But this takes time. There is a story told of some Londoners who went to visit at a country farm, where, among other good things, they were regaled with new-laid eggs. When the hostess pressed to know how they were enjoying the rural delicacies, they, wishing to be polite yet candid, said everything was very nice, but that the eggs had not "the flavour of London ones!"
It were thus hopeless to expect those who like even eggs with a "tang" to them, to take enthusiastically to a dish of tasteless hominy, or macaroni, but happily there is no need to serve one's apprenticeship in such heroic fashion. There is at command a practically unlimited variety of vegetarian dishes, savoury enough to tempt the most fastidious, and in which the absence of "carcase" may, if need be, defy detection. Not a very lofty aspiration certainly, but it may serve as a stepping-stone.
When the goodman, therefore, comes in expecting the usual spicy sausage, kidney stew, or roast pig, do not set before him a dish of mushy barley or sodden beans as an introduction to your new 'reform bill' of fare, or there may be remarks, no more lacking in flavour than London eggs. Talking of sausage, reminds me that one of the favourite arguments against vegetarian foods is that people like to know what they are eating. What profound faith these must have in that, to us cynical folks, 'bag of mystery,' the sausage! But then, perhaps, they do know that they are eating----!
Now, I fear most of the foregoing advice on how to "Reform" sounds rather like Punch's advice to those about to marry, so after so many "don'ts" we must find out how to _do_. And to that end I would seek rather to set forth general broad guiding principles instead of mere bald recipes. Of course a large number of the items--puddings, sweets, &c., and not a few soups, are the same as in ordinary fare, so that I will give most attention to savouries, entrees, and the like, which constitute the real difficulty.
As people get into more wholesome ways of living, the tendency is to have fewer courses and varieties at a meal, but just at first it may be as well to start on the basis of a three-course dinner. One or other of the dishes may be dispensed with now and then, and thus by degrees one might attain to that ideal of dainty simplicity from which this age of luxury and fuss and elaboration is so far removed.
"Now good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both."--_Shakespeare_.
SOUPS.
The following directions will be found generally applicable, so that there will be no need to repeat the several details each time. Seasonings are not specified, as these are a matter of individual taste and circumstance. Some from considerations of health or otherwise are forbidden the use of salt. In such cases a little sugar will help to bring out the flavour of the vegetables, but unless all the members of the household are alike, it had best not be added before bringing to table. Where soup is to be strained, whole pepper, mace, &c., is much preferable to ground, both as being free from adulteration, and giving all the flavour without the grit. The water in which cauliflower, green peas, &c., have been boiled, should be added to the stock-pot, but as we are now recognising that all vegetables should be cooked as conservatively as possible--that is, by steaming, or in just as much water as they will absorb, so as not to waste the valuable salts and juices, there will not be much of such liquid in a "Reform" menage. A stock must therefore be made from fresh materials, but as those are comparatively inexpensive, we need not grudge having them of the freshest and best. Readers of Thackeray will remember the little dinner at Timmins, when the hired _chef_ shed such consternation in the bosom of little Mrs Timmins by his outrageous demands for 'a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham', on behalf of the stock-pot. But the 'Reform' housekeeper need be under no apprehension on that score, for she can have the choicest and most wholesome materials fresh from the garden to her _pot-au-feu_, at a trifling cost.