Part 10

_Orange Roly-Poly._—Two cups flour, one and a half cups milk, one tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful lard, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, one saltspoonful salt, four fair-sized sweet oranges, half-cup sugar. Sift the baking-powder and the salt with the flour; rub the butter and lard into it; add the milk, and roll out the dough into a sheet about half as wide as it is long; spread this with the oranges peeled, sliced, and seeded; sprinkle these with sugar; roll up the dough with the fruit inside, pinching the ends together, that the juice may not run out; tie the pudding up in a cloth, allowing it room to swell; drop it into a pot of boiling water, and boil it steadily for an hour and a half; remove from the cloth, and lay on a hot dish. Eat with hard sauce flavored with lemon.

2.

Turkey Soup. Roast Pork. Apple-Sauce. Boiled Potatoes. Stewed Tomatoes. Chocolate Custards.

_Turkey Soup._—Break up the carcass of the cold turkey after all the meat has been cut from it, and put it, with bits of skin and gristle and the stuffing, over the fire in enough water to cover it; cook gently for several hours, and then let the soup get cold on the bones; strain it off, skim it, and put it back on the fire. Have ready in a saucepan two cupfuls of milk, thickened with a tablespoonful of butter and two of flour; stir this into the turkey liquor, boil up, and serve.

_Chocolate Custards._—Four cups milk, four eggs, one cup sugar, four tablespoonfuls grated chocolate, two teaspoonfuls vanilla. Put the chocolate over the fire in a double boiler with part of the milk, and let it cook until smooth; add the rest of the milk, and, when this is hot, pour it upon the sugar mixed with the beaten yolks of the eggs. Return to the stove, and cook until the custard begins to thicken; when cool, pour into glasses or small cups, and heap on the top of each a méringue made of the whites of the eggs whipped stiff with a little powdered sugar.

3.

Oyster Soup. Broiled Steak. Baked Cabbage. Fried Potatoes. Cup Puddings.

_Oyster Soup._—One quart oysters, two cups milk, one egg, one tablespoonful butter, pepper and salt to taste. Strain the liquor from the oysters, and bring it to the boiling-point in one vessel while the milk is heating in another; drop the oysters into the scalding liquor, and leave them there until they begin to crimp. Stir the butter into the milk, and pour this upon the beaten egg; turn this in with the oysters; cook together one minute, and serve immediately. Some persons like a pinch of ground mace added to oyster soup.

_Baked Cabbage._—Wash and quarter a small cabbage; put it on in plenty of boiling water, and let it boil furiously (_uncovered_) for twenty minutes. By doing this, and having a cup of vinegar on the stove at the same time, you do away with the disagreeable odor which usually accompanies the cooking of cabbage. Drain it when done, and chop it fine; add to it a tablespoonful of butter, one egg beaten light, a scant half cupful of milk, and pepper and salt to taste. Bake in a pudding dish to a good brown.

_Cup Puddings._—One cup sugar, two tablespoonfuls butter, one cup milk, two eggs, two cups flour, two small teaspoonfuls baking-powder, one saltspoonful salt. Beat the yolks of the eggs light, and mix with the creamed butter and sugar; add the milk and the flour, mixed well with the salt and baking-powder; bake in small cups or deep patty-pans, and serve one to each person. Eat with either hard or liquid sauce.

4.

Corned-Beef Soup. Stewed Rabbits. Baked Corn. Fried Sweet Potatoes. Plain Fruit Pudding.

_Corned-Beef Soup._—Heat to boiling with a sliced onion three cups of the liquor in which a piece of corned-beef was boiled; just before it begins to bubble drop into it the freshly broken shell of an egg, boil up once, and strain. Put the cleared soup back on the fire, and when it boils again add to it two cups of milk in which have been dissolved two tablespoonfuls of flour; pour a little of this on a beaten egg, and return all to the fire for a minute before serving.

_Baked Corn._—Two cups canned corn chopped fine, one egg, half-cupful milk, one tablespoonful butter, pepper and salt to taste. Beat the egg light, stir this and the milk into the corn, season, and bake in a buttered pudding dish until firm.

_Plain Fruit Pudding._—One cup molasses, one cup milk, one and a half cups flour, quarter-cup seeded raisins, quarter-cup currants washed and dried, quarter-cup shredded citron, one cup suet, one saltspoonful salt, one small teaspoonful soda. Chop the suet into the flour, first mixing the latter with the salt and soda; add the milk and molasses, and beat thoroughly; dredge the fruit and stir it into the pudding; boil in a brown-bread mould two hours and a half. Serve hard sauce with it.

5.

Roast Duck. Canned Green Pease. Boiled Potatoes. Lettuce. Crackers and Cheese. Lemon Tarts.

_Canned Green Pease._—Turn the pease from the can into a colander; pour over them several quarts of cold water, so as to rinse the pease thoroughly from the liquor in which they were canned; after this, pour as much boiling water over them, and set the colander over a pot of boiling water, covering the pease; let them steam there until heated through, dish, and put on them a couple of teaspoonfuls of butter, and pepper and salt to taste.

_Lemon Tarts._—Line small patty-pans with a good puff paste, and fill them with the following mixture: Half-cup butter, one cup granulated sugar, three eggs, juice and grated rind of a lemon, two tablespoonfuls brandy, nutmeg to taste. Beat the yolks into the creamed butter and sugar; add the lemon, spice, brandy, and whites; bake in a steady oven, and eat when cold.

6.

Black Bean Soup. Halibut Steak. Browned Potato. Scalloped Cauliflower. Coffee Jelly.

_Black Bean Soup._—Two cups black beans, six cups cold water, one onion, two sprays parsley, four or five cloves, one teaspoonful mixed thyme and sweet-marjoram, one quart corned-beef liquor. Pick the beans over carefully, wash them, and put them in soak in the cold water; let them stand all night, and in the morning transfer them to the soup kettle. Put with them the onion, herbs, and cloves, and simmer all together gently until the beans are soft; rub them through a colander, return to the fire, add the corned-beef liquor, and boil for an hour; pour the soup on two hard-boiled eggs, quartered, and a few thin slices of lemon, laid in the tureen.

_Scalloped Cauliflower._—Boil the cauliflower tender; tie it in a piece of net before putting it in the boiling water; cut the clusters apart, and arrange them, stems downward, in a pudding dish; pour a cup of drawn butter over them, season with pepper and salt, sprinkle with fine bread or cracker crumbs, and bake until of a good brown.

_Coffee Jelly._—Two cups clear strong coffee, one cup sugar, one cup boiling water, half-cup cold water, half-box gelatine. Let the gelatine soak in the cold water an hour; stir the sugar into it, and pour over both the boiling water and the hot coffee; strain into a mould. When cold, turn out in a glass dish, and serve with whipped cream.

WHAT SHALL WE EAT?

The cook-book of the olden time gave its recipes with a generous disregard of cost. Such items as a ham boiled in wine were not unusual, and the quantities of costly materials demanded were on a Gargantuan scale. Even in the average French culinary manuals economy can hardly be said to be conspicuous, except by its absence, although Gallic cooks have a world-wide reputation for the wonderful results they can produce by a small expenditure. Even in this day, when economy is honored and studied, in the recipes that appear in print as written by women living in some parts of the South, there is a call for what to Northern ideas seems a reckless profusion of eggs, butter, and cream. The lavishness of these demands is often quite out of keeping with the common opinion of the straitened circumstances supposed to have prevailed of late years in that section of the country. The general impression these recipes give was voiced by a New England woman, who, after reading a collection of recipes from the pen of a well-known Southern writer, exclaimed, "Well, _I_ can't afford to cook like that; but I presume she has always had plenty to do with."

In spite, however, of some instances of this kind which indicate extravagance, the general trend in culinary guide-books of the day is towards economy. Tracts, pamphlets, octavos, and quartos are published, giving directions for preparing a dinner for five persons at a cost of twenty-five cents, of fifty cents, of seventy-five cents, of a dollar. The Sunday and weekly newspapers have columns devoted to the same theme, and the countless household magazines with which the reading public is almost snowed under all spare a corner for the discussion of the same momentous topic. It may be noted, _en passant_, that this sudden interest in dietetics is responsible for many of the literary aspirations now current. Women who had never thought of meddling with pen and ink except in their private correspondence rush into print for the purpose of describing a dinner which will cost only twenty-seven and two-thirds cents, and, encouraged by success in one or two efforts of this kind, fondly imagine themselves possessed of talents which ought to bring them in a competency.

Far be it from the woman who has herself known housekeeping cares and struggles, who has mourned over small leaks and sought diligently the best methods of "making sixpence do the work of sevenpence half-penny," as an English writer puts it, to deride any endeavors to teach housekeepers how to best use slender means with happy results. But a word of warning may not be amiss concerning certain features of most of the directions thus given. Here it is: If an appetizing dish is to be made at small cost, care in preparation _must_ supplement cheap materials.

There has been a great deal said and written about the folly of always purchasing the best cuts of meat. Hundreds of pages have been printed demonstrating satisfactorily—to their authors—that a piece of beef from the round can be so cooked as to make it equal to _filet de bœuf_; that lamb's or pig's liver is of as good a flavor as calf's liver, which costs twice as much; that old fowls properly treated cannot be distinguished by the taste from young broilers; and that a variety of other delightful things can be accomplished by the woman who chooses to attempt them. All this is, no doubt, true in part. The point that is seldom sufficiently emphasized is that it requires to achieve these wonders either a certain knack, which is as much a talent in its way as is a gift for music or drawing, or else a special training in this particular kind of cookery. It is easy enough for any one to be a good cook who knows how to follow a recipe, possesses a little deftness of hand, and is provided with the best materials for her work. Nowadays the cook-books seldom deal in the glittering generalities that once made their pages full of pitfalls for the unwary. Usually the directions are explicit, the quantities and proportions almost scientific in their accuracy, and the successive steps in compounding and cooking so clearly defined that the wayfaring woman, although a fool, can hardly go very far wrong; that is, _if_—and it is a very big if, too—she does not have to use imperfect ingredients to compass a perfect achievement. Bricks may doubtless be made with stubble instead of straw, but the children of Israel found it a rather difficult process.

If, then, to change the figure, the iron be dull, one must put to it the more strength. The housekeeper who is compelled by circumstances to practise rigid economy must resolutely set herself to the study of cheap cookery. She may know already how to roast a "rib cut" of beef, how to broil a porterhouse steak, how to broil and fry tender chickens, but all this knowledge is of comparatively little value to her just now. She must learn instead how to braise, how to treat a "pot roast"; she must study stews, perfect herself in the manufacture of minces, hashes, fricassees, croquettes, fritters; she must know what vegetables and meats may be put together in utilizing "left-overs"; she must acquire a thorough knowledge of soups of all sorts, and of soups _maigre_ in particular; and she must work in this line until she is able to set as appetizing if not as elegant a table on her small means as her richer neighbor across the way can on a housekeeping allowance of a double amount.

Of course this involves a great deal of hard work and of competent vigilance. Even if a servant is kept, only in rare instances can she be trusted to undertake this kind of cookery. Simple cookery, like roasting and boiling, is seldom successful unless one has the best materials to work with. But usually the woman who must economize is wealthier in time than in anything else, and she must make it take the place of money. Above all, she must struggle against the temptation to yield to weariness or discouragement, and to satisfy herself with the custom into which so many of her sisters drift, of cooking tough, inferior pieces of meat in the easiest way, as though they were "prime cuts," and thus endangering the teeth, tempers, and digestions of her family.

A potent aid in making cheap cookery savory is the judicious use of seasoning. In some homes knowledge of these seems to be confined to an acquaintance with pepper, mustard, onion, and parsley. Little is known of the variety of even simple herbs, like thyme, sweet-marjoram, and summer-savory; and still less of Worcestershire, Harvey's, anchovy, and chilli sauces, of chutney, of curry powder, of tarragon vinegar, of bay leaves, of _maître d'hôtel_ butter, of olives, of tomato and walnut catsups, or of the careful employment of spices in small quantities. The magical improvement wrought by the addition of a little lemon juice and a wine-glassful of California sherry (at fifty cents a quart bottle) is totally unknown.

Of course the first outlay for some of these commodities may savor of extravagance. But many of the articles are very cheap, and even the more costly ones are used in such small quantities that a supply of any one of them will last a long time. Moreover, if a woman's aim is to prepare dishes which her family will eat and enjoy, she will find that the purchase of condiments pays, and the variety their occasional use gives will make a change back to simple diet more agreeable.

THE CHILDREN'S TABLE

In comparatively few American homes does the custom prevail of giving the children their meals apart from their parents. Domestic arrangements would be sadly complicated were it common in the ordinary household, as it is in England, to have a separate breakfast served for the little ones in their nursery while the seniors discuss their more elaborate morning repast in their own _salle à manger_.

Usually, and wisely, American children eat at least two of their meals with their parents, and thus have what benefit may be derived from association with older people. It is only when the father and mother fail to guard against letting the little ones gradually assume the reins of government that affairs reach a point which makes one long to banish the babies to the nursery, or even further, if by such means peace might be secured at meal-times.

Nowhere does the spoiled child appear to worse advantage, or make more of a nuisance of himself, than at the table. His incessant chatter, the constant interruption his appeals for attention make in the conversation of the older people present, his clamorous demands for any article of food which happens to strike his fancy, his loud protests when his wishes are denied him, his slovenly (often disgusting) habits of eating, make the family meal-times a pandemonium and penance to the hapless guest upon whom the youngster has no claims of affection to render his vagaries amusing or interesting.

So long as custom and necessity render it advisable to have a child at the same table with his parents, these should fix upon a plan of action, and adhere to it. Desiring to have their children looked upon as comforts and not as spoil-sports, they should enforce strict obedience, exact quiet at table, and inculcate stringently the once-honored maxim—of late years fallen sadly into disuse and disrepute—that little boys and girls should be seen and not heard. Remembering how much easier it is to check a habit at the outset than to break it off after it is fully formed, the father and mother should watch their children's table manners, and repress at once the carelessness and unpleasant tricks that seem, possibly through original sin, to come naturally to most little folk. The correct handling of spoon, fork, and knife should be taught as soon as they are permitted to use these implements, and slovenliness should be rebuked and held up as a disgrace. Not least in importance is it that the father and mother should, after due consideration, establish an outline of diet for the youngsters, and allow no divergence therefrom.

By "an outline of diet" is not meant an unvarying rotation of viands as wearying and de-appetizing to the child as it would be to his elders, but a scheme of nourishment by which hurtful articles of food will be eliminated from the bill of fare, and only wholesome ones admitted. A great deal of careful thought is often necessary in the formulation of such _menus_, for children have as many gastric idiosyncrasies as grown people, and frequently these are only disclosed little by little. In illustration of this may be cited the case of a handsome, healthy boy baby who, although a victim to colic during the first months of his life, gave no other evidences of eccentricity of digestion until he was nearly three years old. At that time the mother began to notice that his breath was often sour, and that he complained occasionally of pain in the stomach and bowels. His dietary had always been so simple that she was at first puzzled to understand what could be the disturbing cause. After sundry experiments and careful observation, she finally ascertained that the discomfort and bad breath followed any unusual eating of sweets, although it might be only such simple desserts as bread and syrup, bread and jelly, plain cookies, or home-made sponge-cake, or even an infrequent lump of sugar. She put an embargo upon sweets, and found an almost immediate improvement. Further investigation demonstrated that an occasional indulgence—say once a day—produced no evil consequences, but that more frequent treats of this sort had painful _sequelæ_. Her course thereafter was plain and easily followed.

A child's breakfast should always begin with some cereal, but this need not invariably be oatmeal. Other preparations often agree better with the children, and a variety is preferable to the monotonous use of the one kind of porridge. Gruels or porridges of farina, corn-starch, rice-flour, corn-meal, hominy, arrowroot, wheat-germ meal, or cerealine are nearly all relished by the babies, and should be accompanied by milk in any amount, but _no sugar_. If the child has never been accustomed to the latter, he will eat quite as heartily without it.

If the porridge is properly prepared, the little ones will usually make their chief breakfast from it, with milk or milk-and-water as a beverage. Tea, coffee, or chocolate should be tabooed. The children are better off without any of the three, although some mild preparation of cocoa is probably the least harmful drink they can have other than milk or cold—not iced—water.

As the little people grow older they may have a second course of baked or stewed potato, buttered, dry, or milk toast, a soft-boiled or poached egg, bread and butter, bread and jam, or a little fruit, either fresh or stewed. When they have once become accustomed to seeing older people eating food which is refused them, they will take the denial of certain articles as a matter of course, and rarely think of entering a protest. They will learn that hot bread and griddle-cakes are not meant for little boys and girls, and will take abstinence from meat at breakfast or in the evening, and fried foods or rich desserts at all times, as a matter of course.

At noon, which should be their dinner-time, a more varied diet is permissible. Then there may be soup and some kind of meat for the older children—chicken, rare roast beef, boiled or roast mutton, a piece of steak or a chop—stews entirely freed from grease, potatoes, sweet or white, or some other vegetable, and a plain dessert. It is very little additional trouble to so regulate the bill of fare that what makes the lunch of the "grown-up" may embrace certain articles that will suit the childish stomachs; or there may be a little soup reserved from the dinner of the evening before, a dish of some carefully warmed-over vegetable, possibly a little of last night's meat prepared in a mince or stew, which will obviate the necessity of cooking fresh food for the easily pleased little ones. Often bread and apple-sauce, stewed fruit, or a small portion of fruit jelly or marmalade is as acceptable a dessert as can be provided.

Having eaten these two meals with the family, it is as well to let the younglings have their simple tea by themselves before the family dinner. A dish of soft toast, or a bowl of bread and milk, or of crackers and milk, or of rice and milk, and bread and butter, are usually all they ought to have so soon before their bedtime. They may have a side table set in the dining-room, or a tray may be carried to them in the nursery, and the repast superintended by the mother or nurse. Sometimes papa will come home in time to look in upon his little folks at their final meal, and to help them to settle it afterwards by a romp. Knowing no other mode of life, the children will rarely think of questioning the judgment that sends them to bed early after their light supper, instead of permitting them to sit up to a late, heavy, and indigestible course dinner.

THE FAMILY TEA

A pleasant feature of domestic life which is done away with by the late dinner is the family tea. This meal, always an informal one, used to give play to the housekeeper's fancy in the concoction of dainty dishes with which to render the repast more appetizing to the tired and hungry master of the home. Now, to be sure, she has lunches upon which to expend her culinary ingenuity; but then the person for whom she best loves to cater, her husband, is rarely at home.

In some families it is the custom to have tea one night in the week. It may be on Saturday, when there is no school and the children can all be at home to an early dinner, or on Sunday, when many people dine in the middle of the day. Still other households prefer a noon dinner and a simple tea in summer, pleading the advantage of getting the heavy cookery out of the way in the morning, instead of being obliged to stand over a cook-stove through the long blazing afternoon.

In one way or another, then, there are few families where the tea-table is not spread at least once a week, while in many homes it is a daily institution. It only ceases to be delightful when it is, through carelessness, allowed to slip into a groove, and when the suggestion of making it attractive is put aside with the excuse, "Oh, anything will do for tea!"