Part 7

Place the casserole in a hot oven, uncovered. When the breasts are brown, cool oven to a moderate heat, cover the casserole and cook for two hours. Then remove the casserole and serve from dish.

The result is an epicurean masterpiece.

LXXXII

_Richard Barthelmess_

SPICED GRAPES

This dish is always reminiscent, to me, of low New England farmhouses, with green blinds. You know the kind—set far back from the road, among tall trees, with hollyhocks, and rose geraniums and old fashioned pinks in the garden. When I see such a house—and I can, sometimes, by closing my eyes—I can always smell the pungent scent of spiced grapes, cooking away on an immaculate kitchen range.

This is the rule for making spiced grapes. A rule that most New England families seem to follow.

To seven pounds of grapes there should be added these materials—three pounds of granulated sugar, one cup of vinegar, two tablespoonsful of ground cinnamon, and one tablespoonful of ground cloves.

Weigh the grapes, wash and pulp them. Cook the pulp until the seeds are loosened—then press the mass through a sieve. Cook the skins just as long as you cook the pulps. Put them on the same stove, but in separate kettles. Add the strained pulps to the skins, then vinegar, sugar, and spices. And cook until the mixture thickens.

This, when served with cold meat, changes a commonplace supper of left-overs into a feast.

LXXXIII

_Don Juan y Gayangos_

(Ambassador to the United States, from Spain)

EGG PLANT AU GRATIN

Peel the egg plant.

Whiten it in salty water, and dry.

Fry, in butter, with salt sprinkled on each piece.

Place in a dish with grated cheese, tomato sauce, and mushrooms, which have been cut into small pieces and put thickly between the layers of egg plant.

Bake, until well cooked, in a moderate oven.

LXXXIV

_Samuel G. Blythe_

TRIPE Á LA MODE DE CAEN Á LA ROY CARRUTHERS

Only an artist should attempt to make Tripe à la Mode de Caen because only an artist can make it. It requires the soul of a poet, the spirit of a painter, and the exaltation of a violin virtuoso in the maker as a prerequisite for its concoction. Of course, it may be eaten by the commonalty, but it is too good for them. It really is a dish for the intelligentsia.

There are not more than a dozen people in the United States who have the temperament and the touch required. One of these is Roy Carruthers. And herewith, as my favorite recipe, I set down the complicated but necessary, procedure for producing this work of art:

Take four pounds of fresh honeycomb tripe and one pound of fresh manyplies tripe (the thickest part) and wash thoroughly in many changes of fresh water. Drain well, and scrape to have all absolutely clean. Take two calf’s feet and carefully bone each foot and cut into pieces two inches square. Have a large earthen pot, scrupulously clean, and line sides and bottom of this pot with very thin slices of larding pork. Place tripe and cut up feet in pot.

Add two small red carrots, two white onions with two cloves stuck in each, and half of a sound, seeded pepper. Make a bouquet of two leeks, two branches of celery, three branches of parsley, and a sprig of thyme, marjoram, a blade of mace and a bay leaf—only one. Put this bouquet in the pot and pour in a half pint of white wine, a pint of cider and a quart of consomme or white broth. Season with a full teaspoon of salt and half a spoon of black pepper.

Now make a stiff dough with a pound of white flour and two gills of water, roll out on a table until you have enough to cover the pot, and cover closely, making sure there can be no evaporation.

Place pot in a very slow oven and cook for fifteen hours.

Then lift up the cover, skim off the fat, and remove the bouquet of herbs and the vegetables.

Chop together six shallots, or scallions if shallots are not procurable, the red part of a carrot, a bean of sound garlic, two ounces of raw ham and an ounce of raw lean pork. Place this hash in a saucepan with a tablespoon of melted butter, cook gently on the fire for five minutes, stirring lightly, and then pour in half a gill of cognac and let it reduce briskly until it is nearly dry.

Put the contents of the pot on the saucepan, add a gill of pure tomato juice, mix lightly with a wooden spoon, and cook slowly for forty-five minutes.

Then dress the tripe on a deep hot dish, sprinkle a little freshly chopped parsley over and send to table very hot with twelve slices of toasted French bread.

That is real Tripe à la mode de Caen. All others are imitations.

LXXXV

_Charles H. Taylor_

CLAM CHOWDER

Try out salt pork. Take out the scraps. Cut up onions and fry them in the pork fat until they are a golden brown. Open clams and save all the clam water. (Most chefs steam the clams first because they are so much easier to handle, but if you want the real flavor you want to shell the clams, wash the meat over carefully and let the clam water settle and dip it out instead of pouring it into your kettle so as to leave out the sand.)

Add to the onions enough hot water to cover them, put in clam water and the bellies of the clams. Cook until the bellies of the clams have practically disappeared (about two hours). Then add whatever more hot water is necessary, add the rest of your clam meat, after having first cut off the black end of the head, and run the meat through the coarsest cutting disk of your meat grinder. Cook until clams are very nearly done and then add your sliced white potato. Cook again until the potatoes are done. Then add whatever milk you put in and let it come to a boil. Put into the chowder what we call Boston cracker. They are shaped like a water cracker only they are soft. Split them in halves. These will soften up immediately and you can then serve your chowder.

Do not use any flour for thickening. If the chowder is prepared and the bellies of the clams cooked as above, this will make the broth thicken up.

LXXXVI

_Cyrus H. K. Curtis_

BAKED BEANS

(_My Favorite Dish_)

To prepare Mr. Curtis’ favorite food is no difficult task and any number of methods original and otherwise may be followed.

For the best results have a large covered bean pot and the rest is easy.

Select fine white or navy beans. Wash them thoroughly and let them soak in clear water for several hours—most folks soak them all night.

Place the beans in the pot with several pieces of salt pork (with fat), cover with water slightly salted. Put the lid on the pot and bake in a moderate oven until done. That’s plain baked beans.

Chili sauce or tomato catsup or chopped tomatoes may be added to taste.

Look at the beans occasionally and add water if they seem too dry or in danger of burning.

Another method which produces wonderful results is to omit the pork and tomato preparations and add generous lumps of butter and brown sugar—better still, add genuine sorghum molasses. When you do it this way be extra careful to see that _just enough water_ is added in small quantities to prevent burning.

Always remove from the oven while the beans are still whole. If baked too long they will break up. The time necessary for baking will vary according to the heat of the oven and the length of time the beans were soaked.

LXXXVII

_Frederick Arnold Kummer_

SPAGHETTI DIABOLIQUE

Brown one and a half pounds top plate of beef in half a cup of boiling olive oil for one hour, turning frequently. Mince the shells of four sweet peppers, one bunch of celery, one bunch of parsley, three large onions, two sections of clove garlic, add a salt-spoonful of ground thyme, a teaspoonful of salt, one of black pepper and red pepper to taste. Add one quart of tomatoes, pour over the beef, cook for an hour, add a pint of water and cook slowly for two hours more.

To make the spaghetti: Measure a quart of flour, break in yolks of three eggs, add three half eggshells full of ice water, work to the proper consistency, roll and cut into thin strips. When dry cook in boiling salted water for twenty minutes.

Place spaghetti in the center of a dish, pour the sauce and shredded meat around it, and serve.

EDITOR’S NOTE:—From the several “favorite dishes” of spaghetti mentioned in this volume it would seem that there is a decided male preference for this particular article of diet. Mr. Kummer goes the limit and tells how to make the spaghetti, itself!

LXXXVIII

_Albert D. Lasker_

CHICKEN PAPRIKA

Say a five pound chicken—do it this way and see how you like it.

Slice four small onions. Put one-sixth pound of butter into pan, add onions and let cook over fire until soft and a light brown in color. Add two teaspoonsful of paprika and put in the chicken piece by piece, fitting into kettle; add 1¼ tablespoonsful of salt, cover tightly and cook until soft (two hours or more). Remove the chicken, and into the gravy add 1¼ tablespoonsful of canned tomatoes; shake in a tablespoonful of flour and stir well; add ¾ pint of sour cream and stir well over the fire. Strain over the chicken; heat again and serve.

LXXXIX

_Henry van Dyke_

FISH CHOWDER

I will say that I like to cook (and if I have good luck, to eat) a dish for which the following is the recipe:

First catch your fish with hook and line,—salmon, trout or bass, cod, haddock or blue-fish. Then obtain a good sized kettle and put into it, first a layer of sliced potatoes, then a fine sprinkling of fine sliced onion, then a layer of fat pork cut into small cubes, then a layer of fish, skinned and sliced, then a layer of crackers or thin pilot biscuit. Sprinkle salt and pepper on each layer according to taste. Repeat the layers from three to five times according to the size of your kettle. Fill the pot moderately full with water and put it on the fire to cook slowly. If the water gets low replenish it. You can tell when the dish is done by testing the potatoes or the fish with a fork. As a rule it should take about an hour to cook. Just before the end put in two or three cupfuls of milk. If your taste is slightly vitiated by contact with the world you may add a double spoonful of some spicy sauce. But for my part I like a chowder best _au naturel_.

XC

_Macklyn Arbuckle_

SOUTHERN GUMBO Á LA “COUNTY CHAIRMAN”

A year-old fowl. Joint it as you would for frying.

Soup kettle ready on the back of the stove with cold water.

Then, the frying pan—

About one-half dozen thin slices of the best bacon. Reserve this for the kettle later.

Bacon fat in the frying pan—fry the chicken very brown. As soon as each piece of chicken is brown place it in the kettle—then put the kettle over the fire. Let it boil.

Add six small onions or three large ones. Sliced and fried in the bacon grease.

Onions fried golden brown.

Then to the onions add a can of tomatoes or the equivalent of sliced tomatoes.

Keep stirring from the bottom to prevent burning.

All must cook until it has thickened.

While cooking add chili peppers cut fine, green peppers the same, also okra.

Add one or two large bay leaves and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Onions, tomatoes and peppers should be added to the chicken in the kettle when they have cooked sufficiently.

If fresh okra is not available use the best canned kind.

About ten minutes before the Gumbo is ready add—

One can of Golden Bantam Corn.

To serve with the Gumbo have a dish of perfectly cooked rice. You may use the same general formula for Crab or Oyster Gumbo. A Combination Salad is about the only thing worth serving with Gumbo. Although you might wash it down with a bottle of PRE-WAR IMPORTED CLARET—HELP!!!!

XCI

_John Taintor Foote_

MORELS SAUTÉ

There is a dish—a gastronomical ecstasy—the faintest conception of which is magnificently beyond the pen. The fork is the one utensil that can convey to the uninitiated the unique, the utterly sublime flavor of Morels sauté.

A Morel is—in the vernacular of the countryside—a sponge mushroom. It is to be found in ancient, unplowed orchards during the pastel phase of spring when apple trees blossom and bees zoom and bumble and hum in a languid shower of pink and white petals.

Close to a girthy apple tree, scabrous with age, pock-marked by the bills of countless woodpeckers, the Morels, now and then—alas, it is only now and then—poke up through the cold, damp, chocolate-colored earth and flourish shyly for a fortnight or so.

A full day’s tramping through orchard after orchard may win perhaps two dozen of these tiny sponges that have absorbed the very essence of spring. They are almost the exact color of the matted, winter-killed grass in which they nestle to defy all but the most careful searching. A full day’s work for each two dozen, but never was a day’s wage more ample, more exquisitely satisfying.

Take the hard-won double dozen home. Give them in reverent silence to the cook. She knows—if, by the grace of God, she was with you so long ago as the previous spring—just what to do. She will plop the Morels into well salted water, there to remain the night through. In the morning she will place them in a colander to drain for half an hour. She will then transfer them to a frying pan of hot butter, where they will sputter and sizzle for twenty minutes. During that twenty minutes there will waft into the living room, where you are making a pitiful pretense of reading the morning paper, an odor straight from the kitchens of heaven.

You throw down the newspaper and burst with glaring eyes into the dining room. You seat yourself at the table and fiddle wildly with knife and fork and spoon.... Years later the waitress appears with a dish and then—I faint—I swoon—I cannot go on!

XCII

_Maurice Francis Egan_

A DIPLOMATIST’S RECEIPT FOR WELSH RABBIT

I have no hesitation in saying that my recipe for Welsh Rabbit is the best yet invented. It has an international reputation. It has been eaten with gusto by Russians, Turks and some Englishmen who, strange to say, are distinguished _gourmets_. There have been Frenchmen who were too reserved, perhaps, in their praise of it, but then it must be remembered that Welsh rabbit is not sympathetic with the Gallic temperament. The French prefer _timbales de fromage_.

Put a large chafing dish over the hot water pan in which the water must be boiling. Never let the temperature of the heat change for a moment; therefore a big alcohol lamp is preferable. Grate ordinary cheese or cut it into the shape of dice. Drop in a lump of butter of the size of an English walnut. Pour into the pan a pint of near beer or near Budweiser. Slightly heat it. In the old days musty ale was everything. To-day the symbol of beer is almost sufficient. Drop in a half teaspoonful of strong red pepper and then a tablespoonful of paprika,—paprika being merely a flavor and not a condiment. Keep the beer hot; then drop two tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce, a tablespoon of catsup and a half teaspoon of mustard. When this mixture boils, put in the cheese and stir in one direction until the mixture assumes the consistency of cream.

Use the thick plates sold in the department stores especially for Welsh Rabbit. Have them heated so that the cheese will sizzle when it touches them. Have ready a sufficient number of pieces of toasted bread, the crust carefully cut off. When the cheese is sufficiently plastic, dip a round of toast into it, let it remain for a second, transfer it to the hot plate and _at once_ ladle the mixture in the pan over the toast with neatness and dispatch and you will have an unprecedented success, if no conversation is permitted until the rabbit is eaten. The sound of a human voice lowers its temperature. Coffee or tea must never be partaken of until the morsels are disposed of. During the eating process, Budweiser is a substitute for the real thing—which was musty ale or the Dog’s Head variety.

XCIII

_Livingston Farrand_

SAUSAGE AND GRIDDLE CAKES

I think I would say that my favorite dish is sausage and griddle cakes for breakfast on a cold winter morning. I would call attention to the fact that the sausages should be in cake form and not in skins and that the griddle cakes should be of wheat flour. I am sure there are millions of Americans who agree with me.

EDITOR’S NOTE:—Here is the best of a dozen tried recipes for the cakes.

To one cup of Hecker’s, or any excellent self-raising flour (not pancake!) add a full half cup of milk and a beaten egg mixed together. A little cream will help at this point, but it isn’t absolutely necessary.

Melt, now, a lump of butter the size of a good big walnut and stir it into the mixture. Beat for a moment and if the consistency does not seem just right add a shade more of milk or flour. The mixture or batter should be about as thick as molasses in the winter time.

For the very perfection in results bake the cakes on a soapstone griddle and serve with the best maple syrup obtainable.

This recipe can be safely doubled any number of times and then some! As above it serves two unless more are desired, in which case it is easy to duplicate in no time.

XCIV

_F. Ziegfeld, Jr._

LITTLE CHICKEN TARTS

Here is a dish that I am very fond of and it is really very easy to prepare. The tart molds may be purchased already made, which simplifies things somewhat if you do not want to bother with the dough, but in case you cannot get them here is the whole process and I can vouch for the results.

2 cups of chopped chicken (cooked) or one large can Chicken à la King ½ cup evaporated milk 2 eggs 1 onion 2 cups sifted flour ½ cup shortening ½ cup water 1 teaspoonful salt Pepper Parsley Ice water

Mix salt and flour—cut in the chilled shortening with two knives until the mixture is as fine as meal. With a broad-bladed knife stir in ice water slowly until dough clings around knife in a ball, leaving sides of bowl perfectly clean. Toss dough on floured bread board. Flour the rolling pin and roll it out very thin. Keep the pin well floured. Rub the outside of patty pans or jelly molds with a little shortening and lay dough over these smoothly, bringing it well over the edge. Bake upside down for about ten minutes in a hot oven. If Chicken à la King is used for a filling it will not require any special preparation, but if you really want to cook, and you use the cold chicken, proceed as follows:

Cut the chicken in small pieces, but do not mince. Mince onion and cook until slightly brown in a little butter. Stir in a tablespoonful of flour, add milk and water. When smooth add chicken and season to taste. When bubbling take from the fire and stir in the slightly beaten eggs. Let cool, then fill the pastry shells. The remainder of the pastry dough should have been kept in the ice box. Get it out. Roll it thin as before. Cut in round pieces to cover the tops of the tarts. Wet the edges of the tarts with cold water; press on the covers, bringing the edges well down as they shrink a bit in baking. Slit the tops before putting on. Press the edges with tines of fork. Garnish with parsley.

XCV

_Harold Lloyd_

LEMON LAYER CAKE

This, when properly gummy, is as good for a comedian to throw as a custard pie. Only it’s too good for that sort of treatment—which sounds rather like an Irish bull!

The layer cake doesn’t interest me especially. After all, it’s only an excuse for the frosting. Any sort of layer cake recipe will answer—and, according to the best cook I know, my grandmother—there are a hundred such recipes. It’s the filling that I find important. Here is the rule, and it sounds too simple to be true!

Take one beaten egg, one cup of sugar, the juice and grated rind of one lemon. Mix them all together, hit or miss, and place them in a double boiler over a hot fire. Cook until the mixture begins to get very thick, stirring constantly. Then take from the stove and beat until the whole assumes a creamy texture. Spread between the layers of any cake. This recipe makes enough filling for two thin layers, or one thick one—which I prefer. It can be doubled, tripled, and so on—ad infinitum—depending entirely upon the number of layers in the cake.

EDITOR’S NOTE:—This is a good, and unusual, recipe for layer cake. To two eggs, well beaten, add gradually one cup of granulated sugar. To one cup of unsifted flour add one teaspoonful cream of tartar and one half teaspoonful of soda. Sift. Then add one half cup of boiling milk with one teaspoonful of melted butter in it, and one teaspoonful of vanilla. The mixture will be almost like batter, and should be baked in two layers.

XCVI

_Luther Burbank_

TURKEY Á LA BURBANK

“_The best ever._”[A]

For an ordinary ten-pound turkey _steam_ 2½ hours or until the muscles of the leg can be readily pierced with a dining fork. Take steamer from the fire and carefully remove the turkey to the roasting pan.

Meantime, prepare the dressing as follows: One loaf of bread, ordinary baker’s size, or same amount of other bread, slice and toast slowly but thoroughly to a light golden color; while hot, spread butter on each slice just as a hungry boy would like it. Place in a deep dish. The cooked giblets, which, with the juice of one lemon and three whole large onions, should be ground all together in a meat grinder with

1 teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper 1 teaspoon powdered sage 2 teaspoon summer savory 2 tablespoons sugar

These should be well sifted and then added to the ground vegetables and giblets, and with the meat juice saved from steaming, thoroughly mixed with the bread and all cut and mashed to about the consistency of thick mush. After filling, the turkey should be placed in an oven not too hot, and _slowly_ roasted an hour or more.

Prepared as above, little or no basting will be necessary, but a few thin slices of bacon laid over the fowl will add flavor. Add no oysters, eggs, chestnuts or other abominations.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Mr. Burbank says so himself. If he said he could make turkey look and taste like brook trout, he probably could.

XCVII

_Raymond McKee_

TO COOK RABBITS

I do not profess to be a cook of the first rank, or even the fourth or ninth; but when it comes to cooking rabbits I’ll put on the kitchen apron with any cook, amateur or professional, in the country—(managers, please note!). And I’ll abide by the decision of any judge of rabbit flesh.

Out in California, where I live most of the time on my mountain yacht, you can get a lot of rabbits by shooting them—if you are good. But it’s easier to buy them, and they taste the same.

To cook a rabbit right do it this way: First—get the rabbit, clean and cut into six pieces. Soak the pieces in salt water for several hours—I usually soak ’em all night and right up to the time for cooking. This whitens and improves the meat.

When you are ready to cook, dry the pieces; roll them in a beaten egg and then in cracker crumbs. Put the pieces into a very hot pan with plenty of butter and fry it to a golden brown. When the color is right put water into the pan so that the rabbit is about half covered. Cover the pan with a tight lid and steam slowly until the water is all gone. Then serve.

Now, if you can substitute an ordinary claret for the salt water mentioned first, and if you have more claret in which to steam the fried rabbit you may know the perfect dish!

XCVIII

_Will Deming_

I can vouch for all of these:

VIRGINIA HAM

Cover an eight-pound ham with cold water. Add a pint of cider vinegar; one-half pound of brown sugar; six sticks of cinnamon and a heaping tablespoonful of cloves. Let this boil for four hours. Push back on the stove and let it stay all night. In the morning skin it and put it in a hot oven for half an hour.

LEMON PIE