Part 5
But, if you prefer an apricot charlotte, it shall be my pleasure to tell you how to make one. Line the same charlotte mould you always use with sponge drops, or fingers, carefully trimmed to fit. In fact, you want to give them a regular tailor-made fit. Then fill with a pint of preserved apricots, which have been stewed till tender enough to rub through a sieve. Stir into it an ounce of gelatine, dissolved in a little water. Let it get perfectly cool, and then whip into it a pint of already whipped cream. Turn into the mould and set away to harden. And you have the most ungrateful family in the neighborhood if they don't count this dinner as a red-letter event in their lives.
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Think you that upon one of these mornings, when the mercury shows a sullen determination to do nothing but climb, climb, climb, you can prepare a more tempting dish for breakfast than one of shrimps, which have been boiled in fresh water, then salted and cooled, and finally sent to table upon chopped ice? You will find them at the market for the rest of this month, at least, in excellent condition, and at a reasonable price. And should you elect to serve them according to the foregoing suggestion, place near them on the table a dish of crisp, fresh watercress, lightly piled, ministering thereby to the eye's pleasure as well as to the appetite's desire.
Broiled Veal Cutlets
But if, some fine morning, a breath of winter comes o'er the land, _via_ an east wind, then you will, perhaps, crave food served hot, in which case have veal cutlets (veal is in fine shape now); dip them in melted butter and then broil over the coals; you will find this an infinitely better way of cooking them than by frying, which so many housekeepers consider the standard method. Or, if you do not care for veal, try thin slices of bacon, broiled, and served on toasted graham bread. As a fruit, for leading up to either of these dishes, I think you will prefer pineapples, for they are of delicious quality now, and sold at a price which also recommends them to your notice. Quite as appetizing, however, you might find cherries, but, though they are of fairly good flavor, they are a bit expensive, as they have a right to be, coming from such a distance.
Herring Salad
It is with intent and purpose that I do not suggest that everlasting Americanism, beefsteak for breakfast; to my mind, it seems far more suitable for the luncheon table, and just now, with mushrooms so plenty, and as inexpensive as they ever are, a well-broiled, tender, juicy sirloin steak, with a mushroom sauce, makes a dish fit for the gods, and yet not a whit too good for human nature's daily food. Just as good, in its way, for luncheon, is a herring salad, made of smoked herring. Omit the use of caviare, which many cook-books recommend, for you want nothing that will encroach upon the flavor of the herring, but rather something which will act as its complement. For this purpose use one-third cold sliced potatoes to two-thirds herring, a plentiful sprinkling of capers, and the ordinary oil and vinegar dressing, with the salt put in by a miserly hand. Another salad, suitable for luncheon, especially if cold tongue is served, is made of the little Bermuda onions, which are abundant now; they should be minced finely and served ice-cold to win your highest admiration.
Baked Chicken Hash
And now, just one more dish before leaving the luncheon table. Have you ever prepared a baked-chicken hash? If not, allow me to suggest that you chop quite finely the cold meat of chicken or fowl, season it with salt and white pepper, moisten it with cream or with milk and butter, scatter bread-crumbs over the top and brown in the oven, and behold, you have one of the homeliest dishes in the annals of housekeepers glorified to suit the palate of a veritable epicure.
Whenever, at this season of the year, I go to market in search of fish for the dinner-table, it is only by the exercise of great will power that I am able to refrain from buying soft-shell crabs. They are so delicious, whether broiled or fried, that it seems positively wicked they should be so expensive. Still, the fish dealer assures me that almost any day the price may "break" and, other fish being plentiful, we can afford to wait patiently for the "drop." Delicious trout, of either the lake or brook variety, are abundant, and in whatever way they are served are one of the pleasures of the present day.
Although the month of roses is generally known as the month of salmon, it is in first-class condition now, and obtainable at a fairly low figure. No other fish is so capable of reserving; little scraps left may be warmed in cream and served on toast for breakfast, made into a salad for luncheon, or shaped into croquettes for dinner the following day.
In the vernacular of the marketman, "spring lamb is getting down on to the earth." Which, being interpreted for ears polite, means that the price is getting lower each week, but that the flavor remains unsurpassed; in fact "none but itself can be its parallel." Bits of lamb left from dinner may be prepared in the way suggested for baked-chicken hash, and will, I am sure, merit your favor.
When lamb is suggested, there follows, as a natural sequence, the thought of green peas; and if the peas in market to-day were only as good as they look, the thought would be a happy one. As matters stand, however, for those who know not the delight of eating peas in less than three hours from the time they are gathered from the vines, the representatives of this vegetable to be had now will pass muster. For myself, I prefer either cauliflower or egg plant, both of them plenty and in good condition now. The former if boiled and served with a white sauce, or baked with cheese is especially gratifying when served with a roast of lamb, while the egg-plant will be quite as much of a success if broiled, or stuffed and baked.
Of course asparagus has attained perfection, and is so in evidence on every hand that it is not necessary to mention it here. However, there are many persons of the belief that it is impossible to have too much of a good thing, and most decidedly asparagus is entitled to come under that head.
Savory Tomato Soup
Shall I tell you of three little dinners and how to make them grow? Give ear, then, and you may hear. The first shall have a foundation of tomato soup. Now please don't make a wry face and begin to say unkind things about tomato soup having a past until you have heard me through; for I want to tell you of an economical and really delicious way of making this soup that is not known to every one. Just at this season almost all housekeepers will be sure to have on hand two or three kinds of cooked vegetables, little scraps of each I mean. Now, suppose the list to comprise three new potatoes, boiled, half a cupful of string beans and about the same quantity of green peas; to these, or to any others which you may prefer to use, should be added two raw onions finely minced and a handful of chopped parsley. Put them into a saucepan with two ounces of butter, a sprinkling of pepper and salt, and, after they have simmered for ten minutes, add a can of tomatoes. Season then with a teaspoonful of whole allspice, a tablespoonful of sugar, and more pepper and salt if need be, and cook slowly for half an hour. At the end of that time strain through a fine hair sieve, put back on the stove and thicken with a scant teaspoonful of cornstarch mixed with a teaspoonful of melted butter. Have little sippets of fried bread in the soup tureen, pour the soup over them and serve. And there you have a soup possessed of all the flavors that make a tomato soup worth the eating, while it has none of the heaviness of soup made with a rich stock.
And the next dish for dinner No. 1 shall be of dainty little lamb chops broiled to a turn. Have in the centre of the platter a mound of mashed potato, lean the chops against it, and serve in this way.
With the chops serve string beans. Boil them till tender in salted water, drain them and put into a saucepan with two ounces of butter and two tablespoonfuls of cream to a quart of beans. Cook them for three minutes and send to the table very hot.
Asparagus Salad
It would be a sin and a shame to arrange a dinner at this time of year without providing for the serving of asparagus. Even though the dinner is to consist of one course only, that course should be of asparagus. But in the dinner which we are now planning it is to make its appearance at the third course as a salad. It must be boiled till quite tender, then chilled for three or four hours on the ice, cut into inch lengths, and served with a dressing of the yolks of three hard-boiled eggs beaten up with three tablespoonfuls of oil, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, a saltspoonful of salt and the same quantity of French mustard.
The last course shall include strawberries served in some way. Have them plain, with sugar and cream, and serve with them narrow strips of delicate puff paste; or make little tartlets, and when they are done lift the covers and put a teaspoonful of whipped cream into each.
And the cost of dinner No. 1? Well, at the price of "comestible wares" at this season, this dinner should not cost over one dollar for four persons. And really it will not require very close figuring to bring it within that sum.
Bisque of Clams
But if that seems too small an amount to expend for a dinner intended to give pleasure to four persons, there will be no trouble in planning one to cost rather more. And for the first course let us have a bisque of clams. Get a quart of clams and a small piece of veal, about a pound of it. Cook the veal in a little more than a pint of water and the liquor drained from the clams. Season with one onion, a sprig of parsley, a bay leaf, salt, and white pepper. Cook very slowly for one hour, then strain and again place it in the kettle; rub a couple of tablespoonfuls of butter with an equal amount of flour and add to the soup when boiling. Chop up the clams very fine, and put them into the soup; let it boil for five minutes and then add half a pint of cream. Heat thoroughly, but don't let it boil after adding the cream, and serve. And after you have partaken of this I'll warrant you will be ready to declare that Grimod de la Reynière had this especial kind of _potage_ in mind when he said: "Soup is not only the commencement of a feast, but gives an idea of what is to follow."
Asparagus Tops with Cheese
And its close follower in this instance should be some delicious little ducklings roasted. With the ducklings have new potatoes, from Bermuda or from the South, plainly boiled. And have, too, some asparagus--asparagus tops with cheese. Cut the tender part of the asparagus into inch lengths and cook in salted water till fairly tender; then drain and toss it about over the fire in a frying-pan with a little butter. Dress it on a vegetable dish, spread the surface smoothly with butter into which has been kneaded an equal quantity of grated Parmesan cheese and just a suspicion of cayenne pepper. Brown as quickly as you can in a piping hot oven, and serve.
Lettuce Salad with Chives
And now for the salad. Does one of lettuce strike you favorably? If so, prepare it with a French dressing, as you always do, but after it is dressed sprinkle over it all some finely chopped chives. My word for it, you'll find this a great improvement over the ordinary lettuce salad.
Frozen Strawberries
A tempting dessert with which to wind up this dinner would be frozen strawberries with whipped cream. Let me tell you how to prepare the dish, and see what you think about it. Make a syrup of a third of a pint of sugar and a pint of water. Into the syrup put a quart of fine ripe strawberries and let boil for five minutes. Then freeze the mixture. Whip half a pint of cream, work it into the strawberries, and serve in as dainty a fashion as possible.
And the amount of money required to furnish forth a table with dinner No. 2? Not a cent over two dollars for four persons.
Asparagus Soup
But, for fear that to many that may seem too small an amount for just the kind of dinner they want to give, I will try again. Since we have decided that asparagus must appear in some form at every dinner while its season lasts, we will start dinner No. 3 with asparagus soup. This is made by cooking the tender parts of the asparagus in salted water for a few minutes. Before they get quite tender drain till dry and cold. If there are two bunches of asparagus put them into a saucepan with four ounces of butter, two finely chopped onions, a lump of sugar, and a little white pepper. Moisten with a pint of white broth and let cook for ten minutes. Then rub through a sieve, heat again and serve.
Green Peas with Mint
After the soup, crabs--soft-shell crabs dipped in beaten egg and crumbs and fried. Serve nothing but tartar sauce with them. Then have a couple of cunning little spring chickens broiled. Have new potatoes chopped and baked in cream served with the chickens, and have also new green peas. Try boiling with them a small bunch of mint and a small onion, both of which are to be removed before the peas are served. You will find that the peas have acquired a delightful flavor from their contact with the other vegetables. Of course salt and pepper and butter are to be added as when they are cooked in the ordinary way.
For a salad have some hothouse tomatoes peeled and sliced; lay them on a flat dish, and on each slice heap a little chopped lettuce mixed with mayonnaise.
Let us borrow the dessert from dinner No. 2 to put the finishing touch to this last dinner. I don't know a better one, but if you do there's nothing to prevent your using it.
And, do your best, if you are to serve dinner No. 3 for four persons you cannot make it cost over three dollars.
Are you satisfied, now, that I know how to make dinners grow?
JUNE
"_For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem._"
Clams West Island Style
"CLAMS are good and plentiful now," said the fish dealer one day, and as I was in the frame of mind to take him at his word I hastily ran over in my mind the various ways in which this delectable fish may be prepared, the while I ordered from him the quantity I thought I could use. It doesn't take very long to sum up the gastronomical possibilities of the clam that are cherished in the minds of most housekeepers, you will admit. But, with time and opportunity favoring, there is room for expansion of ideas with regard to clams. For instance, this is one way to expand: Poach, say, a pint of them in their own liquor, then drain off the liquor, adding to the clams milk thickened with egg yolks and seasoned with pepper and salt; forget economy and put in the butter you know it requires to make the flavor perfect, and on top of all have some tiny rice croquettes. You can't know till you try it just what this dish may reveal served at breakfast. But I will not spoil the story by telling you in advance. If, however, it's for luncheon that you would be thinking of having them cooked in this way, add the juice of an onion to them.
Clam and Lobster in Shells
If you trust to me so far as to adopt the foregoing way of cooking clams you certainly will try this next way of preparing them at the slightest provocation. Have as many as you like and chop them. Add to them an equal quantity of chopped boiled lobster. Sprinkle in some parsley, also chopped, and butter to the amount above recommended. Season with white pepper and salt, and with the mixture fill some of the deepest clam shells, sprinkle bread crumbs over the top and brown in a hot oven. This may be counted on at any time for a luncheon dish when you are planning to go some persons who have entertained you at least one better.
Stuffed Baked Cucumbers
Before I forget it I am going to tell you of a dish that to my sorrow is rather uncommon, even among those who think they dine well. It's nothing less than a stuffed, baked cucumber--that is, those are the essentials of the dish. The potentials are to be classified by you after you have partaken of it. Cut the cucumbers in two lengthwise without peeling them, scoop out all the seeds, and fill to heaping each half with a highly seasoned mixture of bread crumbs; moisten with melted butter and brown in a hot oven. Vary this stuffing at your own sweet will--add a few chopped olives or some chopped pimientos--Spanish sweet peppers you know--but have bread crumbs enough to insure the dish getting browned in shape.
Fried Cucumbers
If the idea of cooking cucumbers assimilates itself harmoniously with your ideas of gastronomy you may not hesitate to try a dish of fried cucumbers. And don't let any one infect your mind with the idea that they are especially indigestible. They're not. Peel them first, then slice them into quarter-inch slices, say, then dip in beaten egg, then in crumbs, and then fry to a delicate brown in a little butter. Try either way of cooking the cucumbers with a tender spring chicken broiled. For if you are not deprived of your rights nowadays you should be finding "broilers" in good condition and not too high in price. You see of game there is little to be said in the Eastern markets during this month; so if you are trying to do the handsome thing in the bird line you've not much of a list from which to make a selection. To be sure you have a right to inquire at market for brant just now, come to think of it. You will be apt to find them, and in good condition, too. Roasted shall we say? With them new potatoes of course. Don't tell me you can't afford them, I know better. And you can also afford to secure some new summer squash to go with the roasted brant. Don't ask me where it comes from. I only know that in every up-to-date market it is on sale. So are young, sweet little carrots that appeal to you for a white cream sauce like that you serve with cauliflower.
By now you may reasonably be ordering blackberries if you are longing for a change. But my advice is to stick to the strawberry while it will stick to you. By the way, if you are to "do up" strawberries, get the first "natives" that come to town. Get them, you know, before they are soft from overripeness, and next winter when set on your table just as they are, or with the syrup of them jellied with a bit of gelatine, you will see the wisdom of being forehanded with them.
"Give us breakfasts; tell us housekeepers what we can put before our families for the first meal of the day in summer that shall drive away the morning sulks."
Thus did a matron young neither in years nor in experience beseech me as I set out for market one day. And while I was parleying with the marketman as to the ways and means and the whys and wherefores of things edible that plaintive "Give us breakfasts" rang so insistently in my ears that I could pay no attention to viands essentially suitable for later meals, but fell to thinking and planning breakfasts which should be antidotes--antidotes for that ill which more than any other human ailment is strengthened by recognition, the "morning sulks."
And my first definite plan took shape in this wise: Cherries, for this is the month _par excellence_ for that delicious fruit, cherries with some green leaves piled upon cracked ice in such a manner that the sight of them refreshes, while to taste of them leads one to think "All's well with the world." And then, to follow, there must be croquettes of fish; all kinds are so abundant now that it is only a case of paying one's money and taking one's choice. But whatever fish is chosen, the croquettes should be smaller than those for use at luncheon or dinner, for the eye is repelled at breakfast-time by sight of large portions. With croquettes the daintiest and lightest parsley omelette imaginable should be served, it seems to me, and there you have a simple breakfast, easy of accomplishment, but one sure to be appreciated by King Sulks himself.
Iced Watermelon; Fried Chicken with Cream
My second plan, when it assumes tangible shape, shall be like this: Watermelons, not cut up into ungainly chunks with juice and seeds playing at hide-and-seek in one's plate, but with the pretty pink portion cut into two-inch cubes, say, with all the seeds removed, and sent to table after being well cooled, fancifully piled on shaven ice. If you don't mind a little fuss and bother, you may after it is cut up sprinkle the melon well with powdered sugar, put it into the freezer and frappé but not freeze it, and then send it to table. To the palates of many of this day and generation watermelon well chilled comes as a boon, for the best of men now and then are afflicted with a thirst these warm mornings which nothing save ice-water seems to quench, but the physicians and moralists have held forth at such length on the subject that one feels like a guilty thing upon taking a drink of cold water before breaking fast. Now you are going to ask what will be quite good enough to follow watermelon, and for answer I shall recommend chicken, or fowl, boiled the previous day, and cut into neat pieces, then browned well in butter, with hot cream poured over it just before it is sent to the table. If you want a delightful adjunct for the chicken, let it be cold asparagus, with lemon juice and salt sprinkled over it. If you have never partaken of cold asparagus at breakfast, there is a new pleasure in store for you, for good as this vegetable is hot at dinner or luncheon, it seems especially apt when served cold in the morning.
Quite as attractive, and simpler in preparation, perhaps, you will find my third recipe for an antidote, it goes something like this: To begin with, blackberries, growing better and more abundant every day; to follow the blackberries smoked beef tossed in hot cream which has been seasoned with cayenne pepper, and thickened a trifle with corn starch, and--as a complement for the smoked beef you will desire something sour--try watercress dressed with lemon juice and salt, unless you are so enamored of tomatoes that you prefer them to any other vegetable in the morning, now.
My next (really I don't mean this to read like an enigma) idea if you choose to put it into action will cause your breakfast table to answer to this description: Raspberries, sweetened a bit, tossed in whipped cream and put into paper cases which come on purpose for the carrying out of dainty table schemes, and then chilled on the ice for at least an hour before serving. Trouble? Oh, yes, there's some trouble involved, but your reward will be swift and sure, my word for it. Something exceptionally dainty and palate-appealing must follow the raspberries so prepared, and how does the thought of veal, minced finely and seasoned perfectly, with poached eggs on top, coincide with your idea of the fitness of things?
Ham Toast
Very soon we shall have currants in abundance, and it has always seemed to me that when one is to have ham for breakfast they go particularly well for a first course. And the ham is entitled to different treatment in summer from that which it receives in the cold weather. For instance, just now if you have slices of toast and sprinkle lightly over them grated ham mixed with grated cheese, and then put them in a hot oven till the cheese is dissolved, your family will be your debtor to the extent of one new and distinct gastronomical emotion.
Gooseberry Cream