THE ART OF LIVING IN AUSTRALIA TOGETHER WITH THREE HUNDRED AUSTRALIAN COOKERY RECIPES AND ACCESSORY KITCHEN INFORMATION BY MRS. H. WICKEN TEXT

made to supply a crying want. A brief reference to a few of these salad plants will better illustrate the importance of their culture. Here, as with the different vegetables, I applied to headquarters for information, namely, to Mr. F. Turnen, of the Department of Agriculture, Sydney, who once more came to my assistance and courteously indicated the localities in which they are likely to do well. And it only seems fitting and appropriate here to remark that Australia's road to prosperity lies through her agriculture; the hydro-cephalic growth visible in every colony is unnatural and needs rectification. Lettuce.----Of this there are two varieties, the ordinary cabbage lettuce and the cos, so named from the Island of Cos in the Aegean Sea, which is also known as the upright, or smooth-leaved lettuce. Although this latter is to be obtained, yet in nine cases out of ten only the cabbage lettuce is procurable. But, as a matter of fact, the upright or smooth-leaved cos lettuce is of a more delicate flavour, and when grown properly by having the leaves loosely tied together at the top about ten days before cutting, it is more crisp and juicy, and better adapted for saladings. In the old country, too, the cos variety, with its long leaves, is common enough, and is there preferred to the cabbage lettuce. It is to be regretted, therefore, that we see so little of it. Endive.--Now, here is a noble salad plant of which even the very name is hardly known by the greater number of our people. There are practically two classes of endive, the broad-leaved or Batavian variety, and the curly-leaved endive. Both sorts, however, must be well blanched if perfection is required. It is true that the curly-leaved endive is at times to be obtained here, but it is extensively cultivated in England, as it is very crisp and tender, while it also possesses a piquancy which is greatly appreciated. Nevertheless, the plain or Batavian kind (the ESCAROLE of the French) has also its admirers, particularly for salad purposes. Now, it is to be carefully noted that the accompaniments, or "fourniture," of these two varieties of endive are vastly different. With the Batavian it usually is formed of chervil, tarragon, and that delicate alliaceous salad herb, chives. On the other hand, a chapon is used with the curly endive; it consists of a crust of bread over which a clove of garlic has been rubbed. This is thrown into the bowl and tossed about during the process of mixing the salad, and gives to it a delightful effect. In addition to its use as a salad, the curly-leaved endive makes a particularly good garnish for grills, such as chops, steaks, &c.; and, by the way, Sir Henry Thompson, the eminent surgeon, remarks that the sauce PAR EXCELLENCE for grills is mushroom ketchup. But before leaving the endive it is as well to refer to a blood relation, namely, the wild endive or chicory. When its large, fleshy roots are dried in a kiln, roasted and ground, they become familiarly known by their admixture with coffee. This plant, the succory of former days, is greatly esteemed by the French, by whom it is known as barbe de capucin. To meet the great demand for it large quantities are sold in the neighbourhood of Paris in order to produce this salading. Its young leaves are used for this purpose, but they must be thoroughly blanched so as to take away every particle of bitterness. Corn Salad.--This hardy annual salad plant is believed to derive its name from the fact that it grows spontaneously in the grain-fields. It is also known as lamb's lettuce, and in America as fetticus. Here is an example of a once well-known plant dropping out of use, for one of the earliest-known salads was this same corn salad, on which was laid a red herring. But now-a-days it is called MACHE in Covent Garden Market, where it has been sent over from France. This lamb's lettuce is greatly appreciated on the Continent, and makes one of the best of salads, especially when mixed with celery. As it can be easily grown in all the coastal districts and in the cooler parts of Australia, it is certainly a matter for regret that we are not favoured with it. In addition to the preceding, namely, the cos lettuce, the two varieties of endive, the chicory, and the corn salad, or lamb's lettuce, there are one or two other salad plants which require a brief notice. Now, as far as celery and radishes are concerned, we may be said to be fairly well off; but the same is not the case with mustard, with garden cress, or even with watercress. The latter is to be obtained from John Chinaman, it is true; but it is curious that in Australia we see none of the watercress vendors so familiar in the streets of the old country.. Yet there is really a good living to be made out of it, and its use would prove of benefit to hundreds of families, as with a little salt it makes an exquisite sandwich between two thin pieces of bread-and-butter. A wise physician, Dr. T.K. Chambers, uttered a great truth when he remarked that the pale faces and bad teeth which characterised many of the inhabitants of cities were due to their inability to obtain a proper supply of fresh green vegetables, and that thus the watercress-seller was one of the saviours of her country. So great is the demand for watercress in New York when it first comes in that the prices range from 2s. to 4s. for a basket holding only three quarts. At this rate an acre of watercress under cultivation would represent almost a fortune. Of course all watercress should be thoroughly washed and then dried in a towel, like the lettuce for the salad, before it is eaten. Lastly, it must never be used from a source where any sewage contamination is suspected. Now, although these different forms of salad plants are not cultivated to any considerable extent, yet when we come to inquire into the salad herbs, we find that they are not grown at all, and indeed they are practically unknown. They constitute, however, the crowning grace of a proper salad, and confer upon it a delicacy which is unrivalled, and thus it is that any traveller will tell you that a salad in France tastes so infinitely better than one elsewhere. Now, these salad herbs are readily grown, and do not require any care in their cultivation, so that there is no opportunity for excuse on that score. In order, however, to prevent this paper becoming too diffuse, I must confine my remarks to those salad herbs which it is almost impossible to do without--that is, if we wish to have any salads worth speaking of. It will be convenient, for this purpose, to refer to the word "ravigote"; and by this term is meant a collection of four herbs, namely--burnet, chervil, chives, and tarragon. As has been already mentioned, each of these herbs, chopped up very finely, is usually placed in a little heap by itself on the one plate, and from these four heaps is selected whatever is required for the salad. This invariably forms the garniture of any lettuce salad, whether cabbage or cos, and also of the Batavian endive, though, as we have already seen, the curly endive is best suited with the chapon--i.e., the crust of bread rubbed over with a garlic clove. The very derivation of the word "ravigote," from the French verb RAVIGOTER, to cheer or strengthen, shows that certain exhilarating virtues are ascribed to these herbs. Burnet.--This is also known as salad burnet, and is a hardy herb, which will continue green during the greater part of the year. The young and tender leaves possess a smell and taste almost identical with cucumber, and greatly enhance the flavour of the salad. These leaves, when blanched, are sprinkled over the latter; but in addition burnet enters into the composition of ravigote butter, and helps to form green mayonnaise. It hardly requires any culture whatever, and will do well in the coastal districts and in all the cooler localities. With all these advantages, therefore, we can only marvel why it is denied us. Chervil.--Of the two varieties which are cultivated elsewhere than in Australia--namely, the common chervil and the curled variety--the latter is generally considered the better. It grows about twenty inches high, and has deeply divided leaves, which are aromatic, and which are thus absolutely a necessary component of any well-ordered salad. The plant will grow everywhere, and, as it is never seen, it is only one instance out of the many which might be adduced, that much is neglected in Australian cultivation which would be of advantage to the whole community. Chives.--This is the most delicate of all the onion family; it occupies the one end of the scale, while garlic presides at the other; and midway between these we find the spring onion, the shallot, and the onion itself. It is a delightful salad herb which is too much neglected, and it is worthily entitled to cultivation in Australia. It gives to the salad a piquancy and an agreeable pungent flavour, which, while it faintly recalls that of the onion, is yet free from the accentuated properties of the latter. In addition to lending such an enhancement to salads, chives may be used for soups. The plant itself is a hardy bulb, growing to a height of about eight inches, and it is the tender tops which are used for saladings. It can be easily propagated, and will grow readily in all the cooler districts. Tarragon.--This used popularly to be known in the old country as "herb dragon," whereas it is now vested with the newer title. It is frequently to be found there is the country gardens, where it is in repute for the preparation of tarragon vinegar. It, however, occupies a position second to none as a salad accessory. It is one of the most odoriferous of the pot herbs, and gives to a salad a delightful aromatic warmth. At present all that one can do in the concoction of a salad is to make use of the tarragon vinegar, which is so admirably put up by Messrs. Crosse and Blackwell. Those who are fortunate enough to possess the plant itself should keep the leaves, as when dried they retain their flavour for some time. It is recommended, however, that the young plants should be propagated each year by division of the roots, as the plants of the first and second years are more delicate than those of older growth. It can easily be grown over the greater part of Australia, but I am not going to say more than that we are needlessly bereft of what we might enjoy. In drawing attention to any matter connected with the subject of this chapter, a brief reference to mayonnaise sauce must necessarily find a place. This may be used with all endless variety of salads, but it is particularly concerned in the preparation of chicken, and also of crayfish salad. On looking through the cookery-books one gets perfectly bewildered with the different directions laid down by the various authors. This mayonnaise sauce, however, is so very important that it becomes an absolute necessity to know the successive steps in its preparation, for, though easily made, yet there is a right and a wrong way of going about it. Through the kindly offices of that accomplished aristologist, Dr. A. Burne, I was enabled to have some practical instruction in making mayonnaise sauce at the hands of the CHEF of the Cosmopolitan Club, and I will endeavour, therefore, to give an account of how he went to work. The bowl he employed to mix it was about 9 in. across at the top, and its floor was rounded in shape, just as a salad bowl should be, to facilitate the thorough incorporation of the ingredients. Then, taking a couple of eggs, he broke each one by knocking its side midway between the two ends against the rim of the bowl. The greater part of the white of the egg was allowed to escape into a small vessel next the bowl, as it is not required for the mayonnaise, but comes in handy for other culinary purposes. He now, with the yolk in one half of the shell, poured away all the white remaining in the other half. Next he dexterously turned the yolk into this latter emptied shell and then got rid of the white left in the half previously occupied by the yolk. One egg was thus served in this way, and then the other, and the two yolks were slipped into the bowl and broken up with a few stirs of the egg-whisk. This latter is readily purchased from any ironmonger for the modest sum of one shilling. The next proceeding was a wrinkle which is worth knowing, and it consisted of placing, within the bowl about a salt-spoonful of the ordinary dry mustard. This was well beaten up in a second or two. About a tablespoonful of good vinegar was next added, the whisk going vigorously to work, and thus blending well together egg yolk, dry mustard, and vinegar. At this stage occurred a sort of halt or breathing time in the manipulation, as the chief peculiarity of the mayonnaise now began. The CHEF, with his left hand, managed to tilt up the salad bowl and to hold a bottle of salad oil at the same time. The latter being inverted, he kept it over the contents of the bowl in such a way as to allow only a drop or so of the oil to escape at a time. Drip, drip, drip, went the oil, and as his right hand kept unceasingly plying the mixture with the whisk I could not help noticing what a fine wristy action he had. Almost directly as the oil touched it the mayonnaise began to thicken, to swell, and to change in colour. The remorseless whisk almost seemed to lash it into foam, and now the oil came faster and faster till the amber-looking sauce was ready, and all this within the space of at most two or three minutes. I suppose he must have used quite a teacupful of olive oil. Only one thing more: after stirring in a sufficient quantity of pepper and salt, the CHEF desired me to taste the result, and as I did so I read the triumph in his eye--it was superb. It has been my aim, indeed my only aim, all through this chapter, to bring into prominence the important fact that the salad is a dish which is at once within the reach of every family, and moreover that it is one which is fairly a necessity in our semi-tropical climate. For these very reasons, consequently, I have endeavoured to give the fullest directions for the mixing of a simple salad. But it may be that after becoming thoroughly expert at making this latter, and being flushed with success, the aspirant for saladic honours will be desirous of a more ambitious essay. Some instructions for the famous herring salad have therefore been added, and it can be reserved for high days and holidays, or as a lordly dish wherewith to entertain a much-esteemed guest. It is slightly altered from a valuable recipe given to me by my very good friend Mr. Ludwig Bruck, and is made as follows:-- Two salt Dutch herrings are to be obtained. These are imported in casks, and when purchased have a somewhat pronounced odour, which is removed by the soaking. If milt herrings are used, the milt should be moistened with a little vinegar and rubbed up into a paste, and this should be kept to pour over the salad just before the dressing is added. If roe herrings are bought, the roe should be soaked in vinegar for a few minutes, the eggs then separated and kept for sprinkling over the salad similarly to the preceding. The herring heads and tails are to be removed and discarded; the bodies should be gutted, skinned, and washed, and then they must be soaked in water or milk for three hours-- the latter enhancing the flavour greatly. After the soaking the bones should be removed and the flesh cut into small dice-like cubical pieces, and the latter are then set aside in a basin. The next thing is to peel and core two sourish apples, and then to cut them up into small cubes like the herrings. To the apples should DOW be added two pickled gherkins, and, if you like, some boiled beetroot and a few capers, and these--excepting, of course, the capers--should be divided into the same small pieces. If you wish to have the real herring salad, a quarter of a pound of cold roast veal, also in small pieces, will likewise be required. Whatever you may choose to use of these is now to be well mixed together while the next direction is attended to. It is only fair to note here that Mr. Lang, formerly of the German Club, who prepares the best herring salads in Sydney, always adds a little cold roast beef, cold ham, and boiled ox tongue. While all this is being prepared two potatoes should be boiled with their jackets on. They should then be immediately peeled and cut up into small pieces like the other ingredients. While now hot the potato is added to the preceding, and everything is thoroughly mixed together; it is necessary to use the potato warm, for if cold it would set hard. The methods of using the milt or the roe of the herring have already been respectively indicated, and after this matter has been attended to, all that is now needful to complete the herring salad is to pour over it some mayonnaise sauce, the preparation of which has been previously described. CHAPTER XII. ON AUSTRALIAN WINE, AND ITS PLACE IN THE AUSTRALIAN DAILY DIETARY. "WITH TIME AND CARE AUSTRALIA OUGHT TO BE THE VINEYARD OF THE WORLD."-- GREATER BRITAIN. Were I asked to name the one industry on which the prosperity of Australia must sooner or later rest, I should unhesitatingly answer, "On the cultivation of the vine." And this must be so; for while there is every reason to know that it will be called for from abroad, it is absolutely certain that it will be required in our own territories. The chief purpose of this chapter, indeed, is to insist upon the value of our own wines as the most healthful and the most wholesome drink for Australian use. It is a strange anomaly this, that at the present period of our existence a declaration of this kind should be necessary. Yet it is only in keeping with the rest of our food habits, with their perpetual challenge to our semi-tropical environment; and hence we are confronted with the astounding fact that although we are practically Southern Europe, yet we follow a mode of living suitable only for a rigorous climate and a land of ice and snow. Moreover, as I shall attempt to show, the Australian climate and soil are beyond all question naturally intended for the cultivation of the grape, so that there is no occasion to overcome the forces of nature; on the contrary, they are unceasingly giving us the greatest encouragement. Then, again, think what widespread prosperity the use of our own wine would bring about. Apart from its beneficial influence on the national health, it would cover the land with smiling vineyards, and give to enormous numbers a healthy livelihood; it would absorb thousands from the fever and fret of city wear and tear into the more natural life of the country; and lastly, it would relieve the abnormal congestion of our crowded centres, and do more to bring about widely distributed employment than any other industry. The history of the introduction of the grape to Australian soil deserves more than bare reference to that event It will be remembered that Captain Cook discovered this territory in 1770; in November 1791, barely more than twenty years afterwards, the first vine was planted at Parramatta, near Sydney. Nothing can demonstrate the suitability of the climate and the soil for its cultivation more than this one fact, namely, that at the very beginning of Australian settlement it was plain enough that the land was meant for the grape; and there is an interesting historical association, well worthy of note, attached to this circumstance. By order of the Emperor Napoleon, the Great Napoleon, a voyage of discovery to the Southern Hemisphere was performed by a fully equipped expedition during the years 1801, 1802, 1803, and 1804. One of the naturalists, M.F. Peron, has given us an excellent account of his New South Wales experience, and after referring to the Parramatta vineyards as likely to be followed by the