That day I was obliged to use them. Having put the proper quantity of water into each copper, with the meat, barley, vegetables, and salt and pepper, we lighted the fires; and after allowing the ingredients to simmer for two hours and a half, an excellent soup was made; I only adding a little sugar and flour to finish it.
The receipt for this excellent soup, so highly approved of and immediately adopted by the medical men, will be found in my Hospital Diets, with a scale of proportions from ten to a hundred.
The meat was so poor that there was no fat to skim off the soup. It was therefore served out at once, as described in the receipt. Several doctors went round with me, and asked the men how they liked it. They were all highly delighted with it, and praised it very much. I also took care that the rations of meat should not be tied together on the skewer.
The orderlies were now ordered not to tie their rations of meat so tight. Upon inspection I found that they had a most curious method of marking their different lots. Some used a piece of red cloth cut from an old jacket; others half a dozen old buttons tied together; old knives, forks, scissors, &c., but one in particular had hit upon an idea which could not fail to meet with our entire approval. The discovery of this brilliant idea was greeted with shouts of laughter from Miss Nightingale, the doctors, and myself. It consisted in tying a pair of old snuffers to the lot.
All this rubbish was daily boiled with the meat, but probably required more cooking. On telling the man with the snuffers that it was a very dirty trick to put such things in the soup, the reply was—“How can it be dirty, sir? sure they have been boiling this last month.”
When all the dinners had been served out, I perceived a large copper half full of rich broth with about three inches of fat upon it. I inquired what they did with this?
“Throw it away, sir.”
“Throw it away?” we all exclaimed.
“Yes, sir; it’s the water in which the fresh beef has been cooked.”
“Do you call that water? I call it strong broth. Why don’t you make soup of it?”
“We orderlies don’t like soup, sir.”
“Then you really do throw it away?”
“Yes, sir; it is good for nothing.”
I took a ladle and removed a large basinful of beautiful fat, which, when cold, was better for cooking purposes than the rank butter procured from Constantinople at from ten to fifteen piastres per pound. The next day I showed the men how to make a most delicious soup with what they had before so foolishly thrown away. This method they were henceforward very glad to adopt. Not less than seventy pounds of beef had been daily boiled in this manner, and without salt. It would hardly be credited, but for its truth I can appeal to Miss Nightingale and others who were present.
Nothing was needed but a sharp look-out after the cooks in order to ensure complete success. The day after I had the coppers tinned. The next thing was to have a charcoal stove built, an oven, a store-room, and a larder partitioned off; and a kitchen dresser and chopping-block made. Through the kindness of the Chief Engineer, Captain Gordon, these things were accomplished in a few days, and at a trifling expense. If not a very magnificent, it was, as will be seen, a very spacious and handy kitchen.
In a few days I made experiments in small quantities upon all the various extra diets, such as chicken, mutton, and veal broth, the cooking of fowls, beef and mutton tea, &c. I did not forget the beverages, such as rice water, lemonades, arrow-root, panada ditto, barley water, sago jelly, &c.; rice pudding, sago, bread, vermicelli and macaroni ditto. The receipts will be found in the Addenda, under the head of “Hospital Diets.”
A gentleman, Mr. Black, who was a first-class interpreter, was then introduced to me by the Purveyor-in-Chief, and appointed to assist me in any way I might require his aid. He was highly recommended by Miss Nightingale, and a number of first-class doctors, as well as by Lord William Paulet. It is with gratitude that I acknowledge the great assistance I received from that gentleman during his stay with me, and the energy he displayed in procuring everything I required. He spoke French fluently, also the Turkish, Greek, and Armenian languages. This rendered him invaluable to me, as I was obliged to employ people speaking those different languages in my numerous kitchens. And what was more remarkable still, he was the husband of the celebrated Maid of Athens, whose company I had the pleasure of enjoying several times; and although this interesting personage is now in her tenth lustre, some remains of the eulogy of the great Byron seem still engraved on the physiognomy of the once celebrated Greek beauty; and she informed me that when Lord Byron wrote his poem on her, she was but ten years of age, he at the time residing opposite the house of her parents at Athens.
CHAPTER XI.
FIRST OPERATIONS.
Plan of proceeding—Inconveniences—Too many cooks spoil the broth—Supplementary scale—How to make tea—The Scutari Teapot—Soyer House—Kululee Hospital—Beautiful view of the city of Constantine and the Bosphorus—Lady Stratford de Redcliffe’s arrival—Bad cookery—General and Riding-school Hospitals—Miss Stanley—Hit upon an entirely new plan—Temporary indisposition—Depression of spirits—Happy recovery—Opening day—Grand success—Lord W. Paulet’s letter—Take one wing of the hospital—The old system—Dissatisfaction of the patients.
IN a short time, and without much trouble, I initiated the soldier cooks into my method, and taught the serjeant to see it properly executed. I shall here describe the process fully, as it will be generally useful for hospitals or public institutions. In the first place I drew up two receipts—the one by weight and the other by measure, the former for beef and the latter for mutton soups. Mutton was the principal meat used for patients in a state of convalescence. These receipts I had carefully copied and hung up in the kitchen, at the same time supplying the cooks with weights and scales. I also taught them how to stew the meat well, and to manage the fires so as to prevent over-boiling or burning, as well as to economize the fuel. It was no longer a matter of much difficulty. Every soldier had become a cook; and if in case of any of them being removed to their regiments, one of the initiated, under the direction of the above-mentioned serjeant, who was not changed, soon made a new recruit capable of cooking for any number. So simple was this plan, that it was as easy to cook for thousands as it had before been for hundreds, and to do it to perfection.[9]
Although this was as perfect as possible, a great difficulty still remained, as the number varied daily, some days increasing, others decreasing; and as the whole was cooked by messes, the same caldron, was required to cook for two hundred and fifty persons one day, and perhaps for one hundred and seventy the next. This caused great confusion and delay, as well as continual quarrelling, among the cooks and orderlies, the latter complaining of not getting their full share; and if this happened, it was a matter of vital importance to the patient, who was thus deprived of the proper quantity of sustenance ordered by the medical man. In fact, it led to many very serious results. I therefore settled that all the caldrons should be filled every day; and as each boiler would cook for one hundred and fifty, in one only was it necessary