everything (such as cold sweets or cheese) that can be brought into the room before dinner is placed on the sideboard ready. By adopting this plan of having the table ready a little before time, I find my little maids rarely forget anything, and soon become quite good waitresses; it gives them confidence to know all is ready, whereas if they lay the table in a hurry they are flurried and nervous all dinner time.
There is in each bedroom a second jug or small can. Half an hour before dinner, and again when she goes to bed, the housemaid takes up a large can of hot water, and from it pours some water into each of the jugs provided for the purpose. The cook washes up the dinner things after dinner, and the housemaid her glass and silver, takes the latter upstairs, and prepares her bedrooms for the night. They have supper in the kitchen at nine, and go to bed at ten.
If hot water bottles are required, the servants take them up with them when they go to bed. To prevent the bottles singing, and the water oozing out, they should be screwed down as soon as filled, then after they are taken upstairs unscrewed again to let the steam escape, and screwed up again as tightly as possible.
In the afternoon, while she is cooking the dinner, the cook stews down any bones she may have, or makes soup for the next day, or if there is a cake or pastry to bake it is done while the late dinner is being cooked, as doing so saves the expense of much fire being kept up during the morning.
If there is suet in the house, that is chopped in the afternoon so as to be ready for use, and it keeps better when the veins are taken out and it is chopped and covered with a little flour. Any pieces of bread should, at the same time, be carefully dried white (not brown), pounded in a pestle and mortar, and put in a tin ready for frying fish or other things. The housemaid (as we call her) being really a very young girl, the other servant has to help upstairs some mornings in the week, so that anything that can be arranged the afternoon before the midday meal.
Having gone through the general work, I will now take the special work of each day:-
Monday morning. - Housemaid sweeps stairs before breakfast. Immediately after, the beds are made, the clothes are looked out for the wash, I sort out and write down the things that are to go to the laundress, and put aside those that are to be washed at home, and also see what wants mending, for table linen, sheets, etc., should always be repaired before being washed; shirts and starched things should be rough dried before they are mended. The mending done, I go down to the kitchen and give my orders and take a look round; occasionally the inside of the dust bin and the coal cellar are examined, the former to see that there is no waste of cinders, coals, or other things, the latter to notice whether the dust and small coal are being burnt fairly with the lumps of coal.
I always arrange on Saturdays that there shall be enough in the house for Monday's meals without my going out, so I have a clear morning to look after things in general, see to my cupboards, and give out soap and starch for the washing. I have so often lived in places where all the washing for the household is done in cold water at the edge of a lake or stream, or in a sort of stone trough, through which water is always running - done, too, with most satisfactory results as to colour and cleanliness - that I have long abandoned the idea that it is necessary to boil clothes; even our kitchen cloths keep nice washed in cold water. The great advantage of our way is that we have no smell of washing in the house. My cook manages the wash in the following way:-
A quart to half a pound of cold water soap (depending on the amount of washing to be done) is cut up and boiled in two quarts of water. The saucepan must be kept covered to avoid the smell of soap in the house. When the soap is all melted one quart of the liquid is mixed with three or six quarts of cold water, according to the quantity of soap used. The things to be washed are put in two pans or tubs, and the boiled soap that has had the water added is poured over them. They are then left to soak until Tuesday morning, but occasionally, as cook passes, she gives them a stir with a copper stick. Tuesday morning the things are taken out of the water in which they have been soaked (and which is always quite dirty), and washed in the remainder of the boiled soap, to which sufficient cold (or in winter just tepid) water is added; no extra soap is used, but plenty of clean cold water is used for rinsing in. I believe those who try cold water washing for the first time will be astonished at the result, for the things are often nearly clean when taken out of soak; but I warn them that they will have a good deal of prejudice to overcome on the part of servants who cannot understand that hot water often fixes the dirt in things; but I find that when they once get into the way of it, they do not seem to mind how much washing they do, for of course there is no steam to make them warm, it is much quicker out of the way, and cold water does not draw the hands as much as warm does.
This process does not answer for coloured goods or flannels. The latter should not be put in soak, but should be washed out quickly in warm water in which soap has been boiled (no soap rubbed on), and rinsed in plenty of warm water.
After the clothes are sorted on Monday morning, and the beds made, the housemaid turns out and sweeps the largest bedroom, cleaning the washstands, fittings, windows, etc.; this occupies her until lunchtime. In the afternoon, after she is dressed, she dusts the other bedrooms.
Tuesday morning. - While the cook is washing, the housemaid does the second large bedroom, and dusts before lunch. In the afternoon the clothes are folded and put ready for the mangle, and any starching is done.
Wednesday. - The stairs are swept before breakfast, and after the housemaid does the two remaining bedrooms. The mattresses on one bed are brushed each week in turn, and the blankets shaken in the garden; in this way every mattress is brushed and every blanket shaken once a month. The cook cleans her tins and coppers, and scrubs her kitchen during the morning; in the afternoon the fire is made up, and they do the ironing between them.
Thursday morning. - After breakfast, the drawing room is done; the two servants do it together, so to get the hall clear again as early as possible. The housemaid dusts the bedrooms after the drawing room is finished, and in the afternoon when she is dressed she cleans the silver; as it is always carefully washed and kept rubbed, it really requires very little cleaning.
Friday morning. - The dining room is thoroughly done, the grate before the remainder after breakfast; the two servants do it together. The cook then does the hall, and the housemaid the stairs and landing thoroughly, cleaning sides of stairs and rods when necessary. Cook cleans her larder in the afternoon.
Saturday. - The kitchen flues are cleaned before breakfast; after the breakfast things are washed up and the beds are made, the kitchen is cleaned, so that the horse can go round the fire and the linen for the week be aired. Then, too, sometimes I like to make a little pastry or some cakes on Saturday, and a clean kitchen is pleasanter to work in. Saturday morning I give out the wood, black lead, soda, kitchen tea, sugar, etc., and anything that may be wanted; also fill dining room caddy, sugar basins, etc. I then go out and do my shopping, which takes me until lunch time.
At half-past two I go into the kitchen; the servants' dinner is cleared away, and all looks clean and tidy; what I require is on the table ready for me, and while I am making any little things I wish, I superintend the airing of the clean clothes and also the drying and sorting of what the laundress has brought home, and see if any buttons or strings are off. Meanwhile cook is cleaning her scullery, passages and lower stairs.
The housemaid cleans her pantry on Saturdays, and also looks to her water bottles, filters, bread platter, knife box, etc.
I am about an hour in the kitchen doing what I have to do. I generally spend the rest of the afternoon in the garden. The housemaid comes to me as soon as she has finished, and we get an hour or an hour and a half's work done there before tea.
Sundays I have as little work done as possible. The housemaid goes to church in the morning, and as I do not require her to be back until half-past one, she can if she likes take a little walk after service.
The cook lays the dinner cloth, and she may go out as soon as she has washed up from dinner, tidied her kitchen, and put ready what will be required for the dining-room tea. The cook has to come in at half-past nine punctually. I always interest myself in her movements, and, without my appearing inquisitive, I frequently learn the nature of her outings, the church she has attended, and the friends she has visited. I nhever allow the housemaid out in the evening, but occasionally the cook dresses herself for the afternoon to allow the housemaid to go for a walk.
I expect the servants to fasten up properly at night, but I go down now and then after they have gone to bed, and examine the bolts and bars and see that the kitchen fire is quite out, and everything left as it should be. The knowledge that I may go down keeps things right. Small as our household is, it must not be imagined that it can always be managed without trouble, nor can a young girl who probably knows worse than nothing be at once turned into a good little servant; it takes time and great patience to accomplish this. I often think of what a noted violin player said to a pupil who had learnt a little before he went to him: "I can always teach, and my pupils make progress, but it is the unteaching that troubles me".
Having to study economy in every part of my housekeeping, I have adopted a plan that I find considerably lessens breakages. I have a list of the kitchen crockery pasted up in the kitchen, and a list of the housemaid's glass and china fixed up in the pantry. At the bottom of each list is a blank space; in these spaces is written what is broken, when, and by whom. These lists are revised every six months, and, of course, account for all missing things. Servants much dislike posting their breakages, so are generally more careful. Of course, this plan has also an advantage for them as one is apt to forget when a thing has been broken upstairs. In going through the crockery, sometimes I find something that does not quite match the set, but I always pass it without comment, understanding that the breaker has done her best to remedy the accident in preference to posting it, and will be more careful in the future.
Monday, 30 September 2013
15 November 1884 - 'How I Keep House On £250 A Year' by Mary Pocock - Chapter 2 'Our Christmas Week'
It's the most wonderful time of the year. Mary Pocock describes the clothes she makes for the poor, including how to make clothes for children out of unwanted dresses donated by friends. This Christmas special includes some recipes for holiday treats including alcohol-free mincemeat and pudding, and an ox-cheek that is both into a soup course for Christmas dinner and a breakfast dish. She concludes with some parlour games that can be enjoyed by young and old alike, because people had to play some kind of game before Cards Against Humanity, I guess.
Part 1 of this serial can be read here.
Early in November I commence my preparations for Christmas. To begin with, I have a good deal of needlework to do for the poor, for as we only calculate to spend a small sum of money out of our income in charity, we have to give much time, as we like by the end of the year to make our gifts equal to a tithe, or tenth part of our income.
As matter of fact, we always manage to do this, but it compels me to work for a couple of months before our drawing-room bazaar in September, about which I intend to tell the readers of The Girl's Own Paper; and again for six weeks before Christmas, besides what I do at different times during the year. For this Christmas I knitted little shawls, comforters and cuffs. We made some good, warm petticoats out of strong grey woollen stuff, to which we put grey cotton bands, and on each a large flat pocket of grey cotton, as they were intended for old women. We also made a lot of double (back and front) chest preserveers out of pieces of flannel, silk, or cotton, which we joined together, putting cotton wool between, and then quilted with the sewing machine. Then I was able to beg from friends some woollen dresses that were too shabby for them to wear. Of these we unpicked the skirts and draperies, and washed them in warm bran water; then had them mangled. We made the pieces up into suits for quite little boys, and into frocks and jackets for little girls. These garments would, I knew, wear very much longer than if they had been made out of new cheap materials, and gave great satisfaction to those who received them, for they looked quite new and fresh, and were adapted to those who had them, which is rarely the case when one gives an old dress away.
In September I plant my hyacinths; for then, if I am tolerably fortunate, I have some pots in bloom by Christmas. Last year I sent two or three pots to poor invalids, but for this purpose I chose those not quite in bloom, to give them the pleasure of watching them. I finished my work a week before Christmas. The next thing that claimed my attention was the mincemeat. This and the plum pudding I invariably make myself. The former should be made at least a week before it is required. The quantity I make lasts us six weeks or two months; the following is the recipe I use:-
Mincemeat:- Wash, pick and dry thoroughly in a cloth before the fire 1 1/2 lbs. of currant, stone and chop 1 lb. of Valencia raisins, blanch and cut into pieces 1/2 lb. of Valencia almonds, cut up 3/4 lb. of candied mixed peel, chop very fine 1 lb. of beef suet, add 1/2 lb. of brown sugar, 1 lb. of chopped apples (weighed after they are peeled and cored), half a nutmeg grated, the grated rind of two lemons, and the juice of four lemons. Mix all together, and chop in a bowl or on a board; only chop it for a few minutes, then put it in a stone jar, and press down as hard as you can; tie over, and put aside in a dry place that is not warm. Always stir mincemeat well before using it, as there will be most moisture at the bottom.
It must be remembered that mincemeat that has no wine or spirit in it is difficult to keep; therefore it is necessary to see that the currants are perfectly dry before they are used. To ensure the jar not being damp, it should be stood on the stove until it is quite hot, then allowed on the stove until it is quite hot, then allowed to get cold before the mincemeat is put in it. This quantity of mincemeat costs 3s. 6d,
Some days before Christmas I make some inexpensive soda cakes. These cakes are always better for being kept in a tin three or four days before they are eaten. The following recipe is for one cake:-
Soda Cake:- 1 lb. flour, 1/2 lb. brown sugar, 1/2 lb. clarified dripping or lard, 1/4 lb. currants, a good half-pint of milk, a small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. rub the dripping well into the flour, add the sugar and currants, and if you have any lemon peel you can grate or chop it very fine and put it in; make the milk warm (not hot), mix the soda with it, then mix all together quickly and put in a warm tin that has been buttered; put into a quick oven immediately. When the cakes have been in the oven a short time, pull the damper out for a minute or two to let the steam out, but do not open the oven door until they have been in forty minutes. They will take from an hour and a half to two hours to bake. Cost of cake, not counting the value of the dripping, sevenpence halfpenny.
My plum pudding I made thus:- 3/4 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of Valencia raisins, 1/2 lb. of sultanas, 1/2 lb. of mixed candied peel, 2 oz. of Valencia almonds, 1/2 lb. of good raw sugar, 1/4 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of breadcrumbs, 1/2 lb. of beef suet, and the grated rind of one lemon. Prepare the fruit as for mincemeat, mix these ingredients well, then add six eggs (yolks and whites) well beaten. Next stir in the strained juice of two lemons; stir all well for fifteen minutes. With the raw sugar and juice of two lemons no wine or spirit is required. Well butter a tin pudding-mould, fill it and cover with a buttered paper, put the lid on (if there is one) and tie up in a cloth that has been dipped in water and floured.
This pudding, sufficient for a large party, must be boiled seven hours. A kettle of water should be kept boiling all the time so that the pudding saucepan may be filled up from time to time, as the water in it evaporates.
I always have a large ox-cheek at Christmas time; they are better then than at any other season. I ask the butcher to break the bones before he sends it.
I use it thus:- Lay the cheek for an hour in strong salt and water, then clean it thoroughly, using two or three waters, and put it to drain. Put in a stock pot a piece of butter the size of a walnut, any bacon rinds or bones you may have, three good sized carrots cut lengthways, a head of celery, or some celery tops, three blades of mace, four lumps of sugar, a bunch of sweet herbs, some parsley, a little basil, two bay leaves, a good teaspoonful of whole black pepper, the same of salt, two thick slices of bread that have been toasted slowly until they are dark brown, not black, an onion with four cloves in it, and an onion that has been baked a nice colour, and two pieces of lemon, out of which the juice has been taken for the pudding (see that there are no pips in the lemon, as they would spoil the soup). Add the ox-cheek, put the lid on the stock pot, and set the whole over the fire for a quarter of an hour, then add five quarts of cold water; when it gets to a boil take off the scum, keep the lid well down, and simmer the whole for four hours, or longer if the head is not quite tender. When quite tender take it out, remove the bones, and cut the meat in small square pieces, put half aside to be served in the soup; for the other half, mix together chopped parsley, sweet herbs, chopped lemon peel, black pepper, salt, and, if liked, a very little shallot; sprinkle this mixture over the pieces of head to taste, then place in a round cake tin; when full pour over one tablespoonful of the stock, and put a little pressure on the top. When cold turn out of the tin, and put a frill round. This is a very good dish, and is our standing breakfast dish for Christmas week.
The soup is strained through a sieve, and may be served clear with the pieces of head in it, or may be thickened with a little flour that has been well dried in the oven. Small forcemeat balls can be served with the meat in the soup if they are liked. If the directions have been properly followed the soup will be a nice colour, and a good flavour, and require nothing added to it.
Christmas Eve was a very busy day for us all; we arranged to make our dinners in the middle of the day off some cold meat. After the shopping was done, we had the rooms to decorate; holly was dear and red berries were scarce; but that did not much matter to us, as in the autumn we had had the opportunity of collecting a number of ash and other berries. They had kept very tolerably, hung on strings in my store cupboard, and we now mixed htem with box and other evergreens.
We had sent word to those of our poor friends for whom we had presents that we should be glad to see them if they would come in any time between four and six on Christmas Eve; so directly dinner was over we commenced arranging our presents on the dining table. There was our work - a few toys, a plant or two, destined to be sent to invalids and also a little tea and sugar for the same purpose. To each gift we attached a pretty card, with a motto or text on it for the coming year. These texts had been some trouble to select, as our endeavour was in each case to choose a motto that would be useful to the recipient of the gift. On the sideboard I had a large urn of hot coffee with milk, and some of my soda cakes, and each person was given a cup of coffee and a slice of cake - standing, of course - for we have not room to give a regular tea; a servant was in the room, and washed the cups as they were used. The little refreshment was a surprise, and gave pleasure, I think. Christmas morning the ground was so covered with snow that I wished we had some children in the house to follow the pretty custom they have in Norway of sticking up ears of corn on that day, to give the birds a breakfast.
I always give the servants their choice of having the Christmas dinner on the 25th of December or of having it on New Year's Day, when each, if she likes, may invite a relation; this year, as usual, they chose to put it off until New Year's Day. We were to dine at four o'clock, as out of the party of eight three would be children. Our dinner was quite simple:- Ox-cheek soup, roast turkey, Bath chap, stewed celery, spinach, brown potatoes, mince pies, plum-pudding, and, instead of sauce, boiled custards, and dessert after. Some neighbours had promised to come in in the evening. There being some children in our party we had some quiet games, such as "What is my thought like?" "Proverbs" and the "Traveller". as I do not think this game is as well known as the others I will describe it.
The Traveller:- One of the party personates the traveller, and asks for a night's lodging. His request is granted, and he is asked in payment to give some account of his travels. He complies and names in order the cities, rivers and mountains he professes to have seen, giving some account of the productions of countries through which he has passed, with the habits of the people he has seen. If he is detected in any mistake he is at once turned out of the lodging, and a forfeit is demanded of him; but should anyone accuse him wrongly of error he demands a forfeit from the accuser. The player who detects a mistake takes the traveller's place.
This was followed by one or two pencil games, such as drawing a pig or an elephant with one's eyes shut, or drawing comical portraits. These last are done by each player having a piece of paper, on the top of which he writes the name of another player or of a public character, folds the name back out of sight, and passes the paper to his neighbour who, without looking at the name, must draw a head and throat, fold the paper again, leaving only the throat visible, and pass it to the next person to draw a body. The papers are then folded and put in a basket; they are drawn in turn, and each player when he opens the paper must say why the portrait is like the person whose name it bears. Much merriment was caused by the opening of the papers. One player had drawn a hat in place of a head, so a gentleman appeared with his hat down to his shoulders; while a lady was apparently ready to race in a sack; and on a third paper a bald head and whiskers showed above the edge of a cask. After the games we had a little music. Gounod's "Nazareth" and his "Bethlehem" were sung, also the Christmas and several other hymns.
The day after Christmas Day I had arranged to have a large juvenile tea party, but when I invited the children I told them that they would each be expected before the romps commenced to do something toward the general amusement. My young guests arrived about three; we had one or two games to make them feel at home together, then each either recited, told a story, or played on the piano. I had brought down before they came a number of things that they like for dressing up in, so some gave their recitations in character. They next acted two charades; the words chosen were "hornpipe" and "corkscrew".
We had tea at half-past five, after which the table was pushed on one side, and romps and noisy games were declared for.
We began with blind man's buff, then, while some rested, we let the boys work off a little of their energy in a fettered fight, after which we played at the Zoological Gardens. This game is played like family coach, but instead of choosing a town each player says what animal he will represent; and when the keeper of the garden says, for instance, that the lion and dog will change cages, those animals must as soon as they gain the opposite chairs make their usual noise. This noisy game was followed by a cat's concert; for this each player chooses his own imaginary instrument, and plays on it his favourite tune; no two players must choose the same tune. Any player detected playing his neighbour's tune or instrument must pay a forfeit.
After this we cried the forfeits. Cups of chocolate and glasses of lemonade, with cakes and biscuits, were handed round, and my young guests went home, having apparently much enjoyed themselves. The next evening we finished our Christmas festivities by asking a few friends to come in the evening, without ceremony, and have a little music and a dance. The evening went off very well; our friends took coffee when they came, and sandwiches, cakes, grapes, prepared oranges, and lemonade were on the table in the dining room all the evening for anyone who liked to help themselves.
New Year's Eve I gave the servants 1/2 lb. of Valencia raisins, 1 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of sugar, a lemon, and two pieces of candied peel, telling them they could use two eggs, and make their pudding to their own liking as regarded milk, bread and flour. I ordered roast pork, apple sauce and vegetables for their dinners, and gave them dessert. They had - one her mother, the other her sister, coming to spend the day with them. We always dine out on the 1st of January, so they had only themselves to wait on. On Christmas Day I always send down a slice of my pudding and a mince pie for each of the servants, but I generally reserve my little Christmas gifts to them for the New Year.
Part 1 of this serial can be read here.
Early in November I commence my preparations for Christmas. To begin with, I have a good deal of needlework to do for the poor, for as we only calculate to spend a small sum of money out of our income in charity, we have to give much time, as we like by the end of the year to make our gifts equal to a tithe, or tenth part of our income.
As matter of fact, we always manage to do this, but it compels me to work for a couple of months before our drawing-room bazaar in September, about which I intend to tell the readers of The Girl's Own Paper; and again for six weeks before Christmas, besides what I do at different times during the year. For this Christmas I knitted little shawls, comforters and cuffs. We made some good, warm petticoats out of strong grey woollen stuff, to which we put grey cotton bands, and on each a large flat pocket of grey cotton, as they were intended for old women. We also made a lot of double (back and front) chest preserveers out of pieces of flannel, silk, or cotton, which we joined together, putting cotton wool between, and then quilted with the sewing machine. Then I was able to beg from friends some woollen dresses that were too shabby for them to wear. Of these we unpicked the skirts and draperies, and washed them in warm bran water; then had them mangled. We made the pieces up into suits for quite little boys, and into frocks and jackets for little girls. These garments would, I knew, wear very much longer than if they had been made out of new cheap materials, and gave great satisfaction to those who received them, for they looked quite new and fresh, and were adapted to those who had them, which is rarely the case when one gives an old dress away.
In September I plant my hyacinths; for then, if I am tolerably fortunate, I have some pots in bloom by Christmas. Last year I sent two or three pots to poor invalids, but for this purpose I chose those not quite in bloom, to give them the pleasure of watching them. I finished my work a week before Christmas. The next thing that claimed my attention was the mincemeat. This and the plum pudding I invariably make myself. The former should be made at least a week before it is required. The quantity I make lasts us six weeks or two months; the following is the recipe I use:-
Mincemeat:- Wash, pick and dry thoroughly in a cloth before the fire 1 1/2 lbs. of currant, stone and chop 1 lb. of Valencia raisins, blanch and cut into pieces 1/2 lb. of Valencia almonds, cut up 3/4 lb. of candied mixed peel, chop very fine 1 lb. of beef suet, add 1/2 lb. of brown sugar, 1 lb. of chopped apples (weighed after they are peeled and cored), half a nutmeg grated, the grated rind of two lemons, and the juice of four lemons. Mix all together, and chop in a bowl or on a board; only chop it for a few minutes, then put it in a stone jar, and press down as hard as you can; tie over, and put aside in a dry place that is not warm. Always stir mincemeat well before using it, as there will be most moisture at the bottom.
It must be remembered that mincemeat that has no wine or spirit in it is difficult to keep; therefore it is necessary to see that the currants are perfectly dry before they are used. To ensure the jar not being damp, it should be stood on the stove until it is quite hot, then allowed on the stove until it is quite hot, then allowed to get cold before the mincemeat is put in it. This quantity of mincemeat costs 3s. 6d,
Some days before Christmas I make some inexpensive soda cakes. These cakes are always better for being kept in a tin three or four days before they are eaten. The following recipe is for one cake:-
Soda Cake:- 1 lb. flour, 1/2 lb. brown sugar, 1/2 lb. clarified dripping or lard, 1/4 lb. currants, a good half-pint of milk, a small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. rub the dripping well into the flour, add the sugar and currants, and if you have any lemon peel you can grate or chop it very fine and put it in; make the milk warm (not hot), mix the soda with it, then mix all together quickly and put in a warm tin that has been buttered; put into a quick oven immediately. When the cakes have been in the oven a short time, pull the damper out for a minute or two to let the steam out, but do not open the oven door until they have been in forty minutes. They will take from an hour and a half to two hours to bake. Cost of cake, not counting the value of the dripping, sevenpence halfpenny.
My plum pudding I made thus:- 3/4 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of Valencia raisins, 1/2 lb. of sultanas, 1/2 lb. of mixed candied peel, 2 oz. of Valencia almonds, 1/2 lb. of good raw sugar, 1/4 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of breadcrumbs, 1/2 lb. of beef suet, and the grated rind of one lemon. Prepare the fruit as for mincemeat, mix these ingredients well, then add six eggs (yolks and whites) well beaten. Next stir in the strained juice of two lemons; stir all well for fifteen minutes. With the raw sugar and juice of two lemons no wine or spirit is required. Well butter a tin pudding-mould, fill it and cover with a buttered paper, put the lid on (if there is one) and tie up in a cloth that has been dipped in water and floured.
This pudding, sufficient for a large party, must be boiled seven hours. A kettle of water should be kept boiling all the time so that the pudding saucepan may be filled up from time to time, as the water in it evaporates.
I always have a large ox-cheek at Christmas time; they are better then than at any other season. I ask the butcher to break the bones before he sends it.
I use it thus:- Lay the cheek for an hour in strong salt and water, then clean it thoroughly, using two or three waters, and put it to drain. Put in a stock pot a piece of butter the size of a walnut, any bacon rinds or bones you may have, three good sized carrots cut lengthways, a head of celery, or some celery tops, three blades of mace, four lumps of sugar, a bunch of sweet herbs, some parsley, a little basil, two bay leaves, a good teaspoonful of whole black pepper, the same of salt, two thick slices of bread that have been toasted slowly until they are dark brown, not black, an onion with four cloves in it, and an onion that has been baked a nice colour, and two pieces of lemon, out of which the juice has been taken for the pudding (see that there are no pips in the lemon, as they would spoil the soup). Add the ox-cheek, put the lid on the stock pot, and set the whole over the fire for a quarter of an hour, then add five quarts of cold water; when it gets to a boil take off the scum, keep the lid well down, and simmer the whole for four hours, or longer if the head is not quite tender. When quite tender take it out, remove the bones, and cut the meat in small square pieces, put half aside to be served in the soup; for the other half, mix together chopped parsley, sweet herbs, chopped lemon peel, black pepper, salt, and, if liked, a very little shallot; sprinkle this mixture over the pieces of head to taste, then place in a round cake tin; when full pour over one tablespoonful of the stock, and put a little pressure on the top. When cold turn out of the tin, and put a frill round. This is a very good dish, and is our standing breakfast dish for Christmas week.
The soup is strained through a sieve, and may be served clear with the pieces of head in it, or may be thickened with a little flour that has been well dried in the oven. Small forcemeat balls can be served with the meat in the soup if they are liked. If the directions have been properly followed the soup will be a nice colour, and a good flavour, and require nothing added to it.
Christmas Eve was a very busy day for us all; we arranged to make our dinners in the middle of the day off some cold meat. After the shopping was done, we had the rooms to decorate; holly was dear and red berries were scarce; but that did not much matter to us, as in the autumn we had had the opportunity of collecting a number of ash and other berries. They had kept very tolerably, hung on strings in my store cupboard, and we now mixed htem with box and other evergreens.
We had sent word to those of our poor friends for whom we had presents that we should be glad to see them if they would come in any time between four and six on Christmas Eve; so directly dinner was over we commenced arranging our presents on the dining table. There was our work - a few toys, a plant or two, destined to be sent to invalids and also a little tea and sugar for the same purpose. To each gift we attached a pretty card, with a motto or text on it for the coming year. These texts had been some trouble to select, as our endeavour was in each case to choose a motto that would be useful to the recipient of the gift. On the sideboard I had a large urn of hot coffee with milk, and some of my soda cakes, and each person was given a cup of coffee and a slice of cake - standing, of course - for we have not room to give a regular tea; a servant was in the room, and washed the cups as they were used. The little refreshment was a surprise, and gave pleasure, I think. Christmas morning the ground was so covered with snow that I wished we had some children in the house to follow the pretty custom they have in Norway of sticking up ears of corn on that day, to give the birds a breakfast.
I always give the servants their choice of having the Christmas dinner on the 25th of December or of having it on New Year's Day, when each, if she likes, may invite a relation; this year, as usual, they chose to put it off until New Year's Day. We were to dine at four o'clock, as out of the party of eight three would be children. Our dinner was quite simple:- Ox-cheek soup, roast turkey, Bath chap, stewed celery, spinach, brown potatoes, mince pies, plum-pudding, and, instead of sauce, boiled custards, and dessert after. Some neighbours had promised to come in in the evening. There being some children in our party we had some quiet games, such as "What is my thought like?" "Proverbs" and the "Traveller". as I do not think this game is as well known as the others I will describe it.
The Traveller:- One of the party personates the traveller, and asks for a night's lodging. His request is granted, and he is asked in payment to give some account of his travels. He complies and names in order the cities, rivers and mountains he professes to have seen, giving some account of the productions of countries through which he has passed, with the habits of the people he has seen. If he is detected in any mistake he is at once turned out of the lodging, and a forfeit is demanded of him; but should anyone accuse him wrongly of error he demands a forfeit from the accuser. The player who detects a mistake takes the traveller's place.
This was followed by one or two pencil games, such as drawing a pig or an elephant with one's eyes shut, or drawing comical portraits. These last are done by each player having a piece of paper, on the top of which he writes the name of another player or of a public character, folds the name back out of sight, and passes the paper to his neighbour who, without looking at the name, must draw a head and throat, fold the paper again, leaving only the throat visible, and pass it to the next person to draw a body. The papers are then folded and put in a basket; they are drawn in turn, and each player when he opens the paper must say why the portrait is like the person whose name it bears. Much merriment was caused by the opening of the papers. One player had drawn a hat in place of a head, so a gentleman appeared with his hat down to his shoulders; while a lady was apparently ready to race in a sack; and on a third paper a bald head and whiskers showed above the edge of a cask. After the games we had a little music. Gounod's "Nazareth" and his "Bethlehem" were sung, also the Christmas and several other hymns.
The day after Christmas Day I had arranged to have a large juvenile tea party, but when I invited the children I told them that they would each be expected before the romps commenced to do something toward the general amusement. My young guests arrived about three; we had one or two games to make them feel at home together, then each either recited, told a story, or played on the piano. I had brought down before they came a number of things that they like for dressing up in, so some gave their recitations in character. They next acted two charades; the words chosen were "hornpipe" and "corkscrew".
We had tea at half-past five, after which the table was pushed on one side, and romps and noisy games were declared for.
We began with blind man's buff, then, while some rested, we let the boys work off a little of their energy in a fettered fight, after which we played at the Zoological Gardens. This game is played like family coach, but instead of choosing a town each player says what animal he will represent; and when the keeper of the garden says, for instance, that the lion and dog will change cages, those animals must as soon as they gain the opposite chairs make their usual noise. This noisy game was followed by a cat's concert; for this each player chooses his own imaginary instrument, and plays on it his favourite tune; no two players must choose the same tune. Any player detected playing his neighbour's tune or instrument must pay a forfeit.
After this we cried the forfeits. Cups of chocolate and glasses of lemonade, with cakes and biscuits, were handed round, and my young guests went home, having apparently much enjoyed themselves. The next evening we finished our Christmas festivities by asking a few friends to come in the evening, without ceremony, and have a little music and a dance. The evening went off very well; our friends took coffee when they came, and sandwiches, cakes, grapes, prepared oranges, and lemonade were on the table in the dining room all the evening for anyone who liked to help themselves.
New Year's Eve I gave the servants 1/2 lb. of Valencia raisins, 1 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of sugar, a lemon, and two pieces of candied peel, telling them they could use two eggs, and make their pudding to their own liking as regarded milk, bread and flour. I ordered roast pork, apple sauce and vegetables for their dinners, and gave them dessert. They had - one her mother, the other her sister, coming to spend the day with them. We always dine out on the 1st of January, so they had only themselves to wait on. On Christmas Day I always send down a slice of my pudding and a mince pie for each of the servants, but I generally reserve my little Christmas gifts to them for the New Year.
Friday, 27 September 2013
4 October 1884 - 'How I Keep House on £250 A Year' by Mary Pocock - Chapter 1
Vol.6 of The Girl's Own Annual contains a series of essays by Mary Pocock, a regular contributor to the paper during this time, outlining in careful detail how she runs her small middle class household, consisting of "two ladies and one gentleman, all young, and all water drinkers" (remember the GOP was published by the Religious Tracts Society and was therefore fairly pro-temperance) and two servants both under the age of twenty. In this first installment of a twelve-part series Mary Pocock outlines her annual expenditures and sensibly opines that yes indeed women should worry their pretty heads about financial matters, and gives a brief breakdown of inland revenue. She explains that as far as her household is concerned, the convenience of two servants - there's always someone there to answer the door, for example - is worth the expense, she prefers having young servants - the "girl" is fifteen years old and earns £5 a year - and they get meat or at least eggs on Sundays. She concludes with a sample of a typical weekly menu (I can't decide what breakfast option horrifies me more, cold bacon or stewed eels) and a rundown of the weekly grocery bill.
Seriously, anything you could want to know about the day-to-day running of a small urban middle-class household in this era is here in twelve chapters, pretty much.
To see all chapters of this essay, click the 'How I Keep House on 250 A Year' tag.
When I commenced housekeeping it was not with the idea that to be a housekeeper it was only necessary to know something of cooking, and be able to order a dinner. I had definite notions of what it was most profitable to buy, etc., but as much of my knowledge was theoretical, I had a great deal to learn practically and though, of course, no one person's housekeeping could exactly suit another, I hope that my experience may be of use to those who, like ourselves, have but limited means, but who do not mind taking a little thought and trouble about their arrangements in order to have a really well-regulated house.
I must premise that we are three in a family, two ladies and one gentleman, all young, and all water drinkers; we rent a small house (of which the landlord does the repairs) in a suburb of London within four miles of Charing Cross.
We keep two servants, the elder is twenty, the younger fourteen or fifteen years of age. When I began housekeeping I debated with myself as to whether we should have one or two. One would be more economical, but then we like to dine late, to have our dinners nicely sent up, and to be waited on at table, and we should neither of us cared to have stayed in or answered the door when our domestic went out; so I decided that my economy should be exercised in some other direction, where it would interfere less with our comfort, especially as I calculated that with two servants I could have all the small things and the table napkins, kitchen cloths, etc., washed at home and so reduce the laundress's bill considerably besides saving the linen. How we do the washing I will tell my readers in a future article.
The question of servants decided, I took a pencil and paper to make an estimate of our probable expenditure, doing my best that the items should be commensurate; but there were so many things to put down, that the task was not an easy one, and I am sure that many will be surprised at the number of things that have to be paid for besides food. The following is a copy of my estimate:-
Rent, per annum - £40 / 0 / 0
Inhabited house duty - £1 / 10 / 0
Parish rates (rated at £35) - £7 / 10 / 0
Water rate - £1 / 16 / 0
Pew rent - £3 / 0 / 0
Fire insurance on furniture, etc. - £0 / 10 / 0
Gas - £4 / 0 / 0
Coals - £9 / 0 / 0
Wages, cook - £14 / 0 / 0
Wages, girl - £5 / 0 /0
Entertainments - £12 / 0 /0
Extra expenses during the summer holiday - £12 / 0 /0
Wear and tear on house linen and crockery - £3 / 0 /0
Charities and subscriptions - £5 / 0 0
Newspapers, periodicals, stationery, etc - £2 / 14 / 0
Chemist - £2 / 0 / 0
Fifty-two weeks' board and washing at £2 8s. a week - £124 / 16 / 0
Total: £247 / 16 / 0
Balance for sundries - £2 / 4 / 0
TOTAL - £250 / 0 / 0
It will be seen that clothes have not to come out of the £250, which, however, covers all other expenses. There is nothing put down for medical attendance; all I can say is that should we be unfortunate enough to have illness in the house we must that year do without entertainments; and perhaps it even might happen that we could not all take a summer holiday.
It would appear from my figures that scarcely any margin is left; this is not quite the fact, for there is a sum put down for entertaining, but there is no reduction made for our being out sometimes, so that, in truth, I always have at the end of the year a small balance from the £2 8s. put down for board and laundress.
With regard to the second, third and fourth items in my list, I often hear ladies say, "Oh, I know nothing about rates and taxes". But why know nothing about them? A housekeeper should know everything connected with her house, and be able to tell whether the charges are right or not; they are, too, like most things, very easy to understand when once explained.
The inland revenue, generally called "Queen's" taxes, are collected once a year. They are: - the income-tax, which is so much (variable from year to year) in the pound on the rent, and has to be paid by the tenant, but the rent being the landlord's income, he is bound to allow the tenant, on the production of the receipt, the amount back out of the following quarter's rent. The inhabited house duty, which is always ninepence in the pound on the rent, is the the tenant's tax.
These two are paid by every householder; the others are special, such as a horse, carriage, using armorial bearings, under which head comes crested notepaper, or wearing a ring with a crest on it, licence to keep a dog, etc.
The next are the parish rates. Houses are generally rated somewhat below the rental, except in cases where the rent is below the value of the house; this frequently happens where have been for a long time in a house and the neighbourhood has improved; the house is then assessed at the fair value. The parish rates are collected twice a year, and vary a little; all particulars are given plainly on the papers themselves with the rateable value, and anyone who will read them through will find no difficulty in understanding them.
The rates vary very much in amount in different towns and parishes, being much higher where there are many poor; then, too, some country towns and parishes have special tithes and rates. The water rate is collected twice a year, and is four per cent, on the rateable value, with an extra charge for special services.
Some of the water companies know give particulars on the back of their accounts, from which one may easily calculate what the bill should be.
My readers must now see that they will altogether have five tax or rate papers sent them every year.
I always have young servants. I do not at all mind having to teach them; when I engage a fresh servant for the kitchen I inquire if she likes cooking, which is of far more importance than the little she may chance to know; the same with the younger servant. I would not take one who did not like waiting at table, for I find it is almost impossible to teach them things they do not care for. With young cooks I find it answers best to tell them how to do things, making them repeat to me the instructions, so as to find out if they have really understood me; then in a week or two, when they may be supposed to have mastered some of the rudiments of cooking, I lend them recipes and I must say that I very rarely have anything spoilt.
As account book I use Letts's "Housekeeper enlarged". This contains a tradesmen's summary, by which I am able to see how much each article of consumption has cost during the year, and to know on what I may spend a little more or must spend a little less the next year. It also contains a register for gas, taxes, etc. I enter my receipts and expenditure daily, and have no sundries; everything is put down separately.
I go down into the larder every morning directly after breakfast and see what is required, but I do not then say what will be for dinner, for I always go to the shops, see the meat and other things weighed, and pay for them. By doing this I am sure that I am better served. I do not say that the butcher actually charges me less, but that he trims the meat better, so I have not so much skin and bone to pay elevenpence a pound for. The reason for not ordering dinner before going out is that prices vary very much from day to day, and though one might like to have chickens or salmon, either would do as well on a day when it was plentiful as when it was scarce and consequently dear.
I have no bills except the milkman's and the baker's, and these I pay weekly. There is a basket hung by the back door, in which are two books, one for the baker, the other for the milkman. In these they write down daily the bread and milk taken. I look through them every week and by them check the weekly books. On my return from marketing I go to my store cupboard (in which I always keep a white bib-apron and a pair of gloves) and give out what is needed for the day.
Though I have a store cupboard with a great variety of things in it, so as never to have to send out for anything, I do not keep large stores. Storerooms sometimes lead to a great deal of extravagance - people are so apt to forget the cost of what is in the house. I know a housekeeper who, to be economical, orders her grocery in large quantities once a quarter from stores. I think she would be astonished if she calculated how much it cost her a week. She is careful in most things, but, having it in the house, she does not think whether it is better to give sago at 2 1/2 d. a pound for kitchen puddings, or Rio tapioca that cost 6 1/2 d. a pound; and so with many other things.
I am frequently asked what I "allow". I order in certain quantities of things, and I expect them to last; but I do not ever say to a servant that I "allow" so much, and if they asked me for a little more of anything, if they were on the whole careful, I should give it. I neither allow beer nor beer money, but sometimes I have been asked for a little coffee. I give out every Saturday, for the two servants, two pounds of moist sugar and half a pound of tea; out of this they often bring us up two cups in the afternoon. They have a pound of butter a week, as much treacle as they like, and usually we all eat from the same cheese; soap, soda, matches, wood, etc., are also given out each week. We use about a third of a pound of yellow soap (exclusive of washing) a week, and a bundle of wood has to light two fires.
I neither allow meat breakfasts nor suppers in the kitchen, excepting Sunday, when they have eggs for breakfast, or at any time that I want something finished. They frequently have soup or such vegetables as marrow or haricot beans for supper. I find they like it, and it costs no more than cheese. Baked potatoes and stewed onions also make good suppers for them.
The following list of our meals for a week will give an idea of how we live. There is no gentleman at home to lunch; we are not great meat eaters, and often prefer soup of pudding to meat in the middle of the day. It is the rule that whatever soup or pudding is made for the kitchen dinner comes upstairs first, whether we want it or not. This is done to insure its being made, and being properly made, for sometimes cooks are negligent over kitchen cooking, and badly made things are probably wasted.
On Sundays we always have a joint and dine early. The servants dine after us.
SUNDAYS:- Breakfast: Fried cod and boiled eggs. Dinner: White onion soup, roast leg of mutton, cabbage and potatoes, baked apple dumpling, small water melon. Supper: Sardines, stewed spinach, and home-made tartlet.
MONDAY:- Breakfast: Sardines and curried eggs. Midday dinner: Cold mutton, potatoes, treacle pudding. Late Dinner: Whiting, pudding, some slices of underdone mutton fried in paste and breadcrumbs and served with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes, boiled lemon pudding.
TUESDAY:- Breakfast: Fried bacon and remainder of sardines served on toast. Midday Dinner: Pea soup, cold mutton and potatoes. Late Dinner: Haricot beans stewed in gravy, roast fowl, boiled bacon (piece of flank) and cabbage, ground rice souffle.
WEDNESDAY:- Breakfast: cold bacon. Midday Dinner: Baked haddocks and potato pie made with the remains of the cold mutton. Late Dinner: Palestine soup, chicken croquettes (made of the pickings off the fowl bones), beef olives, potatoes rubbed through a sieve, macaroni cheese.
THURSDAY:- Breakfast: Cold bacon and remainder of croquettes or beef olives made hot. Midday Dinner: Pudding made of neck of beef, ox kidney, and Jerusalem artichokes. Late Dinner: Soles au gratin (with mushrooms), roast ribs of beef, stewed carrots and potatoes, fried jam puffs.
FRIDAY:- Breakfast: Stewed eels. Midday Dinner: Potato soup, cold beef, and baked potatoes. Late Dinner: Boiled haddock and egg sauce, cold beef, salad, and potato balls, baked currant pudding.
SATURDAY:- Breakfast: Fishcakes (made of the remains of the haddock and egg sauce), and eggs au plat. Midday Dinner: Remains of the beef stewed with carrots, potatoes and onions, bread pudding with plums in it. Late Dinner: Macaroni soup (made from the beef bone, etc.), scrag of mutton, haricot, pancakes.
I must append the result at the end of the week. I regret that space does not allow me to give the copies of my bills in detail, so I must give the totals.
Butcher (and fowl) - 17s. 6d.
Fishmonger - 14s. 2d.
Eggs - 1s. 6.
3/4 lb. fresh butter - 1s. 1 1/2d.
1/2 lb. cooking do. - 0s. 7d.
1 lb kitchen do - 1s. 2d.
1/2 lb. kitchen tea - 0s. 9d.
2 lbs. kitchen sugar - 0s. 5d.
1/2 lb. tea - 1s. 0.
3/4 lb. coffee, 9d., 2 oz. chicory, 1d. - 0 10d.
Milk bill - 2s. 3d.
Bread - 3s. 6d.
Flour - 0s. 7d.
Bacon and cheese - 3s. 0d.
Greengrocer - 3s. 6d.
Used from stores, grocery, etc. - 2s. 8d.
TOTAL - £2 4s. 6 1/2d.
Add to this three shillings to be paid the laundress for things sent out, and the readers of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER will perceive that at the end of my first week I had 5 1/2 d. in hand out of the £2s. 8s. allowed for housekeeping.
Seriously, anything you could want to know about the day-to-day running of a small urban middle-class household in this era is here in twelve chapters, pretty much.
To see all chapters of this essay, click the 'How I Keep House on 250 A Year' tag.
When I commenced housekeeping it was not with the idea that to be a housekeeper it was only necessary to know something of cooking, and be able to order a dinner. I had definite notions of what it was most profitable to buy, etc., but as much of my knowledge was theoretical, I had a great deal to learn practically and though, of course, no one person's housekeeping could exactly suit another, I hope that my experience may be of use to those who, like ourselves, have but limited means, but who do not mind taking a little thought and trouble about their arrangements in order to have a really well-regulated house.
I must premise that we are three in a family, two ladies and one gentleman, all young, and all water drinkers; we rent a small house (of which the landlord does the repairs) in a suburb of London within four miles of Charing Cross.
We keep two servants, the elder is twenty, the younger fourteen or fifteen years of age. When I began housekeeping I debated with myself as to whether we should have one or two. One would be more economical, but then we like to dine late, to have our dinners nicely sent up, and to be waited on at table, and we should neither of us cared to have stayed in or answered the door when our domestic went out; so I decided that my economy should be exercised in some other direction, where it would interfere less with our comfort, especially as I calculated that with two servants I could have all the small things and the table napkins, kitchen cloths, etc., washed at home and so reduce the laundress's bill considerably besides saving the linen. How we do the washing I will tell my readers in a future article.
The question of servants decided, I took a pencil and paper to make an estimate of our probable expenditure, doing my best that the items should be commensurate; but there were so many things to put down, that the task was not an easy one, and I am sure that many will be surprised at the number of things that have to be paid for besides food. The following is a copy of my estimate:-
Rent, per annum - £40 / 0 / 0
Inhabited house duty - £1 / 10 / 0
Parish rates (rated at £35) - £7 / 10 / 0
Water rate - £1 / 16 / 0
Pew rent - £3 / 0 / 0
Fire insurance on furniture, etc. - £0 / 10 / 0
Gas - £4 / 0 / 0
Coals - £9 / 0 / 0
Wages, cook - £14 / 0 / 0
Wages, girl - £5 / 0 /0
Entertainments - £12 / 0 /0
Extra expenses during the summer holiday - £12 / 0 /0
Wear and tear on house linen and crockery - £3 / 0 /0
Charities and subscriptions - £5 / 0 0
Newspapers, periodicals, stationery, etc - £2 / 14 / 0
Chemist - £2 / 0 / 0
Fifty-two weeks' board and washing at £2 8s. a week - £124 / 16 / 0
Total: £247 / 16 / 0
Balance for sundries - £2 / 4 / 0
TOTAL - £250 / 0 / 0
It will be seen that clothes have not to come out of the £250, which, however, covers all other expenses. There is nothing put down for medical attendance; all I can say is that should we be unfortunate enough to have illness in the house we must that year do without entertainments; and perhaps it even might happen that we could not all take a summer holiday.
It would appear from my figures that scarcely any margin is left; this is not quite the fact, for there is a sum put down for entertaining, but there is no reduction made for our being out sometimes, so that, in truth, I always have at the end of the year a small balance from the £2 8s. put down for board and laundress.
With regard to the second, third and fourth items in my list, I often hear ladies say, "Oh, I know nothing about rates and taxes". But why know nothing about them? A housekeeper should know everything connected with her house, and be able to tell whether the charges are right or not; they are, too, like most things, very easy to understand when once explained.
The inland revenue, generally called "Queen's" taxes, are collected once a year. They are: - the income-tax, which is so much (variable from year to year) in the pound on the rent, and has to be paid by the tenant, but the rent being the landlord's income, he is bound to allow the tenant, on the production of the receipt, the amount back out of the following quarter's rent. The inhabited house duty, which is always ninepence in the pound on the rent, is the the tenant's tax.
These two are paid by every householder; the others are special, such as a horse, carriage, using armorial bearings, under which head comes crested notepaper, or wearing a ring with a crest on it, licence to keep a dog, etc.
The next are the parish rates. Houses are generally rated somewhat below the rental, except in cases where the rent is below the value of the house; this frequently happens where have been for a long time in a house and the neighbourhood has improved; the house is then assessed at the fair value. The parish rates are collected twice a year, and vary a little; all particulars are given plainly on the papers themselves with the rateable value, and anyone who will read them through will find no difficulty in understanding them.
The rates vary very much in amount in different towns and parishes, being much higher where there are many poor; then, too, some country towns and parishes have special tithes and rates. The water rate is collected twice a year, and is four per cent, on the rateable value, with an extra charge for special services.
Some of the water companies know give particulars on the back of their accounts, from which one may easily calculate what the bill should be.
My readers must now see that they will altogether have five tax or rate papers sent them every year.
I always have young servants. I do not at all mind having to teach them; when I engage a fresh servant for the kitchen I inquire if she likes cooking, which is of far more importance than the little she may chance to know; the same with the younger servant. I would not take one who did not like waiting at table, for I find it is almost impossible to teach them things they do not care for. With young cooks I find it answers best to tell them how to do things, making them repeat to me the instructions, so as to find out if they have really understood me; then in a week or two, when they may be supposed to have mastered some of the rudiments of cooking, I lend them recipes and I must say that I very rarely have anything spoilt.
As account book I use Letts's "Housekeeper enlarged". This contains a tradesmen's summary, by which I am able to see how much each article of consumption has cost during the year, and to know on what I may spend a little more or must spend a little less the next year. It also contains a register for gas, taxes, etc. I enter my receipts and expenditure daily, and have no sundries; everything is put down separately.
I go down into the larder every morning directly after breakfast and see what is required, but I do not then say what will be for dinner, for I always go to the shops, see the meat and other things weighed, and pay for them. By doing this I am sure that I am better served. I do not say that the butcher actually charges me less, but that he trims the meat better, so I have not so much skin and bone to pay elevenpence a pound for. The reason for not ordering dinner before going out is that prices vary very much from day to day, and though one might like to have chickens or salmon, either would do as well on a day when it was plentiful as when it was scarce and consequently dear.
I have no bills except the milkman's and the baker's, and these I pay weekly. There is a basket hung by the back door, in which are two books, one for the baker, the other for the milkman. In these they write down daily the bread and milk taken. I look through them every week and by them check the weekly books. On my return from marketing I go to my store cupboard (in which I always keep a white bib-apron and a pair of gloves) and give out what is needed for the day.
Though I have a store cupboard with a great variety of things in it, so as never to have to send out for anything, I do not keep large stores. Storerooms sometimes lead to a great deal of extravagance - people are so apt to forget the cost of what is in the house. I know a housekeeper who, to be economical, orders her grocery in large quantities once a quarter from stores. I think she would be astonished if she calculated how much it cost her a week. She is careful in most things, but, having it in the house, she does not think whether it is better to give sago at 2 1/2 d. a pound for kitchen puddings, or Rio tapioca that cost 6 1/2 d. a pound; and so with many other things.
I am frequently asked what I "allow". I order in certain quantities of things, and I expect them to last; but I do not ever say to a servant that I "allow" so much, and if they asked me for a little more of anything, if they were on the whole careful, I should give it. I neither allow beer nor beer money, but sometimes I have been asked for a little coffee. I give out every Saturday, for the two servants, two pounds of moist sugar and half a pound of tea; out of this they often bring us up two cups in the afternoon. They have a pound of butter a week, as much treacle as they like, and usually we all eat from the same cheese; soap, soda, matches, wood, etc., are also given out each week. We use about a third of a pound of yellow soap (exclusive of washing) a week, and a bundle of wood has to light two fires.
I neither allow meat breakfasts nor suppers in the kitchen, excepting Sunday, when they have eggs for breakfast, or at any time that I want something finished. They frequently have soup or such vegetables as marrow or haricot beans for supper. I find they like it, and it costs no more than cheese. Baked potatoes and stewed onions also make good suppers for them.
The following list of our meals for a week will give an idea of how we live. There is no gentleman at home to lunch; we are not great meat eaters, and often prefer soup of pudding to meat in the middle of the day. It is the rule that whatever soup or pudding is made for the kitchen dinner comes upstairs first, whether we want it or not. This is done to insure its being made, and being properly made, for sometimes cooks are negligent over kitchen cooking, and badly made things are probably wasted.
On Sundays we always have a joint and dine early. The servants dine after us.
SUNDAYS:- Breakfast: Fried cod and boiled eggs. Dinner: White onion soup, roast leg of mutton, cabbage and potatoes, baked apple dumpling, small water melon. Supper: Sardines, stewed spinach, and home-made tartlet.
MONDAY:- Breakfast: Sardines and curried eggs. Midday dinner: Cold mutton, potatoes, treacle pudding. Late Dinner: Whiting, pudding, some slices of underdone mutton fried in paste and breadcrumbs and served with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes, boiled lemon pudding.
TUESDAY:- Breakfast: Fried bacon and remainder of sardines served on toast. Midday Dinner: Pea soup, cold mutton and potatoes. Late Dinner: Haricot beans stewed in gravy, roast fowl, boiled bacon (piece of flank) and cabbage, ground rice souffle.
WEDNESDAY:- Breakfast: cold bacon. Midday Dinner: Baked haddocks and potato pie made with the remains of the cold mutton. Late Dinner: Palestine soup, chicken croquettes (made of the pickings off the fowl bones), beef olives, potatoes rubbed through a sieve, macaroni cheese.
THURSDAY:- Breakfast: Cold bacon and remainder of croquettes or beef olives made hot. Midday Dinner: Pudding made of neck of beef, ox kidney, and Jerusalem artichokes. Late Dinner: Soles au gratin (with mushrooms), roast ribs of beef, stewed carrots and potatoes, fried jam puffs.
FRIDAY:- Breakfast: Stewed eels. Midday Dinner: Potato soup, cold beef, and baked potatoes. Late Dinner: Boiled haddock and egg sauce, cold beef, salad, and potato balls, baked currant pudding.
SATURDAY:- Breakfast: Fishcakes (made of the remains of the haddock and egg sauce), and eggs au plat. Midday Dinner: Remains of the beef stewed with carrots, potatoes and onions, bread pudding with plums in it. Late Dinner: Macaroni soup (made from the beef bone, etc.), scrag of mutton, haricot, pancakes.
I must append the result at the end of the week. I regret that space does not allow me to give the copies of my bills in detail, so I must give the totals.
Butcher (and fowl) - 17s. 6d.
Fishmonger - 14s. 2d.
Eggs - 1s. 6.
3/4 lb. fresh butter - 1s. 1 1/2d.
1/2 lb. cooking do. - 0s. 7d.
1 lb kitchen do - 1s. 2d.
1/2 lb. kitchen tea - 0s. 9d.
2 lbs. kitchen sugar - 0s. 5d.
1/2 lb. tea - 1s. 0.
3/4 lb. coffee, 9d., 2 oz. chicory, 1d. - 0 10d.
Milk bill - 2s. 3d.
Bread - 3s. 6d.
Flour - 0s. 7d.
Bacon and cheese - 3s. 0d.
Greengrocer - 3s. 6d.
Used from stores, grocery, etc. - 2s. 8d.
TOTAL - £2 4s. 6 1/2d.
Add to this three shillings to be paid the laundress for things sent out, and the readers of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER will perceive that at the end of my first week I had 5 1/2 d. in hand out of the £2s. 8s. allowed for housekeeping.
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