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Updated: May 9, 2025
Another sort of Orange Pudding: Take the outside rind of three Sevil oranges, boil them in several waters till they are tender; then pound them in a mortar with three quarters of a pound of sugar; then blanch and beat half a pound of almonds very fine, with rose-water to keep them from oiling; then beat sixteen eggs, but six whites, and a pound of fresh butter; beat all these together very well till 'tis light and hollow; then put it in a dish, with a sheet of puff-paste at the bottom, and bake it with tarts; scrape sugar on it, and serve it up hot.
Faith, Sir, he's i'th' right; take him home to Sevil, your Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make him; the Fellow's honest, witty and handsom. Fran. Well, I have considered the matter: I was but a Leather-seller my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord? Guil.
To make an Orange Pudding: Take two large Sevil oranges, and grate off the rind, as far as they are yellow; then put your oranges in fair water, and let them boil till they are tender; shift the water three or four times to take out the bitterness; when they are tender, cut them open, and take away the seeds and strings, and beat the other part in a mortar, with half a pound of sugar, till 'tis a paste; then put in the yolks of six eggs, three or four spoonfuls of thick cream, half a Naples-biscuit grated; mix these together, and melt a pound of very good fresh butter, and stir it well in; when 'tis cold, put a bit of fine puff-paste about the brim and bottom of your dish, and put it in and bake it about three quarters of an hour.
She hitherto has been absent at Sevil, but Expectation of her Daughter-in-law's Wedding with you has brought 'em hither, and, I ask your Pardon, Antonio, for raillying your Father-in-law that shall be, old Francisco. Ant. I hope you are mistaken, Sir. Car. How, are you not to marry his Daughter, Isabella? Ant. Car. Prithee, what was her Birth? Ant.
What a Dishonour's this to me, to have so dull a Father, that needs to be instructed in his Duty. Guil. But, Sir, to open the eyes of your understanding here's a Letter to you, from your Correspondent a Merchant of Sevil. Fran. Cry Mercy, my Lord, and yet I wou'd he were a thousand Leagues off. Guil. Isa.
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