The consideration of sauces may certainly be regarded as the most interesting part of the study of cookery. So much, indeed, is to be gained by this branch of the art, that I might almost call it the most important. Whether for fish, for flesh, or fowl, the assistance thus contributed is invaluable. Without penetrating very deeply into the mazes of elaborate cookery, if you once master the broad principles of sauce-making, you need never be at a loss for variety in your dishes; you will be able to improve good meat, and make that which is indifferent palatable; whilst with cold things you will rarely fail to turn out little rechauffes which will be at once tasty, and economical.

Now, I do not consider it a difficult thing to teach a native cook the fundamental rules of this part of his work, for they are simple. The labour is so slight that, if sufficiently devoted to your task, you can select a recipe and absolutely show the man step by step how to carry it out. For a demonstration of this kind, you must, of course, order all the ingredients you may require beforehand, and have a mineral oil-stove, or brazier of charcoal, brought into a sheltered verandah, or spare room. The trouble this may cost you will, in nine cases out of ten, be amply repaid, for with the native mind practical proof is far more effective than theoretical discussion.

For sauce-making, in general, you must possess four or five small sauce-pans in sizes, a bain-marie pan to set them in, a small pair of scales, two wooden spoons, a plated spoon of each size, a flour dredger, a couple of earthenware bowls, a block tin perforated strainer (a pointed one for choice) with handle, a wire sieve, a hair sieve, and a mortar.

The materials you will call into play from time to time will be:- butter, flour, eggs, pepper, salt, onions, limes, a few cloves of garlic, spices, the contents of your cruet-stand, say :- Harvey, and mushroom ketchup; anchovy, chilli, tarragon, and French vinegars; besides mustard, with pickled gherkins, capers, and red-currant jelly. Carefully-made gravy, broth, or stock, will generally be wanted, for which special provision must be made, but for ordinary sauces, you can generally manage to make enough broth from scraps and trimmings. In doing this you have the consolation of knowing that there is nothing wasted. Sundry spoonfuls of red or white wine will be necessary now and then, and if you wander beyond the Rubicon of moderation to the realms of high art, you will naturally ask for champagne, truffles, cocks-combs, cream, mushrooms, and olives.

Of all writers upon cookery none has dealt more clearly with the subject of sauces than Jules Gouffe. His work may appear difficult to understand in places, and his recipes may seem frequently composed upon too large a scale to be useful to mistresses of small establishments, but in the system that he has adopted with regard to this important feature of kitchen work, he has hit the right nail upon the head. He classes as fundamental sauces, - from which nearly the whole category may be said to have sprung, - those well-known names Espagnole, Veloute, Allemande, Bechamel and Poivrade; and even of these, the first two may be considered as the parents of the rest.

There are nevertheless several standing sauces which must be spoken of independently; for instance, melted butter (sauce blanche), Hollandaise, soubise, maitre d'hotel, bread sauce, mayonnaise, tartare, remoulade, ravigote, Robert, piquante, etc. Let us take these first, for they are perhaps more simple, and oftener in request than Espag-nole, veloute, and their various descendants.

Failure in the composition of melted butter (sauce blanche) is so common, that I will commence with a few hints with regard to that homely preparation. The pith of this sauce consists in melting your lump of butter (good butter mind) first at the bottom of your sauce-pan, then to add the flour, which soon amalgamates with the melted butter, and then by degrees the water, or milk and water (boiling) with a pinch of salt. Work this well with a wooden spoon till it is soft and creamy to look upon, pass it through your tin strainer into a hot sauce boat, and, as you serve it, add a pat of fresh butter the size of a rupee, which will, of course, melt of its own accord, and give that 'buttery' flavour which you desire - not that 'flour-and-watery' one so suggestive of the composition you would employ for fixing scraps in an album.

For a pint of white sauce, you will require two ounces and a half of butter, two ounces of flour, a salt-spoonful of salt, and a pint of broth, or milk and water. Use two ounces of butter, and the flour first, and save the extra half ounce of butter to finish with.

A pinch of sugar assists all white sauces.

Please observe that milk is not absolutely necessary in making "white sauce." The chief objection to its use is, that, in this country, it causes the sauce with which it may be used to turn sour the next day. I consequently advocate the use of broth, made from chicken bones or mutton scraps, instead of milk. Broth enriches the sauce, and if strong, makes it equal to sauce blonde. The water in which peas, carrots, onions, celery, and leeks, have been boiled may be used advantageously for this purpose.

If required for fish the liquor in which the fish was boiled reduced by rapid boiling; or a broth made from the bones, fins, and trimmings separately simmered should be used.

The common error in making white sauce is the stirring of flour into the sauce, which produces the effect required at the expense of double the necessary quantity of flour; for the lumps strained off are utterly wasted. A too sparing use of butter is another cardinal mistake.

With half a pint of sauce blanche you can work out several tasty recipes given by the "G. C." as follows :-

Beat up the yolk of an egg, and the juice of a couple of limes; strain, and add to your melted butter just before serving; off the fire mind, or the sauce will curdle.