Here, again, and still among the twenty-three soups—all of them delicious—is a compound for the mortification of the flesh which might surely have affected that object better, if there had been fewer nice things in it. It is called almond soup. The very name has a comfortable and succulent sound, which is very inviting, while the directions for making it are suggestive of a rapturous result. "Blanch and chop," says the Manual, "very fine, two ounces of almonds, boil them gently for an hour in a pint of milk, with an onion and a head of celery: then take out the latter, mix together a table-spoonful of flour and a little butter, add half a pint of milk, a little cayenne pepper, mace, and salt; stir the soup on the fire till it has boiled a few minutes, add a little cream, and when it boils, serve it directly." This haste in sending it up while in the very crisis of a boil is the culminating touch, and there is in the manner in which the point is urged, something little short of real artistic feeling. Such injunctions as "serve it hot," "it should be sent quite hot to table," "it must not boil again"—this last after some momentous crisis—are phrases of constant recurrence in the treatise, and are urged with affecting vehemence.
It would be pleasant, and profitable as well, no doubt, if space permitted, to linger over the directions for making lobster soup, "with the flesh of two fine lobsters," and gratifying additions of "grated lemon-peel, and anchovy, and cayenne, and the yolk of an egg," or a soup of oysters, which, besides the precious shell-fish themselves, is to contain, among other comfortable ingredients, the yolks of ten hard-boiled eggs, and of five raw ones, and which, as it approaches completion, is to be "stirred well one way" and served to the anchorites, who are bent on keeping their Lent in the most orthodox manner, "when thick and smooth." But we must not dwell too long on the soups. There are twenty-seven "made dishes," some of which deserve a passing word, and to a few of which we beg particularly to call the attention of those sacrilegious persons who are in the habit, during Lent or Advent, of pampering their vile bodies with joints of plain meat, or even with nourishing chops and juicy steaks. Let such people cower with shame as they hear what other people put up with. They put up with "oyster sausages," in compounding which you are to "beard your oysters and chop them very fine, to have ready a mixture of bread-crumbs, yolks of eggs, parsley, sweet marjoram, and seasoning to your taste; to mix the whole well together into a thick paste, cut it into pieces the length and breadth of your finger; fry the pieces a nice brown"—we must make things look nice at any rate for the poor anchorites—"put mashed potatoes in the centre of your dish, and the sausages all round." Others mortify the flesh on "Parmesan cheese fritters," confectioned thus: You "boil some macaroni very tender, cut it very small, mix it with some grated Parmesan cheese and a little pepper and salt, take a little paste and roll some of the cheese in it, then roll it out thin, cut it with a round cutter, and put some of the cheese mixture between two rounds of the paste, egg and bread-crumb them, fry them in butter or olive oil, and serve in a napkin." Such specimens of the unsavoury food which certain enthusiastic abstinents will bring themselves to endure, are so afflicting to think of, that the reader shall only be asked to dwell on one other specimen of the "made dishes" described in this curious and instructive little volume. The consuming of lobsters seems to be en act of self-denial finding especial favour among the orthodox, and this particular dish, which we are about to consider, is composed mainly of the shell-fish in question. It is called "lobster pudding." To make it properly, you must "pick the meat from a fresh lobster, and after pounding it in a mortar add a handful of bread-crumbs, two yolks of eggs well beaten, two ounces of fresh butter, and salt and cayenne to your taste; then put it into a mould to boil for an hour, pound the red coral with a small spoonful of water; mix this with melted butter, and pour it over the pudding. It should look quite red," says the Manual, conceding again something to the eye's gratification; and then he adds, as a finishing touch, "garnish with claws and feelers."
The different modes of cooking eggs which are given in these ascetic pages, are in no respect behind the other recipes in the matter of savoury suggestion. What does the reader think, to take a specimen dish (compatible, let it be remembered, with strict fasting), of the following? "Eggs with forcemeat balls. Take half a pound of bread-crumbs, and rub two ounces of butter into it, adding one ounce of onion, and a little lemon-thyme; season with cayenne, salt, and a little mace; add two eggs well beaten, and two table-spoonfuls of cream; roll it into balls, fry them in butter, lay them on a flat dish, with three eggs boiled hard and cut in two; pour some brown sauce over the whole; and serve some brown sauce in a boat and some currant jelly." Not a bad substitute, perhaps, for the cold mutton of which the orthodox must not partake on any terms.
Or, supposing the above not sufficiently savoury to console the faithful for their privations in the matter of animal food, perhaps an "Onion omelette" might prove satisfactory. In order to prepare this penitential dish you are directed to "take six small onions, slice them, and put them in a dish with butter, salt, and pepper, and bake them till tender; beat four eggs well, add a cupful of milk, a little salt, two ounces of bread-crumbs, and the sliced onions; put all this into a buttered pie-dish, and bake it in a moderately hot oven; serve with brown sauce."
One can imagine the possibility of concocting a dinner from the pages of this Manual, which should be strictly in keeping with sackcloth and ashes, and yet not wholly unsatisfactory to the human palate. The repast might commence with that vegetable soup of which it is affirmed, that when it is properly prepared it "is as well-coloured, and nearly as
