Choice Cookery

In Short

Written originally for Harper’s Bazar, Choice Cookery is an instructional guide designed for skilled home cooks seeking to master advanced culinary arts. Rather than focusing on simple home economy, the text bridges the gap between plain family fare and costly professional catering. Catherine Owen provides methodical, highly detailed instructions for crafting intricate sauces, delicate entrees, savory cold dishes, and ornate desserts. The book has endured as an illuminating artifact of late nineteenth-century epicurean culture, illustrating how classic European techniques—such as clarifying aspic, emulsifying egg-thickened sauces, and constructing elaborate decorative garnishes—were translated for the Victorian American home.

The Story

The manual progresses systematically from foundational techniques to increasingly elaborate multi-course presentations, establishing a clear hierarchy of kitchen mastery. Owen opens by laying down the fundamental principles of sauce-making, which she establishes as the core architecture of refined cooking. She walks the reader through white and brown bases—such as Bechamel, Allemande, Poulette, and Spanish sauce—emphasizing the exact physical mechanics required for success. From the rhythmic movement of the spoon to precise temperature control, she demonstrates how a single mastered technique unlocks an entire family of classic variations. She then moves to cold sauces, such as mayonnaise and remoulade, stressing patience and precision to prevent curdling or separation.

Building on these foundations, the text advances to main courses, beginning with fish and meat entrees designed to replace or elevate traditional whole roasts. Owen details delicate preparations, including fillets of cod baked in white wine and garnished with quenelles and button mushrooms, as well as individual lobster souffles set in icy ramekins. The progression shifts toward intricate meat dishes that require manual dexterity, such as boning young pigeons, trimming them into uniform cutlets, masking them with tomato and mushroom purees, and breading them for a golden saute.

The narrative of the book reaches its technical peak in the middle sections, which tackle savory centerpieces, savories, and cold molded meats. Owen explains how to execute elaborate raised game pies and pates chaudes, guiding the reader through making stiff pastry doughs, lining specialized tins, and layering boned game meats with rich reduction glazes and herbs. Small, bite-sized appetizers—such as stuffed olives mounted on fried bread disks and savory caviare canapes—demonstrate how small details contribute to an impressive table presentation.

In its final movement, the book turns to delicate vegetable side dishes, savory cheese course items, and cold sweet entremets. Owen covers precise vegetable cookery, instructing how to shape carrots and turnips with cutters, blanch them to preserve vivid colors, and assemble them into structured Russian salads or molded tomato jellies. The conclusion focuses on high-end pastry and dessert work, offering explicit directions for coffee and Curacoa creams, moulded vanilla custards, fruit ice creams worked in salt and ice freezers to achieve French-style smoothness, and hand-dipped compotes. By concluding with dainty dessert cakes like rout biscuits and macaroons, the book completes a comprehensive arc, guiding a dedicated domestic cook from basic skillet work to the total execution of a multi-course banquet.

How It Unfolds

The foundation of the sauce Owen opens with the mechanics of the kitchen, defining the exact motion of stirring and the delicate thermal threshold needed to thicken egg-based sauces without curdling them. She establishes foundational white and brown sauces, illustrating how minor additions transform a single base into numerous variations.

Elevating the fish and entree courses Shifting to main courses, the text introduces delicate individual portions such as fillets of cod baked with white wine, lobster souffles set on ice, and carefully shaped pigeon cutlets. Owen emphasizes advance preparation so the host can execute refined meals without last-minute panic.

Precision in preparation and garnish The manual focuses on fine detail, offering step-by-step instructions on chopping herbs, grating only the essential aromatic oil from lemon peels without touching the bitter pith, and carving vegetables into uniform geometric shapes for cold salads and garnishes.

Showpiece pates and savory morsels Owen details the construction of grand game pies, baked pastry cases, and single-bite hors d'oeuvres like stuffed olive canapes. She guides the cook through boning birds, reducing rich stocks to glazes, and cementing garnishes with set aspic.

The art of the cold sweet The guide culminates in delicate desserts, demonstrating how to whip gelatin creams, freeze ice cream for extreme Italian-style smoothness, dip reduced apple marmalade shapes into cracked sugar, and bake fine almond rout biscuits.

The People

The Ambitious Housekeeper The primary figure constructed by the text is the capable domestic woman who already knows plain cooking but wishes to exercise hospitality at a higher aesthetic level. She seeks to provide her guests with elegant dinners without incurring the steep costs of hiring a professional caterer or ordering out. Her primary obstacle is the intimidation of complex recipes and the risk of kitchen failure, which she overcomes by mastering physical techniques, detailed observation, and careful timing.

The Epicurean Mentors While the book is a instructional manual, Owen explicitly acknowledges a circle of culinary authorities whose knowledge shapes her instruction. Key among these are Mrs. Clarke of the South Kensington School of Cookery and Madame de Salis, alongside unnamed traveler friends who share dainty recipes from abroad. These figures represent the standard of European expertise that the home cook strives to emulate.

The Unskilled Kitchen Helper Implicit throughout the directions is the kitchen assistant or less-experienced cook who often ruins dishes through careless habits. This figure stands as a cautionary presence—the one who grates lemons down into the bitter white pith, stirs only in the center of the saucepan, or allows delicate egg-thickened sauces to boil and curdle.

In Its Own Voice

"Choice cookery is not intended for households that have to study economy, except where economy is a relative term..." The author establishes the specific audience for her book in the opening line of the preface.

"If a failure is made the first time, look upon it as the first step to success, for you have learned what the danger looks like." Addressing the delicate step of thickening sauces with egg yolks, Owen encourages persistence through trial and error.

"A well-grated lemon should be exactly of the same shape as before, have no deep scores into the pith, and have an oily-looking surface." The text emphasizes precise physical execution in a detailed lesson on extracting citrus flavor.

What It's Really About

Beneath its explicit recipes, Choice Cookery is an argument for domestic competence, precision, and economic agency within Victorian middle-class life. Owen addresses the social anxiety of hostesses who feel trapped between the desire to entertain and the high cost of commercial catering. Rather than advocating for radical simplicity or indulgence, she argues that refined cooking is not an innate talent or an unreachable luxury, but a collection of physical skills that can be learned through disciplined practice. The book demystifies haute cuisine by breaking daunting dishes down into chemical and mechanical rules—such as controlling heat, understanding gelatins, and executing proper knife movements. In doing so, it asserts that care, attentiveness, and craft can elevate home dining into an art form.

Why Read It Today

Choice Cookery appeals to modern readers interested in culinary history, Victorian social life, and historic foodways. It provides a vivid window into late nineteenth-century middle-class dining culture, revealing how international influences—specifically French and English high cuisine—were adapted for American households. Reading the text feels like taking a private masterclass with a strict, encouraging nineteenth-century instructor who explains the precise why behind every physical action in the kitchen.

Modern readers will find the book remarkably clear, though it requires patience. It lacks modern conveniences such as standardized step-by-step ingredient lists at the head of every recipe, embedding measurements directly into the dense prose instructions instead. The book assumes a reader who is already comfortable around a stove and familiar with vintage culinary terms like "bechamel," "quenelles," and "aspic." Nevertheless, Owen’s practical tone, lack of pretense, and insistence that kitchen mistakes are merely steps toward mastery make the text an engaging, deeply grounding read for anyone fascinated by the evolution of home cooking.