1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
In "Directions for Cooking by Troops, in Camp and Hospital," Florence Nightingale presents a pioneering guide that intertwines culinary practices with military and medical considerations. Written during the 19th century, her text reflects a critical period when the health of soldiers was directly linked to their food supply'Äîan insight that challenged contemporary notions of military logistics. Nightingale'Äôs literary style exhibits clarity and precision, characteristic of her background in statistics and reform, lending practical advice that is informed by her observations in crime-ridden and resource-strained environments, particularly during the Crimean War. Florence Nightingale, a groundbreaking figure in nursing and healthcare reform, was driven by her experiences in the war to address the dire conditions faced by soldiers and patients alike. Her extensive work in sanitation and hospital design underscored the vital link between diet and recovery, signaling her profound understanding of public health. Nightingale'Äôs meticulous attention to detail ensured that her recommendations were not only practical but evidence-based, establishing her legacy as a pioneer in health and nutrition. This book is essential for anyone interested in military history, nutrition, or health care reform. Nightingale'Äôs insights continue to resonate and are crucial reading for scholars, healthcare professionals, and anyone passionate about the intersection of food and wellness in exigent circumstances.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Put 12 gallons water into a suitable vessel (or divide if necessary), on the fire; when boiling, add 3 lbs. ground coffee, mix well with a spoon; leave on the fire a few minutes longer; take it off, and pour in ½ a gallon cold water; let it stand till the dregs subside, say from 5 to 10 minutes; then pour off and add 6 lbs. sugar. If milk is used, put in 12 pints, and diminish the water by that amount.
Take 75 lbs. beef; cut into pieces of about ¼ lb. each; 15 gallons water; 8 lbs. mixed vegetables; 10 small tablespoonfuls salt; 2 small tablespoonfuls ground pepper; some cold bread, crackers, or 3 lbs. rice, to thicken; place on the fire; let it come to a boil; then simmer for 3 hours. Skim off the fat and serve.
Cut 50 lbs. fresh beef in pieces of about ¼ lb. each, and with 18 quarts of water put into the boiler; add 10 tablespoonfuls of salt, two of pepper, 7 lbs. onions, cut in slices, and 20 lbs. potatoes peeled and sliced; stir well, and let it boil for 20 or 30 minutes; then add 1½ lbs. flour previously mixed with water; mix well together, and with a moderate heat simmer for about two hours. Mutton, veal or pork can be stewed in a similar manner, but will take half an hour less cooking. A pound of rice or plain dumplings may be added with great advantage.
Take 10 lbs. flour, 15 teaspoonfuls of salt, 7 of ground pepper, 7 lbs. chopped fat pork or suet, 5 pints water; mix well together; divide into about 150 pieces; which roll in flour, and boil with meat for 20 or 30 minutes.—If no fat or suet can be obtained, take the same ingredients, adding a little more water, and boil about 10 minutes. Serve with the meat.
Place your pan on the fire for a minute or so; wipe it clean; when the pan is hot, put in either fat or butter (fat from salt meat is preferable); then add the meat you are going to cook; turn it several times, to have it equally done; season to each pound a small teaspoonful of salt and a quarter of pepper. A few onions in the remaining fat, with the addition of a little flour, a quarter pint of water, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, or a few chopped pickles, will be very relishing.
Put the meat, cut in pieces of from 3 to 4 lbs., to soak the night before; in the morning wash in fresh water, and squeeze well with the hands to extract the salt; after which, put in your kettle with a pint of water to each pound, and boil from 2 to 3 hours.
Put in two vessels 37½ lbs. meat each; divide 24 lbs. beans in four pudding cloths, loosely tied; putting to boil at the same time as your meat, in sufficient water; let all boil gently for two hours; take out the meat and beans; put all the meat into one boiler, and remove the liquor from the other; into which turn out the beans; add to them two teaspoonfuls of pepper, a pound of fat, and with the wooden spatular mash the beans, and serve with the meat. Six sliced onions fried and added improves the dish.
[Note.—In cooking all kinds of meat, be careful to preserve the grease, which can be easily done by putting the liquor in which it is boiled, by till it cools; then skim off and place in a clean covered vessel. It is an excellent substitute for butter; is useful for cooking purposes, and will burn in a common lamp or tin plate with a piece of old cotton twisted up for a wick.]
Put in a convenient sized vessel 16 gallons water, 60 lbs. meat, 12 lbs. plain mixed vegetables, 9 lbs. pearl barley or rice (or 4½ lbs. each), 1½ lbs. salt, 1¼ lbs. flour, 1 oz. pepper. Put all the ingredients, except the flour, into the pan; set it on the fire, and when beginning to boil, diminish the heat, and simmer gently for two hours and a half; take the meat out and keep warm; add to the soup your flour, which you have mixed with enough water to form a light batter; stir well together with a large spoon; boil another half hour; skim off the fat, and serve the meat and soup separate. The soup should be stirred occasionally while making, to prevent burning or sticking.
Proceed the same as for mutton, only leave the meat in till serving, as it takes longer to cook than mutton. The pieces are not to be above 4 or 5 lbs. weight each.
Cut three pounds lean beef into pieces the size of walnuts, and break up the bones (if any); put it into a convenient sized kettle, with ½ lb. mixed vegetables (onions, celery, turnips, carrots, or one or two of these, if all are not to be obtained), 1 oz. salt, a little pepper, 2 oz. butter, ½ pint of water. Set it on a sharp fire for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, till it forms a rather thick gravy at the bottom, but not brown; then add 7 pints of hot water; simmer gently for an hour. Skim off all the fat, strain through a sieve and serve.
Dissolve a teaspoonful of arrow-root in a gill of water, and pour it into the beef tea twenty minutes before passing through the seive, or add ¼ oz. gelatine to the above quantity of beef tea, when cooking.
Mutton and veal will make good tea, by proceeding the same as above.
Take 1 lb. lean beef, cut fine; put it into a porter bottle with a tea cup of water, ½ teaspoonful of salt, a little pepper, and 6 grains allspice; cork loosely, and place in a saucepan of cold water; then with a gentle heat let it simmer till sufficient quantity of the essence is obtained. Serve either warm or cold.
Put in a stew-pan a fowl, 3 pints water, 2 teaspoonfuls of rice, 1 of salt, a little pepper and a small onion, or two ounces of mixed vegetables; boil the whole gently for one hour (if an old fowl, simmer for two hours, adding one pint more water.) Skim off the fat and serve.
A light mutton broth may be made in the same way, taking 1½ pounds mutton—neck if convenient.
Put 2 quarts water in a stew pan with a teaspoonful of salt; when boiling, add to it ½ pound rice, well washed; boil for ten minutes; drain off the water and slightly grease the pan with butter; put the rice back, and let it swell slowly for about twenty minutes, near the fire. Each grain will then swell up, and be well separated. Flavor with nutmeg or cinnamon, and sweeten to taste.
Put in a pan with 3 pints water, 3 oz. sago, 1½ oz. sugar, half a lemon peel, cut very thin, ¼ teaspoonful of ground cinnamon, or a small stick of the same, and a little salt; boil about 15 minutes, stirring constantly, then add a little port, sherry or madeira wine, as the case will admit.
Put in a pan 4 oz. arrow-root, 3 oz. sugar, the peel of half a lemon, ¼ teaspoonful of salt, 2½ pints of milk; set it on the fire; stir gently; boil for ten minutes, and serve.
If no lemons at hand, a little essence of any kind will do.
When short of milk, use half water—half an ounce of butter is an improvement.
Put in a pan 3 oz. arrow-root, 2 oz. white sugar, the peel of a lemon, ¼ teaspoonful of salt, and 4 pints water; mix well, set on the fire, and boil for ten minutes. Serve hot or cold.
Put 7 pints water to boil; add 2 oz. rice, washed, 2 oz. sugar, the peel of two-thirds of a lemon, boil gently for three quarters of an hour, or till reduced to 5 pints. Strain and serve—use as a beverage.
Put in a saucepan 7 pints water, 2 oz. pearl barley; stir now and then when boiling; add 2 oz. white sugar, the rind of half a lemon, thinly peeled; boil gently for two hours, and serve, either strained or with the barley left in.
Put in a basin 2 tablespoonfuls of white or brown sugar, ½ a tablespoonful of lime juice, mix well together, and add one pint of water.
Dissolve 1 oz. citric acid in one pint of cold water; add 1 lb. 9 oz. white sugar; mix well to form a thick syrup; then put in 19 pints cold water, slowly mixing well.
Cut a piece of crusty bread about ¼ lb.; toast gently and uniformly to a light yellow color; then place near the fire, and when of a good brown chocolate, put in a pitcher; pour on it 3 pints boiling water; cover the pitcher, and when cold, strain—it is then ready for use. Never leave the toast in, as it causes fermentation in a short time.
A piece of apple, slowly toasted till it gets quite black, and added to the above, makes a very refreshing drink.
Every careful observer of the sick will agree in this, that thousands of patients are annually starved in the midst of plenty, from want of attention to the ways which alone make it possible for them to take food. This want of attention is as remarkable in those who urge upon the sick to do what is quite impossible to them, as in the sick themselves who will not make the effort to do what is perfectly possible to them.
For instance, to the large majority of very weak patients it is quite impossible to take any solid food before 11 A. M., nor then, if their strength is still further exhausted by fasting till that hour. For weak patients have generally feverish nights, and, in the morning, dry mouths; and, if they could eat with those dry mouths, it would be the worse for them. A spoonful of beef-tea, of arrowroot and wine, of egg flip, every hour, will give them the requisite nourishment, and prevent them from being too much exhausted to take at a later hour the solid food, which is necessary for their recovery. And every patient who can swallow at all can swallow these liquid things, if he chooses. But how often do we hear a mutton-chop, an egg, a bit of bacon, ordered to a patient for breakfast, to whom (as a moment's consideration would show us) it must be quite impossible to masticate such things at that hour.
Again, a nurse is ordered to give a patient a tea-cup full of some article of food every three hours. The patient's stomach rejects it. If so, try a table-spoonfull every hour; if this will not do, a tea-spoonfull every quarter of an hour.
I am bound to say, that I think more patients are lost by want of care and ingenuity in these momentous minutiæ in private nursing than in public hospitals. And I think there is more of the entente cordiale to assist one another's hands between the Doctor and his head Nurse in the latter institutions, than between the doctor and the patient's friends in the private house.
If we did but know the consequences which may ensue, in very weak patients, from ten minutes' fasting or repletion (I call it repletion when they are obliged to let too small an interval elapse between taking food and some other exertion, owing to the nurse's unpunctuality), we should be more careful never to let this occur. In very weak patients there is often a nervous difficulty of swallowing, which is so much increased by any other call upon their strength that, unless they have their food punctually at the minute, which minute again must be arranged so as to fall in with no other minute's occupation, they can take nothing till the next respite occurs—so that an unpunctuality or delay of ten minutes may very well turn out to be one of two or three hours. And why is it not as easy to be punctual to a minute? Life often literally hangs upon these minutes.
In acute cases, where life or death is to be determined in a few hours, these matters are very generally attended to, especially in Hospitals; and the number of cases is large where the patient is, as it were, brought back to life by exceeding care on the part of the Doctor or Nurse, or both, in ordering and giving nourishment with minute selection and punctuality.
But in chronic cases, lasting over months and years, where the fatal issue is often determined at last by mere protracted starvation, I had rather not enumerate the instances which I have known where a little ingenuity, and a great deal of perseverance, might, in all probability, have averted the result. The consulting the hours when the patient can take food, the observation of the times, often varying, when he is most faint, the altering seasons of taking food, in order to anticipate and prevent such times—all this, which requires observation, ingenuity, and perseverance (and these really constitute the good Nurse), might save more lives than we wot of.[1]
To leave the patient's untasted food by his side, from meal to meal, in hopes that he will eat it in the interval, is simply to prevent him from taking any food at all. I have known patients literally incapacitated from taking one article of food after another, by this piece of ignorance. Let the food come at the right time, and be taken away, eaten or uneaten, at the right time; but never let a patient have "something always standing" by him, if you dont wish to disgust him of everything.
On the other hand, I have known a patient's life saved (he was sinking for want of food) by the simple question, put to him by the doctor, "But is there no hour when you feel you could eat?" "Oh, yes," he said, "I could always take something at — o'clock and — o'clock." The thing was tried and succeeded. Patients very seldom, however, can tell this; it is for you to watch and find it out.
A patient should, if possible, not see or smell either the food of others, or a greater amount of food than he himself can consume at one time, or even hear food talked about or see it in the raw state. I know of no exception to the above rule. The breaking of it always induces a greater or less incapacity of taking food.
In hospital wards it is of course impossible to observe all this; and in single wards, where a patient must be continuously and closely watched, it is frequently impossible to relieve the attendant, so that his or her own meals can be taken out of the ward. But it is not the less true that, in such cases, even where the patient is not himself aware of it, his possibility of taking food is limited by seeing the attendant eating meals under his observation. In some cases the sick are aware of it, and complain. A case where the patient was supposed to be insensible, but complained as soon as able to speak, is now present to my recollection.
Remember, however, that the extreme punctuality in well-ordered hospitals, the rule that nothing shall be done in the ward while the patients are having their meals, go far to counterbalance what unavoidable evil there is in having patients together. I have often seen the private nurse go on dusting or fidgeting about in a sick room all the while the patient is eating or trying to eat.
That the more alone an invalid can be when taking food, the better, is unquestionable; and, even if he must be fed, the nurse should not allow him to talk, or talk to him, especially about food, while eating.
When a person is compelled, by the pressure of occupation, to continue his business while sick, it ought to be a rule WITHOUT ANY EXCEPTION WHATEVER, that no one shall bring business to him or talk to him while he is taking food, nor go on talking to him on interesting subjects up to the last moment before his meals, nor make an engagement with him immediately after, so that there be any hurry of mind while taking them.
Upon the observance of these rules, especially the first, often depends the patient's capability of taking food at all, or, if he is amiable and forces himself to take food, of deriving any nourishment from it.
A nurse should never put before a patient milk that is sour; meat or soup that is turned, an egg that is bad, or vegetables undone. Yet often I have seen these things brought in to the sick in a state perfectly perceptible to every nose or eye except the nurse's. It is here that the clever nurse appears; she will not bring in the peccant article, but, not to disappoint the patient, she will whip up something else in a few minutes. Remember that sick cookery should half do the work of your poor patient's weak digestion. But if you further impair it with your bad articles, I know not what is to become of him or of it.
If the nurse is an intelligent being, and not a mere carrier of diets to and from the patient, let her exercise her intelligence in these things. How often we have known a patient eat nothing at all in the day, because one meal was left untasted (at that time he was incapable of eating), at another the milk was sour, the third was spoiled by some other accident. And it never occurred to the nurse to extemporize some expedient,—it never occurred to her that as he had had no solid food that day he might eat a bit of toast (say) with his tea in the evening, or he might have some meal an hour earlier. A patient who cannot touch his dinner at two, will often accept it gladly, if brought to him at seven. But some how nurses never "think of these things." One would imagine they did not consider themselves bound to exercise their judgment; they leave it to the patient. Now I am quite sure that it is better for a patient rather to suffer these neglects than to try to teach his nurse to nurse him, if she does not know how. It ruffles him, and if he is ill he is in no condition to teach, especially upon himself. The above remarks apply much more to private nursing than to hospitals.
I would say to the nurse, have a rule of thought about your patient's diet; consider, remember how much he has had, and how much he ought to have to-day. Generally, the only rule of the private patient's diet is what the nurse has to give. It is true she cannot give him what she has not got; but his stomach does not wait for her convenience, or even her necessity.[2] If it is used to having its stimulus at one hour to-day, and to-morrow it does not have it, because she has failed in getting it, he will suffer. She must be always exercising her ingenuity to supply defects, and to remedy accidents which will happen among the best contrivers, but from which the patient does not suffer the less, because "they cannot be helped."
One very minute caution,—take care not to spill into your patient's saucer, in other words, take care that the outside bottom rim of his cup shall be quite dry and clean; if, every time he lifts his cup to his lips, he has to carry the saucer with it, or else to drop the liquid upon, and to soil his sheet, or his bed-gown, or pillow, or if he is siting up, his dress, you have no idea what a difference this minute want of care on your part makes to his comfort and even to his willingness for food.
I will mention one or two of the most common errors among women in charge of sick respecting sick diet.—One is the belief that beef tea is the most nutritive of all articles. Now, just try and boil down a lb. of beef into beef tea, evaporate your beef tea and see what is left of your beef. You will find that there is barely a teaspoonful of solid nourishment to half a pint of water in beef tea; nevertheless there is a certain reparative quality in it, we do not know what, as there is in tea;—but it may safely be given in almost any inflammatory disease, and is as little to be depended upon with the healthy or convalescent where much nourishment is required. Again, it is an ever ready saw that an egg is equivalent to a lb. of meat,—whereas it is not at all so. Also, it is seldom noticed with how many patients, particularly of nervous or bilious temperament, eggs disagree. All puddings made with eggs, are distasteful to them in consequence. An egg, whipped up with wine, is often the only form in which they can take this kind of nourishment. Again, if the patient has attained to eating meat, it is supposed that to give him meat is the only thing needful for his recovery; whereas scorbutic sores have been actually known to appear among sick persons living in the midst of plenty in England, which could be traced to no other source than this, viz.: that the nurse, depending on meat alone, had allowed the patient to be without vegetables for a considerable time, these latter being so badly cooked that he always left them untouched. Arrow-root is another grand dependence of the nurse. As a vehicle for wine, and as a restorative quickly prepared, it is all very well. But it is nothing but starch and water. Flour is both more nutritive, and less liable to ferment, and is preferable wherever it can be used.
Again, milk, and the preparations from milk, are a most important article of food for the sick. Butter is the lightest kind of animal fat, and though it wants the sugar and some of the other elements which there are in milk, yet it is most valuable both in itself and in enabling the patient to eat more bread. Flour, oats, groats,[3] barley, and their kind, are, as we have already said; preferable in all their preparations to all the preparations of arrowroot, sago, tapioca, and their kind. Cream, in many long chronic diseases, is quite irreplaceable by any other article whatever. It seems to act in the same manner as beef tea, and to most it is much easier of digestion than milk. In fact, it seldom disagrees. Cheese is not usually digestible by the sick, but it is pure nourishment for repairing waste; and I have seen sick, and not a few either, whose craving for cheese showed how much it was needed by them.[4]