The Virginia enterprise., 1908-02-21
Food for Reflection,
(Copyright>)
By D. M. CORY

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My windew faces the domestic Of
1ices of the house opposite. Between
the branches of spreading cedar l
can see right into the beautiful kitchen
with its modern, polished range, its
regiments of shining copper pans, it's
rows of warm-tinted casseroles and
terrines. Better still, l can watch the
White-gowned priestess who presides
over the culinary temple what time
she prepares delicacies for the lucky
beings who are privileged to employ
her.
do not know them; 1 have never
seen them. I am merely a desolate
stranger come to look for summer in
country village, and, by hazard, an
chored in cottage rooms overlooking
a little Tudor manor house.
AS for the summer, it has not come
In it's place is a caricature, done in
dull, damp, depressing greys. For my
self, l ache for nutriment. For they
give me nothing to eat in the cottage
at least, they give me nothing eata-
BILE. I have suffered barbaric dietary
of tepid chops, leathery steaks and
sOdden vegetables for nearly a fort
night, and SO, when the kitchen win
dows opposite are thrown open, as
they are to-day, my eyes search the
view within with longing both of
emptiness and the remembrance of
past good cheer.
The ghosts of real, dainty, satisfying
repasts haunt me as l watch the
proceedings of the cook Something
Is toward: there is activity in the
kitchen. and lucky chance has given
me front seat for the show.
Food! 1t surrounds the interesting
creature in the kitchen. Even at this
distance l can distinguish it's main
features. Coraltinted red mullet,
those "woodcock of the sea-" lie re-
posefully, like We're de Veres, in a row.
Near them is heap of sweetbreads,
white and round. Beyond, is an open
dish full of the tender portions of
most spring-like chickens, and in the
foreground, dainty saddle of noun
tain lamb. 1t is powdered DER like a
lady's face, through which a sweet
rose-blush peeps. No living picture
can compare with it!
window and adjoining shelves, are the
accessories of civilized cookery. Con-
diments AMI sweet herbs; the glazes,
the pralins and the fondants in jars; !;
the essences and the flavorings in bot
ties. MOlds, strainers, a balm marie, a
c1sel, a daubiere-eVerything, from
fonds de cuisine to the last word in
culinary material abounds in this Lu-
cullian fairy-land
There are noises in the cottage be-
hind me-commonplace, sordid noises
that irritate. But l put my fingers
over my ears and lean further out Of
my loaded easement in order to con.
centrate the whole of my attention on
the scene that is unfolding before my
eyes,
Instinctively know that am about
to witness the operations of an adept
"a Gordon bleu. There is deftness,
light touch, about her that convinces
me of it. She has done with prelim~
1naries now, and applies herself to a
special process-a soup, evidently.
A pan is removed from the stove
and brought to the table by the win
dow. In it spy white roux of creamy
consistency-undoubtedly roux Of
-four and clarified butter-probably
seasoned with mushrooms. The scent
If IN ~ ~
road,-the scent of hazel-nuts! There
are mushrooms on the table-the dear
white delicacies!-andw when she be-
gins rubbing these through a sieve and
adds them to some veal stock, and
then scatters cubes of chicken and
salted tongue into the basin, know
this queen of purees to be no less than
Veloute Agnes Sorel!
The pan goes back to the fire, and
she turns her attention to the red
mnllet. How shall I describe what
follows? Bald words can do no
justice to her treatment of these cor
alinc dreams. tell nothing of the deft
way in which she makes the cisel
along their sleek sides. My mouth
waters as I watch her sprinkle lemon
juice upon them What emotions stir
me as she dips them in the marinade
of white wine favored with thyme,
bay leaves, parsley and shallot? I'M
agine the fragrance! l see her scatter
chopped fennel over all. before they
disappear in envelopes of oiled paper
to be gently grilled and served "as
they stand!"
At this juncture, something takes
her out Of sight and | suffer agonies
lest this be the end of the enhancing
diatetic treat. But no, l have need
lessly alarmed myself She is back
again. drawn by those alluring sweet
breads, as l might have guessed a
creature of her artistic temperament
would BE-!
A new happiness surges through me
while she lards them with bacon and
trufles. How tenderly she places
them in the shallow cocotte and sur
rounds them with garnish of already
prepared vegetables cut en- julienne!
How sweetly perfect to observe her
addition Of the brazing liquor, and the
powder of minced truflies that crown
her work and give the hallmark to
Ris de Veau Demidoff!
Now it is the turn of the selle dag.
neau. Happy. happy little saddle!
You are to be treated a langlaise be.
fore the open fire until you become
fascinatingly golden-brown, and so