ing teaspoonful of granulated gelatine to three cupfuls of stock is about the right proportion. Put the gelatine into cold water, dissolve by gentle heat, and add to the boiling soup. Stir until thoroughly mixed, take from the fire, and pour into cups to cool. A cold soup of beef or chicken stock, partially jellied, is a valuable food in summer.
In spite of the number and variety of the recipes given above, the subject of soups has been scarcely touched upon. Cookery is said to be an art to which scientific principles may be applied, but there is more art than science in the preparation of a good soup.
A skilful soup-maker knows at a glance just what materials will make a savory compound. The bone of yesterday's steak, half of a tomato, a chicken wing, a hard-boiled egg, and a sprig of parsley can be made to produce much.
It is said that at the stock yards in Chicago nothing is wasted but the squeal of the pig, and likewise, in the kitchen of the skilful housekeeper, little is thrown away except potato peelings.
Nearly all soups are highly nutritious and easily digestible, and in this way, as in no other, every ounce of food material is made to yield its last, and in many cases its highest value.
