GRANDMOTHER'S CHICKEN POT-PIE

Since boyhood the writer has never come across any- one who could make chicken pot pie that was not a disappointment. Even his mother had not learned the art; his wife was a dismal failure, and nearly every female acquaintance who has entered the lists fails when the crucial test is applied. Of course I praise the pie—it needs it—but one plateful always answers. I need not to be advised when to quit, as my dear old grandmother used todo. It was her pot pies that were so juicy and deliciously flavoured that she must needs stand by tosaveme. Itisall nonsense that have “I have lost my zest for food.” I know better. I have tried pot pies made by my mother’s sisters. I have even gone to the Catskill Mountains in the State of New York in search of the lost secret—for there in Duchess County was my darling grandmother born. Now I know it was not prejudice nor my boyish appetite ; for I could not en- dure her baked pork and beans. No, the ait is lost, un- less I can conjure it from memory as I was too heedless and shiftless to set it down in a book. But the lesson has made me more careful since that day. But let me go back in memory and describe her method. It was my part to catch the chicken, and I became expert in my part as time went on. I selected one or two young male fowls according to the number who were to share the treat. After scalding, plucking and dressing the fowls she washed them several times, after cutting them up she left them in salt and water; allowing them to remain in it a half hour or so; about one hour before the meal was to be served she put them over the fire in a deep kettle covering, with sufficient cold water to allow for evaporation during the hour. This was allowed to come slowly to a boil and not hurried. Meantime, a

rich pastry or crust was made with sour cream, and a

9& THE BREADMAKER S COOKING LESSONS.

little soda, rolled out into thin sheets and cut into

squares—not perfectly square, you know, but square enough. When ready, and about fifteen or twenty min- utes before dinner was to be served, she removed the chicken from the broth or liquor, then thickened this liquor with flour and plenty of melted butter seasoned + reduced to a thin batter by stirring

with salt and pepp¢ lenty to cover the

in to the broth, of which there was p whole, as she returned the chicken and squares of crust in alternate layers, topping off as she began with a layer of crust, for I always hung around and conjured her to put in “lots of crust.” That was a long quarter of an hour, always, from the time she covered it with a tin until served in a large platter, baptized in the delicious Perhaps this is nota sufficient guide to produce

gravy. made—and she never failed —

as good a pot pie as she but try tt, and see. I ne but if my boyish recollections aids the lost art this book will not

Her success was equalled when she tried lamb, The secret is in the crust and

ver expected to make a book any one to discover have been made in

vain. veal or wild pigeons. the juiciness and plentifulness of the gravy.

SAUCES, GRAVIES, SALADS AND RELISHES,

SAUCES. The illustrious French Diplomat, Talleyrand, used to 1 one hundred and twenty

say that in England they hac sauce, and that was melted

religions but only onekind of french cook, adds-—

butter, but as Soyer, the great «“ He should have told how one hundred and nineteen

sauces could be engrafted on the original stock.” Melted

‘I kind follo ounc muc quar and mer, and ing \

is m in th serve

‘ut into square ity min- ved the ned this easoned stirring over the of crust 1 a layer d her to er of an th a tin Jelicious produce failed — ea book discover made in ed lamb, rust and

d, used to nd twenty ‘as melted k, adds-— 1 nineteen ”’ Melted

SAUCES, GRAVIES, SALADS AND RELISHES. 39

butter is the basis of a number of very palatable sauces, which may be as varied as the taste and skill of the cook.