I have hitherto purposely omitted saying anything concerning the treatment of the meat and vegetables of which a pot-au-feu is made, being anxious to keep strictly to the subject which we have been discussing, - the cookery of a clear consomme. Before I go on with soup-making, however, I beg par parenthese as it were, to turn back to that period in the preparation of the soup when we strained the consomme from the meat, bones, and vegetables, which had made it.

In the Madras kitchen the soup-meat is regarded, I believe, as the perquisite of the cook's maty, which, being interpreted, may be understood to mean really that of the cook himself. Whether this custom be susceptible of reform or not, I hesitate to say, but there can be no doubt at all that, by giving way to it, we often deny ourselves a dish which would be exceedingly nice for a change, - one which, on the continent, is sent to table as a matter of course.

In small establishments, or for the quiet dinner alone, I can strongly recommend a trial of home-made bouilli, which should be treated in this way :-

Let us assume that the recipe for pot-au-feu has been strictly carried out as far as the straining stage, and that all the vegetables, or as many of them as were procurable, have been used: now, place the meat on a dish, remove the string that bound it, and serve it upon a bed of mac-caroni previously boiled till tender, and a puree obtained by rubbing all the vegetables through the wire sieve, mois-tened with a portion of the bouillon or consomme; or on a bed of stewed cabbage, with the other vegetables neatly arranged round it, in the clear broth.

Don't rush away with the Anglo-Saxon idea that there is no "goodness" (Martha's word) in soup-meat. "There is," says the G. C, "as much nutriment in it, when eaten with the soup it has yielded, as there would have been, had it been roasted; and much more than if it had been converted into salt junk, as it is the English custom to do with the silverside of beef." You can vary the bouilli by tomato sauce, any piquante sauce, or even soubise. The soup-meat served with maccaroni, grated Parmesan, and puree of tomatoes is the favourite "manzo guernito" of the Italian dinner.

Talking of soup-meat, does every one know that the potted meats so largely exported, and commonly appreciated in this country, are made from the meat of which the tinned soups are composed? It is a fact nevertheless, and every atom of meat is thus turned to account by the preserved provision dealers. The potted meat yon see in a confectioner's window at home, neatly capped with melted butter, is made from the beef which produced the stock of the mock-turtle (I bet anything it is "mock-turtle,") he advertises at a shilling a basin - enterprising man ! I once tested this myself. Having before me a large piece of soup-meat apparently full of nutriment, I determined as an experiment, to make potted meat of it. Martha, my cook, looked sourly on, - I little knew that I was robbing her of the price of that meat from the nearest pastry-cook, - and called it, for her part, a "hawful mess"; but we, who ate it, found it delicious. In London, and all large towns in England, a regular private trade in soup-meat, dripping, and fragments, is carried on between our cooks and the keepers of refreshment rooms, which both parties regard as perfectly legitimate.

But to return to the subject of soups. Although we may succeed in mastering the difficulties of the consomme, or foundation of soup-making, we must not forget that our work may be spoiled by the introduction of some barbarism peculiar to the Indian kitchen. An idea prevails with some people that clear soups require to be assisted with gelatine, or isinglass, to give them a sort of glutinous con-sistency. Ramasamy has discovered a very pernicious sort of starch which he produces from a raw-potato, and by this compound the soup in many houses, I know, is ruined. The potato imparts a crude, inky flavour to the consomme which is hard to describe on paper, but is fatal in its effect upon the palate. It kills all the flavour of the meat and vegetables. Ramasamy should be cautioned on no account to use what he calls "potato-thickening" again, in any circumstances whatever, and, once for all, let me observe that clear soups require no isinglass. The consomme cannot be too bright, light, and clear.

"Country parsley," to my mind, spoils any soup. It is nearly as bad as too much spice, and unfortunately our natives are very fond of it. I have interdicted its use in my kitchen under pain of a fine. Tarragon is the best flavouring herb you can use in a clear soup, (consomme a l'estragon) but we have only the vinegar in India, not the plant itself, and a leaf or two is, what we desire in soup. I brought out from England and have also received by post, some dried tarragon leaves which I have found highly satisfactory, and can safely recommend others to try. Unfortunately tarragon is not included in Crosse and Blackwell's dried herb list, so you must write, if sufficiently enthusiastic, to a friend who has a large kitchen garden, and beg him to fill a bottle or two with tarragon leaves carefully dried for you. In London any greengrocer can comply with this order from June till the end of October.*

Basil, which can be procured in bottles, is the best herb for clear mock turtle, and other clear soups made of shell-fish.

I will now conclude this, my first chapter on soup-making, with a code of general rules on the subject:-

1. Take care that your stock pot, a roomy vessel, is thoroughly clean before you commence operations; - a good scalding with hot-water in which a lump of washing soda has been dissolved, will make matters certain, and take away that smoky taint which all our utensils get in India owing to our wood fires, and chimneyless ranges.

2. Use soft water rather than hard.

3. One shin of Indian beef is enough for two persons, two shins ought to suffice for six, and so on.

4. Put the fresh soup-meat with the bones separately broken up, and the salt, into cold-water: hot (not boiling)

* Since this was written in 1878, Messrs. Moir and Son have introduced the dried herb in bottles which will be found excellent. - W.

water should be poured round meat and bones that have been previously cooked.

5. A quart of water to half a pound of meat and bone is said to be the outside you can allow in England, but a smaller proportion will be found advisable in India - a quart to a pound for instance. In any circumstances there must be sufficient water to cover the meat and bone.

6. Remember that slow boiling, and retarding actual boiling as much as possible, are important points to start with.

7. Do not cover up your pot closely, the steam should evaporate to assist the strength of the soup, and keep it clear.

8. Skim frequently during the early stage of your proceedings, - a cup of cold-water thrown into the pot causes the scum, or albumen, to come up quickly, and, of course, retards boiling.

9. Use a wooden spoon.

10. Put in your vegetables, flavouring herbs, etc., after the skimming is finished, and let them simmer till they are done.

11. Wash your vegetables very carefully before adding them.

12. As soon as the vegetables which are put into the pot-au-feu are done, they should be removed, and the heat under the soup-kettle maintained at simmering point.

13. It will take four or five hours to extract the essence from a few pounds of beef, so begin as soon as you can, and don't hurry the work.

14. It is better to season too little than too highly, so be very careful when adding pepper, herbs, etc.

15. There is nothing to be gained by keeping the meat simmering when once it is thoroughly done. The consomme is at its best when the meat which made it is done to a nicety, viz., in about five hours. Boiling "to rags" is a useless proceeding.

N.B. - Remember that you will never succeed in obtaining a nicely flavoured clear soup, unless the proportions of meat and vegetables are carefully maintained. For three pounds of meat and one of bone, Gouffe gives the following weights of vegetables :- carrots, ten ounces; large onions, ten ounces; leeks, fourteen ounces; celery, one ounce; turnips, ten ounces; parsnip, two ounces.

As leeks are not often found in the Madras market, I would substitute another large onion, about five ounces. Parsnips are only procurable on the Neilgherries, their weight may be made up with some extra carrot. Turnips, unless gathered fresh and young, are apt to be very strong in India; I think, therefore, that five ounces of them will be found sufficient as a rule. Observe the weight allowed of celery; - this is important, for celery is a very powerfully flavoured vegetable.

Concerning vegetable consomme, I speak later on.

Have the rules, I have given, together with the weights of meat and vegetables, and the recipe for pot-au-feu, written out in Tamil by your butler and pasted upon card-board, to be hung in the cook-room for Ramasamy's edification whose self-taught method of soup-making may be briefly described as follows :-

He cuts up the soup-meat, and bone, and throws them into the digester pot; he next adds the vegetables, pepper, salt and spice, covers the whole with water, puts the vessel screwed down on a good brisk fire, and walks off to his rice, leaving his tunnycutch to watch the boiling. All she does is to see that there is plenty of firewood under the digester. As may readily be supposed boiling point is speedily reached in this way of managing matters. In an hour or so the cook returns and finds the water he put into the pot reduced to about one-third of its original quantity; this is, of course, a very strong broth, he accordingly strains it off, and calls it his "first sort gravy." He then returns the meat, etc., to the pot again, covers it with water, and lets that boil away. The liquid thus produced, I need scarcely say, is terrible to look upon, and very nasty to taste, the whole essence of the meat having been frittered away by the first process. It is a dull, greasy-looking fluid like dish washings. Nevertheless Ramasamy strains it off and calls it the "second sort gravy." He next amalgamates the two "sorts," browns the mixture with burnt onion, and clarifies it with the white of an egg. Having got it clear, he rasps some raw potato into it to obtain a nice glutinous starch, and when the soup seems sufficiently gummy, he strains once more and sends it to table.

Setting aside other considerations, pray observe the wastefulness of this awful process. It is not exaggeration to say that half the quantity of soup-meat and bone required by the ignorant native cook might be saved if he could be prevailed upon to follow the laws of intelligent cookery.