37. Black Puddings, broiled.—Make about six or eight incisions through the skin with a knife, in a slanting way, on each side of the pudding; put it on the gridiron for about eight minutes, on rather a brisk fire, turn it four times in that space of time, and serve it broiling hot.
I should recommend those who are fond of black puddings to partake of no other beverage than tea or coffee, as cocoa or chocolate would be a clog to the stomach. In France they partake of white wine for breakfast, which accounts for the great consumption of black pudding. Now really this is a very favorite dish with epicures, but I never should recommend it to a delicate stomach.
ON COFFEE.—Coffee, which has now come so generally into use, originally came from Arabia, where it has been known from time immemorial, but was brought into use in England in the year 1653; as it is not generally known how it was introduced, I will give you the account of it from “Houghton’s Collection,” 1698. “It appears that a Mr. Daniel Edwards, an English Merchant of Smyrna, brought with him to this country a Greek of the name of Pasqua, in 1652, who made his coffee; this Mr. Edwards married one Alderman Hodges’s daughter, who lived in Walbrook, and set up Pasqua for a coffee-man in a shed in the churchyard in St. Michael, Cornhill, which is now a scrivener’s brave-house, when, having great custom, the ale-sellers petitioned the Lord Mayor against him, as being no freeman. This made Alderman Hodges join his coachman, Bowman, who was free, as Pasqua’s partner; but Pasqua, for some misdemeanor, was forced to run the country, and Bowman, by his trade and a contribution of 1000 sixpences, turned the shed to a house. Bowman’s apprentices were first, John Painter, then Humphrey, from whose wife I had this account.” Having examined the renter churchwarden’s book of St. Michael, Cornhill, I find that the house or shed Bowman built is now part of the Jamaica Coffee-House; it was rebuilt by Bowman, after the fire, in 1667. It is a very remarkable fact that but few persons in England know how to make good coffee, although so well supplied with the first quality of that delicious berry; but, by way of contrast, I must say that the middle classes of France are quite as ignorant of the method of making tea. I remember, upon one occasion, whilst staying at Havre with Mr. B., where we were upon a visit at the house of one of his agents, who invited a few of his friends to meet us at a tea-party à l’Anglaise, as they used to call it, about an hour previous to tea, and previous to the arrival of the guests, I was walking upon the lawn before the house, when my attention was attracted by a cloud of steam issuing from the kitchen-window, smelling most powerfully of tea: my curiosity led me to the kitchen, where I found the cook busily engaged making cocoa and most delicious coffee, but preparing the tea in a ridiculous fashion, the leaves of which were in an awful state of agitation, attempting as it were to escape from an earthen pot at the side of the fire, in which the delicious soup we had for dinner was made a few hours previously. (See Pot-au-Feu.) “My dear girl,” said I (in French), “what process do you call that of making tea? it never ought to be boiled.” “I beg your pardon, Madame,” says she, “master and mistress like it well done, and it will be another short half-hour before it is properly cooked (ce sera alors copieux).” “You are decidedly wrong,” said I, “and I shall be most happy to show you the way we make it in England.” “Yes, I know what you mean, Madame,” replied she; “I used to make it that way before, but no one liked it, that is, to boil it one hour in a copper-pan over a charcoal fire.” Upon which I retired, making a most comical grimace, to refrain from laughing at her still more ridiculous fashion. You must, however, observe that this occurred nearly twelve years ago, and I have no doubt but a reform has taken place since then by the continual traffic of the English through that part of the country. I must say, with respect to ourselves, we do not make quite such a blunder respecting coffee, but still our middle classes very seldom enjoy the aroma of that delicious beverage, which should be made as follows: Choose the coffee of a very nice brown color, but not black (which would denote that it was burnt, and impart a bitter flavor); grind it at home if possible, as you may then depend upon the quality; if ground in any quantity, keep it in a jar hermetically sealed. To make a pint, put two ounces into a stewpan, or small iron or tin saucepan, which set dry upon a moderate fire, stirring the coffee round with a wooden spoon continually until it is quite hot through, but not in the least burnt; should the fire be very fierce, warm it by degrees, taking it off every now and then until hot (which would not be more than two minutes), when pour over a pint of boiling water, cover close, and let it stand by the side of the fire (but not to boil) for five minutes, when strain it through a cloth or a piece of thick gauze, rinse out the stewpan, pour the coffee (which will be quite clear) back into it, place it upon the fire, and, when nearly boiling, serve with hot milk if for breakfast, but with a drop of cold milk or cream if for dinner. To prove the simplicity of this mode of making coffee, I shall here give a repetition of the receipt as it actually is: