The liquid forms in Hafty Mass unite,
Forms equally delicious as they're white.
In fhining dish the Hafly Mals is thrown,
And feems to want no graces but its own;
Yet fill the housewife brings in fresh supplies
To gratify the taste and please the
She on the surface lumps of butter lays,
Which melting with the heat its beams difplays,
From whence it caufes, wondrous to behold,
A filver foil bedeck'd with ftreams of gold!
II. A HEDGE-HOG AFTER A QUAKING PUDDING,
As Neptune when the three-tongu'd fork he takes
With strength divine the globe terrestrial shakes,
The highest hills, Nature's fiupendous piles,
Break with the force and quiver into ifles,
Yet on the ruins grow the lofty pines,
And fnow unmelted in the vallies fhines:
Thus when the dame her Hedge-hog Pudding
Her fork indents irreparable ftreaks,
The trembling lump with butter all around
Seems to perceive its fall and then be drown'd;
And yet the tops appear, whilft almonds thick
With bright loaf fugar on the furface stick...
III. PUDDINGS OF VARIOUS COLOURS IN A DISH.
You, painter-like, now variegate the shade,
And thus from Puddings there is a landscape made:
And Wife and London*, when they would difpofe
Their evergreens into wellorder'd rows,
So mix their Colours that each diff'rent plant
Gives light and shadow as the others want.
IV. MAKING OF A GOOD PUDDING GETS A GOOD
Ye Virgins! as these lines you kindly take
So may you still fuch glorious Pudding make,
That crowds of youth may ever be at ftrife
To gain the fweet composer for his wife.
V. SACK AND SUGAR TO QUAKING PUDDING.
BUT where muft our confeffion first begin
If Sack and Sugar once be thought a fin?
HID in the dark we mortals feldom know
From whence the fource of happiness may flow:
Who to Broil'd Pudding would their thoughts have
From bright Pewteria's lovefick difcontent? [bent
Yet fo it was; Pewteria felt love's heat
In fiercer flames than thofe which roast her meat. 60
No Pudding is loft but may with fresh delight
Be either fry'd next day or broil'd at night.
*The two royal gardeners King.
VII. MUTTON PUDDING.
BUT Mutton! thou moft nourishing of meat!
Whofe fingle joint† may constitute a treat,
When made a Pudding you excel the rest
As much as that of other food is beft.
RECEIPT TO MAKE AN OATMEAL PUDding.
Or Oats decorticated take two pound,
And of new milk enough the fame to drown;
Of raifins of the fun, fton'd, ounces eight,
Of currants cleanly pick'd an equal weight;
Of fuet finely flic'd an ounce at least,
And fix eggs newly taken from the neft:
Seafon this mixture well with falt and spice
'Twill make a Pudding far exceeding rice;
And you may fafely feed on it like farmers,
For the receipt is learned Dr. Harmer's.
RECEIPT TO MAKE A SACKPOSSET.
FROM far Barbadoes on the western main
Fetch fugar half a pound; fetch fack from Spain
A pint; then fetch from India's fertile coast
Nutmeg, the glory of the British toast.
Or all the delicates which Britons try
To pleafe the palate or delight the eye,
Of all the fev'ral kinds of fumptuous fare,
There is none that can with Applepie compare
For coftly flavour or substantial paste,
For outward beauty or for inward taste.
When first this infant difh in fashion came
Th' ingredients were but coarfe and rude the frame;
As yet unpolish'd in the modern arts
Our fathers ate brown bread instead of tarts;
Pies were but indigested lumps of dough
Till time and just expense improv'd them so.
King Cole (as ancient British annals tell)
Renown'd for fiddling and for eating well,
Pippins in homely cakes with honey stew'd;
"Juft as he bak'd," the proverb says, "he brew'd."
Their greater art fucceeding princes show'd,
And modell'd paste into a neater mode;
Invention now grew lively, palate nice,
And fugar pointed out the way to spice.
But here for ages unimprov'd we stood,
And Applepie was still but homely food,
+ This poem hath been claimed as Mr. Welfted's in The Weekly Oracle Auguft 16th 1735, with a remark that " Dr.King "the Civilian, a gentleman of no mean reputation in the world "of letters, let it pafs fome years without contradiction as his 66 own." It is in Dr. King's manner.
When godlike Edgar of the Saxon line,
Polite of taste and ftudious to refine,
In the deffert perfuming Quinces caft,
And perfected with cream the rich repaft;
Hence we proceed the outward parts to trim,
With crinkumcranks adorn the polish'd brim,
And each fresh Pie the pleas'd fpectator greets
With virgin fancies and with new conceits.
Dear Nelly! learn with care the pastry art,
And mind the easy precepts I impart :
Draw out your dough elaborately thin,
And ceafe not to fatigue your rollingpin:
Of eggs and butter fee you mix enough,
For then the paste will fwell into a puff,
Which will in crumpling founds your praise report, And eat, as housewives speak, exceeding fhört. Rang'd in thick order let your Quinces lie,
They give a charming relish to the Pie.
If you are wife you'll not brown fugar flight,
The browner (if I form my judgment right)
A deep vermilion tincture will dispense,
And make your Pippin redder than the Quince.
When this is done there will be wanting ftill
The just referve of cloves and candy'd peel;
Nor can I blame you if a drop you take
Of orangewater for perfuming fake,
But here the nicety of art is fuch
There must not be too little nor too much:
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