Though many, I own, are the evils they’ve brought us,
Though R**al*y’s here on her very last legs;
Yet who can help loving the land that has taught us
Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs!
Moore.
Take as many eggs as you think proper; break them into a pan, with some salt and chopped parsley; beat them well, and season them according to taste. Have ready some onion, chopped small; put some butter into a fryingpan, and when it is hot, put in your chopped onion, giving them two or three turns; then add your eggs to it, and fry the whole of a nice brown. You must only fry one side; serve the fried side uppermost.
TO POACH EGGS.
But, after all, what would you have me do,
When, out of twenty, I can please not two?
One likes the pheasant’s wing, and one the leg;
The vulgar boil, the learned poach an egg;
Hard task to hit the palate of such guests,
When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf detests.
Pope.
The cook who wishes to display her skill in poaching, must endeavor to procure eggs that have been laid a couple of days; those that are new laid are so milky, that, take all the care you can, your cooking of them will seldom procure you the praise of being a prime poacher. You must have fresh eggs, or it is equally impossible. The beauty of a poached egg is for the yolk to be seen blushing through the white, which should only be just sufficiently hardened to form a transparent veil for the egg. Have some boiling water in a teakettle; pass as much of it through a clean cloth as will half fill a stewpan; break the egg into a cup, and when the water boils remove the stewpan from the stove, and gently slip the egg into it; it must stand till the white is set; then put it on a very moderate fire, and as soon as the water boils, the egg is ready. Take it up with a slicer, and neatly place it on a piece of toast.
BOILED EGGS.
On holydays, an egg or two at most;
But her ambition never reached to roast.
Chaucer.
The fresher laid the better. Put them into boiling water; if you like the white just set, about two minutes’ boiling is enough. A new-laid egg will take a little more. If you wish the yolk to be set, it will take three, and to boil it hard for a salad, ten minutes. A new-laid egg will require longer boiling than a stale one by half a minute.
FRIED EGGS.
Go work, hunt, exercise (he thus begun),
Then scorn a homely dinner if you can;
Fried eggs, and herbs, and olives, still we see:
This much is left of old simplicity.
Pope.
Eggs boiled hard, cut into slices, and fried, may be served as a second course dish, to eat with roast chicken.
EGGS AND BREAD.
Never go to France,
Unless you know the lingo;
If you do, like me,
You’ll repent, by jingo.
Starving like a fool,
And silent as a mummy,
There I stood alone,
A nation with a dummy.
Signs I had to make
For every little notion;
Limbs all going like
A telegraph in motion;
If I wanted bread,
My jaws I set a-going,
And asked for new laid eggs
By clapping hands and crowing.
Put half a handful of breadcrumbs into a saucepan, with a small quantity of cream, sugar, and nutmeg, and let it stand till the bread has imbibed all the cream; then break ten eggs into it, and having beaten them up together, fry it like an omelet.
OMELETTE SOUFFLÉ.
“Where is my favorite dish?” he cried;
“Let some one place it by my side!”
Donne.
Beat up the yolks of eight eggs, and the whites of four (set aside the remaining whites), with a spoonful of water, some salt, sugar, and the juice of a lemon; fry this, and then put it on a dish. Whip the four whites which were set aside to a froth with sugar, and place it over the fried eggs; bake it for a few minutes.
