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Title: What to Eat, How to Serve it
Author: Herrick, Christine Terhune
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "What to Eat, How to Serve it" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

  _What to Eat_

  _How to Serve it_






Copyright, 1891, by HARPER & BROTHERS.

_All rights reserved._



  THE DINING-ROOM                                           1

  AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE                                   16

  MORE ABOUT BREAKFAST                                     24

  THE INVALID'S BREAKFAST                                  32

  A BREAKFAST-PARTY                                        40

  FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR SPRING                             48

  FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR SUMMER                             58

  FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR AUTUMN                             68

  FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR WINTER                             77

  AT LUNCHEON                                              88

  A SMALL LUNCHEON                                         96

  A LARGE LUNCHEON                                        104

  A STANDING LUNCH                                        112

  THE LUNCH BASKET                                        120

  FAMILY LUNCHES FOR SPRING                               128

  FAMILY LUNCHES FOR SUMMER                               137

  FAMILY LUNCHES FOR AUTUMN                               147

  FAMILY LUNCHES FOR WINTER                               157

  DINNER AT NIGHT                                         165

  DINNER AT NOON                                          173

  THE SUNDAY DINNER                                       181

  THE SMALL DINNER-PARTY                                  188

  A LARGE DINNER                                          196

  FAMILY DINNERS FOR SPRING                               204

  FAMILY DINNERS FOR SUMMER                               213

  FAMILY DINNERS FOR AUTUMN                               221

  FAMILY DINNERS FOR WINTER                               230

  WHAT SHALL WE EAT?                                      239

  THE CHILDREN'S TABLE                                    247

  THE FAMILY TEA                                          255

  AFTERNOON TEA                                           263

  HIGH TEA                                                271

  SOME HINTS ABOUT SUPPER                                 279

  CHINA AND GLASS                                         288

  LINEN AND SILVER                                        296

  INDEX                                                   305




The apartment in which the members of a family assemble three times a
day for meals must be pleasant. There is a chance to escape from any
other part of the house. The business man rarely sees his drawing-room
until after the shades are drawn and the lamps lighted. The wife and
mother divides her time between nursery, sewing-room, and kitchen,
while school-children are out of the house nearly as much as they are
in it—at least during their waking hours. But no matter how widely the
little flock may be scattered by their different employments, always
twice and often three times a day they are all together in this common
rallying-place of the home.

Only in the houses of the wealthy, or of those possessed of
exceptionally large dwellings, is there found a breakfast-room other
than that in which are eaten all the meals of the family. English
mansions frequently possess both a family and a state dining-room, and
the same custom prevails in some of the private palaces of our own
millionaires; but in the average American home one room must do duty
for every repast, whether simple or superb; and in our large cities
this apartment is too likely, alas! to be situated in the basement.

The immeasurable superiority of a dining-room built above-ground over
one even partially beneath it hardly needs demonstration—it is more
cheerful, more airy, and as a consequence more healthful, better
lighted, of finer proportions, and more susceptible of effective
decoration and furnishing—the advantages might be continued _ad
infinitum_. No one who has ever had the pleasure of using an up-stairs
dining-room can contentedly descend to one below the level of the
street. Apart from every other consideration, such rooms are very
liable to be damp. It is not uncommon to have carpets grow musty and
mouldy on their floors, or to find a perceptible dampness on their
walls. These faults may be to some extent remedied by a layer of
thick felt paper under the carpet, and by good fires and constant and
thorough ventilation.

A few housekeepers express their preference for basement dining-rooms
because of the nearness of these to the kitchen, and the work saved
thereby. This is an important consideration in houses where but one
maid is kept. Her work as cook and waitress is almost doubled when she
has to run up-stairs to remove the dishes from the dumb-waiter, and
then fly back to her kitchen between the intervals of waiting on the
table. In the country and in country towns it is the rule rather than
the exception to find the kitchen in the L, or as an extension, and on
the same floor with the dining-room and parlor, but in the majority of
city houses the apartment in which the family gathers at meal-times
is a little below ground. When this is the case, and when there is no
possibility of converting the back parlor up-stairs into a dining-room
by introducing a dumb-waiter and pantry, or when expediency or want
of space precludes such a change, the best must be made of existing
circumstances, and the efforts redoubled to render the despised
basement as pleasant as possible.

The wall-paper must never be dark in a room like this, which at the
best of times is never too light. Choose instead a creamy ground well
covered with some small figure, or, better still, an ingrain paper
of a solid color—a soft gray, a pale green, a cream, or one of those
indescribable neutral tints that make good backgrounds, and furnish
well but not obtrusively.

Unless the room is wainscoted with wood, a very pretty and inexpensive
substitute can be made of India matting, secured at the top by a narrow
band of wood moulding. The matting can be washed off with salt and
water whenever it needs cleansing. An excellent plan is that of having
the walls done in hard finish, and then painting this. The surface can
then be scoured as often as it becomes stained or specked, and will
always look neat and fresh. An additional coat of paint can be put on
when the first becomes worn or faded.

In a rented house the tenants must, of course, take what they can get,
and in many cases the landlord is unwilling to make changes. Still,
pretty pictures, draperies, neat furniture, and a well-set table will
do wonders, even for a room that appears unpromising at the outset.

It never pays to purchase an expensive carpet for the ordinary
dining-room. Something durable should be selected, like an ingrain of
a mixed color, or with a minute, closely-set figure. Better still is a
rug, an art square, or a Smyrna rug, neither of which is high-priced,
while either is satisfactory both in appearance and in wearing

The floor should be stained or painted, for a distance of from two to
three feet from the wall all around the room, in a neat dark color.
Borders of wood-carpeting are handsome and last a long time, but are
costly, and one does not often find hard-wood floors in a rented house.
The rug may be either laid loosely or tacked down around the edges.

The draperies in a dining-room should not be heavy. Not only do such
darken the room, but they catch and retain the odors of food, and hold
constantly in their folds depressing reminders of former feasts. Scrim,
lace, or light Madras or China silk, decorates the room and softens
outlines without impeding the entrance of light or air. Shades are
essential, and so should be also window-screens from the appearance of
the first fly in the spring until the last one has vanished in the fall.

An open fireplace in a dining-room is unsurpassed for cheer and comfort
there, as it is everywhere. A screen should always be in readiness to
temper the glow and glare while the family are at meals. The chimney is
a potent aid to ventilation, and helps to disperse those odors that
will collect in the best-ventilated _salles à manger_, and which are so
appetizing before meals and so unpleasant afterwards.

Basement dining-rooms are seldom too cold. If they are heated by a
register or a stove, or even by a coal fire in the grate, the constant
struggle of the housekeeper is to prevent their becoming uncomfortably
warm. Vicinity to the kitchen has much to do with this, and is in
summer-time a serious draw-back to comfort. An equable temperature must
be striven for by frequent airing at all seasons, and during the heated
term by shading the windows, and by keeping, as much as possible, the
doors shut that communicate with the kitchen. One advantage at least
is possessed by the basement dining-room in summer. In common with the
cellar, or with any other partially subterranean chamber, it is cooler
than one that is above ground and thus unprotected from the hot air

The best method of artificially lighting a dining-room is hard to
decide. Nothing is prettier or pleasanter than candle-light, and it is
preferable to gas or lamps in that it does not heat a room perceptibly.
But candles are expensive, if enough are used to produce a respectable
illumination, and nothing is more dismal than eating by a dim light.
Good candles are costly, and cheap ones not only give a poor light, but
drip and smoke and smell, and are otherwise intolerable. A new style of
candle has recently been introduced which is pierced through its length
with three holes. These tiny pipes are supposed to carry off the melted
wax, and their advocates claim that these candles will not drip on the

Except on state occasions, candles are barred out for people of
moderate means, and they must have recourse to lamps or gas. The light
should always be suspended above the table, except, of course, where
candles and candelabra or a tall-stemmed lamp are used. A side-light
does not serve the purpose of a central one, for some one must always
sit with his back towards it, and his plate is thus in a perpetual
eclipse. Pretty hanging lamps come at all prices, but it never pays to
get a cheap one. It may do very well for a time, but before long the
burner will be out of order; the machinery by which the wick is turned
up or down will prove refractory, and repairs will do little good. The
only efficient way of mending a poor lamp is by buying a new one.

Among the best-known makes of lamps there is one with a powerful burner
which gives a clear, steady flame, equal to two or three ordinary
gas-jets. The only draw-back connected with it is the intense heat it
radiates, which makes it objectionable in summer. Such a lamp costs
about seven dollars, is furnished with a large ground-glass shade, and
supplied with fixtures and a chain, by means of which it may be raised
and lowered at pleasure.

Whichever is used, gas or kerosene, the glare should always be softened
by a shade of some kind. Globes of ground or colored glass may be
used on gas-burners, or, if they are of clear glass, the light may
be subdued by the Japanese half-shades, which can be slipped over
the lower half of the globe. A pretty fashion is that of fastening a
Japanese umbrella, stick upwards, under the chandelier, although this
darkens the table too much, unless there is a strong light above it.
If any member of the family suffers from weak eyes, and is distressed
by the light that is none too brilliant for the others, quaint
paper-screen shades, also of Japanese make, may be hung on the side
of the globe towards the sufferer. The long pliable wires attached to
these shades permit them to be twisted at almost any angle. Or the
fancy paper screens which imitate roses, pond-lilies, sunflowers, and
the like may be hung on the globes.

There has been a good deal of discussion among furnishers as to what
style of picture should be hung in a dining-room. One declares that
the stereotyped paintings and engravings of fruit, fish, and fowl are
the only appropriate works of art for this room; while another argues
that it is enough to see the food in its prepared condition upon the
table, without being forced to contemplate it in its natural state
upon the walls. The wise course to follow seems to lie between the two.
Really pretty pictures of game birds or fish, or of fruit or flowers,
are undoubtedly in their place in a dining-room, but there is no reason
why every other kind of picture should be excluded. Pastoral or marine
scenes, _genre_ pictures, almost anything except family portraits,
may fitly be placed there. _Their_ place is in the library, the
sitting-room, or in the large hall, if there be one.

Nothing should hang in the dining-room that is not good of its kind.
A cheap chromo, a poorly executed drawing or water-color, or an
indifferent photograph annoys beyond words the unfortunate wight who
has to sit opposite it for an hour or two each day.

The furniture of a dining-room should be durable, even if its owners
cannot afford to have it very handsome. Cheap chairs and table are
out of place here. Even those who cannot afford leather-upholstered
chairs and a heavy mahogany or black-walnut or oak dining-table may
get solid, durable substitutes. Cane seats for the chairs, and an
unpolished top for the table, are better than showy—and cheap—elegance.
A square table generally allows more space to those seated about it
than does a round one. Almost any amount of money may be expended upon
a sideboard, but a good one may be purchased at no great outlay. In
addition to this, if space permits, there should be a table, with a
shelf or two above it, to serve as a dinner-wagon. This is almost a
necessity when the vegetables are passed instead of being placed on the
table, and it is also useful for holding relays of clean plates, etc.

The amount of furniture that is useful and appropriate in a dining-room
is of necessity limited. Besides the articles already named, there may
be a china press or cabinet, an easy-chair or two, or even a sofa. The
last is a boon to an invalid or convalescent, who grows weary of a long
_séance_ in a high, straight-backed chair. The couch may be forced to
serve a double purpose by being made in the form of a long box, broad
and low, covered with cretonne, denim, or any other durable material,
and provided with a hair mattress on the top. When two or three square
pillows are added to this, behold a comfortable divan, that will at
the same time be a receptacle for the table-linen. Some such coffer as
this is almost a must-have in a dining-room, unless the china closet is
provided with drawers.

A wall cabinet for choice pieces of china is a pretty ornament for a
dining-room, and so is an over-mantel. The latter may consist of two,
three, or more shelves, and should be solid at the back, as small hooks
may then be screwed in, upon which to hang tea or coffee cups. These
shelves may extend the full length of the mantel, or occupy only part
of the space. In any case they are excellent for displaying such pieces
of china as one may not wish to keep concealed in the depths of a china
closet. Nothing very delicate that will be injured by dust should stand

A corner cupboard adds to the beauty of a room, and may either be
bought ready-made, or built to fit some especial corner. The lower
part of the cupboard may have a solid wooden door, while glass doors
for the upper part permit a view of the glass or silver stored there.

Blessed is that woman whose house contains a butler's pantry. Too often
the fine china and glass must either be washed in the kitchen, or else
in a dish-pan brought into the dining-room. When a pantry is lacking,
there should be a butler's tray to hold the solid dishes. Such a tray
may be closed, and put out of the way when not in use. A folding screen
covered with Japanese pictures, with wall-paper, or with some textile
fabric, may conceal the door to the pantry, or the slide by which
dishes enter the dining-room, or may cut off the corner in which stands
the butler's tray.

To the woman of quick wit and ready fingers countless are the
opportunities provided for beautifying her dining-room. She may drape
her mantel and conceal the ugly marble, using for this stamped Madras,
or silkolene, both of which are pretty and cheap; she may make covers
for her sideboard, rich with drawn-work and embroidery; she may set
a box of growing plants in the window, and tend them, so that she may
always have a vase of fresh blossoms or of green sprays for the centre
of the table; and she may expend boundless energy in the manufacture of
doilies, tray-cloths, and the thousand and one dainty pieces of linen
dear to the housewife's soul.


Everything in reason should be done to make the breakfast a tolerably
pleasant meal. Very cheerful or jovial it seldom is. The father is in
a hurry to get to his office or business, and usually buries himself
in the morning paper; the children are burdened with the thought of
approaching school duties; the mother is silently mapping out the line
of her day's operations, and is disinclined to conversation. Add to
this that all are apt to be more or less dominated by the physical
depression of tone and passive discomfort so well known that one
judge is fabled to have refused to ordain capital punishment for a
man convicted of having committed a murder before breakfast. Until
after that meal, even the best-tempered are prone to petulance, while
those of a taciturn nature are quiet to the verge of what _looks_ like

Here, as everywhere, upon the mother devolves the burden of the family
well-being. If her face is cast down and gloomy, its reflection is seen
in the countenances of all those about her; while if she is bright and
sunny, there is a perceptible rise in the spiritual thermometer. Only
by making a positive duty of cheerfulness is it practicable sometimes
for the mother to conquer the weariness and languor, the aching head,
and the loathing for food, that are so frequently a woman's morning
portion. The discomfort the other members of the family know is
increased tenfold in her case if a restless child, an ailing baby, or
worry over financial or domestic matters has robbed her of part of her
night's sleep.

A good deal may be done to create an atmosphere of pleasantness by due
attention to the condition of the room. Unless it has been left in
spotless order the preceding evening, either the maid or one of the
family must bestow some attention upon it beyond putting the breakfast
on the table. No crumbs from the last repast should disfigure the
carpet; no dust of yesterday's raising should be thick upon the
furniture. The windows should have been open long enough to change the
air of the room; then, in cold weather, been closed a sufficient length
of time before the entrance of the family to allow the atmosphere to
become comfortably warmed. The vase of flowers or the growing plant
that ought to grace the centre of every table should have a drink of
fresh water, and be ready to do its part in brightening the board.
The table should be carefully set, the food well cooked, and promptly
served. And, above all, there should be a sincere and conscientious
endeavor on the part of each member of the household to sink his own
disagreeable feelings, and to do all in his power to contribute his
share towards the sum total of the family cheerfulness. Conversation
on pleasant topics should be encouraged, and the items of morning news
distributed to all, not monopolized by the one in possession of the

No amount of accustomedness should ever induce the mistress of the
house to condone carelessness on the plea that there is no one present
but the family. Just because it _is_ "only home folks," everything
should be at its brightest. There is no necessity for urging the parade
of pretty china, the preparation of tempting dishes, when an honored
guest is to be served. Should not even more pains be taken to have
everything attractive and appetizing when those are to be fed who have
not the charm of novelty to act as sauce, and to whom the ordinary
methods of cookery may seem stale and hackneyed?

The table should always appear at its best at breakfast-time. A colored
cloth is economical as well as pretty, for it does not show every spot
or splash with the readiness of a white cloth. There is a large variety
of these table coverings from which the housekeeper may make her
selections, ranging in beauty and price from the plain, comparatively
cheap red cloth with light figures to the exquisite pieces of fine
damask, gorgeous with embroidery, and with a lace-like border of
drawn-work. For common daily use, the judicious choice will probably
lie somewhere between these, either in a buff, a buff and scarlet, a
buff and blue, or one of the beautiful Holbein cloths that come, with
the dozen napkins, at about eight dollars the set. The ground in these
is well covered, and they have the advantage of being nearly as pretty
on the wrong side as they are on the right. Another recommendation is
that they wear admirably, one at least within the writer's knowledge
having been in constant use for between four and five years without
showing a sign of old age, except in the thinning of the fringe, while
the body of the cloth remained without a break. The delicate tints of
the worked pattern will fade with frequent washing, so that blue and
pink would better be avoided, and the preference given to the scarlets
and buffs, which hold their own well.

The cloth is saved by the use of mats under dishes. Those of straw
or wicker-work are apt to become soiled and stained, and are not
readily cleansed. On the contrary, those which are knitted, netted,
or crocheted may be washed every week, if necessary. It is almost
impossible to find a waitress so careful that once in a while a dish
will not be brought to the table with a black rim on the bottom, or
wet or greasy with something spilled where it has been standing on the
kitchen-table. Wherever this touches, the cloth beneath is disfigured,
and it is better to protect it against such misadventures by the use
of mats in the first place than to be forced to conceal the blemishes
afterwards by "setting the table to humor the spots."

Worked and fringed doilies are pretty substitutes for mats, and when
there is a cover of felt on the table under the damask cloth—as there
should always be—they are thick enough to guard the varnished table-top
from injury from the hot dishes. A carving-cloth should be spread under
the meat-platter, and will generally by the close of the meal bear upon
its surface eloquent testimony to the service it has done in saving the

While it is no sign of stinginess not to have one's best and most
fragile china for constant use, poor judgment is shown when only plain
heavy white ware is employed for the family when they are alone.
Decorated porcelain is cheap nowadays, and makes a table look extremely
pretty. Each one of the household should have his own especial oatmeal
set, either the bowl, plate, and pitcher, or one of the deep saucers
that come for this purpose in dark blue and white ware, with a plate
to match, while the cream or milk may be held for common use in one
good-sized pitcher, to be served by the mother, or passed to each, as
may seem best. Every tea or coffee drinker should have his own cup and
saucer, and in his imagination his favorite beverage will taste better
from that cup than from any other.

There is little chance to make mistakes in setting the breakfast-table.
The hostess has the tray before her, and serves the tea, coffee,
or chocolate. At the other end of the table is the principal dish,
presided over generally by the master of the house, while biscuit,
bread, muffins, or griddle-cakes and potatoes have their posts at the
sides. An oatmeal set stands at each place, accompanied by the knife,
fork, and spoon, tumbler, napkin, butter-plate—unless the oatmeal
course is preceded by one of fruit, when fruit plates, with fruit
napkins and finger-bowls, should hold the first place.

With the fresh room, the bright cloth, the shining glass and silver,
the vase of flowers, the appetizing food, one must be either very
dyspeptic or a confirmed pessimist who does not feel a slight rise of
spirits as he takes his place at the breakfast-table.


In the majority of the homes where fruit is served for breakfast
it appears as a first course. Countless are the headaches to which
this custom has given rise among those whose stomachs resent the
introduction of the acid as the earliest nourishment of the day. The
choice should always be given each eater between beginning with fruit
or reserving it as a final course. When it is served last it acts as a
pleasant neutralizer of the solid or possibly greasy food that has been
already consumed, and sends one from the table with what children call
"a good taste" in the mouth.

The habit of eating some cereal for breakfast is happily becoming
almost universal. There are comparatively few households in which
porridge of one sort or another does not appear on the breakfast-table,
and it is usually relished by both children and elders. It need
not be always of oatmeal. There are numerous varieties of cereals
in the market at present, and an occasional change will prevent any
one's wearying of the wholesome dish. With cracked wheat, cerealine,
wheat-germ meal, wheatena, wheat, oat, and Graham flakes, corn-meal
mush, hominy boiled plain, hominy boiled in milk, and a number of
others to choose from, there is no reason why any one should have
occasion to complain of monotony. Cream adds greatly to the toothsome
qualities of any one of these preparations, and may usually, even in
the city, be procured in sufficient quantities to allow a modicum for
each of the elders. The healthy appetites of the children rarely need
this encouragement.

The tea should always be made on the table when it is possible, as by
this means there need be no doubt that the water used in its concoction
is actually boiling. The "loud-hissing urn" is a decided addition to
the beauty and brightness of the table, especially when the "urn" is
in the form of a pretty brass or copper kettle, swinging from one
of the tall cranes known as a "five-o'clock tea." Some people prefer
making the coffee on the table too, and this is possible when a Vienna
coffee-pot or a French drip coffee-pot is used. The only trouble is
that the coffee in the latter pot is apt to cool before it has stood
long enough to extract the full strength of the berry.

The tea-cozy should never be lacking, and it is not a bad plan to have
a similar wadded cap with which to cover the coffee-pot. One of the
prettiest and best kinds of tea-cozy is the covered Japanese basket
with a thick stuffed lining, in which the china teapot is set. These
are not costly, and will outwear the ordinary cozy made of silk,
woollen, or chamois-skin. When the lining of the basket is worn out, it
may easily be renewed.

The substantial part of our American breakfast is not marked by
much variety. At nearly all of them will be found the steak, chops,
or cutlets, varied once in a while by fish, a hash, or a stew,
semi-occasionally by a dish of eggs. Potatoes in some form—stewed,
baked, boiled, or fried—are in order, and these are flanked by a plate
of hot biscuit or muffins, or oftenest by successive instalments of

There is no use in adding further to the diatribes that have been
written and spoken against the American breakfast. Such as it is, it
appears to be here to stay, and it is a waste of time, breath, and
energy to attempt a radical reform. All one can hope to do is possibly
to modify it, and lighten its sameness by suggesting dishes that may
please the palate and not impair the digestion. The adoption of the
Continental breakfast has been vainly urged, and it is an open question
whether or not the habit ever survives transportation. The American
climate and mode of life differ so much from those of the Continent
that other fashions must be followed here than those which prevail
there. Many families, who during a long foreign residence have found
quite sufficient for their matutinal meal the coffee or chocolate,
the rolls and butter, possibly supplemented by fresh eggs or a little
marmalade, have conscientiously endeavored to pursue the same custom
upon their return to this country. In not a single case within the
writer's cognizance has the attempt proved other than a failure,
recognized as such at the end of a few months. _Autre pays, autres

While the children are still young, the entire family usually
breakfasts together. The obligation upon the younger members of
reaching their schools at a given hour forces them to be on time,
although there are homes in which the wretched practice is observed
of permitting the school boys and girls to rush in at the last moment
and gulp down a few mouthfuls, hurrying off to their recitations after
having thus successfully sown the seeds of future dyspepsia. As the
sons and daughters grow into manhood and womanhood, they drift more
and more into unpunctual habits. The breakfast-table is left standing
well on into the middle of the morning, and sundry _plats_ are kept
hot in the oven for Mr. Jack or Miss Mamie, who has been out late the
night before. Often the demands of business require the young man to be
down in season, but there are no such claims obliging his sister to
quit her couch at a—to her—unseasonable hour. As a consequence, what
should be one of the family gathering-places becomes little better
than a hotel breakfast-room, where the guests come and go as suits
themselves. Besides all other considerations, the work of the servants
is increased, and their own duties are crowded out by the necessity of
being in readiness to serve these tardy ones.

At the first glance it may seem harsh to exact the prompt appearance at
the breakfast-table of the girl who has danced until after one o'clock
in the morning, and whose head has not touched her pillow until an
hour or two later. But the habit of self-indulgence fostered by such
concessions, does the girl no good. Is it any harder for her to rise
betimes than it is for the weary mother, whose domestic cares forbid
her lying in bed? Does not this indolence to a certain degree unfit the
daughter for the duties that will devolve upon her when she in turn
becomes a wife and mother?

One sensible matron, who still held the reins of family government
as firmly when her children were grown as when they were first
short-coated, always insisted on promptness at the breakfast-table.
"Human beings are gregarious," she would say, "and they should eat
together. If you are tired and sleepy, take a nap later in the day, but
be on hand at breakfast-time."

Of course there may be exceptions to this rule, and here the maternal
judgment must appear. More privileges can be allowed to the delicate,
nervous girl, than to the strong, robust one; but then the former
should avoid late hours and dissipation. An occasional morning nap does
no harm; but there is little rhyme or reason in permitting the young,
healthy members of the family to be the lie-abeds.

Without encouraging any disposition to "finicalness" concerning food,
special attention should be paid to individual preferences in catering
for the family breakfast. Children are apt to take whims, and these
should not be fostered; but when either a child or an older person
has a decided distaste for some article of food, he cannot be forced
into a fondness for it. Better is it to humor his idiosyncrasies by
preparing something that he will eat. In a private family it may be
out of the question to cook a separate breakfast for each one, but a
little forethought will enable the housekeeper to so arrange her _menu_
that every one will have at least one dish to his or her taste. This is
not a difficult matter, unless there is the unusual combination of a
large family and very distinct preferences. Generally there is so much
in common that trifling varieties in the bill of fare will accommodate
each person.


For the invalid there is often no possibility of the slight stimulus
to appetite produced by the change of air from one room to another.
Breakfast, the hardest meal of the day to many well people, is doubly
difficult to one who must eat it in the same room where she has spent
the night—perhaps many nights—of feverish restlessness, that has given
her a detestation of the bed, the bedroom, and everything connected
therewith, chiefest of all being the disgust with herself, the weary,
distraught being with aching limbs, heavy head, and ill-tasting mouth.

When feasible, the invalid should be taken from bed to eat her regular
breakfast, previously strengthening her by a cup of beef-tea, of
chicken or oyster broth, or a glass of hot milk, or of hot milk and
seltzer. First of all, however, the face and hands should be sponged
off in tepid water and dried quickly, and the mouth well rinsed out.
Then, refreshed and stimulated by this and the warm draught, a little
more elaborate toilet may be made, always allowing a few moments for
the settling of the stomach after the food before the dressing begins.
A more thorough bathing, a combing of the hair, a change of linen, the
slipping on of a warm dressing-gown, and the moving to another couch or
an easy-chair will not be a prolonged piece of work if the attendant is
quick and deft, and has everything in readiness for bath and toilet.

A great advantage is gained when the invalid can be wheeled or
supported into another room, and have a completely changed air and
scene in which to take her meal. But when this is impracticable the
room should be well aired before the patient is taken out of bed, and
as soon as she is established on her couch or in her chair, and this
placed as far as possible from the bed, the covers of this should be
stripped off and carried from the room. Every piece of cast-off linen,
every receptacle containing soiled water, everything that recalls
the fact that this is a sleeping-room and that can be removed, should
be banished. A screen should be set between the patient and the bed,
and if the chamber still seems close, she should be bundled up while
another draught of fresh, pure air is allowed to rush into the room.
After all this, when a table bearing an attractive breakfast is moved
to the invalid's elbow, she is usually quite ready to partake of it.

In many cases it is out of the question for the patient to leave
her bed, and then the coaxing of the appetite is a more difficult
task. The very fact of being in bed seems to render eating almost an
impossibility to some people. The woman who complained petulantly that
everything she ate in bed tasted of the blanket and pillows, only
voiced the sentiments of a multitude of her sisters. Among some women,
breakfast in bed is esteemed a luxury; but it is one thing to take it
there from choice, and quite another to be forced to do so by weakness
or ill-health. Still, with due care, it may be made less distasteful
than would seem practicable at the first glance.

The preliminary sponging, mouth-washing, and hot drink should take
place in this as in the other case. Then, after a brief rest, during
which the windows should have been opened for a few minutes, and closed
long enough to allow the room to regain a comfortable temperature,
the task of rearranging the bed and its occupant should be begun.
Clean linen and pillows should be at hand, and the patient be sponged
off, have her hair combed, be arrayed in another night-dress, moved
to the other side of the bed, and provided with a fresh pillow, as
expeditiously yet gently as may be. Then, when the soiled clothing has
been removed, the room been once more aired and warmed, the patient
may be raised on pillows and her breakfast brought to her. There is an
admirable little table which may be arranged above the patient's knees,
and is a great comfort to any one compelled to take her meals in bed
for any length of time.

Nothing should be left untried to render the invalid's breakfast
tempting. The tray should be covered with a spotless cloth, the china,
silver, and glass should be of the best the house affords, and the same
napkin should never be offered a second time.

The tea or coffee cup and the egg-glass should be filled with boiling
water, that they may not cool what is put into them. A pretty little
pot should hold the tea or coffee, and there should be a tiny cream-jug
and sugar-bowl. A vase containing a few flowers, preferably those
without a heavy perfume, should grace the tray, and in the preparation
of the food every evidence should be given of the loving thoughtfulness
that has left unsought no means of lightening the discomfort of the
sufferer. Where there is no bed-table, there should be another tray,
smaller than that in which the breakfast is brought. This may then be
placed on a stand or chair beside the bed, while the other holds the
cup or plate upon the patient's lap. A large napkin or clean towel
should always protect the bedclothes from food that may possibly be
spilled upon them, for few things are more unpleasant to a sick
person, especially to one afflicted with a squeamish stomach, than the
sight of a spot of egg, coffee, or grease on sheet or spread. When
such an accident occurs, the stained article should always be promptly
exchanged for a fresh one.

The meal over, every vestige of food and every reminder of the repast
should be at once removed, the patient's face and hands again sponged
off, the pillows shaken and turned, and the invalid's position changed.
Should any odor of food remain, the room may once more be aired.

Peace and quiet must reign while the invalid eats. If visitors are
to be admitted it must not be at that time. Only one or possibly two
members of the family, and those the quietest ones, may be present, and
the conversation must be pleasant and cheery. No distressing topics
must be broached, no references except encouraging ones made to the
invalid's state of health. In the delicately balanced condition of
nerves which generally afflicts a sick person, very little will serve
to upset the equilibrium and to effectually banish appetite.

All that love's ingenuity can suggest should be done to provide a
variety of food for the invalid. After a little while she usually
tires of what impatient men, under similar circumstances, stigmatize
as "slops," and wearies for something more substantial and appetizing
than gruels, broths, and soft toast. In those cases where solid food
is forbidden by the physician, catering is more difficult, but often
a convalescent is permitted to eat a greater variety of food than
is offered her. Cream soups, clear soups, broiled birds, a bit of
tenderloin steak, a lamb chop, a tiny baked omelet, raw, stewed, and
roast oysters, broiled and fricasseed chicken, poached and soft-boiled
eggs, a bit of venison, dishes of rice, sago, and tapioca, jellies,
custards, blanc-manges, fruits, plain ice-cream—there is almost no end
to the dainty _menus_ that can be arranged. Every meal should be a
surprise; there should be no discussion in the invalid's presence of
what she can eat, although every reasonable wish she expresses for any
article of food should be gratified, if feasible. The sick one's lot
is hard enough at the best, and no expedient should be left untried to
ameliorate it.


Large breakfasts, or _déjeûners à la fourchette_, are not a very
common form of entertainment in this country, and yet they may be made
charming. Unlike luncheons, where there are usually only women present,
both men and women may be invited to a breakfast. The hour is usually
twelve, although it may be a little earlier or later. One o'clock is
the latest hour which it is advisable to set for a breakfast.

The number of guests invited is optional, but a small party, consisting
of from six to twelve, is pleasanter than a crush. Indeed, unless one
has an exceptionally spacious _salle à manger_, it is difficult to
accommodate comfortably more than a dozen guests, and an over-crowded
table is always unpleasant. The writer preserves a vivid memory of a
dinner she once attended where fourteen people were packed about a
table of the proper size for ten guests. There was hardly room for the
waiters to pass the dishes between the _convives_. Each one elbowed
his neighbor, and what might have been a delightful repast became a
struggle at close quarters with the difficulties of getting through the
courses without nudging his next companion, knocking over his glass, or
materially interfering with his eating.

At a ceremonious breakfast the table should be spread with a handsome
breakfast or lunch cloth, either of pure white, hem-stitched or adorned
with drawn-work, or one containing more or less color. If the table is
very handsome, the cloth may be left off. The floral ornamentation is
less formal than at a dinner. There may be a bowl of flowers in the
centre of the table, but quite as pretty as this are three or four
graceful vases scattered here and there, each holding a few choice
blossoms, and supplemented, if the table is large, by a few tiny globes
or little dishes filled with short-stemmed flowers that look well,
massed, like pansies, violets, primroses, etc., mixed with plenty
of delicate feathery green. If a central ornament for the table is
desired, there is nothing prettier than a wicker or metal basket filled
with growing ferns, grasses, or lycopodium, with possibly one or two
plants in bloom among them.

In setting the table for a large breakfast, a plate, napkin,
water-glass, and a butter-plate holding a tiny pat or ball of butter,
are laid at each place, and a salt-cellar also, if individual salts
are used. At the right of each plate is the silver butter-knife, and
one other knife; to the left is the fork. The taste of the hostess
must decide the point of placing more small silver than is needed at
each course by the plates when the table is first spread. Laying it
all at once saves waiting, but some good authorities ordain that a
waiter should bring in a fresh knife and fork with each course for
each guest, while others, equally reliable, advocate placing the knife
and fork upon a cold plate in front of each person at the beginning
of every course. The guest instantly removes them, and a hot plate is
substituted by the waiter for the cold one before the next dish is
passed. This system involves much additional waiting, and should not be
attempted unless an exceptionally well-trained butler is in charge.

The little dishes of bonbons, _marrons_, and _glacé_ fruits that
are always _en règle_ at a luncheon should not appear on the
breakfast-table. There may, however, be olives, radishes, and salted
almonds placed here and there.

The first course should consist of fruit. The plates, holding each its
doily, finger-bowl, fruit-knife, fork, and spoon, may be on the table
when the guests enter the room, or be put there as soon as they are
seated. The variety of fruit offered must be decided by the time of
year. When they are in season, nothing could be more delicious than big
strawberries, served uncapped. These may be passed in a dish, and each
guest allowed to help himself. Sugar into which to dip the berries may
then be served to each. Prettier still is it to place in front of each
guest a plate bearing a tiny decorated basket filled with the berries.
The sugar may be in tiny individual sugar-cellars or be passed in a
bowl. Unless the berries are fine large ones, it is better to serve
them hulled, and to eat them with sugar and cream. In that case they
are eaten from saucers.

Peaches, pears, apricots, nectarines, etc., in summer, and oranges,
apples, mandarins, bananas, and the like in winter, all add greatly to
the beauty of a breakfast-table when they are garnished with leaves
and heaped upon a large flat salver, or in a cut-glass bowl, or an
open-work one of china or silver.

After the fruit may come a course of oysters cooked _à la poulette_,
broiled, steamed, panned, or in croquettes. For these may be
substituted lobster or crab in some form, if preferred, or both the
oysters and the other may be served in successive courses. Next may
come some such _entrée_ as sweetbreads roasted, broiled, fricasseed, or
in _vol-au-vent_ with mushrooms, or chickens may be served in some such
dainty form as _pâtés_, _timbales_, _à la marengo_, or _au suprême_.
Next are chops, cutlets, or small beef tenderloins, with potatoes in
some fanciful style. There should be no other vegetable. French bread
or rolls must be passed frequently.

The next course may consist of a game pie, either cold or hot, or
of boned fowl, and may be followed by a salad. The name of these is
legion, but the plain lettuce salad is better reserved for dinner, and
in its stead at breakfast there may be served something like tomatoes
and lettuce with mayonnaise dressing, celery mayonnaise garnished with
radishes, and accompanied by crackers and cheese, or a fruit-salad of
oranges, grape fruit, or pineapple.

The dessert may be of any cold sweets, and if ices are used they
should be of the punch order—one of the many varieties known as Roman,
Siberian, creole, cardinal, etc. If crackers and cheese are not served
with the salad, they may be passed at the close of the breakfast. Brie,
Gorgonzola, or Roquefort may be used.

At a breakfast of ceremony the tea or coffee tray is never placed on
the table, but breakfast coffee or cocoa is served in large cups after
the fruit, and is passed by the butler, instead of being poured by the
hostess. Tea may also be offered. Wines are not strictly _selon les
règles_ at a breakfast, although occasionally claret is served about
the middle of the meal.

The waiting at such a breakfast as this is about as ceremonious as
it would be at a luncheon. No large dishes are placed on the table,
but everything is passed by the butler or waitress. Each dish may go
the rounds, and the guests be allowed to help themselves, or a plate
containing a portion may be placed by the butler in front of each
person. The guest always helps himself to cheese and _hors-d'œuvres_,
but the ices are served separately on plates. _Bouquets de corsage_,
_boutonnières_, cards and _menus_ are not necessary at a breakfast.

A wedding breakfast is conducted on much the same line as that
described above, except that there are usually fewer hot and more cold
dishes served, such as salmon, lobster, or chicken _à la mayonnaise_,
boned turkey and chicken, _pâté-de-foie-gras_, jellied tongue and
fowl, and a greater variety of such sweets as creams and jellies.
Wines, too, are quite _comme il faut_.

The giving of a breakfast need not be a matter of dread to the hostess
who has confidence in her cook and waitress. The _menu_ suggested
may be so modified or increased as to make it as simple or as
elaborate as preference may dictate. A breakfast is a pleasant style
of entertainment, for, while both sexes are admitted, as at dinner,
there is not the formality of dress essential at that meal, the men
appearing in morning coats, and the women in handsome high-necked and
long-sleeved house or calling costumes.


While the principal features of the home breakfast remain essentially
the same throughout the year, variety is gained by adapting the
different articles of food to the season of the year in which they
are served. A lighter, less carbon-producing diet is not only more
agreeable, but more healthful, in warm weather than one containing much
animal food, while the latter is preferable and almost necessary in
winter. To this consideration is added the eminent propriety of making
one's bills of fare seasonable, and thus achieving fitness and economy.

With the desire to aid the housewife in her labors, a few selected
_menus_ for each meal and each season will be given, none of them too
costly to be beyond the reach of people of moderate means, and appended
to each bill of fare will be recipes for the preparation of certain
dishes therein mentioned which may possibly be unfamiliar to the
readers of these chapters.


  Cracked Wheat.
  Parsley Omelet.      Corn Muffins.
  Buttered Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Parsley Omelet._—Five eggs, two tablespoonfuls milk, one tablespoonful
butter, one tablespoonful finely minced parsley; pepper and salt to
taste. Beat the whites and yolks of the eggs separately and very light;
add the milk to the yolks and stir in the whites, not mixing them in
thoroughly, however; season to taste. Pour into the omelet pan in which
the butter has been heated, and set over the fire in a moderately hot
spot. Keep the omelet from adhering to the pan by slipping a knife
between them from time to time. Just before the omelet is "set,"
sprinkle it thickly with the chopped parsley. When done, fold one half
over the other, slip to a hot dish, and serve at once, as it falls

_Corn Muffins._—One and a half cups flour, one and a half cups yellow
corn-meal, three tablespoonfuls sugar, two tablespoonfuls butter, two
eggs, one and a half cupfuls milk, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, half
teaspoonful salt. Sift the salt and baking-powder with the flour; beat
the eggs light; add the milk, the butter (melted), and the sugar. Stir
in the flour and meal; beat hard, and bake in muffin-tins.

_Buttered Potatoes._—Slice cold boiled potatoes, heat them in a
steamer, thence transfer them to a hot dish. Put on them a large
tablespoonful of butter into which have been worked a teaspoonful
of chopped parsley and a saltspoonful of lemon juice. Set the dish,
covered, over hot water for two minutes, and serve.


  Cerealine Porridge.
  Creamed Cod, with Potatoes.      Griddle Muffins.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.

_Creamed Cod, with Potatoes._—To two cupfuls of boiled cod, salt or
fresh, well picked to pieces, allow one cupful of mashed potato. Season
to taste. Put into the frying-pan over the fire with a half-cupful of
milk and a large tablespoonful of butter. Stir and beat constantly
while it heats, and soften it by adding to it boiling water at
discretion. When a creamy, smoking mass, transfer it to a hot dish. If
you have drawn butter in the house, or _sauce tartare_, or egg sauce
left over from the first appearance of the fish, this may be used in
place of the milk and butter.

_Griddle Muffins._—One egg, one tablespoonful butter, one cupful milk,
one teaspoonful baking-powder, pinch of salt, flour enough to make a
soft dough. Mix the milk, beaten egg, and melted butter together; sift
the baking-powder and salt into one cupful of the flour; then add the
rest; roll out the dough as thick as for biscuit, cut into rounds with
a biscuit-cutter, and bake slowly on a griddle, turning when done on
one side. Tear open, and butter while hot.


  Graham Brewis.
  Baked Mince.      Feather Muffins.
  Water Cress.
  Stewed Prunes.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Graham Brewis._—Two cups milk, one tablespoonful butter, one
saltspoonful salt; Graham bread crumbs at discretion. Heat the milk in
a double boiler, stir in the butter and salt, and add the Graham crumbs
until the brewis is as thick as ordinary oatmeal porridge; cook ten
minutes, and eat with butter, or butter and sugar.

_Baked Mince._—Two cups chopped beef, one cup mashed potato, half
an onion minced, one cup gravy or one cup boiling water, and a
tablespoonful of butter, two teaspoonfuls Worcestershire sauce; pepper
and salt to taste. Mix the ingredients well together, and put into a
greased pudding-dish; sprinkle a few fine crumbs over the top; set in
the oven and brown.

_Feather Muffins._—One cup flour, one cup milk, lump of butter the size
of an egg, one teaspoonful baking-powder, pinch of salt, two eggs.
Beat the eggs light, the whites and yolks separately. Into the latter
stir the milk, the flour, with which has been sifted the salt and
baking-powder, and the butter, melted. Last, add the whipped whites,
and bake in a quick oven.


  Oatmeal Porridge.
  Scallop Patties.      Graham Gems.
  Baked Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Scallop Patties._—Cook a pint of scallops in their own liquor for ten
minutes. Take out the scallops and add to the liquor a tablespoonful of
butter rubbed smooth with one of flour, and pepper and salt to taste.
Return the scallops to this sauce, and let it just come to a boil. Fill
scallop-shells with the mixture, sprinkle fine crumbs over them, dot
with bits of butter, and brown in the oven. Pass lemon with this.

_Graham Gems._—Two cups Graham flour, two cups milk, two eggs, two
teaspoonfuls butter, two teaspoonfuls sugar, pinch of salt. Melt the
butter, warm the milk, and stir these into the unbeaten eggs. Add the
flour and salt, and beat well before baking in heated gem-pans in a hot


  Corn-meal Hasty Pudding.
  Broiled Fresh Mackerel.      Saratoga Potatoes.
  Buttered Toast.
  Tea.      Coffee.


  Wheat-Germ Meal.
  Curried Eggs.      Rice Muffins.
  Strawberries and Cream.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Curried Eggs._—One cup good gravy, six hard-boiled eggs, one
teaspoonful curry-powder. Heat the gravy; stir into it the curry-powder
wet up in a little cold gravy or water, and lay the eggs, each sliced
in three, in the scalding gravy. Set the saucepan at the side of the
stove where it will not boil, and let it stand ten minutes before
sending to table.

_Rice Muffins._—One cup boiled rice, two eggs, two cups flour, one
tablespoonful melted butter, pinch salt, three cups milk. Stir
together the milk, eggs, butter, and salt; beat in the rice and flour;
bake quickly.


  Graham Porridge.
  Broiled Steak.      Stewed Potatoes.
  Omelet Bread.
  Coffee.      Cocoa.

_Omelet Bread._—Half-cup flour, three eggs, one tablespoonful melted
butter, one teaspoonful sugar, pinch of salt, milk enough to make thick
batter. Beat the whites and yolks of eggs separately, and very light;
stir the butter, flour, milk, salt, sugar, and yolks together, and
add the frothed whites; pour into a well-greased tin pan, and bake,
covered, on the top of the stove; uncover and brown in the oven; eat


  Crisped Smoked Beef.      Brown Biscuit.
  Chopped Potatoes.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.

_Crisped Smoked Beef._—Boil slices of smoked beef for five minutes;
take them out, dry, and put into the frying-pan with a tablespoonful
of butter; stir about until crisp, but not too dry.

_Brown Biscuit._—One cup white flour, two cups Graham flour, two
tablespoonfuls lard, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, a little salt,
milk enough to make a soft dough. Handle the dough as little as
possible, and bake quickly.


  Hominy boiled in Milk.
  Poached Eggs.      Fried Bacon.
  Raspberry Short-cake.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Raspberry Short-cake._—Four cups flour, two cups milk, two
tablespoonfuls lard, or lard and butter, three teaspoonfuls
baking-powder, salt, one quart raspberries. Roll out a little more than
half the dough into a sheet to cover the bottom of a deep biscuit-pan.
Spread the berries thickly on this, sprinkle with sugar, and of the
remaining dough make a top crust. Bake in a steady oven, cut into
squares, and eat hot with butter and sugar, or with sugar and cream.


  Cracked Wheat.
  Broiled Chicken.      Saratoga Potatoes.
  Boston Brown Bread.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.

_Boston Brown Bread._—One cup Indian-meal, one cup rye-meal, half-cup
white flour, one cup milk, half-cup molasses, pinch salt, one small
teaspoonful soda. Sift the meal, flour, soda, and salt together, work
in the milk and molasses, pour into a well-greased brown-bread mould,
and boil two hours, taking care that the water in the outer vessel does
not come to the top of the mould. Unless you have a late breakfast, it
is well to cook the bread the day before, and warm it the next morning.


As the season advances and the warm weather becomes settled, the
preference should be given to fish and egg dishes rather than to those
containing meat. For a sultry morning a breakfast of which fruit makes
an important part is welcome generally to both palate and digestion.

The many kinds of delicious fresh fish that may easily be procured
should hold a prominent place in summer bills of fare; while eggs,
usually plentiful and cheap at this season, may be prepared in various
tempting fashions.


  Moulded Cerealine.
  Broiled Shad.      New Potatoes.
  Rye Gems.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Strawberries._—When served as a first course at breakfast, it is
better to have them unhulled, and to eat them with the fingers, dipping
each berry into powdered sugar.

_Moulded Cerealine._—Prepare the cerealine as usual the day before, and
fill small cups with it. Turn it out the next morning, and eat cold,
with cream.

_Rye Gems._—Three cups rye-flour, three cups milk, three eggs, one
tablespoonful sugar, one tablespoonful butter. Beat hard and bake


  Red Raspberries.
  Shad Roes in Ambush.
  Potato Croquettes.      Dry Toast.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Shad Roes in Ambush._—Two shad roes, four hard-boiled eggs, one cup
milk, one tablespoonful flour, two teaspoonfuls butter; pepper and salt
to taste. Lay the roes in boiling water, and let them simmer for ten
minutes. Drain this off, pour cold water upon them, and let them stand
in this for ten minutes; then take them out, and set them aside until
wanted. Separate the whites and yolks of the boiled eggs, chop the
whites coarsely, and rub the yolks through a sieve. Make a white sauce
by heating the milk and thickening it with the butter and flour rubbed
together. Rub the shad roes to pieces with the back of a spoon, taking
care not to crush the eggs too much. Stir them into half of the white
sauce, season, let them stand on the fire long enough to be heated
through, and pour into a pudding-dish. Mix the whites of the eggs with
the rest of the sauce, and cover the shad roes with this; last, strew
the powdered yolks over the top. Cover closely, and set in a hot oven
for three minutes.


  Boiled Hominy.
  Chicken Mince.      Raw Tomatoes.
  Green Corn Fritters.
  Blackberries and Cream.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Chicken Mince._—From the bones of a cold roast, boiled, or fricasseed
chicken cut all the meat, and mince it fine with a sharp knife,
chopping with it two hard-boiled eggs. Stir this into a cup of gravy,
or, if you have none, use instead a cup of white sauce made as directed
in "Shad Roes in Ambush." Season to taste, fill a pudding-dish or
scallop-shells with the mixture, and serve very hot.

_Green-Corn Fritters._—Two cupfuls green corn cut from the cob, two
eggs, two tablespoonfuls milk, one tablespoonful melted butter, flour
enough for thin batter. Whip the eggs light, beat into these the corn
and the other ingredients, adding the flour last of all. Bake on a


  Black Raspberries.
  Wheaten Grits.
  Broiled Salt Mackerel, Cream Sauce.
  Stewed Potatoes.      Graham Pop-Overs.

_Broiled Salt Mackerel._—Soak your fish overnight in cold water, and
wipe it dry before putting it on the gridiron. Broil over a clear fire,
lay on a hot platter, and pour the sauce over it.

_Cream Sauce._—Make like white sauce given above, doubling the quantity
of butter, seasoning to taste, and using half milk, half cream, if you
have the latter.

_Graham Pop-Overs._—Three eggs, one and a half cups Graham flour, half
cup white flour, two cups milk, pinch salt. Beat the eggs very light,
whites and yolks together. Add the milk and salt, and sift in the flour
rather slowly, to prevent lumping. Strain the batter through a sieve,
and fill heated gem-pans. Bake in a quick oven, and eat immediately.


  Moulded Oatmeal.
  Sardines _au gratin_.      Fresh Eggs, boiled.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.

_Sardines au gratin._—Open a box of sardines; take them out carefully
and lay them in a small pie-plate; squeeze a few drops of a lemon on
each fish, sprinkle lightly with fine crumbs, and brown in the oven.

_Sally-Lunn._—Two eggs, two tablespoonfuls melted butter, one cup
milk, pinch salt, half yeast-cake, two cups flour. Beat the eggs light;
stir in the butter, salt, and milk, then the flour, and last the yeast
cake, dissolved. Let it rise at least six hours in a very well-greased
tin; bake, turn out, and eat hot.


  Graham Flakes.
  Baked Omelet.      Parisian Potatoes.
  Quick Biscuit.
  Blackberries and Cream.
  Coffee.      Cocoa.

_Baked Omelet._—Five eggs, half cup milk, quarter cup fine
bread-crumbs, tablespoonful melted butter; pepper and salt to taste.
Soak the crumbs in the milk ten minutes; beat the eggs very light, the
whites and yolks separately; stir the soaked crumbs, the milk, the
butter, and seasoning into the yolks, and mix the whites in lightly.
Pour into a well-greased pudding-dish, and bake in a quick oven.

_Parisian Potatoes._—From peeled and washed white potatoes scoop
out little balls with the cutter that comes for this purpose. Boil
them for five minutes, then put them in the frying-pan with two
tablespoonfuls of melted butter. Stir them about until every ball is
well coated with the butter, pour into a colander, and set them in the
oven until brown. Sprinkle with salt and a little minced parsley before

_Quick Biscuit._—Two cups flour, one tablespoonful mixed lard and
butter, one cup milk, one heaping teaspoonful baking-powder, pinch
salt. Handle little, roll out and cut quickly, and bake in a steady


  Boiled Rice.
  Fried Pickerel.      Stewed Potatoes.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.
  Peach Short-Cake.

_Peach Short-Cake._—Make a dough as for quick biscuit, doubling the
materials. Roll two thirds of the dough into a sheet to fit the bottom
of a baking-pan, spread thickly with sliced peaches, sprinkle with
sugar, and lay over these a crust made of the remaining dough. Bake in
a steady oven. Split, butter, and eat hot.


  Farina Porridge.
  Barbecued Ham.      Water-cress.
  Butter Cakes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Barbecued Ham._—Slice cold boiled corned or smoked ham. Fry in its own
fat, remove the slices to another dish, and keep hot while you add to
the fat in the pan a teaspoonful of white sugar, three dashes of black
pepper, a teaspoonful (scant) of made mustard, and three tablespoonfuls
of vinegar. Boil up once, and pour over the ham.

_Butter Cakes._—Prepare a dough as for quick biscuit, roll it out
quarter of an inch thick, and cut into small rounds. Roll each of these
out until as thin as cookies, prick with a fork, and bake in a quick
oven. When done, butter well. Leave in the oven half a minute longer,
and send hot to table.


  Omelet with Corn.      Deviled Tomatoes.
  Cold Bread.
  Peaches and Cream.
  Iced Tea.      Coffee.

_Omelet with Corn._—Prepare as you do baked omelet; but at the last,
before putting into the pan, add a cupful of green corn cut from the
cob. Pour the omelet into a frying-pan containing two tablespoonfuls of
butter, and cook, loosening it constantly from the bottom with a knife
to prevent its scorching. When done, double over and serve.

_Deviled Tomatoes._—Cut fresh tomatoes into thick slices, broil on a
fine wire gridiron over a clear fire, and when done lay in a dish, and
pour over them a sauce like that made for barbecued ham, substituting
two tablespoonfuls of olive oil or of melted butter for the ham fat.


  Peaches and Pears.
  Moulded Hominy.
  Broiled Bluefish.      Stuffed Potatoes.
  Corn-meal Gems.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Stuffed Potatoes._—Bake eight large, fine potatoes until soft; cut
off the tops, and scoop out the contents; add to them one egg whipped
light, two tablespoonfuls melted butter, half cup milk, pepper and
salt. Beat all together, and return to the skins. Set in an oven, top
upwards, long enough to become well heated, and serve.

_Corn-meal Gems._—Three eggs, two cups milk, two tablespoonfuls butter,
two cups corn-meal, one cup flour, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder. Work
the butter and milk into the meal, then add the other materials, the
flour last. Have your gem-pans very hot, and bake half an hour in a hot


During the early part of the autumn, and indeed until late in the
winter, the supply of fruit is only less abundant than in the summer.
Melons and peaches go first, but their place is taken by grapes, pears,
apples, bananas, and, later, mandarins, tangerines, and oranges. Meat
now begins to be a more necessary article in the bill of fare. By the
exercise of a little ingenuity, left-overs from the dinner of the
previous day may be rendered even more appetizing than they were in
their first estate.


  Peaches and Pears.
  Veal Cutlets _à la Maître d'Hôtel_.
  Potatoes hashed with Cream.
  Quick Sally-Lunn.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.

_Veal Cutlets à la Maître d'Hôtel._—Cut veal cutlets into neat pieces,
and pound each with a mallet. Broil over a clear fire, transfer to a
hot dish, and lay on each cutlet a small piece of _maître d'hôtel_
butter. Set in a hot corner, covered, for five minutes before sending
to table.

_Maître d'Hôtel Butter._—Into one cupful of good butter work a
tablespoonful of lemon juice and two tablespoonfuls of finely chopped
parsley, with a little salt and white pepper. Pack into a small jar,
cover, and keep in a cool place. It is useful to put on chops, steaks,
or cutlets, or to mix with potatoes.

_Potatoes hashed with Cream._—Chop cold boiled potatoes fine, and stir
them into a cup of hot milk in which has been melted two tablespoonfuls
of butter. Pepper and salt to taste. Let the potatoes become heated
through before you serve them. If you have cream, use this and half as
much butter.

_Quick Sally-Lunn._—Three eggs, half cup butter, one cup milk, three
cups flour, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, half teaspoonful salt.
Stir the butter, melted, into the beaten yolks; add the milk, the flour
(into which the baking-powder has been sifted), and the whites last.
Bake in one loaf, in a steady oven.


  Cracked Wheat.
  Minced Mutton with Poached Eggs.
  Buttered Toast.      Baked Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Minced Mutton with Poached Eggs._—Chop cold boiled or roast mutton
quite fine. Put two cupfuls of this into the frying-pan with half
an onion minced, and a half-cupful of good gravy. If you have none,
use instead a gill of hot water and a lump of butter the size of
an egg. Just before taking the mince from the fire, stir into it a
tablespoonful of Worcestershire sauce or two tablespoonfuls of tomato
catsup. Heap the mince on small squares of buttered toast laid on a hot
platter, and place a poached egg on top of each mound. Serve _very_


  Wheat Granules.
  Soused Mackerel.      Potato Balls.
  Quick Waffles.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.

_Soused Mackerel._—These may be purchased canned at nearly any good
grocery, and make an excellent breakfast dish.

_Potato Balls._—To two cupfuls cold mashed potato add an egg, a
teaspoonful of butter, and salt and pepper to taste. Form with floured
hands into small round or long balls, and fry in deep fat.

_Quick Waffles._—Three cups flour, one tablespoonful butter, two eggs,
two cups milk, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, a little salt. Beat the
eggs light, add the milk, butter, and salt. Stir in the flour with the
baking-powder last. Grease your waffle-irons well with a piece of fat


  Wheaten Grits.
  Broiled Steak with Mushrooms.
  Fried Egg-plant.      Unleavened Bread.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.

_Broiled Steak with Mushrooms._—Broil your steak over a clear fire.
Before you put it on, open a can of mushrooms, take out half of them,
and cut each mushroom in two. _Sauté_ them in a frying-pan with a
little butter, unless you have a cup of bouillon or clear beef soup or
gravy at hand. If you have, let them simmer in this for ten minutes,
and when you dish your steak, pour gravy and mushrooms over it. Leave
it covered in the oven five minutes before sending to table.

_Unleavened Bread._—Two cups flour, one tablespoonful butter, a pinch
salt, enough water to make a dough. Knead this well, roll out _very_
thin, cut in rounds with a biscuit cutter, prick with a fork, and bake
in a hot oven.


  Corn-meal Mush.
  Dropped Fish-cakes.      Saratoga Potatoes.
  Simple Griddle Cakes.

_Dropped Fish-cakes._—One cup of salt cod picked very fine, half cup
milk, one tablespoonful butter, two teaspoonfuls flour, one egg,
pepper to taste. Make a white sauce of the flour, butter, and milk,
stir the fish into this, add the egg, beaten light, season, and drop by
the spoonful into boiling lard, as is done with fritters.

_Simple Griddle Cakes._—Four cups sour milk, one small teaspoonful
baking-soda, salt, flour for batter. Stir well and bake quickly.


  Rye-meal Porridge.
  Broiled Sausages.      Stewed Potatoes.
  Wheat-flour Gems.

_Broiled Sausages._—Make sausage-meat into quite thin cakes with the
hands, lay them on a gridiron, and broil them over a hot fire.

_Wheat-flour Gems._—Two cups flour, one cup milk, one tablespoonful
melted butter, two eggs, saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs light, stir
in the milk, the butter, the salt. Sift in the flour, stir briskly, and
bake in gem-pans in a hot oven.


  Clam Fritters.      Boiled Potatoes.
  English Muffins.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Clam Fritters._—Two dozen clams, one egg, one cup milk, two small cups
flour, or enough for thin batter, salt and pepper. Chop the clams fine,
and stir them into the batter made of the milk, clam liquor, beaten
eggs, and the flour. Season to taste, and fry by the spoonful in very
hot lard.

_English Muffins._—Two cups milk, one tablespoonful butter, one
teaspoonful sugar, saltspoonful salt, half of a yeast-cake. Four cups
flour, or enough to make a very stiff batter. Set to rise for about
three hours, or until the batter is like a honeycomb, then bake on a
soapstone griddle in very large muffin-rings. Make them the day before
they are wanted, and, when ready to use them, split, toast lightly,
butter, and eat hot.


  Large Hominy.
  Fried Smelts.      Moulded Potato.
  Hasty Muffins.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Moulded Potato._—Press cold mashed potato into small teacups; turn
out, brush over with yolk of egg, put a bit of butter on top of each,
and brown in the oven.

_Hasty Muffins._—Two cups flour, two eggs, one tablespoonful mixed
butter and lard, two teaspoonfuls white sugar, one teaspoonful
baking-powder, saltspoonful salt, one cup milk. Into the eggs, beaten
very light, stir the melted shortening, the sugar, the milk, and the
flour, well mixed with the salt and baking-powder. Stir well, and bake
in thoroughly greased tins.


  Cerealine cooked in Milk.
  Egg Timbales with Cheese.      Lyonnaise Potatoes.
  Wheat Puffs.

_Egg Timbales with Cheese._—Six eggs, one gill milk, salt and pepper
to taste, two tablespoonfuls grated cheese. Beat the eggs well without
separating the yolks and whites, add the milk and seasoning, stir in
the cheese, and pour into well-greased little tin pans with straight
sides; set these in a pan of hot water, and bake in the oven; when the
egg is firm, turn out on a flat dish, and pour a white sauce over them.

_Lyonnaise Potatoes._—Slice cold boiled potatoes into neat rounds;
cut a medium-sized onion into thin slices, and put it with a good
tablespoonful of butter or bacon dripping into the frying-pan; when the
onion is colored, add the potatoes, about two cupfuls, and stir them
about until they are a light brown. Strew with chopped parsley, and

_Wheat Puffs._—Two cups milk, two eggs, two cups flour. Beat hard and
very smooth, and bake in greased and heated gem-pans or earthenware
cups. Eat at once.


A word may be said here anent the cooking of porridges. There are
as many theories about this apparently simple affair as there are
denominational differences in theological circles. One housekeeper
soaks the oatmeal overnight; another puts it on when the fire is made;
another fifteen minutes before breakfast. Mrs. A. soaks hers in cold
water, Mrs. B. uses boiling, while Mrs. C. inclines to having the water
just hot. One stirs the porridge frequently; another says it is ruined
if touched with a spoon.

On general principles, one may say that oatmeal is never the worse
for a soaking, although some varieties need it less than others; that
unless carefully and evenly cooked it is apt to become lumpy without
stirring or beating; and that the degree of stiffness to which it
should be brought must depend upon the taste of those who are to eat


  Graham Mush.
  Sausage Rolls.      Rye Muffins.
  Baked Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Sausage Rolls._—Make a good pastry by chopping into two cups of flour
four tablespoonfuls of butter, making this to a paste with half a cup
of ice-water, and rolling out three times. Have the ingredients and
utensils very cold, and handle the paste as little and as lightly as
possible. Cut the pastry with a sharp knife into strips about three
inches square. On one of these lay cooked and minced sausage-meat,
and cover it with another square of the same size. Pinch the edges
together, and bake in a moderate oven. Proceed thus until all the
materials are used.

_Rye Muffins._—One cup white flour, two cups rye flour, two eggs, two
teaspoonfuls baking-powder, one tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful
sugar, saltspoonful salt, milk enough for stiff batter. Beat well, and
bake in muffin-tins.


  Boiled Hominy.
  Pork Tenderloins.      Apple Sauce.
  Coffee.      Cocoa.

_Crumpets._—Two cups milk, three cups flour, three tablespoonfuls
butter, saltspoonful salt, half yeast-cake dissolved in warm water.
Warm the milk; beat in the salted flour, the melted butter, and the
yeast. Let this sponge stand in a warm place until light. Bake in
greased muffin-rings on a hot griddle, or in muffin-pans in the oven.
In either case fill the pans or rings only half full, as the crumpets
will rise in baking.


  Veal Croquettes.      Stewed Potatoes.
  Sour-milk Muffins.
  Stewed Prunes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Veal Croquettes._—One cup cold veal, minced fine; tiny bit of onion,
scalded and chopped; half teaspoonful parsley; one cup milk, or half
milk, half soup stock; one tablespoonful flour; one tablespoonful
butter; pepper and salt to taste; one egg. Cook the butter and flour
together until they bubble; pour the milk or milk and stock on them,
and stir until they thicken. Remove from the fire, and pour upon the
beaten egg; then stir in the meat, seasoned with the onion, parsley,
pepper, and salt. Set this aside until cold enough to handle, then
form into croquettes between the floured hands. Roll in egg, and then
in fine cracker crumbs, and drop into boiling lard. They are better
prepared an hour before frying.

In making veal croquettes, oyster liquor may be used in place of the
stock, and a few oysters chopped with the veal will improve the flavor.

_Sour-milk Muffins._—One egg, two cups sour milk, half teaspoonful
salt, half teaspoonful soda dissolved in hot water; flour to make a
stiff batter. Beat hard, and bake quickly.


  Wheat Flakes.
  Apples and Bacon.      Loaf Corn Bread.
  Saratoga Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Apples and Bacon._—Fry thin slices of bacon crisp in its own fat. Take
up the bacon and keep hot while you fry in the fat left in the pan
apples sliced across and cored, but not peeled. Arrange the apples in
the centre of the dish, the bacon around the sides.

_Loaf Corn Bread._—Two eggs, two cups milk, two cups corn meal, one
cup flour, one tablespoonful lard, one tablespoonful sugar, two
teaspoonfuls baking-powder, saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs light,
add the melted lard, the milk, the flour, and meal, sifted with the
baking-powder and salt, and beat very hard. Bake in a round tin, one
with a tube in the middle, if you have it.


  Broiled Salt Mackerel _à la Maître d'Hôtel_.
  Stewed Potatoes.      Risen Muffins.
  Tea.      Cocoa.

_Broiled Salt Mackerel à la Maître d'Hôtel._—Soak the mackerel
overnight. In the morning wipe it dry, broil, lay on a hot dish, and
anoint plentifully with _maître d'hôtel_ butter, made by directions
given in the preceding chapter.

_Risen Muffins._—Two cups milk, two eggs, one tablespoonful lard, one
tablespoonful sugar, saltspoonful salt, half yeast cake dissolved in
a little warm water, flour enough for batter. Set a sponge of all the
ingredients except the eggs to rise overnight. In the morning beat
these light, add them to the batter, and bake the muffins in tins in a
quick oven.


  Wheat Germ-Meal Porridge.
  Broiled Ham.      Canned Pea Pancakes.
  Buttered Toast.
  Baked Apples.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.

_Canned Pea Pancakes._—One can of green pease, one egg, one cup milk,
two teaspoonfuls melted butter, half cupful flour, half teaspoonful
baking-powder, salt to taste. Open the can several hours before it is
to be used, and drain off the liquor. Rinse the pease in cold water.
Mash them with the back of a spoon, and mix with them the butter and
salt. Make a batter of the egg, the milk, and the flour, with the
baking-powder. Add the pease, beat well, and bake on a griddle.


  Rice Porridge.
  Moulded Eggs.      Ham Toast.
  Baked Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Moulded Eggs._—On the bottom of well-buttered patty-pans with straight
sides sprinkle finely minced parsley and a little pepper and salt.
Break an egg into each pan, set them in a large pan filled with boiling
water, and bake until set. Turn out on a flat dish, and pour a white
sauce over them.

_Ham Toast._—To every cupful of chopped cold boiled ham put a
half-teaspoonful of made mustard, as much butter, and a little
Worcestershire sauce. Trim the crust from slices of bread, toast and
butter them, and spread them with the chopped ham.


  Broiled Smoked Salmon.      Breakfast Biscuit.
  Savory Potatoes.
  Cocoa.      Coffee.

_Breakfast Biscuit._—Two cups milk, half cake yeast dissolved in warm
water, two teaspoonfuls white sugar, two tablespoonfuls lard, one
tablespoonful butter, saltspoonful salt, flour for soft dough. Warm
the milk, melt the shortening, and set the sponge overnight. The next
morning roll into a sheet, cut out with a biscuit cutter, let them
rise twenty minutes in the pan, and bake.

_Savory Potatoes._—Two cupfuls cold potatoes sliced, half cup gravy,
quarter of an onion sliced. Heat the gravy in a frying-pan with the
onion, add the potatoes, and leave them until they are brown, stirring
often. Serve potatoes and gravy together.


  Cracked Wheat.
  Lyonnaise Tripe.      Boiled Potatoes.
  Bread-and-milk Cakes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Lyonnaise Tripe._—One pound boiled tripe, one onion, one tablespoonful
butter, one cupful stewed tomatoes, pepper and salt. Brown the onion
in the butter, add the tripe, cut into neat pieces, add the seasoning.
Brown lightly, add the tomatoes, and, when these are hot, serve.

_Bread-and-milk Cakes._—One cup fine bread crumbs, two cups milk,
one egg, two teaspoonfuls melted butter, saltspoonful salt, two
tablespoonfuls flour. Soak the crumbs in the milk ten minutes; beat
in the whipped egg, the butter, the salt, and the flour. Bake on a
well-greased griddle.


  Graham Flakes.
  Fried Scallops.      Light Loaf.
  Hashed Potatoes.
  Tea.      Coffee.

_Fried Scallops._—Stew the scallops five minutes in their own liquor.
Take out, drain, and roll first in egg, then in fine cracker crumbs.
Fry to a light brown in deep fat, lay on a sheet of brown paper in a
hot colander, and serve on a small napkin laid on a heated dish.

_Light Loaf._—One cup milk, one tablespoonful sugar, one tablespoonful
butter, two eggs, two cups flour, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder,
saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs light; add the butter, melted, the
sugar, salt, milk, and, last, the flour sifted with the baking-powder.
Bake in one loaf, and serve hot.

_Hashed Potatoes._—Chop cold potatoes fine, have ready in a pan a
tablespoonful of bacon dripping made very hot, stir into this two
cupfuls of the potatoes, and toss about until well browned.


Properly treated, luncheon may be the pleasantest meal of the day.
Simple or elaborate, as the housekeeper's taste may dictate, always
informal, it is more comfortable than the breakfast because less
hurried, more agreeable than the dinner because less ceremonious.

The table at luncheon may either be set as for breakfast, with a pretty
colored cloth to cover it; or a prettier way, if one has a table with
a handsome top, is to spread on this a large luncheon napkin that only
partially conceals the polished surface. One or more of these napkins
may be used, according to their size and the amount of space you wish
covered. A fringed doily or a crocheted or netted mat may be laid at
each place to protect the table-top from the heated plate. Other mats
should be laid under the hot dishes of meat, etc., while a tile or a
trivet will hold the chocolate or teapot.

A writer on household decoration in a recent article in a popular
magazine enlarged upon the charming effect produced by painting a
table-top white, and thus producing a good background upon which to
display old blue-and-white china. This would doubtless be extremely
pretty, but in the practical mind the suspicion arises that, by the
time the bare white table had held hot dishes during half a dozen
meals, its surface would be marked with yellow rings that would
leave no choice to the housewife but to conceal the whole of the
defaced expanse with a table-cloth. A good furniture polish, or a
simple mixture of sweet-oil and turpentine, applied with a piece of
flannel, will restore the beauty of a hard-wood table-top, but it is
questionable if the white paint could be so readily renovated.

The flowers that should have freshened the breakfast board must not
be lacking at luncheon-time. The table may be spread with a luncheon
set of china, or, if one does not own this, with the same plates,
etc., that are used at breakfast and at tea. The tea-tray, with its
burden of sugar-bowl, cream-pitcher, tea-caddy, and dainty cups and
saucers, may stand in front of the mistress of the house, while at her
elbow may be the five-o'clock-tea crane bearing its kettle of boiling
water; or a smaller hot-water urn in brass, copper, or silver, with a
spirit-lamp under it, may be on the table near her right hand, with the
teapot beside it. If the small hot-water pot is used, and the table is
bare, a tray should hold the kettle and stand, lest a drop of blazing
alcohol should blister the polished surface of the wood. When cocoa
or chocolate is drunk at luncheon, the paraphernalia of kettle and
spirit-lamp is, of course, unnecessary.

There are some brands of cocoa for which it is claimed by the
manufacturers that they are excellent when prepared for use by simply
pouring the boiling water on the powder. So far as the writer's
experience has gone, however, there is not one of them that is not
benefited by being boiled for a few minutes before serving.

Nearly everything that is to compose the ordinary luncheon for the
family may be put upon the table at one time. Of course there must be
an exception to this rule when the first course consists of soup or
bouillon; but even then all the cold dishes may be in place when the
guests are seated. The waiting need be only of the simplest, unless
formality is desired. Those about the table may help themselves and one
another, while the duties of the waitress may be confined to passing
the dishes that are on the sideboard, changing the plates, bringing in
hot dishes, etc.

The truth, often reiterated, that women cook only for men, and that
a woman would never take the trouble to prepare anything for herself
beyond a cup of tea and a slice of toast, is strongly emphasized by
the carelessness many of them manifest in the matter of luncheon. Of
course, when there are several in the family the needs and tastes of
others have to be consulted; but when the mistress of the house has
to sit down to a solitary meal, or at best to one that is the nursery
dinner for two or three children whose diet is of the simplest, she is
apt to let her luncheon consist of little more than a "cold bite," and
the—almost—invariable cup of tea. Such a course must affect the health
sooner or later, and is a species of carelessness of self against
which a woman must guard if she does not wish to reap its fruits in
headaches, dyspepsia, and general depression of the system. Without
getting up a troublesome _menu_, she may yet devise divers tempting
little dishes which will coax her appetite. She will feel happier and
work better for a substantial although not heavy meal in the middle of
the day.

Luncheon is pre-eminently the meal at which to make use of potted
meats, sardines, _pâtés_, and the like. There are many of these from
which to make a choice. A luncheon is not to be despised that begins
with a cup of bouillon, or with a plate of soup left over from last
night's dinner, continues with fresh rolls or biscuit or muffins, or
toasted crackers, or good cold bread—white or brown—cut in delicate
slices, and one of the _pâtés_ put up by certain French and American
companies, or a Gotha liver sausage, or a few sardines, accompanied by
a cup of tea or cocoa, and concludes with some simple sweet, such as
marmalade, jam, or fruit.

But luncheon need not be confined to cold delicacies that must be
bought outright. It is the time for using up left-overs, for trying new
recipes for side-dishes and _entrées_, for the housekeeper to learn for
herself and to teach her cook the daintiest methods of utilizing those
remnants which the uninitiated might stigmatize as "scraps." Great is
the variety of styles in which these may be employed. That bit of cold
fish from last evening's dinner may be picked to shreds, stirred into a
white sauce, and baked in a scallop-shell. Or it may be mixed with half
as much mashed potato, moistened with boiling water and a little melted
butter, and tossed up into a dish of creamed fish.

The scraps of pastry left from pie-making and the sausage or two that
were spared at breakfast may compose a sausage-roll, the cold potato
and the fragment of steak may be turned into a hash, and odd slices
of cold lamb, mutton, or veal are just the thing for croquettes and
fritters. And of the odds and ends of poultry what delicious compounds
may be made! Croquettes, scallops, minces, fritters, filling for
_pâtés_, salad enough for one or two if eked out with lettuce, and a
dozen other dainty _plats_. Or a tiny omelet, either baked or _sauté_,
may be prepared; and when one begins to count up the appetizing dishes
which may be made of eggs, the list seems without an end. Even when
several people are to partake of the meal a variety of little dishes
may take the place of a single large one for which new material would
have to be purchased. In the cultivation or creation of a talent as a
_réchauffeuse_ true economy consists.

In some homes luncheon is a quite elaborate affair, and comprises
several courses, including, perhaps, a soup or bouillon, a meat course,
a salad, and fruit or sweets. In the majority of establishments owned
by people of moderate means, however, the meal is simpler, but need
be no less delightful. Many people can eat muffins, griddle-cakes,
and other hot breads at noon with less after-discomfort than at
any other season, and dishes of this sort are usually acceptable on
the luncheon-table. With their help the meal can hardly fail to be


Luncheons are among the most popular forms of entertainment that can
be selected, when only a limited number are to be honored. To these
affairs men are seldom invited, and there are not wanting those among
the sterner sex who do not hesitate to attribute their banishment to
desire on the women's part for the opportunity to chat uninterruptedly
and unreservedly on those subjects presumed dear to their hearts—dress,
babies, and servants. Other men go so far as to hint that gossip, and
even scandal, engage the tongues of these much-maligned women, while
even the most charitable husbands and brothers cannot refrain from
openly expressing their pity for the unfortunate ladies debarred, for
even a limited period, from the delights of the society of the lords of

Casting aside the intimations respecting gossip or scandal as unworthy
of notice, and tracing the animus of the other slurs to their source,
in the overpowering jealousy on the part of their perpetrators that
they are excluded from the select assemblages they affect to condemn,
it may be said in refutation of the last charge that there are few
women who do not agree in considering a luncheon among the most
delightful of their social experiences. An invitation to one is usually
hailed with joy, and a woman will undergo a good deal of inconvenience
sooner than consent to decline it.

A luncheon is elastic in its nature, and may be of any size the
hostess's fancy or judgment dictates. One woman may invite another to
share the meal with her, and to help form that _solitude à deux_ so
delightful to two congenial souls. In such a case a long and elaborate
_menu_ is out of place, and not in the best form. What dishes there are
should be wisely selected, perfectly prepared, and carefully served;
but a multiplication of courses or viands is unnecessary, and savors of
vulgar display. The same principle applies at any _small_ luncheon.
The definition of size is a rather difficult matter, but a company of
this sort of not more than five or six persons may fitly be called
small. With every addition to the number the need increases for more
items in the _menu_.

For a small and unpretentious luncheon the invitations should not be
issued long in advance, unless the hostess finds it necessary to do so
in order to secure the presence of some especial guests. In that case,
if the entertainment is to be very simple, it is as well to inform the
guests of the fact when writing to them. Either a written or a verbal
invitation is admissible. It should always be clearly understood,
however, that the engagement, when once made, is no less binding than
if it were a promise to attend the largest and most ceremonious dinner.
Indeed, fidelity to one's acceptance and prompt attendance are even
more obligatory at a small than at a large affair, because at the
latter the defection of one person is less noticeable than it would be
were very few expected to be present. In either case failure to keep
the engagement is a grave breach of etiquette. It may be said, in this
connection, that more of a compliment is implied by the request to be
one of a small and—by inference—select band than is shown when the
invitations embrace a larger party.

An even number is usually better than an odd number at a luncheon,
unless the table is a large round one, about which the guests can
gather without leaving an awkward gap on one side.

The covering for the table may either be a very pretty luncheon cloth
with a little color about it, or else of plain white. Of course, should
the hostess desire to have any one tint predominate in her table
appointments, it is better to have the cloth of that shade or of white.
If artificial light is required, candles give a pleasanter light than
anything else, and one candelabrum of several branches is generally
enough for a small table. Should this not sufficiently illuminate the
room, the gas may be lighted and partially turned down, or a lamp or
two may be placed on a mantel-shelf or on a bracket. There should
always be flowers in the centre of the table, preferably a flat or
low dish or vase, for where there are few guests they should be able
to see each others' faces, instead of being obliged to dodge around a
tall ornament that effectually conceals those seated on one side of
the board from those placed on the other. _Bouquets de corsage_, while
always pretty, are not essential at a simple luncheon, nor are cards

The table should be spread with the daintiest china and silver. At each
plate must be the usual articles—knife, fork, tumbler, butter-plate,
and napkin. A knife and fork for each course may be laid by every
plate, the knives on the right side, the forks on the left. A roll or
two or three sticks of bread must lie on each napkin. The usual little
dishes of olives, salted almonds, pea-nuts or pistachio-nuts, radishes,
bonbons, etc., should stand here and there, and by their color or
sparkle add to the beauty of the repast.

The first course may be either beef or chicken bouillon. This is served
in bouillon-cups, with covers and saucers, if one has them, or, if
not, in tea or after-dinner coffee-cups. The latter are a trifle small,
but one need not go to the other extreme, as was done at a lunch given
not long ago, where the bouillon was served in _mugs_ nearly as large
as those commonly used for shaving, and quite as thick and heavy. It
was impossible to help recalling the saying of the woman who declared
that when she took coffee from one of the breakfast cups in use at most
hotels she felt as though she were drinking it over the side of a stone
wall. Bouillon is usually sipped with a spoon, however, although it is
not out of the way to raise the cup to the lips.

The bouillon may either be on the table when the guests enter the room,
or be brought in as soon as they are seated. It is followed by fish
in some dainty form, as creamed fish, creamed or buttered lobster,
croquettes of lobster, oysters, or fish; or oyster or lobster _pâtés_.
These are not passed in the dish, but are brought in already served,
and a plate holding a portion placed in front of each guest. Rolls,
French bread, or bread and butter are then passed.

The next course in a luncheon of this size need not be an _entrée_,
although one may be introduced here. Sweetbreads, chicken cutlets,
_timbales_ of some sort, a _vol-au-vent_—any one of these will answer,
but there is no violation of rules if it is omitted altogether at
a _small_ luncheon. In that case the next course—the _pièce de
résistance_—may follow the fish directly, and may consist of French
chops with pease, and potatoes daintily prepared, or chicken broiled,
fried, or cooked in some attractive fashion, or broiled tenderloins of
beef with mushrooms, or birds.

After this the salad appears, and may be of chicken, lobster, shrimps,
oysters, or tomatoes, avoiding, of course, any meat or fish that has
appeared earlier in the meal, even although in another form. The olives
should be passed with this, and, indeed, may have gone the rounds
during and between the other course, as have the salted nuts and the

The salad eaten, the table is cleared and crumbed, and the dessert
brought in—ices in some pretty form, accompanied by fancy cakes. Fruit
may succeed this, or it may be omitted, and the final cup of chocolate
or coffee served at once. The bonbons now receive attention, and are
usually carried into the drawing-room by the guests, who, being women,
seem to find almost as much enjoyment in nibbling these as men do in
discussing their post-prandial cigars.


A much more ceremonious affair than that described in the preceding
chapter is the large luncheon, where there are present anywhere from
eight to twenty guests. The invitations for this are issued at least
ten days, and often three weeks or more, previous to the date for which
the guests are asked, and should be written, not verbal, except when
given to an intimate friend. The recipient should reply at once. The
hour set is usually one or half-past one, and the most punctilious
promptness should always be observed. Nothing short of a serious
accident or illness or a death in the family can justify any one in
breaking such an engagement.

"People don't always keep that precept," says a woman, decidedly. "I
can give more than one example to the contrary from my own experience.
Here is an instance. I had a letter not long ago from a friend living
out of town, begging me to fix a time when she could come and see me.
She dreaded making the trip into town when it was doubtful if she would
find me at home. I knew she had few outings, so I wrote and asked
her to lunch with me upon a certain day, adding that there would be
a couple of other old friends present whom she would be glad to meet
again. The appointed day came, and was misty and drizzly. It never
occurred to me that the weather would keep any one housed, and at the
lunch hour 'the guests were met, the feast was set'—or, at least, two
of the guests were there—but the one in whose honor they had been
invited failed to appear. A whole mortal hour did we wait for that
woman. Then in despair we sat down to a luncheon that had been in no
ways improved by the delay. It was to have been a _partie carrée_, and
one side of the table looked wofully blank and bare."

"But did you not get a satisfactory explanation of your friend's
absence?" queries an interested listener.

"Only a note the next day, stating that as it had stormed, she had
supposed I would not expect her. It never seemed to occur to her that
she ought at least to have telegraphed."

"I had an experience that equals that," chimes in another. "I had
promised a young girl friend a lunch party whenever she should come to
the city. Just before the holidays she wrote to me that she would be
in town for a week. I was run to death with Christmas preparations and
social engagements, but I sent her a note at once, asking her to fix a
day for her luncheon, and enclosing the list of guests—most of them old
school friends—whom I would invite to meet her. She replied, setting
a day. I went to no end of trouble and expense to get up the most
_recherché_ luncheon I could devise. Just before the appointed hour one
of the guests, who had promised to call for my young friend and bring
her to my house, brought instead a verbal message that Jennie 'was not
very well, and would be unable to come. She was extremely sorry,' etc.
As I learned from another source that she went to the theatre that
night, I concluded her indisposition, whatever it was, had not been
very serious."

One marvels at the bad habits of good society in hearing such tales
as these, but they are unfortunately common. Some persons appear to
be deficient in a sense of good-breeding, as others are in an eye
for color or an ear for music, and all the maxims in the world seem
inadequate to instil what is missing.

One general principle may be laid down for the following of any woman
who thinks of giving a large luncheon—_don't undertake too much_.
If you cannot afford to engage the most difficult dishes from a
caterer, be very sure that your cook is equal to preparing them in a
satisfactory manner. Better have a few things, and have them well done,
than a long _menu_ of indifferently cooked viands. A large luncheon is
no light undertaking at the best, except to those who have a practised
_chef_ and an expert butler, and a great deal of personal supervision
is required to make it a success.

If the number of guests is larger than can be conveniently accommodated
at one table, two or three smaller ones may be used. One table is
rather prettier, however, as it admits of concentrating, instead of
scattering, the decoration. The cloth should be white, or something
very handsome in colors. A centre-piece of velvet or plush or satin,
or of linen, embroidered, painted, done in cut-work or drawn-work, or
something else equally elegant in material or ornament, should be laid
down the middle of the table. An exquisite centre-piece may be made of
bolting-cloth, hand-painted and trimmed with lace. On this a mirror is
often placed, bearing the bowl, basket, or jar of flowers.

Tall candelabra should hold enough candles to light the room well, and
each candle should have its tiny paper or silk shade and its glass
_bobèche_. If the gas must be used, it should be shaded. The dishes
containing _hors d'œuvres_—bonbons, _glacé_ fruits, etc.—must be many,
and their contents of the choicest.

The arrangement of silver, glass, and china may be the same as at a
small luncheon, except that the amount of silver at each place must
be increased. The bread sticks on every napkin must be tied with a
narrow ribbon matching the broad one that ties the _bouquet de corsage_
provided for the guest. Cards bearing the names of the guests indicate
their seats, and may be either hand-painted or plain. Favors are
often given, and should be placed on the table before the luncheon is

Oyster or Little Neck clams compose the first course, and are followed
by bouillon. Fish succeeds this; then comes one _entrée_, and sometimes
two. Next is a dish of meat, with one or more vegetables, and then the
Roman punch appears.

After this, game comes, and then salad. The table then being cleared,
pastry in some form, or Charlottes or jellies are brought in, and this
course in turn is succeeded by ices in pretty or fanciful shapes. An
attractive caprice is that of ices or cream in the form of fruits
heaped up in and rolling out of a basket of clear ice or spun sugar
placed on a salver. Ices in small goblets or tumblers of clear ice
are often served. The fruit comes next, and is accompanied by bonbons,
_glacé_ fruits, _marrons_, and the like. Last are coffee and chocolate.

Of the following _menus_, either one is suitable for a large luncheon:


  Raw Oysters.
  Chicken Bouillon.
  Creamed Lobster.      Crackers or Bread and Butter.
  Scalloped Chicken.
  Sweetbread Pâtés.     Green Pease.
  Maraschino Punch.
  Fillet of Beef, Mushroom Sauce.
  French Fried Potatoes.
  Broiled Squabs on Toast.      Water-cress.
  Chicken Salad.
  Strawberries in Wine Jelly, with Whipped Cream.
  Nesselrode Pudding.      Biscuit.      Fancy Cakes.
  Fruit.      Bonbons.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.


  Clams on Ice.
  Halibut Steaks, Cream Sauce.      Parisian Potatoes.
  Ham Pâtés.      Green Pease.
  Stuffed Crabs.
  Chicken Cutlets.
  Broiled Fillet of Beef, au Maître d'Hôtel.      Asparagus.
  Roman Punch.
  Quail on Toast.      Celery Salad.
  Fried Mushrooms on Toast, with Sauce à l'Espagnol.
  Frozen Pudding.      Whipped Cream.
  Coffee.      Chocolate.

With either of these _menus_ wine may be served, although there is not
the variety of these at a ladies' luncheon that there is at a dinner.
Claret may be served with the fish or first _entrée_, and drunk during
the luncheon, or brought in with the game, or with the heaviest meat
course. In some cases no claret is served, and the only wine is the
small glass of sherry offered late in the meal.


For a long time there was a felt need for some form of entertainment
that would be more general in its character than a dinner or a lunch,
less of a full-dress affair than an evening party, and more elaborate
than the ordinary kettle-drum or afternoon tea. This want was finally
supplied by the introduction of the standing lunch, which is in reality
little more than a regular reception, such as usually takes place in
the evening, held in the afternoon. To this both ladies and gentlemen
are invited.

The hours for which the guests are asked—usually from four to six
or seven—preclude the necessity of full dress. The men usually wear
morning coats, while the women are arrayed in handsome calling
costumes, and do not remove their bonnets. It may be remarked, _en
passant_, that the wearing of the hat or bonnet is, or should be, a
rule without exception at a ladies' lunch. Only the hostess or those
of the company who are guests in the house appear with their heads
uncovered. The others wear handsome dressy bonnets, such as they would
assume for the theatre in the evening or for an afternoon reception.

The hostess who desires to entertain her friends or to discharge her
social obligations by a standing lunch must issue her invitations some
days in advance of the date fixed. They should be formal, and are
usually engraved, although they may be written. The former method is

At a lunch of this kind, as the name implies, the guests are not to
be seated at one large table, nor even at a number of small ones.
The large dining-room table and sideboard are set out with a repast
consisting of some hot and some cold dishes. The guests move about
the drawing-room, seating themselves if they have the chance, as they
would at an evening reception, and are served with plates containing
the successive courses, either by waiters or by their escorts. Not
only is there less formality in the conduct of the guests than would be
observed at an ordinary luncheon, but there is also less precision in
the serving of the refreshments.

For such a lunch the hostess does well when she provides a number of
camp-chairs in addition to the seats she already has in her rooms. It
is always more agreeable to eat when one is seated than when standing
and endeavoring to handle a full plate and a brimming coffee-cup at
the same time. Such an effort is severe even for a man, who has been
obliged to practise it all his life, but it is doubly distressing to a
woman, who is in constant terror lest an unguarded movement on her own
or her neighbor's part should cause an upset and a spill that might
fatally damage at least one gown, and possibly more.

In preparing for a standing lunch, or for any other large reception, it
is prudent for the hostess to clear her parlors of such breakables as
statues, tall vases, piano lamps, etc., that rest upon pedestals or
easily overturned stands. These, if not taken from the room, should be
moved into corners where they will be comparatively safe from injury;
while the largest pieces of furniture, such as sofas or lounges and
big easy-chairs, should be wheeled back near the wall, so as not to
interfere with the movements of people through the rooms. Light chairs
should stand about here and there, and the camp-chairs should be
stacked in some convenient closet or in the corner of the hall, whence
they can be produced at a moment's notice when the refreshments are

The floral decorations may be either simple or ornate, according to
the wishes of the hostess. Mantels banked with flowers, chandeliers
and brackets draped with smilax, a profusion of roses, and baskets of
choice cut flowers are very beautiful, but the rooms can be rendered
attractive by less costly means. If there is to be a large number of
guests, the flowers will be unnoticed by many of them unless judgment
be shown in the disposition of vases. These should be placed on the
mantels, on brackets, on the top of the piano, or in some other place
where they will be seen readily, rather than on low tables, where they
are not only hidden, but are in imminent danger of being knocked over.
Palms or ferns in pots and other growing plants decorate pleasingly,
and can be engaged for the evening from a florist, if the mistress of
the house neither owns them nor feels inclined to buy them.

In preparing the dining-room table it should be drawn out to a size
that will permit of its holding without undue crowding the dishes and
plates that will be required for the lunch. If the refreshments are
too numerous to be accommodated here, the sideboard should be cleared
for their reception, and even one or two side-tables brought in. The
table should be spread with a long white cloth. A bowl or jar or pot
of flowers may be in the centre of the board. Very elaborate floral
arrangements are unnecessary in the dining-room, unless a good many of
the guests are expected to come out here.

At each end of the table and at intervals along the sides spaces should
be left for the dishes that are to hold the refreshments. Between
these may be the piles of plates and the napkins. These may either be
separate or arranged together, a napkin being laid on each plate and
all placed in piles, so that they may be easily distributed. Forks and
spoons should also be close at hand, with the necessary utensils for
serving the different dishes, that there may not be a hurried search
for a carving knife or fork or a large spoon just at the last moment,
when its presence might have saved delay and confusion.

The side-table should hold the coffee and chocolate cups, the
wineglasses, goblets, or tumblers for water, etc. Let it be seen,
by the way, that there is plenty of iced water in readiness. Many a
guest at a large reception has longed for a drink of it and found it
apparently the hardest thing to get which he could have selected.

Unless the hostess has a remarkably well-trained butler, and one or
two other servants who understand waiting, she will be wise if she
engages hired waiters to take charge of the serving of the dishes, and
has her butler and maids confine their services to passing plates in
the drawing-room. This is pleasanter than having the outside helpers
waiting on the guests, while their skill and practice in serving render
them most efficient in the work of filling plates.

The first course of a standing lunch is usually bouillon, served in
cups. When these have been removed, a plate is brought to each guest
containing oysters in some shape, usually fricasseed or creamed, and
accompanied possibly by a lobster croquette or a sweetbread or mushroom
_pâté_. The third course may comprise chicken croquettes or rissoles,
accompanied by lettuce or celery salad. Both with this and the
preceding course tiny square or three-cornered sandwiches of thin bread
and butter, spread with some potted meat or fish, with sardines, or
with lobster mayonnaise, may have been passed. After this course come
the sweets—ice-creams or ices in small shapes, biscuit in paper cases,
and fancy cakes—followed by coffee or chocolate. Nothing must be served
that cannot be easily eaten with a fork or spoon. Light wines or a bowl
of punch are always in order.


To many people the lunch basket and its contents are quite as important
as any regularly set-out meal of the day—more important than such
occasional luxuries as ceremonious _déjeûners à la fourchette_ and
standing lunches.

Among this number are not only the school-children who, five days out
of the week, must carry what the Southern boys and girls would term a
"snack" with them to school, but also the army of men and women whose
employment takes them to such a distance from their homes that it is
impracticable for them to return there for the midday meal. With these
must not be forgotten the band of night workers who, in one capacity
or another, have part in making the morning papers, and who, turning
day into night, find it as essential to take a midnight as others do a
midday repast.

In a less degree interest is felt in the lunch basket by those young
people who regard the coming of the summer chiefly as the return of
the picnic season. All these desire to know of something appetizing to
supply their needs, and nearly all agree in condemning certain articles
as stale and hackneyed, asserting that they are tired to death of them.
Among these are generally ham and tongue sandwiches.

In making suggestions on this subject, the first thing to be considered
is the basket, and to begin with, it _should_ be a basket, and not
a close tin box or pail that cannot be sweetened except by scouring
and scalding between the times of using. A basket, by permitting the
passage of air through its interstices, prevents the food acquiring a
close, musty taste; and even the basket should have frequent airings
and sunnings, and an occasional plunge into hot salt and water,
followed by a rinsing in fresh hot water, and a wiping and drying in
the sun or near the fire.

Only fresh napkins must be used for wrapping about the lunch, and if
their use proves too severe a strain upon the linen drawer, Japanese
paper napkins may be substituted, or even fresh white tissue-paper,
or druggist's paper. The daintiness of ribbons to tie the different
parcels is all very pretty, but it is hardly possible for the hurried
house-mother who has to put up even one lunch a day, much less when
she has two or three to prepare. In order to succeed in making them
even ordinarily attractive, she must take thought for these lunches
as carefully as she does for the other meals of the day, and make
provision accordingly, not waiting until the last moment, and then
hastily gathering up whatever odds and ends she can find, and hurriedly
cramming them all together into the basket in a manner that savors
unpleasantly of the bestowal of "broken victuals" and cold bits upon
the beggar at the kitchen door.

Not until she gives the matter serious thought does the housewife
appreciate what a variety she can select for the lunch basket of her
boy or girl, or of her husband. Hot foods are out of the question,
of course, and even hot drinks, unless a tiny alcohol "pocket
stove," filled and ready for lighting, and a tin or agate-iron cup,
accompany the outfit. In that case, many a hot cup of _café au lait_ or
chocolate, of soup or bouillon, may be enjoyed by the luncher.

But even when this cannot be managed, cold coffee and tea are not to be
despised, while cold bouillon is preferred by many to the hot beef tea.
Or, for a change from this, a small flask of milk or of lemonade may
be carried. In any case the bottle should be a stout one, and provided
with a good stopper, that no break or leakage may cause the ruin of the
rest of the refection.

China makes the lunch basket too heavy, and takes up too much room. If
a plate is required, let it be one of the little wooden butter plates
that can be thrown away after using. It is often possible to procure
a glass from which to drink, but even when it is not, a flat glass or
a collapsing cup may easily be carried in the pocket; or an ordinary
flask, having a cup fitted to the bottom, may be purchased and kept for
service in the lunch basket. A tiny cruet for salt and another for
pepper should also be part of the outfit.

Often it does not seem to occur to the housekeeper that it is quite
practicable to carry a cup custard, a baked apple or pear, a tiny mould
of jelly or blanc-mange, as well as uncooked fruit. While the latter
is always wholesome and generally popular, there are times when one
wants something else. To paraphrase Miss Woolson's words in "For the
Major," "A large cold apple on a winter day is not calculated to arouse

Other dainties are easily prepared. Every one who has read "Little
Women"—and who has not read it?—will remember Meg and Jo March trudging
off to their work on frosty mornings, each carrying the turnover that
was to compose her lunch, and gaining comfort for the cold fingers from
its warmth.

A tiny pie baked in a saucer, a small tart, a diminutive rice or
tapioca pudding in a patty-pan, are not hard to make, and are a welcome
variety at the midday "snack."

While it might possibly be an expensive item to provide potted meat
for sandwiches for every day in the week, there are often odds and
ends that, with a little "doctoring," may be made into excellent
substitutes. The meat on the drumstick left from the roast or stewed
chicken of last night may be chopped fine, moistened with a little
gravy or melted butter, seasoned, and spread on thin slices of buttered
bread. The bit of steak that clung to the bone may be minced, and
have stirred into it a little Worcestershire sauce and a suspicion of
made mustard; while the slice of cold lamb or veal, also minced, may
be flavored with curry-powder and softened with melted butter to make
filling for sandwiches.

The one or two cold sausages left in the pantry will make an appetizing
sandwich when crushed fine with the back of a spoon, and laid between
the two sides of a buttered roll or biscuit; while the last spoonful
of lobster or chicken salad scraped from the bottom of the dish may be
spread on buttered bread for yet another kind of sandwich.

White, Graham, brown, or whole-wheat bread may be used in turn,
with an occasional roll or biscuit to still further vary monotony.
Egg sandwiches, cheese sandwiches, sweetbread sandwiches, sardine
sandwiches, minced ham, tongue, ham and chicken, chicken and bacon
sandwiches—their name is legion.

But some one may object, one does not want _all_ sandwiches. True
enough, but they are the _pièce de résistance_ of the lunch. They
may be supplemented, however, by a piece of cold fowl, by, once in a
while, a broiled bird, by a few pickled oysters, by deviled and plain
hard-boiled eggs, by salads without number, by olives, cheese, and
pickles. And for desserts are there not the little dishes already
suggested, to say nothing of cake, cookies, ginger-snaps, apples,
oranges, mandarins, bananas, pears, grapes, and other fruits? For
school children there are such simple dainties as bread or rolls spread
with jam, jelly, marmalade, or apple-sauce. And are not crackers and
cheese always at hand, and almost always popular?

While all this may at first seem to impose additional labor upon the
housekeeper, she will soon find, when the habit is once established
of providing regularly for the lunch, that she feels it no more of
a burden than she does to cater for the other meals of the day. Let
her keep on the alert for new fancies, and they will come to her more
rapidly than she can utilize them.


These _menus_ for simple home lunches, given as were those for
breakfasts—ten for each season—are not designed to serve as exact
guides, but merely as suggestions to the housekeeper. They may easily
be improved upon or altered. To some they will doubtless appear much
too simple, while others may condemn them as being too elaborate.
Certain selected recipes will accompany them.


  Baked Cheese Omelet.      Toasted Crackers.
  Strawberry Jam.

_Baked Cheese Omelet._—Two eggs, two cups milk, one small cup grated
cheese, one small cup fine bread-crumbs, salt and Cayenne pepper to
taste, one tablespoonful melted butter. Soak the crumbs in the milk, in
which you have dissolved a _tiny_ pinch of soda; beat the eggs light,
and add to the bread and milk; stir in the butter, the seasoning, and,
last of all, the cheese. Bake in a well-greased pudding-dish, and eat
at once, before it falls.

_Toasted Crackers._—Split and toast Boston crackers. Butter them well
on the inside, lay the two halves together, and serve them in a hot
covered dish. They are not nearly so good when they are cold.


  Ham Fritters.      Baked Bananas.
  Ginger Snaps.

_Ham Fritters._—Two cups minced cold ham, one egg, half-pint good
stock, saltspoonful dry mustard, teaspoonful Worcestershire sauce, tiny
bit of scalded onion (chopped), half-teaspoonful minced parsley, one
tablespoonful butter, one teaspoonful flour. Heat the stock to boiling,
and thicken it with the butter and flour rubbed together; stir into it
the ham, seasoned with the mustard, onion, Worcestershire sauce, and
parsley; add the beaten egg. Pour the mixture on a flat plate to cool.
When cold and firm, make into flattened balls about the size of a small
plum; drop each into a batter made of a cup of flour, two teaspoonfuls
of melted butter, a small cup of warm water, the beaten white of an
egg, and a little salt. Lay each fritter out of the batter into boiling
fat. They will puff up at once, and should be of a delicate brown.

_Baked Bananas._—Select large ripe bananas, and bake them in the oven
as you would potatoes. When the skin begins to split at the seams they
are done. Take them out, and serve one to each person, as a vegetable.
They should be peeled, and eaten with butter and a little salt.

_Bread-and-Butter._—Butter bread a day old on the loaf, and cut into
thin slices. Double, the buttered side inward.

_Ginger Snaps._—Two eggs, two cups sugar, one cup butter, two
teaspoonfuls ginger, one teaspoonful cinnamon, flour to make a stiff
dough. Roll into a thin sheet, cut into rounds, and sprinkle with
granulated sugar before baking. Watch closely or they will burn.


  A Scrap Hash.      Rice Bread.

_A Scrap Hash._—Two cups cold beef (roast, boiled, corned, or fresh),
one or two cold sausages, two or three slices cold bacon, one cup cold
potato, four olives, tablespoonful Worcestershire sauce, a little cold
stewed tomato (if you have it), half an onion minced fine, one cup
gravy or soup stock, _or_ one cup boiling water and a tablespoonful of
butter. Heat the gravy or stock to boiling in a frying-pan; stir into
it the other ingredients chopped _fine_; simmer for fifteen minutes,
stirring constantly. You can either serve the hash soft or let it brown
on the bottom. Olla-podrida though it seems, it will be savory, and
will be relished by nearly every one.

_Rice Bread._—Two cups milk, two cups boiled rice, one cup white
corn-meal, three eggs well beaten, two tablespoonfuls butter,
teaspoonful salt. Bake in a hot oven, in rather shallow pans.


  Liver Toast.      Rusk.      Radishes.
  Stewed Pie-plant.
  Light Cakes.

_Liver Toast._—One cupful cold boiled or stewed liver, half
cupful brown gravy of any sort, enough mustard, salt, pepper, and
Worcestershire sauce to season the liver highly, several squares of
buttered toast. Rub the liver smooth with the back of a spoon, add the
seasoning, heat to boiling with the gravy, and heap or spread upon the
toast. Set in the oven two minutes before sending to table.

_Rusk._—Two cups milk, two eggs, two and a half cups flour, half cup
butter, one cup sugar, half a yeast-cake dissolved in warm water. Set
a sponge made of the milk, the yeast, and part of the flour—enough to
make a good batter. Let this rise all night. In the morning work in the
beaten eggs, the sugar, butter, and the rest of the flour. Knead well,
and make into balls with the hands. Set these together in the pan, let
them rise until light, and bake in a steady oven. Just before taking
them out brush the tops with molasses and water.


  Panned Oysters.      Lunch Biscuit.
  Stewed Prunes.
  Ginger Snaps.

_Panned Oysters._—Cut small rounds of toast to fit the bottom of
deep, straight-sided patty-pans. Prettier than these are the little
"nappies," or china fire-proof dishes, that come for this purpose.
Moisten each piece of toast with a spoonful of oyster liquor, lay on it
as many oysters as the pan will easily hold, sprinkle with pepper and
salt, lay a small piece of butter on top, and set in the oven for a few
minutes until the oysters begin to crimp. Serve in the pans.

_Lunch Biscuit._—Two cups flour, half cup milk, one egg, one
tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful baking-powder, saltspoonful
salt. Chop the shortening into the salted flour, pour in the beaten egg
and milk, making a soft dough, roll out, cut into rounds, and bake.


  Deviled Mutton.      Hashed Potatoes.
  Hot Loaf Bread.
  Orange Marmalade.

_Deviled Mutton._—Rub slices of rare mutton with a mixture made as
follows: One teaspoonful Worcestershire sauce, one teaspoonful vinegar,
one teaspoonful made mustard, tablespoonful melted butter. Let the meat
lie in this for an hour. Then dip each slice in a frying batter made
as directed in recipe for "ham fritters," and fry in deep fat. Or the
deviled meat may simply be boiled over a clear fire. In either case
serve very hot.

_Hot Loaf Bread._—Set a loaf of French bread in the steamer for fifteen
minutes, then in a hot oven for five minutes. Serve wrapped in a
napkin, and cut on the table.


  Caviare Toast.      Cold Meat.
  Baked Potatoes.
  Strawberries, unhulled.

_Caviare Toast._—Buy the Russian caviare, which comes in small tin
cans. Cut your bread into neat squares or rounds, removing the crusts;
toast and butter it, spread it with the caviare, and set it in the oven
five minutes before serving.


  Scalloped Cod.      Oatmeal Gems.
  Boiled Potatoes.
  Guava Jelly and Crackers.

_Scalloped Cod._—Two cupfuls picked codfish, one cupful drawn butter
(with an egg beaten in it), one teaspoonful minced sour pickle, one
tablespoonful Worcestershire sauce, fine bread-crumbs. Have the drawn
butter hot, stir the fish into it, add the pickle and sauce, pour into
a buttered baking-dish, sprinkle with crumbs, dot with bits of butter,
and bake.

_Oatmeal Gems._—Two cups of the finest oatmeal, two cups milk,
two eggs, one tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful sugar, one
saltspoonful salt.


  Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus.      Bread and Butter.
  Cheese Biscuit.
  Lettuce Salad.

_Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus._—Six eggs, one tablespoonful butter,
two tablespoonfuls milk, salt and pepper to taste, green tips of a
bunch of asparagus boiled tender. Put the butter and the milk into a
frying-pan, break the eggs into this, and stir until they begin to
thicken; put in the asparagus tops, season, and remove to a hot dish.

_Cheese Biscuit._—One cup grated cheese, one cup flour, one egg, pinch
of salt, dash of Cayenne. Mix all together, roll into a sheet, cut into
rounds, and bake to a light brown.


  Lobster Croquettes.      Graham Bread.
  Saratoga Potatoes.
  Strawberries and Cream.

_Lobster Croquettes._—Meat of one large boiled lobster, half pint white
sauce, two eggs, juice of a lemon, salt and Cayenne to taste. Mince
the meat fine, stir it into the white sauce, add the eggs well beaten,
and, last, the lemon juice. Turn out on a plate to cool. When perfectly
cold, form into small croquettes with the hands, roll in beaten egg,
then in fine cracker crumbs, and fry in deep fat.


In hot weather a comfortable room is essential to the enjoyment of a
meal. The _salle à manger_ must be cleared of food, the soiled dishes
removed, all crumbs brushed up, and the flies beaten out the moment
breakfast is over, if the apartment is to be pleasant at noon. If
blinds and doors are kept closed, the room may be deliciously cool and
fresh by lunch-time.

With such surroundings, good digestion is much more prone to wait on
appetite than in a stuffy, fly-infested room, where neither heat nor
light is excluded. Among the pleasantest recollections of at least one
woman are those connected with the lunches she has eaten in midsummer
in a certain city dining-room, where the subdued light, the daintily
arranged table, the carefully prepared and seasonable food, and the
noiseless serving inclined one to feel that there were many worse
fates than being obliged to spend the summer in town.


  Anchovy Toast.       Chicken Salad.
  Berries and Cream.
  Iced Tea.

_Anchovy Toast._—Spread crustless slices of toast first with butter,
then with anchovy paste. Set in the oven five minutes, and send to

_Chicken Salad._—Cut into small neat pieces half the contents of a can
of boned chicken or part of a cold boiled or roast chicken. Mix this
with half as much celery, if you can get it; if not, arrange it in the
midst of crisp lettuce leaves. Stir into it a French dressing of two
tablespoonfuls of oil, as much vinegar, and a little pepper and salt,
and pour over it a mayonnaise dressing.

_Mayonnaise Dressing._—Into a bowl set in an outer vessel of cold or
iced water place the yolk of an egg. Be careful that no vestige of the
white gets in. Begin whipping in salad oil drop by drop with a Dover
egg-beater, beating for nearly a minute after each addition. After
ten minutes, add two or three drops at a time, and when the dressing
once begins to thicken, the quantity can be increased even more. If
too thick, add a little vinegar to thin it. A pint of oil can be used
to every egg. When done, season with salt and white pepper. Just
before serving, stir into it the whipped white of an egg. The bowl,
egg-beater, and materials must all be very cold, and the dressing when
made must be kept on ice until used.


  Eggs _à la Crème_.
  Raw Tomatoes.      Rice Crumpets.
  Sliced Peaches.

_Eggs à la Crème._—Eight eggs boiled hard, one cup white sauce,
two tablespoonfuls fine crumbs, tablespoonful butter. Slice six of
the eggs, and put them in a pudding-dish with the white sauce. Rub
the yolks of the other two eggs through a sieve, mix them with the
bread-crumbs, and sprinkle them over the top of the dish. Put bits of
butter here and there, garnish the dish around the sides with points
of buttered toast and the extra whites of the eggs cut in rings, and
set the dish in the oven until browned on top.

_Rice Crumpets._—One cup rice, two cups flour, one cup milk, one
tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful sugar; quarter of a yeast-cake,
dissolved in warm water; pinch of salt. Set to rise early in the
morning. When light, fill muffin-pans; let them stand fifteen minutes,
and bake.


  Deviled Chicken.
  French Rolls.      Broiled Tomatoes.

_Deviled Chicken._—Select a young and tender chicken, score it with a
knife, rub it well with the sauce described in the last chapter (see
"Deviled Mutton"), and broil over a clear fire.

_Broiled Tomatoes._—Slice, but do not peel, fresh tomatoes. Broil them
on a toaster over the fire; remove to a hot dish; put a little butter,
pepper, and salt on each one, and let them stand a minute before


  Poached Eggs, with Anchovy Toast.
  Boston Brown-Bread.      Water-cress.
  Nutmeg Melons.

_Poached Eggs, with Anchovy Toast._—Prepare slices of anchovy toast as
already described, and lay on each slice a poached egg. Pour over all a
cup of drawn butter in which has been stirred a teaspoonful of chopped

_Boston Brown-Bread._—Put a loaf of Boston brown-bread into the inner
vessel of a double boiler, and boiling water in the outer vessel, and
steam the bread until it is hot through.


  Game _Pâté_.      Cold Tongue, sliced.
  Bread-and-Butter.      Radishes.
  Hot Crackers.
  Cream Cheese.

_Game Pâté._—Several varieties of game _pâtés_ are put up by French and
American companies, and all are admirable for summer lunches or teas.


  Fried Pickerel.      New Potatoes.
  Celery and Radish Salad.

_Fried Pickerel._—These fish are very delicious when perfectly fresh.
Each fish should be rolled in flour and fried quickly in hot dripping.
Take them out of the pan as soon as done.

_Celery and Radish Salad._—Cut the celery into inch lengths, and
toss it up with a French dressing. Heap it in a bowl, and arrange
half-peeled radishes around the mound. Pour over all a mayonnaise
dressing prepared according to the directions already given. The
combination of the cool celery and the pungent radishes will be found
very pleasing.


  Jellied Tongue.      Fried Bananas.
  Asparagus Biscuit.
  Peaches and Cream.

_Jellied Tongue._—One cup of the liquor in which the tongue was
cooked, two cups good stock or gravy of any meat except mutton,
half-box of gelatine, one gill cold water, one cup boiling water, two
tablespoonfuls vinegar, one glass sherry, a cold boiled tongue, sliced.
Soak the gelatine in the cold water for two hours. Pour over it the
boiling water, the stock or gravy, and the tongue liquor, heated.
Unless the gravy is highly seasoned, it is a good plan to boil a bay
leaf, a sprig of parsley, a slice of onion, and a few sweet herbs in a
cup of water, and then to strain this, and pour it over the gelatine
instead of using the plain boiling water. Flavor the jelly with the
vinegar, the sherry, pepper, and salt, if the last is needed. Strain
all through a cloth. When the jelly begins to harden, pour a little
into a brick-shaped mould or tin pan with straight sides, first wetting
the mould with cold water. Arrange slices of tongue on this. Pour in
more jelly, then place another layer of tongue, and continue thus until
the supply of both is exhausted, making jelly the last layer. Set the
mould on ice until the jelly is hard; turn it out and slice on the
table. This sounds like a fussy dish, but it is less trouble than
appears at first.

_Asparagus Biscuit._—Scoop out the inside of stale biscuit, leaving
side walls and the foundation of crust. Set these hollow shells in
the oven until dried. Boil asparagus tender in salted water, cut off
the tops, mince and season them, and stir them into a cupful of drawn
butter. Fill the hot shells with the mixture, and send to table.


  Baked Chicken Omelet.      Corn Croquettes.
  Brown Bread.
  Strawberry Short-Cake.
  Iced Coffee.

_Baked Chicken Omelet._—Into one cupful of white sauce, made as
previously directed, stir a cupful of chicken, minced fine and seasoned
to taste. Beat two eggs light, yolks and white separately. Add the
yolks to the chicken mixture; last, stir in the whites lightly, pour
into a buttered pudding dish, and bake in a quick oven.

_Corn Croquettes._—To two cupfuls of green corn, chopped, add one
well-beaten egg, a teaspoonful of butter, one of sugar, salt to taste,
and just enough flour to hold the ingredients together. Form into
croquettes with floured hands, and fry in deep fat.


  Pickled Lambs' Tongues.      Egg Salad.
  Boiled Corn-Bread.
  Loppered Milk.

_Egg Salad._—Slice hard-boiled eggs, arrange them upon crisp lettuce
leaves, and pour over all a mayonnaise dressing.

_Boiled Corn-Bread._—Two cups sour milk, one cup warm water, one
tablespoonful lard, one tablespoonful molasses, one teaspoonful soda,
one cup flour, two cups corn-meal. Mix the ingredients, beating well;
pour into a Boston brown-bread mould with a tight top; set in a pot of
water; boil two hours, and turn out.


  Welsh Rabbit.      Cold Corned Ham.
  Sliced Cucumbers.
  Hot Oatmeal Crackers.      Cream Cheese.

_Welsh Rabbit._—One egg, half-cup milk, one cup grated cheese; salt,
Cayenne, and made mustard to taste; squares of stale bread toasted and
buttered. Heat the milk in a double boiler, melt the grated cheese in
this, season, add the egg, and pour the mixture over the toast. If the
rabbit seems too thin, add more cheese or a few fine bread-crumbs.



  Sweetbread Pâtés.      Raised Corn-meal Muffins.
  Fried Potatoes.
  Jelly Toast.

_Sweetbread Pâtés._—Scald and blanch a pair of sweetbreads; remove bits
of skin and gristle; chop rather coarsely, and stir into a cupful of
white sauce; season to taste. Have ready pastry shells made hot in the
oven, and fill them with the sweetbreads. Send very hot to table. A few
mushrooms chopped with the sweetbreads are a pleasant addition.

_Raised Corn-meal Muffins._—Two cups milk, two cups corn-meal, one
tablespoonful white sugar, one tablespoonful lard, quarter yeast-cake.
Heat the milk to boiling, and pour it upon the meal. While this is
warm, beat in all the other ingredients except the lard. Let it rise
six hours. Add the lard. Fill muffin tins, and let the batter rise
twenty minutes before baking.

_Jelly Toast._—Cut stale bread into neat rounds or squares; fry each
slice in boiling deep fat; spread it thickly with some fruit jelly, and
serve very hot.


  Deviled Ham.      Sliced Potatoes.
  Rye Biscuit.
  Crackers and Cheese.

_Deviled Ham._—Cut cold boiled corned or smoked ham into rather thick
slices, rub well with a sauce made as described on page 134 for
"Deviled Mutton," and broil the ham over a clear fire.

_Sliced Potatoes._—Cut six boiled potatoes into neat slices, warm them
in a steamer, transfer to a dish, and put on them a tablespoonful
of butter and a teaspoonful of chopped parsley. Let them stand five
minutes before serving.

_Rye Biscuit._—Two cups rye flour, one cup white flour, one and a
half cups milk, one tablespoonful sugar, one tablespoonful lard, one
tablespoonful butter, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, saltspoonful
salt. Rub the shortening into the flour after sifting the salt and
baking-powder with it; add the sugar and the milk; roll the dough out
quickly, and bake the biscuit in a brisk oven.


  Cold Chicken Pie.      Potato Salad.
  Cold Bread.
  Gingerbread.      Cocoa.

_Cold Chicken Pie._—Stew a grown chicken until tender, putting it on
in cold water, and cooking very slowly; arrange the pieces in a deep
pudding dish, laying in with them two hard-boiled eggs cut into slices;
pour over all a cupful of the gravy, which should be well seasoned;
cover the pie with a pastry crust, and bake in a moderate oven. Add to
two cups of the remaining gravy a quarter-box of gelatine soaked in
a little cold water, a small glassful of sherry, and a tablespoonful
of vinegar; when the pie is done, pour this gravy into it through an
opening which should have been left in the top. Make this pie the day
before it is to be eaten. It is an excellent dish for Sunday lunch or

_Potato Salad._—Slice cold boiled potatoes; with three cups of these
mix one sliced beet, one onion braised, and three or four stalks of
celery; pour over them four tablespoonfuls of salad oil and three of
vinegar, with pepper and salt to taste. Let all stand in a cold place
at least an hour before serving.

_Gingerbread._—Two cups milk, half-cup sugar, half-cup molasses, one
teaspoonful ground ginger, one teaspoonful cinnamon, one tablespoonful
butter, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder; flour enough to make a good
batter. Beat hard, and bake in a steady oven.


  Apples and Bacon.      Brown-Bread Toast.
  Canned Peach Short-Cake.

_Brown-Bread Toast._—Cut stale Boston brown-bread into slices, and
toast, taking care not to scorch it. Butter rather liberally, and send
hot to table.

_Canned Peach Short-Cake._—Make a short-cake according to previous
directions; cover canned peaches with sugar, and stew them gently for
half an hour in the syrup thus made; lay the sliced peaches between the
layers of short-cake, and pour the syrup over each piece after it is
split and buttered.


  Broiled Blue-Fish.      Baked Potatoes.
  Cold Bread.
  Corn-meal Griddle-Cakes.
  Maple Syrup.

_Corn-meal Griddle-Cakes._—Two cups corn-meal, one cup flour, one cup
boiling water, one tablespoonful lard, one tablespoonful molasses, two
cups sour milk, one teaspoonful soda, saltspoonful salt. Scald the
corn-meal; add the shortening, the milk and soda, the molasses, and the
salted flour. Beat hard.


  Meat Loaf.      Baked Tomatoes.
  Fried Bread.
  Hot Cake.

_Meat Loaf._—Two pounds raw or under-done beef or veal, minced fine;
quarter-pound ham, also minced; two eggs; half-cup fine bread-crumbs;
one tablespoonful melted butter; pepper, salt, chopped onion, and herbs
for seasoning to taste. Work all the ingredients well together, and
press closely into a brick-shaped tin. Cover this, set it in a pan
of boiling water, and bake an hour and a half, taking care that the
boiling water does not cook away. Turn out and slice when cold.

_Fried Bread._—Beat one egg into a cup of milk; soak in this slices of
stale bread from which the crust has been trimmed. Cook on a griddle,
as you would cakes.

_Hot Cake._—One cup buttermilk, two eggs, three tablespoonfuls butter,
one and a half cups sugar, half teaspoonful soda, flour for a good
batter (about two heaping cupfuls). Bake in a loaf, and eat warm.


  Broiled Smelts.      Hashed Potatoes.
  Raised Muffins.
  Cerealine Fritters.

_Raised Muffins._—Two eggs, two cups milk, one tablespoonful butter,
one tablespoonful sugar, half yeast-cake, saltspoonful salt. Make
a sponge in the early morning, omitting the eggs; at lunch-time add
these, well beaten, and bake the muffins in a quick oven.

_Cerealine Fritters._—One and a half cups cerealine, two cups milk,
saltspoonful salt. Cook the cerealine in the milk, beat it up light,
and set it aside to cool in a shallow pan; cut it into squares or
rounds when cold, and fry in deep fat; sprinkle with powdered sugar,
and put a spoonful of jelly on top of each just before sending to table.


  Stewed Kidneys.      Potatoes _au Gratin_.
  Plain Muffins.
  Sliced Oranges.

_Stewed Kidneys._—Soak two kidneys in salt and water half an hour;
take out the core, and cut the remainder into small pieces. Brown a
tablespoonful of butter and one of flour together with a quarter of an
onion sliced; lay the pieces of kidney in this, and let them cook five
minutes. Add a cup of good gravy; or, if this is lacking, half a cup of
boiling water. Let the kidneys simmer in this ten minutes; take out,
and serve on slices of toast, pouring the gravy over and around them.

_Potatoes au Gratin._—Two cupfuls of raw potatoes cut into dice,
half-cup fine bread-crumbs, two tablespoonfuls butter. Let the potato
dice lie in cold water several hours, drain them, season with salt and
pepper, and put them in a well-greased pan; dot them thickly with bits
of butter, sprinkle them with the crumbs, and add more butter. Bake,
covered, for half an hour; uncover, and brown.

_Plain Muffins._—One egg, two cups milk, one tablespoonful lard,
saltspoonful salt, half yeast-cake, flour for batter. Set them early in
the morning, and let them rise until noon.


  Toasted Bacon.      Poached Eggs.
  Buttered Toast.
  Quick Crullers.      Cream Cheese.

_Quick Crullers._—One and a half cups sugar, one cup butter, four eggs,
cinnamon and nutmeg to taste, flour for a stiff dough; roll out, and
cut into fancy shapes, and fry in deep fat.


  Creamed Lobster.      Thin Bread-and-Butter.
  Salad of Cold Lamb.
  Crackers and Cheese.

_Creamed Lobster._—One cup milk, half-cup cream, meat of a large
lobster, two tablespoonfuls butter, one tablespoonful flour, salt and
Cayenne pepper to taste, juice of a lemon. Heat the milk to boiling,
and thicken with the flour and butter. Mince the lobster with a sharp
knife; never chop it. Stir it into the milk, and let it become well
heated; add to it the raw cream, stir up once, and take from the fire;
season, add the lemon juice, and serve in small silver or china shells.


  A Fish "Left-Over."      Stewed Potatoes.
  Rice Cakes.
  Roast Spanish Chestnuts.

_A Fish "Left-Over."_—The remains of any cold boiled, broiled, fried,
or baked fish; three hard-boiled eggs, if you have only a half-cupful
of fish (two eggs if there is more fish); one cup white sauce. Flake
the fish, chop the eggs, heat both in the white sauce, season to taste,
and serve either on toast or without it.

_Rice Cakes._—One egg, one cup flour, one and a half cups cold boiled
rice, saltspoonful salt, three cups milk. If this amount of milk thins
the batter too much, add more flour.

_Roast Spanish Chestnuts._—Cut a bit off of each, and roast them in the
oven. Peel, and eat with butter and salt.



  Curried Oysters.      Rice Croquettes.
  Cold Slaw.
  Crackers and Cheese.

_Curried Oysters._—Heat to boiling the liquor from one quart of
oysters; lay the oysters in it, and let them simmer just long enough to
plump them. Take them out with a skimmer, put them where they will keep
hot, and thicken the liquor by adding to it a tablespoonful of butter
rubbed smooth with two of browned flour. Into this stir a teaspoonful
of curry-powder wet up in a little cold water. Salt and pepper to
taste, squeeze in the juice of a lemon, return the oysters to the
sauce, and serve.

_Rice Croquettes._—Two cups cold boiled rice, one well-beaten egg, one
teaspoonful butter, one teaspoonful sugar, salt to taste. Work the
butter, egg, salt, and sugar into the rice, make into croquettes with
the floured hands, and fry in deep fat.

_Cold Slaw._—Shred half a fine white cabbage, and pour over it a
dressing made as follows: Four tablespoonfuls vinegar, half-cup milk,
one tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful sugar, one egg, pepper and
salt. Beat the egg; stir the melted butter, the milk, salt, pepper,
and sugar into this. Put the vinegar boiling hot into it, a little at
a time. Pour the sauce over the cabbage, and let it become ice-cold
before serving.


  Turkey Hash.      Fried Potatoes.
  Milk Toast.
  Macaroons.      Cocoa.

_Turkey Hash._—Remove the meat from the bones of a turkey, and cut it
into neat bits; stir two cups of this into two cups of white sauce;
season to taste. Make the stuffing of the turkey into neat cakes, fry
them, and arrange them on the dish around the hash.

_Macaroons._—One and a half cups powdered sugar, whites of two eggs,
six ounces almond paste. Beat the whites very stiff; add the sugar and
the almond paste, the latter chopped fine. Make into balls with the
fingers, and bake in very well greased pans in a moderate oven. Take
out when they are a delicate brown, but do not remove them from the
pans until they are perfectly cold. These little cakes are so delicious
and so easily made that it is strange they are not more generally
manufactured at home.


  Jellied Chicken.      Hominy Croquettes.
  Toasted Muffins.
  Orange Cake.

_Jellied Chicken._—Cut up a chicken as for fricassee, and stew until
the meat slips from the bones. Take out the chicken, and cut it into
neat pieces when it has become cold. Let the gravy simmer half an hour
with an onion sliced, a small bunch of parsley, a couple of stalks of
celery, and a bay-leaf. Strain it, and return it to the fire with the
white and freshly broken shell of an egg. Let it boil up, and strain
it again, this time through a cloth. While still hot pour three cups
of this liquor upon a half-box of gelatine which has soaked an hour
in one cupful of cold water. Stir until the gelatine is dissolved, and
add a glass of pale sherry and a couple of tablespoonfuls of vinegar.
Pour part of this jelly into a wet mould, and when it begins to form
lay in slices of hard-boiled egg and pieces of the chicken. More jelly
follows, and more chicken, until all are used up. Turn out when the
jelly is perfectly firm.

_Hominy Croquettes._—Make as directed for rice croquettes, using hominy
instead of rice.

_Toasted Muffins._—Split and toast English muffins, and butter them on
the inside.

_Orange Cake._—Two cups sugar, half cup butter, four eggs, three
cups flour, one cup cold water, one large or two small oranges, two
teaspoonfuls baking-powder. Work the butter and sugar together; add the
yolks of the eggs, the juice and grated peel of the orange, the water,
the whites, and the flour with the baking-powder. Bake in small cakes.
If you like, reserve one of the whites of the eggs, and make an orange
icing by beating with this a cup of powdered sugar and a little orange


  Cold Ham.      Celery Salad.
  Batter Muffins.
  Baked Apples with Cream.

_Batter Muffins._—Two cups flour, two cups milk, two tablespoonfuls
butter, three eggs, the whites and yolks beaten separately; one heaping
teaspoonful baking-powder, saltspoonful salt. Put in the whites last of
all, and bake the muffins in a quick oven.


  Baked Sausages.      Stuffed Potatoes.
  Toasted Crackers.      Cheese.      Olives.

_Baked Sausages._—Make small cakes of sausage-meat, or prick the
sausages, if you use those in skins, before putting them into the
baking-pan. Bake until they are of a good brown. Take them out and
thicken the fat left in the pan with a tablespoonful of flour, add a
small cup of milk, boil up, and pour over the sausages in the dish.


  Broiled Oysters.      Thin Bread-and-Butter.
  Cold Chicken.
  Raised Waffles.

_Raised Waffles._—One egg, two cups flour, two cups milk, one
tablespoonful butter, saltspoonful salt, half yeast cake. Set a sponge
early in the morning, and just before baking at noon beat in the butter
and egg.


  Beefsteak.      Baked Sweet Potatoes.
  Lunch Cakes.      Chocolate.

_Lunch Cakes._—One cup milk, four cups flour, two tablespoonfuls
butter, half-cup sugar, two eggs, two tablespoonfuls currants, one
teaspoonful baking-powder. Cream the butter and sugar, and stir them
into the beaten eggs and milk. Add the flour and baking-powder, and
last of all the currants, washed, dried, and dredged with flour. Roll
out the dough, cut into rounds, and bake in a moderate oven. Split,
butter, and eat while hot.


  Broiled Sardines on Toast.      Omelet.
  Nursery Muffins.
  Sugar Cakes.      Chocolate.

_Broiled Sardines on Toast._—Broil the sardines on a fine wire broiler,
lay two on each slice of toast, and squeeze over them a few drops of
lemon juice.

_Nursery Muffins._—Two cups milk, two cups fine bread-crumbs, one cup
flour, saltspoonful salt, one egg, one tablespoonful butter, three
teaspoonfuls baking-powder. Beat the egg light, stir in the butter, the
bread soaked in the milk, and the flour and baking-powder. Bake in a
steady oven, greasing the muffin tins well, so that the batter may not
stick to them.

_Sugar Cakes._—One cup butter, one cup sugar, four cups flour, two
eggs, one teaspoonful vanilla. Cream butter and sugar, mix with the
beaten eggs, add the flour and the flavoring, roll out _very_ thin, and
bake in a moderate oven, sprinkling the cakes with granulated sugar
just before baking.


  Veal Hamburg Steaks.      Light Rolls.
  Apple-Sauce.      Jumbles.

_Veal Hamburg Steaks._—One pound lean veal, chopped fine; two
teaspoonfuls onion juice; salt and pepper to taste. Mix all well, form
with the hands into flattened cakes, and broil over a clear fire. Lay
on each a half-teaspoonful of _maître d'hôtel_ butter, or a bit of
butter the size of a hickory nut, first squeezing a few drops of lemon
juice on the meat. Let them stand covered a minute before serving.

_Jumbles._—Half-cup butter, three quarters of a cup of sugar, one
heaping cup flour, two eggs (the yolks only), two tablespoonfuls
sherry, extract of rose to taste. Beat the yolks, cream the butter
and sugar; mix these, and add the flour and the flavoring. Make into
round balls with the fingers, and place them on a well-buttered tin
so far apart that when they flatten they may not run into each other.
Stick a raisin, a slip of citron, or a blanched almond on top of each.
Bake in a steady oven to a pale yellow. Do _not_ brown. While still
warm, loosen them from the pan with a sharp knife, as they become very
brittle when cold.


  Ham and Eggs.      Baked Potatoes.
  Graham Biscuit.
  Stewed Prunes.      Fancy Cakes.


Twenty or thirty years ago the late dinner was not nearly so popular
as it is now. The majority of the people dined in the middle of the
day, and not a few of them considered a six-o'clock dinner as an effort
after fashion that was unworthy the imitation of sensible men and
women. Even in large cities servants rebelled against an alteration of
the time-honored custom of serving the principal meal of the day at or
near noon, while in small towns the late dinner was so unusual that it
was almost impossible to persuade domestics to consent to it.

A marked change has taken place in the fashion. The evening dinner has
for years been steadily gaining in popularity, and promises to become
even more common than it is now. Thoughtful men and women recognize the
wisdom of eating lightly at midday, when they are in the full tide of
business, and reserving the heartiest repast for an hour when it can be
discussed leisurely and digested peacefully. Mistresses have learned
that there is a gain in keeping the morning free for house-work,
instead of devoting most of it to the preparation of the dinner. The
light lunch eaten in most homes demands much less time in cooking and
eating than does a dinner, and leaves those who have partaken of it
more fit for work than they would be were their stomachs burdened with
the task of digesting soup, meat, vegetables, and dessert.

The late dinner is a more dignified meal than can possibly be made of
a similar repast eaten at noon. The festal appearance imparted by the
gleam of candles, lamps, or gas upon silver, china, and glass cannot
be acquired by daylight. The pleasant reunion around the board of
the members of the family, whose positions and interests have been
divergent since morning, the happy consciousness that the work of the
day is done, the knowledge that there is no toil waiting at the door of
the dining-room, all bear their share in rendering the meal cheerful
and care-free. More ceremony can and should be preserved at the evening
dinner than is feasible at noon. The orderly sequence of courses and
careful serving have a part in adding to the dignity of the meal.

These suggestions should not frighten the housekeeper who contemplates
introducing the late dinner in her household. Very little extra work is
involved in bestowing the touch of state referred to, and, after all,
it consists chiefly in a slight additional care in waiting and serving,
and to these the mistress can readily accustom the maid.

The dinner-table should be spread with a plain white cloth, under
which the sub-cover of felt or canton flannel must never be lacking.
Any one who has observed the thin and sleazy appearance even handsome
damask presents without this felt under it, and has noticed the noise
the dishes and silver make when moved about where there is but the one
thickness between them and the board, will not voluntarily be long
without so simple and inexpensive an addition to the elegance of her

It is sometimes a rather costly luxury to keep a vase of fresh flowers
always ready for the table. In summer it is comparatively easy, even in
the city, to get a few blossoms every day or two; but in winter, with
flowers at exorbitant prices, a single spray, renewed twice a week, is
an extravagance which the housewife does not always feel she can afford
herself. Cheaper and quite as pretty in effect is it to have a pot of
primroses, or of cyclamen, or of some other hardy house plant that will
bloom for two or three weeks, and of which the first cost is but small.

In setting the table, the knife and the napkin, with a piece of bread
folded in the latter, should lie at the right of the plate, the fork at
the left, the spoon at right angles to both of these; between the plate
and the middle of the table, the glass, butter-plate, and salt-cellar
near the point of the knife, within easy reach of the right hand. An
extra knife or fork may be added for each course, where either may
be needed. A plate must stand at each place, although it is usually
removed to make room for a hot one after the family are seated and the
dinner brought on.

The space in front of the hostess is left free for the soup-tureen,
and before the host is spread the carving-cloth. The carving knife
and fork are laid upon this. At the corner of the table stand the
large salts, if these are used instead of the individual cellars, and
the pepper-cruets. Near them are the tablespoons. The water-pitcher,
or carafe, the ice bowl, and any relishes in the shape of jellies,
pickles, etc., are all else that is put on the table at the beginning
of the meal, except the soup tureen and plates.

When the latter have been removed, the principal meat dish is set in
front of the carver, and a hot plate is laid for each guest. At family
dinners the carver generally does the helping, although sometimes after
the meat is cut it is passed, and each person allowed to help himself.

The vegetables are next passed by the waitress, and offered at the
left of each person, and after them the jelly or pickles are served.
If, before the meat course, a fish dish or an _entrée_ is offered, it
is passed usually in the same fashion. Next comes the salad, which is
always passed, after each guest has been supplied with a clean plate.
This course removed, all the soiled dishes and the small silver are
removed, the table is crumbed, and the dessert is brought in. If fruit
succeeds this, a fresh plate and a finger-bowl are given to each one.
With the fruit comes the coffee.

Of course there are many families in which the daily _menu_ is simpler
than that outlined above. In large families each added course means
a perceptible increase of cost, and although the judicious manager
who has a fixed allowance for household expenses may so dovetail the
retrenchment of one day that it will balance the undue outlay of
another, yet in most instances she will feel that if she can feed her
household well and satisfy them, without providing them with five
or six courses at an ordinary dinner, more than this would savor of
extravagance. In some homes soup each day is considered an expensive
luxury. So it is when fresh meat must be purchased to make it, or even
when fresh or canned vegetables have to be bought for it; but when
there are bones or trimmings from raw or cooked meats, or vegetables
left over—a half-can of tomatoes, a cupful or two of mashed potato, a
saucer of pease, or other similar remnants—or when fish and eggs are
plentiful, the soup need be but a small item in the expense, and is
really economical, as, by blunting the edge of the appetite, it renders
the attack upon the next course less vigorous. There is a large variety
of bean, pea, lentil, and cream soups that are cheap, palatable, and

Salad is not a frequent dish in many homes, but in warm weather it may
well be substituted sometimes for soup and cost little more. Still that
may be a good dinner at which neither soup nor salad is seen. The final
cup of tea or coffee adds a graceful finish to a simple dessert, and is
generally enjoyed by the adult members of the family.

A word concerning the dinner toilette may not be amiss. In England,
donning full dress for a late dinner is a matter of course. Not so in
America. Our independent citizen usually thinks he honors the home meal
quite enough if he washes the dust of the day from his hands and face,
and brushes his hair and his coat. Yet there are few homes in which the
mistress does not change her gown for dinner, or at least brighten or
freshen her attire so as to make it differ decidedly from that in which
she appeared at breakfast. The question involuntarily suggests itself
why it is easier for a tired woman to dress than it is for a tired man,
and one wonders if the husband would not find in a change of toilette
the refreshment his wife experiences from a similar operation. Even
without putting on full dress, a man should, at least by exchanging his
office for a house coat, and assuming fresh collar, cuffs, and cravat,
do his share in giving to the dinner-table the look of a pleasant
social gathering, instead of a mere stopping-place for food.


In some homes it seems out of the question to have a late dinner.
There may be several reasons for this. Possibly the mistress of the
house does all her own work, and finds it easier to dispose of the
bulk of her cooking in the morning than later, since she thus leaves
free the afternoon hours for leisure or social duties. Or she may, if
she keeps servants, live in a neighborhood where late dinners are so
far the exception that she finds it impossible to induce her cook to
accede to her desire to change the hour of dinner. Or, still again, it
may seem expedient to dine at noon, because that hour better suits her
husband and children. In any one of these cases, instead of repining
over the inevitable, she should set herself to work to make the best of
circumstances, and do all in her power to impart every possible charm
to the midday meal.

In some parts of the South a one-o'clock dinner is almost unheard of,
while the—to Northerners—singular hour of two, or half after two, or
three, is chosen. This has the advantage of giving the children plenty
of leisure for eating, as their schools have closed by this hour;
but the same necessity for haste is laid upon the head of the house
that must always prevail when a busy man is obliged to take the time
for dinner out of the most active part of the day. Whenever, for any
reason, the meal must be only an interlude in work, instead of coming
at the close of the day's labors, it should be made a comparatively
simple repast.

There is no doubt that the average American eats too rapidly. No one
who has witnessed the feats of deglutition performed by commercial
travellers at a railway station will cavil at this assertion. It is
safe to attribute the national disease of dyspepsia to this cause fully
as much as to the indigestible viands of which the ordinary citizen
makes his chief diet. And this haste is not confined to the hotel
dining-room or the railway eating-house. In private households as
astonishing and disgusting exhibitions of rapid gorging may be seen as
are ever witnessed in public restaurants.

No one who had once beheld the spectacle could ever forget the fashion
in which meals were conducted in a certain home where wealth and every
evidence of outward refinement gave promise of better things. The
father, a man of business from his sixteenth year, plainly considered
eating the duty to be accomplished at the table, and quite ignored such
minor considerations as the interchange of thought or observation, or
any of the social features usually connected with the operation of
dining. If he could not quite equal Napoleon the First, who was said to
have often devoured his entire dinner in six minutes, he did not fall
far behind the great warrior. Soup, meat, vegetables, dessert, were
swallowed in rapid succession and in almost utter silence. The slight
delay inseparable from a change of courses was endured impatiently.
Almost before the last mouthful was down, the eager man would push
back his chair, spring to his feet, and, with a muttered word of
farewell, make a rush for the street. In an instant the slam of the
front door would announce that he was on his way back to his office.

His children were not backward in imitating him, and all the pleadings
of their refined, care-worn mother were powerless to check the
influence of the father's example. With such a rush at meal-times,
elegant or even tolerably decent table manners were impossible, and the
visitor in the home found eating a difficult business when accompanied
by the sight of the haste and habits that often could only be described
as revolting.

If the midday meal must be hurried, let it also be simple. There is
no rhyme or reason in attempting to dispose of a three or four course
dinner in thirty or forty minutes. If only half an hour can be allowed
for the repast, let this consist of two courses only, either a soup
and a meat course, a meat course and a salad, or a meat course and a
dessert. These should be served promptly, but in an orderly fashion,
and both the conduct of the dinner and the gastric powers will be
benefited by such simplicity.

Upon this point the house mother must insist. Even if her husband will
not conform to her wishes in this regard, she should require from
servants and children a certain amount of propriety in serving the
meal and decorum in its discussion. After seeing that the dinner is
punctually served, and that the courses follow one another promptly,
she should herself set the example of deliberate eating, and should
strive, by the introduction of interesting subjects, to encourage the
pleasant chat that is a potent aid to digestion. It will cost an effort
to do this when she is weary and harassed by household worries, but she
will enjoy her own meal more if her mind is, by any agreeable means,
distracted for a little while from her cares.

For the midday dinner the table should be laid as it is at night, and
the waiting should be performed in the same fashion. The vegetables
should, if possible, be served from the side, although in a family
where no waitress is employed they may be set upon the table. The
custom of having four or five vegetables at dinner appears rather
absurd. Where there are only two courses, several kinds may be desired,
but as a rule two vegetables, or at the most three, are quite enough.
Only a few of these should ever be served in saucers. Even at the
tables of people who ought to know better it is nothing unusual to see
two or three or more small sauce-plates given to each person. One will
contain pease, another tomatoes, another stewed corn, another pickles
or jelly. While there may be some sense in having separate little
dishes for holding such semi-fluid compounds as stewed tomatoes, stewed
corn, or cranberry sauce, there is no cause for using them for pease,
string-beans, spinach, cauliflower, and the like. The appearance of
such an array suggests a hotel table, and detracts from the home-look
which should always be studied by the housekeeper.

Of course there is no possibility of dressy toilettes at midday, but
cleanliness and neatness at least may be attained, and it should be
one of the unwritten laws of the home that no one may come to the table
looking untidy, or in _négligé_ of curl-papers and collarless wrappers
for the women and shirt sleeves for the men.

Possibly it may seem strange to many people to learn that there are
classes among whom it is considered no breach of etiquette for a man
to come to the table not only coatless, but even without his collar,
cravat, or vest; this, too, not among farmers alone, but in cities and
in ranks of life much above those of the ordinary mechanic or common
day laborer. Often in the same families the wives and daughters will
appear well-bred, and will dress neatly and tastefully themselves, even
while they seem to perceive nothing shocking in the dishabille of the
men of the house. Perhaps, since those most interested do not complain,
no one else has a right to criticise; and yet it does seem as though
the regard for appearances and for the small sweet courtesies of life
had some claims.

In most cases where one notes such carelessness, it will be found that
the trouble began very far back, when the boys who are now men were
allowed a similar license in their parents' homes. For the sake of the
families of the future, if for no other reason, the mothers of the
rising generation should exact appropriate apparel at meals as well as
correct behavior and careful table manners from their growing boys and
girls, even if the children's fathers refuse to conform to what they
deem over-niceness in dress and demeanor.


The "big dinner" of the week is, in most homes, eaten on Sunday. Then
the men of the family are at home for the day, the children have no
claims of school or play to hurry them through their meals, and there
is a general impression of delightful leisure which seems favorable to
the eating and digestion of an excellent and hearty dinner. This repast
is usually served at midday, in order that the servants may have the
afternoon and evening to themselves; and it is not uncommon for the
mistress of the house to prepare the Sunday-evening tea herself.

The old-fashioned idea of always having a cold dinner on the Sabbath
is almost obsolete. Some people who have been brought up in the habit
clung for a long while to the compromise of serving a piece of cold
meat at the Sunday dinner, although the vegetables were hot; but even
that is changed now, and there are few homes where as large an array of
smoking viands is not spread upon

    "The day that comes between
    The Saturday and Monday"

as is ever offered on any non-religious holiday.

The reasons given at the beginning of this chapter are quite sufficient
to account for this almost universal practice. The good housekeeper
enjoys seeing her culinary handiwork appreciated, and she generally
reserves any especially tempting _bonnes bouches_ for Sunday, when she
knows that those for whom she delights to cater will have the time
and inclination to give her cookery its meed of attention. Without
cavilling at this, one must at the same time deprecate the amount
of additional work that the Sunday dinner often involves upon what
should be, both physically and spiritually, a day of rest as well as
of refreshment. A little thought will often enable the housekeeper to
so minify the amount of work to be done on Sunday that the domestic
labors will be perceptibly lightened, and the dinner in no wise
injured. So much of the preparation for the meal can be made the day
before that the business of finally getting it ready for the table will
seem comparatively light.

In one family of strong Sabbatarian principles the omission of soup
from the Sunday bill of fare was evidently considered a means of
grace. The tureen and ladle always enjoyed a rest upon the first day
of the week, but by some curious process of ratiocination no harm was
thought of having at dinner a course of salad which cost as much time
to prepare, and demanded the use and washing of as many dishes as would
have sufficed to serve the tabooed soup. Yet the hostess would always
say, with an air of conscious virtue, "Oh, we never have _soup_ on
Sundays," as though the non-appearance of that dish upon the first day
of the week was proof positive of a high order of piety.

In spite of this, the soup course may be made a very trifling affair.
To say nothing of two or three excellent brands of canned soups,
which, with a little "doctoring" in the way of seasoning, may be
rendered quite equal to those freshly made, there are many soups which
can be brought on Saturday into a state of such complete readiness
that all that is necessary on Sunday is to heat them for the table.
Of these are chicken, mutton, and veal broths, _consommé_, Julienne,
ox-tail, mock-turtle, black or white bean and pea soup—indeed, nearly
every soup with a meat stock. Cream soups, like tomato, celery, potato,
cauliflower, green pea, and corn soups, are better prepared just before
using, and these may be served on week-days and yet leave a large
variety of _potages_ from which to make a choice for the Sunday dinner.

Leaving the soup, something should be said concerning the introduction
of _entrées_, etc. They are not necessary at a repast so essentially
domestic as the first-day feast. Even if they are prepared the day
before, their insertion in the bill of fare compels the use and washing
of another set of plates. The man-servant and maid-servant within our
gates merit a little consideration upon a day which should bring to
them too a modicum of rest. Still, if an _entrée_ is occasionally
desired, there are those which may be made on Saturday, and will need
only warming to be fit for the table, such as _pâtés_ of various
kinds. For these both pastry shells and filling may be prepared the
day before, so that simply heating them and putting them together will
comprise the work involved in getting them ready for the table.

When the meat course is reached it becomes less easy to shirk Sunday
labor. The roast may be bound and skewered, the turkey or chickens
trussed for roasting, the bread crumbed for the stuffing, on Saturday,
but the stuffing must not go in until the last moment, nor must the
meats, to be at their best, be put into the oven until just in time to
permit their being done in season for dinner. With vegetables, too,
much of the excellence depends upon brisk cooking. Few of them are,
like spinach, benefited by each time of warming over. Since this heavy
work cannot be avoided, all the housekeeper can do is to make the rest
of the meal as easy as possible for herself and her servants. At the
best, there will be enough to do.

If a salad is served, the mayonnaise dressing, if this is used, is no
whit injured by keeping on the ice even for two or three days. The
fish, flesh, or fowl, when such enter into the composition of the
salad, may be minced the day before, and kept in a cold place until
needed. Or if, as is better at dinner, a simple salad of lettuce,
celery, or something of the kind is used, upon which the hostess
bestows an ordinary French dressing after it is brought to the table,
the washing and picking over of the salad are a trifling matter.

As to desserts, it is a peculiar taste which refuses to be satisfied
with some one of the many that can be made in part or entirely the day

The number of cold desserts is legion, and ranges all the way from
ices and frozen creams through charlottes, jellies, and the like, to
the simple blanc-manges and custards, to say nothing of preserved or
brandied fruit. Pies of countless kinds there are which can readily be
heated, if a hot dessert is wished, and there are delicious cakes which
are almost a dessert in themselves. Besides all these, in this favored
period, there is scarcely a day in the year when an attractive dish of
fresh fruit is beyond the reach of people of moderate means.

While anything approaching a desecration of the Sabbath is to be
avoided, there should yet be a cheerfulness, a pleasant freedom of
speech at the Sunday dinner-table that ought to render it the happiest
meal of the week. It is not the season for ceremonious entertaining—a
large Sunday dinner-party is not in America in the best form, even in
so-called worldly society—but it is the time for making a place within
the circle of the home for solitary men or women far from their own
people, who have only boarding-places or restaurants at which to eat
their Sunday dinner. To them even a simple meal, eaten in a private
house and among friends, is a choice treat, and inviting them is a deed
which may fitly be classed among the works of mercy which even the
Westminster Catechism permits.


There has been so much written about the giving of dinner-parties that
the manager of a small household may well shrink in dismay from the
labor that obedience to such rules would lay upon her. When she reads
descriptions of tables spread with the most costly glass, silver, and
china, of courses consisting of delicacies prepared from intricate
directions, and served by three or four trained servants—her heart
sinks with dismay, and she gives up then and there the attempt to
entertain her friends at dinner.

Such instructions may be of value to those _nouveaux riches_ who are
at a loss how to conduct a feast where expense is no object. Even for
them it seems as though it would be easier to consign a big dinner to
the charge of a professional caterer than to drill their own servants
into fitness for preparing and serving such a repast as some of these
manuals describe. But there are many women who wish to entertain
gracefully, and yet who have neither the means nor the inclination
to attempt doing so on a large or costly scale. Possessing plenty of
pretty napery, silver, and china, having tolerably good cooks and
well-trained waitresses, they feel themselves fairly equipped for
giving small dinners, especially when they may order some of the most
difficult dainties from outside. They need not be appalled by the list
of what are to the majority of them unattainable adjuncts, that are
declared by writers on the complete art of dining to be indispensable
to a correct dinner. Those who are fitted by circumstances to follow
these are few indeed compared with the army of the moderately
well-to-do who find such elegance quite beyond their modest means.
So let these pluck up heart of grace, and, instead of obeying the
quite natural impulse which ensues upon the perusal of the aforesaid
discouraging guide-books to entertaining and renouncing their plans of
hospitality, resolve rather to use their own common-sense and good
judgment, and give dinners in consonance with these.

Of course there are certain rules for setting the table, directing
the proper sequence of courses, and for the waiting, whose observance
marks familiarity with the etiquette of dining, and whose absence
denotes ignorance; but these are so simple, so universal, and so
readily learned that once known it is easier to follow them than to
devise new ways. Among the many advantages of practising every day the
proper methods of serving and waiting is especially this, that when an
emergency of this sort arises, there need be only an extension of daily
customs, not a total departure from ordinary habits.

The etiquette of a small dinner is essentially the same as that of
a large one. Any woman who is sure of her _cuisine_, and who has a
waitress accustomed to her work, can give a pretty little dinner,
and there is no pleasanter way of entertaining a few friends whom
one especially wishes to honor. For a party of this sort, six is a
good number. When one goes beyond that, the necessity for a more
ceremonious etiquette, a more imposing bill of fare, arises, and this
the woman who gives only little dinners wishes to shun.

In setting the table, care must be taken to avoid the one extreme
of over-crowding, and the other of placing the guests so far apart
that _tête-à-tête_ conversations are difficult. In as small a company
as this the talk is apt to be general, but occasionally there is
an opportunity for a duet if the seats are near enough together to
allow two of their occupants to carry on a low-voiced chat without
distracting the attention of the other guests from their own topics of

In the arrangement of dishes, knives, forks, etc., about the same rules
are followed that apply for luncheon-parties. A fork and a knife for
each course—the forks laid at the left of the plate, the knives at
the right, the soup spoon across the top of the plate—the usual array
of salt-cellar, butter-plate (the latter is often omitted at dinner),
the glasses for wine and for water, the folded napkin holding a dinner
roll, the card, the _menu_, the individual flowers—all are much the
same as at a luncheon. The table-cloth should be of the heaviest and
handsomest damask, the centre-piece, the floral decorations, the
candelabra, with their candles and silk shades, the dishes, containing
_hors-d'œuvres_, bonbons, _glacé_ fruits, etc., differ little from the
similar array on the table at a formal luncheon. The same general plan
is to be followed in serving the courses. The dinner usually begins
with oysters or clams. Next comes a soup—_consommé_, or a cream soup of
some really choice variety. A clear soup is to be preferred as being
light and easily digested, and since one does not wish to begin the
meal by overloading the stomach, it is better on that account than a
cream soup or a _purée_.

Fish comes next, and this should be, as is everything else served
at a dinner, either choice on account of its rarity, or because of
the excellent fashion in which it is cooked. A piece of salmon or of
baked halibut with a _sauce hollandaise_ is good, or, in their season,
salmon trout or any other game fish. Potatoes in some form are served
with this course. This is succeeded by an _entrée_, and that in turn
by the principal meat course of the dinner, usually _filet de bœuf_,
accompanied by one or two fine vegetables. Next comes Roman punch, then
game or poultry, followed or accompanied by salad, and after that is
the dessert—pastry, ices, creams, fruits, coffee, etc. As may be seen
by comparing this outline with the directions given for a luncheon, the
two are very much alike. The chief difference is in the kinds of food.
Those served at a dinner are generally of a more solid character than
those prepared for a luncheon. The latter consists chiefly of _petits

A small dinner should not last much more than an hour and a half. It
is readily disposed of in that length of time if the cook has the
courses ready promptly, and if the waitress understands her business.
All the carving should be done off the table. The plates should be put
in front of the guests from the right side, and removed from the left.
Of course, whatever dish is passed must be offered from the left side.
To prevent mistakes the hostess should write out a full list of all
the courses, what dishes each comprises, and from what china they are
to be served, noting, too, when there is a change of silver. A copy of
this schedule should be in the hands of the cook, while the butler or
waitress should have a duplicate pinned up in a convenient place in the
butler's pantry, to serve as a reference in case the memory of one of
them should play false.

While caterers can be found who will supply almost any dish which
may be suggested, a graceful touch of individuality is imparted to a
dinner if certain _plats_ are prepared at home. Only, they must be well
done, or they were better omitted altogether. The ices, biscuit, and
Charlottes usually come from outside, but the _entrées_ and salads,
as well as soup, and the fish, meat, and game, may be prepared in the
house, and be none the worse on that account.

Coffee is sometimes served in the dining-room, but quite as often
passed in the parlor. It is never in good taste to have a large
assortment of wines at a small dinner. Claret and champagne are quite
enough, or even claret alone is sufficient.

When the hostess is ordering her dinner, she should bear in mind who
her guests are to be, and arrange her bill of fare in accordance with
her bill of company. The advisability of this is illustrated in the
anecdote told of an English restaurateur who, on being ordered to
prepare a dinner for twelve clergymen, begged respectfully to know if
they were High-Church or Broad-Church, "for hif 'Igh-Church, they wants
more wine; hif Broad-Church, more wittles."

It is not worth while to prepare highly spiced _entremets_ and dishes
of mushrooms and terrapin for guests who would be better suited with
plainer viands; while, on the other hand, a very simple dinner is not
the thing to set before a company of epicures.


Thus far the descriptions of breakfasts, luncheons, and dinners have
been given from the standpoint of the housekeeper. The outline of this,
a more ceremonious meal than any before described, will be from the
point of view of the guest, who regards everything as a mere spectator,
and not with the eyes of the hostess, who has studied every step of the
repast from its inception to its completion.

Two weeks before the dinner the guest receives his invitation, which
may have been sent either by private hand or by post. The latter method
in these days of "magnificent distances" is rapidly growing in favor.
The invitation card, which is about three and a half inches wide by
four and a half long, is engraved in a dashing script as follows:

  _Mr. and Mrs. Pelham Blank
  request the pleasure of
  Mr. —— ——'s company
  at dinner on
  —— —— ——
  at half-past seven o'clock,
  —— Gramercy Square._

The name of the guest and the date of the dinner are written in the
blank spaces on the card. To this invitation he sends an immediate

The guest reaches the house of his entertainers on the appointed
evening at a few minutes before the dinner hour. In the coat-room he
finds a man-servant in attendance, ready to assist in any trifling
matters of the toilet, who hands each gentleman, on a silver tray, a
tiny envelope, enclosing a card bearing the name of the lady he is
to take in to dinner. Descending to the drawing-room, the name of
the guest is announced at the door by a servant, who draws aside the
portière to allow him to enter. His first address is, of course, to
Mr. and Mrs. Blank, who stand near the door receiving. The young man,
Fidus by name, congratulates himself inwardly that he at least is on
time, and, seeing at a glance how few of his fellow _convives_ have
arrived, marvels anew, as he has done often before, that well-bred
people will be so careless of the laws that regulate good society as to
arrive at a house ten, fifteen, and even twenty minutes after the hour
fixed for dinner.

As Fidus has never met the young lady whose name is written on the
card presented to him in the dressing-room, he promptly requests an
introduction of his hostess, and chats with his fate for this evening
until—all of the fourteen invited guests having arrived—a servant draws
back the portières and announces by a bow that dinner is served. Mr.
Blank offers his arm to the guest for whom the dinner is especially
given—a charming Englishwoman—and the rest of the party follow them to
the dining-room. There is no suggestion of precedence, except as the
younger guests naturally give way to the elders of the company. Mrs.
Blank and her attendant cavalier come last.

The dining-room, a fine large apartment, is lighted only by candles;
but there are plenty of these in sconces, in candelabra, in
candle-sticks of odd and pretty designs. Flowers are all about wherever
their use, either singly or massed, can produce a good effect.

The places at table are marked by plain white cards, each with the name
of a guest painted on it in gold. The table decorations are quiet in
effect, but in excellent taste. The cloth, of pure white plain damask,
is covered through the centre with a scarf of elaborate drawn-work.
In place of the towering épergnes once so fashionable, the floral
ornaments, candelabra, etc., are all low. Pink roses, white lilacs, and
maidenhair ferns are the flowers used; and these are not arranged in
set form, but are simply massed in cut-glass bowls, three in number,
placed here and there through the centre of the table. The candelabra
are also of cut glass, which is used wherever it is possible, in
preference to silver. A corsage bouquet of the flowers mentioned above,
tied with a wide pink ribbon, awaits each lady at her place, while a
_boutonnière_ lies beside the name card of each man. The candles are
shaded with alternate pink and white shades, and the silver and china
are of the daintiest and prettiest.

At each place are two large knives and a smaller one—one of these being
supposed to be for fish, although it is decidedly _contre les règles_
to use a knife for fish—a small fork for fish, three large forks, a
spoon for soup, and a small oyster fork. The knives are at the right,
the forks at the left of the plate, and on the left is also the folded
napkin containing the bread. The glasses for water and wine are on the
right. There are generally four of the latter, for claret, sauterne,
champagne, and sherry.

A plate holding raw oysters and a piece of lemon is at each place
when the guests enter. When these have been eaten, soup is served, a
_consommé_; and this is not brought to the table in the tureen, but
is served from the side. Next comes the fish—a piece of salmon, with
lobster sauce, it happens to be on this particular occasion—and it is
followed by the _entrées_. To save time, three of these are served at
once; but Fidus declines one, deeming it unwise to overload his plate
and his stomach at so early a stage in the proceedings.

After the _entrées_ comes the roast, with one vegetable; and the sorbet
or Roman punch succeeds this, and precedes the game. Salad, cheese, and
bread-and-butter compose the next course, and, the table being cleared
for dessert, ices make their appearance. After these are disposed of
come the fruit, bonbons, etc.

Wine has, of course, flowed freely during the repast, but the drinking
has been very moderate, after all, and each guest has felt at liberty
to refuse any of the wines offered. Sherry has been served with the
soup, sauterne with the fish, and claret with the roast, while after
the first course or two champagne has had all seasons for its own. At
some dinners a larger number of wines are served, but this, so far
from being essential, is not considered strictly good form. Nor have
there been favors given, as one would suppose, from perusing books of
etiquette, that this is a common custom at ceremonious dinners. Such a
proceeding, while it might in one way be agreeable to the guests, would
entail a heavy burden of expense upon the hosts, and might, moreover,
place the recipients of these mementos under an obligation which they
would not thoroughly enjoy. If favors are given, they should be pretty
but inexpensive trifles.

The dessert discussed, the ladies leave the gentlemen to their own
devices for a while, and retire to the drawing-room. Coffee might have
been served before they quitted the table, but in this case it is sent
to the ladies in the drawing-room, where they sip it leisurely, while
the men enjoy theirs with their cigars in the _salle à manger_, and
partake of the tiny glasses of cordial that is supposed to serve as
an aid to digestion. When they finally leave the table two hours and
a half have passed since they seated themselves, and they are quite
ready to stand about the drawing-room chatting for a while after their
prolonged _séance_.

As no music or other entertainment beyond the dinner has been arranged
for the guests, they remain only about an hour after the meal is ended,
and then make their acknowledgments and adieux to the host and hostess,
and wend their respective ways homeward.



  Lentil Soup.
  Fricasseed Chicken.
  Rice Croquettes.      Buttered Sweet Potatoes.
  Peach Brown Betty.

_Lentil Soup._—One pint lentils, two quarts cold water, one onion, one
tablespoonful flour, two teaspoonfuls butter, pepper and celery-salt
to taste. Soak the lentils overnight in cold water; drain them the
next morning, and put them over the fire with the two quarts of water
and the onion; simmer for several hours until the lentils are very
soft. If the water boils away too fast, replenish the amount from the
tea-kettle. When the lentils are done, rub them through the colander
and return them to the fire; cook the butter and flour together in
a small saucepan until the mixture bubbles, and stir into the soup.
Season to taste, and pour on tiny squares of fried bread laid in your
tureen, and serve.

_Buttered Sweet Potatoes._—Boil good-sized sweet potatoes, scrape them,
and slice them lengthwise; butter each piece, lay all in a pan, and set
them in the oven until the butter is well melted into the potatoes.

_Peach Brown Betty._—Stew a pound of evaporated peaches until tender
and plump; place a layer of these in the bottom of a pudding dish,
sprinkle them plentifully with sugar, and strew them quite thickly
with fine bread-crumbs, scattering a little cinnamon over this; then
arrange another layer of peaches, more sugar, crumbs, and spice, and
so continue until the dish is full. Just before adding the last layer,
which should be of crumbs, pour in as much of the liquor in which
the peaches were stewed as the dish will hold without "floating" the
contents. After the top stratum of crumbs is in place, dot it with bits
of butter; bake it covered for half an hour in a moderate oven, uncover
and brown. Eat with hard sauce.

_Hard Sauce._—One tablespoonful butter, one cup powdered sugar,
half-teaspoonful flavoring. Cream the butter and sugar together until
very light, flavor, press into a cup or small mould, turn out, and pass
with the pudding.


  Boiled Mutton, Sauce Soubise.
  Mashed Turnips.      Baked Hominy.
  Apple Charlotte.

_Boiled Mutton, Sauce Soubise._—In purchasing your mutton, select a
fine large leg, and have it cut in two, in such a way that the knuckle
and the lower part of the leg will make a good piece for boiling,
leaving the upper part for roasting.

_Sauce Soubise._—Four onions chopped, one tablespoonful flour, one
tablespoonful butter, one cup of the liquor in which the mutton was
boiled; pepper and salt to taste. Stew the onions until very tender;
drain them, and rub them through a colander; put the butter and
flour together in a little saucepan, cook them until they bubble;
add the mutton liquor, which must have been cooled and skimmed; stir
all together until thick and smooth; add the pepper, salt, and the
strained onions; pass with the boiled mutton. If properly made, this is
a very appetizing sauce.

_Baked Hominy._—To two cupfuls of cold boiled hominy add a
tablespoonful of melted butter, a tablespoonful of white sugar, one egg
beaten, a cupful of milk, and a little salt; beat all together until
light, and bake in a buttered pudding dish. Serve as a vegetable.

_Apple Charlotte._—Two eggs, two cups milk, half-cup sugar, two cups
rather stiff apple-sauce. Make a boiled custard of the yolks of the
eggs, the milk, and the sugar; whip the whites of the eggs very light,
and beat them into the apple sauce, which should have been well
sweetened while hot. Heap the sauce and whites in a dish, and pour the
custard over it. Set in the ice-box, or some other cold place for half
an hour before sending to the table.


  Mutton and Rice Broth.
  Roast Mutton.
  Creamed Parsnips.      Mashed Potatoes.
  Sponge-Cake Trifle.

_Mutton and Rice Broth._—Strain and skim the liquor in which the
mutton was boiled; put it over the fire with two tablespoonfuls of raw
rice, and let it cook about three quarters of an hour, until the rice
is soft; stir into it a cup of boiling milk which has been thickened
with a tablespoonful of flour. After this is added to the broth, let it
boil up once, and then serve.

_Creamed Parsnips._—Boil and peel parsnips; cut them in slices, and,
after spreading each slice with butter, lay in a vegetable dish, and
pour over them a white sauce made of a cup of boiling milk cooked until
thick with two teaspoonfuls of flour and one of butter; pepper and salt
to taste.

_Sponge-Cake Trifle._—Cut a stale sponge-cake into slices, and pour
over each piece enough sherry to moisten it thoroughly. Spread the cake
with raspberry or strawberry jam, and cover all with a pint of whipped
cream, slightly sweetened.


  Veal Cutlets.      Baked Tomatoes.
  Creamed Spaghetti.
  Asparagus Salad.
  Crackers and Cheese.
  Light Cakes.

_Baked Tomatoes._—Select fine large tomatoes, and cut a small piece out
of the stem end of each. In this hole place a small lump of butter,
about half the size of a hickory-nut. Bake the tomatoes slowly for half
an hour; take up, and keep hot while you thicken the juice left in the
pan with a teaspoonful of flour wet up in a very little cold water. Set
the pan on top of the stove, and let its contents boil up once. Season
to taste with pepper and salt, and pour this sauce over the tomatoes.

_Creamed Spaghetti._—One half pound spaghetti boiled tender in two
quarts boiling water, slightly salted; one tablespoonful butter; two
teaspoonfuls flour; one cup milk; four tablespoonfuls grated cheese;
pepper and salt to taste. Cook the butter and flour together; add the
seasoning and the cheese. Drain the spaghetti, put it in a deep dish,
and pour the sauce over it.

_Asparagus Salad._—Boil a bunch of asparagus until tender; drain it,
and put it on the ice. When perfectly cold, pour over it a half-cupful
mayonnaise dressing into which has been stirred a teaspoonful of French
mustard. Canned asparagus may be used when the fresh is out of season.


  Cream Corn Soup.
  Stewed Pigeons.
  Baked Potatoes.      Fried Bananas.
  Apricot Fritters.

_Cream Corn Soup._—One can corn, three cups boiling water, two cups
milk, one tablespoonful butter, two tablespoonfuls flour, one egg,
pepper and salt to taste. Drain the liquor from the corn, and chop the
latter fine; cook it in the boiling water for an hour; rub it through
the colander, and return it to the fire. Have the milk hot in a farina
kettle. Thicken it with the flour and butter; season, and pour a little
at a time upon the beaten egg. Stir this in with the hot corn _purée_,
and serve at once.

_Stewed Pigeons._—Cut pigeons in half, place a layer of salt pork
cut in thin strips in the bottom of a saucepan, and lay the pigeons
on this; sprinkle with a little chopped onion; pour over them enough
hot water to cover them, put a closely fitting top on the pot, and
cook them slowly for two hours. Take out the birds and the pork, and
keep them hot while you thicken the gravy left in the pot with a
little browned flour wet up in cold water; boil up once, pour over the
pigeons, and serve.

_Fried Bananas._—Select firm bananas, peel them, and slice them
lengthwise; dip them in egg, roll them in very fine cracker-crumbs, and
fry them in deep fat to a light brown. Serve on a napkin laid in a deep

_Apricot Fritters._—Stew evaporated apricots until tender, adding,
when half done, sugar in the proportion of two tablespoonfuls to every
cupful of juice. When the apricots are tender, take them out, leaving
the syrup to reduce by boiling until it is quite thick. Dip each piece
of apricot into a frying batter made of a cup of flour, a tablespoonful
of melted butter, a small cup of warm water, and the white of an egg
beaten light; drop these fritters into boiling deep fat. When done, lay
on a piece of brown paper in a colander for a few minutes, transfer to
a hot dish, and pour the hot syrup over and around them.


  Broiled Shad.
  Canned French Pease.      New Potatoes.
  Preserved Ginger.
  Fancy Cakes.

_Canned French Pease._—Drain the pease, and put them in a frying-pan
with a tablespoonful of melted butter smoking hot; toss the pease about
in this until they are heated through and well coated with the butter;
season with pepper and salt, and serve at once.

_Lettuce._—Dress on the table with a plain French dressing.



  Green-Pea Soup.
  Roast Shoulder of Veal.
  Boiled Potatoes.      Asparagus with Eggs.
  Cherry Dumplings.

_Green-Pea Soup._—One quart shelled pease cooked until tender, one
quart milk, two tablespoonfuls butter, one teaspoonful sugar, one
tablespoonful flour, salt to taste. Press the pease, after they have
been boiled and drained, through a colander; put them back on the fire,
and stir into them the milk, boiling hot, thickened with the butter and
flour and seasoned with the sugar and salt. Boil up once, and serve.

_Asparagus with Eggs._—One bunch asparagus, two hard-boiled eggs, one
cup white sauce. Boil the asparagus until tender; cut the stalks into
inch lengths, rejecting the hard woody portions; chop the hard-boiled
eggs coarsely, and stir with the asparagus into the white sauce, which
must be boiling hot. Serve at once.

_Cherry Dumplings._—Make a biscuit crust of two cups of flour, a
tablespoonful of butter rubbed into it, a little salt, a teaspoonful
of baking-powder, and milk enough to make a soft dough. Roll out into
a sheet a quarter of an inch thick, and cut into squares about three
inches across. Stone the cherries; put a spoonful into the centre of
each square of paste; sprinkle with sugar, fold the edges across, and
pinch them together. Lay them with the pinched edges downward in a pan,
and bake to a light brown. Eat with a hard sauce made as directed in
the preceding chapter.


  Fish Chowder.
  Broiled Lamb Chops.      Raw Tomatoes.
  Young Onions Stewed.
  Strawberry Méringue.

_Fish Chowder._—Two pounds fresh fish, two good-sized potatoes, one
cup milk, a quarter of a pound of salt pork, one onion minced, one
tablespoonful chopped parsley, enough boiling water to cover all the
ingredients after they are in the pot. Cut up the fish, the pork, and
the potatoes (which should have been peeled and parboiled) into pieces
less than an inch square. Place in a pot or saucepan first a layer of
pork, then one of fish strewn with onions and parsley, then one of
potatoes; repeat the layers in this order until all the materials are
used. Pour in the water, cover closely, and let it cook slowly a full
hour. Split and butter half a dozen Boston crackers; let them soak in
the cupful of milk over the fire for five minutes; take them out, and
lay them in the tureen, and pour the chowder over them. Pass lemon with

This chowder is even better the second day than the first, although
there is rarely much left over.

_Strawberry Méringue._—Line a pie-dish with puff paste, bake this
carefully, and then place in it a thick layer of hulled strawberries;
rather small ones are best for this purpose. Sprinkle them with
powdered sugar, and heap over them a méringue made of the whites of
four eggs whipped stiff with half a cup of powdered sugar. Just before
putting it in stir lightly into it a cupful of the berries. Set the
pie-plate containing the méringue in the oven long enough to brown
delicately, and eat when perfectly cold.


  Asparagus Soup.
  Boiled Chicken.      Green Pease.
  Summer Squash.
  Raspberry Pudding.

_Asparagus Soup._—Boil a bunch of asparagus until it is very tender.
When done, cut off the green tips, and put them aside, and rub the
stalks in a colander, getting all of them through that you can. Heat
four cups of milk in a double boiler, add the strained asparagus to
this, and thicken with a tablespoonful of butter rubbed in one of
flour. Season to taste with salt and pepper, add the asparagus tops
(which should have been kept hot), and serve.

_Raspberry Pudding._—Two cups raspberries (red or black), three cups
flour, three eggs, two cups milk, one tablespoonful butter, two
teaspoonfuls baking-powder, saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs very
light, and mix with the butter, melted, and the milk. Stir into this
the flour sifted with the salt and baking-powder, taking care that
the batter does not lump. Dredge the berries with flour, add them to
the pudding, and boil this in a plain pudding mould, set in a pot of
boiling water, for three hours. Take care that the water does not come
over the top of the mould. Serve with hard sauce.


  Egg Soup.
  Roast Lamb.      Mint Sauce.
  Beets.      Succotash.      Green Pease.

_Egg Soup._—One quart milk, four eggs, one onion sliced, one
tablespoonful flour, one tablespoonful butter, salt and pepper to
taste. Heat the milk to scalding in a double boiler with the onion.
Thicken the milk with the flour and butter, and season to taste. Poach
the eggs in boiling water, lay them in the bottom of the tureen, and
strain the soup upon them. Simple and nutritious.

_Mint Sauce._—Four tablespoonfuls vinegar, one tablespoonful mint
chopped very fine, one tablespoonful white sugar, a very little salt
and pepper. Pour the vinegar upon the sugar and mint, and let them
stand in a cool place a full hour before using. Add the salt and pepper
just before sending to table.

For the benefit of those who are sometimes unable to procure the fresh
herb, it may be stated that the dried mint sold in bottles is an
excellent substitute.


  Cheese Soup.
  Beef _à la Mode_.
  Fried Cucumbers.      Cauliflower.      Green Corn.
  Fresh Fruit.

_Cheese Soup._—One egg; a half-cupful grated cheese; one onion;
two cups milk; two cups veal, chicken, or other white stock; one
tablespoonful flour; one tablespoonful butter; pepper and salt to
taste. Heat the milk and stock with the onion. Remove the latter, and
thicken the liquid with the butter and flour rubbed smooth together.
Stir in the cheese, pour a little of the soup on the egg beaten light,
add this to the soup in the pot, season, and serve immediately. It is a
good plan to put a tiny pinch of soda into the milk before adding the

_Beef à la Mode._—Select a good piece of beef from the round, and
"plug" it thickly with beef suet or with strips of fat salt pork. Make
other incisions into which to crowd a force-meat made of finely chopped
salt pork mixed with twice the bulk of bread-crumbs, and seasoned with
herbs, allspice, onion, and vinegar. Fasten the meat securely in shape
with a stout band of cotton cloth, lay it in a pot, pour over it three
cups of boiling water, cover closely, and cook slowly for three hours,
or until tender. Turn the meat once. Thicken the gravy left in the pot
with browned flour, and pass with the meat.

This piece of meat will be as good cold as it is hot, and makes a
welcome _pièce de résistance_ upon which to rely for lunch or tea.

_Fried Cucumbers._—Peel the cucumbers; slice them lengthwise, making
about four slices of a cucumber of ordinary size. Lay them in salt and
water for an hour, take out, drain, and dry. Dip first in beaten egg,
then in cracker-crumbs, and fry as you would egg-plant.


  Boiled Cod.      Egg Sauce.
  Lima Beans.      Mashed Potatoes.
  Tomatoes.      Mayonnaise Dressing.
  Baked Peach Pudding.

_Baked Peach Pudding._—Two cups flour, one cup milk, one egg, one
teaspoonful baking-powder, one tablespoonful butter, saltspoonful salt,
eight medium-sized peaches, peeled and stoned. Beat the egg with the
milk, stir in the butter, melted, and the flour sifted with the salt
and baking-powder. Place the peaches in the bottom of a pudding dish,
sprinkle them well with sugar, pour the batter over them, bake the
pudding in a quick oven, and eat it before it has time to fall. Serve
either hard or liquid sauce with it.



  Cauliflower Soup.
  Roast Beef.
  Baked Tomatoes and Corn.      Boiled Sweet Potatoes.
  Fried Egg-Plant.
  Cocoanut Custards.

_Cauliflower Soup._—Cut a medium-sized cauliflower into small clusters,
chop all except two bunches, and put all on the fire in four cups of
boiling water with a minced onion and a couple of sprigs of parsley;
cook until tender. Remove the unchopped bunches, and lay them aside,
while you rub the chopped and boiled portion through a colander; return
what comes through the sieve to the stove. Have ready in a double
boiler a pint of scalding milk; thicken this with a tablespoonful of
butter rubbed smooth with an equal quantity of flour, and then mix
with the strained cauliflower. Season to taste, drop in the reserved
clusters cut into small bits, and serve the soup immediately.

_Baked Tomatoes and Corn._—Cut a slice from the top of each of several
large firm tomatoes; scoop out about two thirds of the pulp, taking
care not to break the sides; fill the cavities thus left with green
corn, boiled, cut from the cob, and chopped fine with a little butter,
pepper, and salt; arrange the tomatoes thus stuffed in a baking-dish,
put a few bits of butter here and there between them, and bake half
an hour. If you have a half-cupful of good gravy, pour this over them
instead of putting the butter between them.

_Fried Egg-Plant._—Peel and cut the egg-plant into slices less than
half an inch thick an hour before it is to be cooked; lay the slices in
salted iced water, with a plate over them to keep them from floating.
Just before dinner wipe each slice dry, lay it in beaten egg, and then
roll it in salted and peppered cracker-crumbs. Have ready lard or
really good dripping in a frying-pan, and fry the slices brown.

_Cocoanut Custards._—Three eggs, three cups milk, half-cup sugar, half
a cocoanut grated, one teaspoonful vanilla. Heat the milk to boiling;
pour it upon the beaten eggs and sugar; return to the fire, and cook
the custard until it thickens. When it reaches the right consistency
take it from the stove, and when it has partially cooled stir in the
vanilla and cocoanut. Fill small cups with this, set them in a pan of
boiling water in the oven, and bake until set.


  Veal Soup.
  Stewed Lamb _à la Jardinière_.
  Creamed Potatoes.
  Sliced Peach Pie.

_Veal Soup._—Two pounds lean veal from the leg (cut into small pieces),
a few veal bones well broken, two quarts cold water, one onion, two
stalks celery, a little parsley, two tablespoonfuls rice, salt and
pepper to taste. Slice the onions, and fry them in the soup-pot to a
good brown in a little dripping; put the meat in on them, and when this
has browned add the veal bones, the celery, the parsley, and water.
Let all simmer gently for several hours. Set the soup aside with the
meat in it until cool; skim, strain, and return to the pot, with the
raw rice and the seasoning. Let the soup cook slowly until the rice is
tender, and then serve. Pass grated cheese with this soup.

_Stewed Lamb à la Jardinière._—Select a good-sized breast of lamb, and
lay it in a saucepan; pour over it enough cold water to nearly cover
it, and put a closely fitting lid on the pot. While it is simmering
gently, parboil half a cupful of string or Lima beans, half a cupful of
green pease (fresh or canned), two small carrots cut into neat, thin
slices, and a few clusters of cauliflower. When the lamb is nearly
done, lay these vegetables on it; put with them two tomatoes sliced,
and cook about fifteen minutes. In serving this dish arrange the
vegetables around the meat, and pour over them the gravy, which should
be thickened with browned flour after the meat and vegetables have been
taken from it.

_Sliced Peach Pie._—Line a pie-plate with a good paste, and cover it
with peaches, sliced, but not peeled; sprinkle thickly with sugar, and
bake in a steady oven. There must be no top crust, but a méringue may
be added when the pie is nearly done, and lightly browned. This pie is
very good.


  Tomato Soup _Maigre_.
  Baked White-Fish.
  Mashed Potatoes.      Fried Oyster-Plant.
  Rice-and-Pear Pudding.

_Tomato Soup Maigre._—Fry a sliced onion brown in butter or good
dripping in the bottom of the soup-pot; pour in the chopped contents
of a can of tomatoes and two cups of boiling water; stew until tender,
rub through a colander, return to the fire; add a half-cupful of boiled
rice; thicken with a tablespoonful of butter rubbed smooth with one of
flour; boil up, and serve.

_Baked White-Fish._—Select a good-sized fish, and stuff it with a
dressing of bread-crumbs well seasoned and moistened with a little
melted butter. Sew the fish up carefully; pour a cupful of boiling
water over it after it is laid in the dripping-pan, and bake (covered)
for an hour, basting several times with butter. Remove the threads
before sending to table.

_Rice-and-Pear Pudding._—Three cups boiled rice, two eggs, one cup
sugar, one cup milk, stewed or canned pears. Stir the beaten eggs, the
sugar, and the milk into the rice; put a layer of this in the bottom
of a pudding mould, and cover this with a stratum of pears; follow
this with more rice, then more pears, and continue thus until all the
materials are used; set the mould in boiling water, and boil for an
hour. Eat the pudding with a hot custard sauce.


  Potato Purée.
  Beef's Heart, Stuffed.      Stewed Sweet-Potatoes.
  Scalloped Squash.
  Méringued Apples.

_Potato Purée._—Two cups mashed potato, one onion, four cups boiling
water, one stalk celery, one cup milk, one teaspoonful butter, one
tablespoonful flour, pepper and salt to taste. Cook the potato, onion,
and celery in the water for half an hour; rub through a colander,
return to the fire; add the milk, thicken, and season.

_Méringued Apples._—Eight fine large apples, peeled, cored, and
quartered; two tablespoonfuls butter, juice of a large lemon, one cup
white sugar, nutmeg to taste, whites of three eggs, half-cup powdered
sugar. Heat the butter, sugar, lemon juice, and nutmeg in a double
boiler; drop the quartered apples into this, and let them cook until
tender; take them out and lay in a glass dish, cover with a méringue
made of the whites of the eggs and the powdered sugar, and pass the
syrup from the apples in a little pitcher, with the méringued fruit.


  Julienne Soup.
  Irish Stew.
  Creamed Carrots.      Stewed Corn.
  Peach-and-Tapioca Pudding.

_Peach-and-Tapioca Pudding._—One small cupful tapioca, one can peaches,
half-cup sugar. Soak the tapioca overnight in three cupfuls of water;
the next day arrange the canned peaches in a dish, pouring over them
about a cupful of the liquor from the can; sprinkle them well with
sugar, pour the tapioca on them, and bake until this is clear. Eat hot
with hard sauce.


  Salmon Soup.
  Mutton Chops.
  Baked Onions.      Stuffed Egg-Plant.
  Cream Rice Pudding.

_Salmon Soup._—One can salmon, one cup bread-crumbs, one quart water,
two cups milk, one teaspoonful butter, pepper and salt to taste. Pick
to pieces the contents of a can of salmon, removing the bones, bits of
skin, etc.; put over the fire with the water and seasoning, and cook
half an hour; stir in the butter, the milk, and the crumbs, and serve.
Pass sliced lemon with this.

_Stuffed Egg-Plant._—Boil an egg-plant thirty minutes, cut it in half,
and scrape out the inside; mash this up with two tablespoonfuls of
butter, and pepper and salt to taste; fill the two halves of the shell,
sprinkle with crumbs, and brown in the oven.

_Cream Rice Pudding._—Three cups milk, three tablespoonfuls rice, one
cupful sugar, one teaspoonful vanilla. Wash the rice, put it with the
milk, sugar, and flavoring into a pan, and bake in a slow oven for
three or four hours. Every time a crust forms on top, stir it in, until
just before taking it from the oven. Eat cold.



  Turnip Purée.
  Roast Turkey.
  Fried Parsnips.      Browned Onions.
  Mashed Potatoes.
  Orange Roly-Poly.

_Turnip Purée._—Eight turnips, one onion, one stalk celery, four cups
water, two cups milk, one tablespoonful butter, one tablespoonful
flour, pepper and salt to taste. Peel and cut up the turnips, and put
them over the fire with the onion in the four cups of water; let them
cook until tender, and then rub them through the colander, and put them
back on the fire. Cook the butter and flour together in a saucepan; add
the milk, stir into the turnip, season to taste, and serve.

_Browned Onions._—Peel rather small onions, and boil them until tender;
drain off the water, and pour over the onions a cupful of soup or
gravy; let the onions simmer in this for ten minutes; then take them
out, and keep them hot while you thicken the gravy with browned flour.
Pour over the onions just before sending to the table.

_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.


  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.


  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.


  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


  Roast Duck.
  Canned Green Pease.      Boiled Potatoes.
  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.


  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.


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

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

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

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.


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.


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!"

Some years ago a party of city people spent a charming summer in a
farm-house high up among the Berkshire hills. The accommodations of
the roomy old-fashioned dwelling were good, the breakfasts and dinners
excellent, well cooked, and liberal in provision. But the teas!
Night after night the guests gathered about a tea-table adorned with
plates of cold bread, of butter, and of cake, pitchers of milk, and
occasionally a dish of berries or of stewed fruit. Tea there was, as a
matter of course, but never a bit of meat or fish, or an egg in any
form, boiled, poached, or in an omelet; not even a pat of pot-cheese or
a few slices of dairy cheese. Warm biscuit, muffins, and waffles were
likewise conspicuous by their absence.

It was all very well for those who ate bread and milk and were fond
of cake, but for a party of ravenous young people, who had spent a
long afternoon playing tennis, fishing or driving, or tramping over
the hills in the hunger-provoking air, the sight of the table was not
inspiriting; nor did it become more popular as the season advanced and
the early frosty evenings improved appetites that had never been poor.
Yet, in spite of loudly expressed hints, it never seemed to occur to
the farmer's good wife that her tea-table was not supplied with every
viand the most exacting eater could desire.

Naturally, when a hearty meal has been served in the middle of the
day, there should be no thought of having to prepare a second dinner
for the evening. But there should be, at least, some relish to vary
the monotony of plain bread and butter, something to give the meal an
aspect other than that of a perfunctory "feed," where every one eats on
the principle upon which Nicholas Nickleby "distended his stomach with
a bowl of porridge" the morning after his arrival at Dotheboys Hall—not
that he wanted it then, but lest he should be inconveniently hungry
when there was nothing to eat.

There are many delicious supper dishes which are made with little
difficulty. In winter, oysters, clams, scallops, broiled ham, fried,
broiled, or stewed chicken, chicken scallop or mince, sausages, bacon
and eggs, with any of the large varieties of griddle-cakes or warm
breads, will make a meal to satisfy any one; while in summer, salads
of eggs, fish, lobsters, chicken, cold lamb or veal, shrimp, cheese,
beet leaves, lettuce, cabbage, potato, string-beans, and of many other
kinds, may be relied upon. Omelets and other preparations of eggs are
inexpensive, easily cooked, and generally popular, while cold meat goes
well on a summer evening, especially when accompanied by bannocks,
scones, butter-cakes, toasted crackers, wafers, or some light bread
that is easily made and not hard to digest. Then there are galantines,
potted meats, jellied fish, pickled salmon, cottage-cheese, and
numerous other little delicacies that are not costly and yet are good.

The table for tea should be set much as it is for breakfast, with the
exception of the oatmeal sets. All the dishes may be placed upon the
table at once, as they would be at lunch, and the family may do much
of the passing of plates. The tea is served with the first course,
and the cups and tray may be removed to make room for the dish of
fruit or simple sweets that generally concludes the meal. The saucers
in which these are served should stand on plates, on which each
guest may lay the cake which is usually passed at the same time. Hot
puddings are out of place at tea, but instead there may be, in winter,
apple-sauce, stewed prunes, preserved ginger, brandied and preserved
peaches, pears or plums, jams or marmalades, custards, blanc-manges,
jellies, or anything of that sort; while in summer it is rarely
impossible to procure berries of some kind, or other fruit. A dish of
"bonny-clabber"—better known, perhaps, as "loppered milk"—of junket, or
of syllabub is always delicious, and is usually easily obtained where
milk and cream are plentiful.

No domestic sight is pleasanter in its way than a tea-table on a cold
winter night, spread with a bright cloth and set out with dainty china
and shining silver, and with all the cheer-inspiring appurtenances of
the tea-tray; with the plate of hot bread, the savory dish of hot meat,
and the little relishes that housekeepers know well how to supply.
And in summer its counterpart is seen in the table laid in the room
brightened by the level sun's rays, where a crisp salad, piles of white
and brown bread, and a plate of rusk or tea-biscuit, pitchers of milk,
and a dish of berries with cream in abundance revive the fainting
appetites and spirits of those who have borne the heat and burden of
the day.

In summer a tea on the lawn is an agreeable variety to introduce
occasionally. A medium-sized table may be carried out under the
trees, and spread with a white cloth. On this are placed the principal
dishes—the bread-and-butter, which may sometimes have its place taken
by sandwiches; the salad or cold meat, or both; the cake and fruit.
The tea-tray and kettle may be here too, or the tea may be made in the
house. Iced tea and coffee make a pleasant change once in a while.

A rug or two may be laid on the grass if any of the party have a
nervous dread of colds, and a few little tables will provide a space
upon which to rest a cup of tea or a glass of milk when the lap is
occupied by the plate containing the more solid viands. Low chairs
should stand here and there, and the whole scene will present a
charmingly festal appearance at a trifling outlay of time and trouble.

A certain family who possess a delightful country place make their
Sunday evening _al fresco_ tea one of the pleasantest spots in the
week. No one is present but the family and any guests who may be
staying in the house. The pretty, simple meal is served out on the
grassy lawn, which slopes down to the water. When the eating is over,
the maid comes out, gathers the dishes into a tray, and carries them
back to the house, happy in the thought that there is no supper-table
to be cleared and no dining-room to be brushed up.

Long after the vestiges of the feast have been removed the family sit
there, chatting pleasantly, watching the sunset and the stars coming
out or the moon rising. By and by some voice begins a hymn, the others
take it up, and the singing goes on until the early bedtime comes, and
the party turns towards the house with a restful happiness that is none
the less deep and true because it is hard to describe or to analyze.


Among the many English customs which have been introduced into American
society there is none that sooner attained a widespread popularity than
afternoon tea—a simple and easy form of entertainment, that entailed
little expense and less trouble upon the hostess, and supplied a
long-felt want. Soon all over the land teas were the rage, and in large
cities and small villages alike cards were flying about, bearing upon
them the name of the hostess, and in one corner, "Tea at five o'clock"
or "Tea from four to six," as the case might be.

With the usual tendency of the citizens of this great and glorious
country to impress upon the fashions borrowed from other nations
the stamp of their own individuality, it was not long before the
stereotyped tea, bread-and-butter, and cake, which had at first made
up the _menu_ of these entertainments, began to undergo modifications.
First, chocolate was added, on the plea that many people do not care
for tea. Bouillon came next, and the use of this served as the basis
of that absurd report, instantly accepted by foreigners, that the
American young women were so fragile in constitution as to be obliged
to brace themselves up with strong beef tea at their receptions, in
order to enable them to perform their social duties. With bouillon came
sandwiches; next appeared salad, and after that oysters, croquettes,
creams, ices, and charlottes followed one another in rapid succession,
until the metamorphosis of the modest tea into the reception, with its
heavy party supper, was complete.

Part of this change may be attributed to the display and love of
competition which are numbered among our national characteristics. But
at least a portion of the blame must fall upon the participants in
these entertainments, who, not understanding that a tea to be a tea
must be simple, did not hesitate to grumble at the trifling nature of
the refreshments there offered for their delectation.

"I am sick of your afternoon teas!" grumbled one lord of creation,
when informed that the family had just received cards to one of these
affairs. "_I_ like to go to a place where you get something to eat
besides a cup of beef tea and a cracker, or tea and bread-and-butter.
It isn't the kind of supper a hungry man wants when he comes from his
business. He needs something hearty."

Ignorant and boorish though he was, he voiced the sentiment of many of
his sex, who, owing to the training American society has furnished in
this respect, consider no party a success unless the social enjoyments
are supplemented by a big "spread." In England, where the dinner hour
falls later than it usually does in this country, the light sustenance
offered by afternoon tea serves as a welcome break in the long stretch
which intervenes between luncheon and dinner. Here a man who has his
appetite whetted for a six-o'clock repast cares little for a trifling
refection at five or half after five. It only serves to blunt his
hunger without satisfying it.

Of course, as soon as the tea was merged into the virtual equivalent of
an evening party given in the daytime, its recommendation as a cheap
and convenient method of entertaining one's friends vanished. While
one merely dropped in for a cup of tea on the way home from calls
or shopping, a plain walking gown or visiting costume was perfectly
appropriate. But with the increased formality of the tea arose the
necessity for richer dress, and the afternoon kettle-drum became a
kind of heterogeneous-looking assembly, where, at five o'clock in the
afternoon, some of the women would appear in evening gowns, with low
necks and short sleeves, and some in street suits, while the men, of
course, wore morning coats; although in small towns the sight of men in
dress suits before six o'clock is an anomaly too often witnessed.

Even apart from the matter of dress, other difficulties and
complications arose. Persons in moderate circumstances who had
rejoiced at the advent of the tea, because it rendered feasible the
gratification of their hospitable instincts at an outlay within their
means, shrank back in dismay from this hybrid form of assembly,
declaring that it was as easy to give a regular evening party, and get
the credit for that, as it was to receive guests in a fashion which
assumed simplicity, but cost no less than an affair that made more show.

A few women have had the courage to adhere to what was the original
design of the afternoon tea, and to offer their guests only the light
refreshments suitable for this form of entertaining. To such people
the labor connected with thus gathering their friends about them is
a trifling task. The hostess sees that her rooms are in their best
looks; fills a few vases with fresh flowers, to give a festal air; sets
a round-table in her drawing-room or library, or in the dining-room,
if these apartments are _en suite_; draws up her prettiest cups and
saucers and plates in battle array, and invites a few young girls or
intimate friends to assist her. They wear either pretty house costumes
or dainty tea gowns. For refreshments are provided tea and chocolate,
possibly bouillon, bread-and-butter or tiny sandwiches, and plenty of
light cakes. The eating is a secondary matter, the _raison d'être_ of
the company being the desire for pleasant social intercourse in an
informal fashion.

The woman who has a regular "at home" or a weekly "afternoon tea"
during the season provides even less. She has tea or cocoa—rarely
both—bread-and-butter or fancy biscuit, and cake. The toasted muffins
or crumpets and the many tea-cakes dear to the British palate are
little in vogue here, where the dinner hour is almost invariably six or
half after six. Very few are the houses where daily afternoon tea is
the rule.

Numberless pretty adjuncts can be procured to contribute to the
attractiveness of the kettle-drum. The tall crane, with its brass,
copper, or silver kettle, the daintily embroidered tea and tray cloths,
the fine fringed or hem-stitched doilies, the exquisite china, the
quaint teapot, the cozy, the odd dishes for cake and biscuit—all afford
opportunity for the display of a cultured taste or of a quick fancy.
Nothing need be very costly, but everything must be pretty, and in this
day the combination of beauty and cheapness is by no means difficult or

The cards for an afternoon tea bear simply the name of the hostess,
and that of her daughter if the latter is "out," and in the corner is
written or engraved "Tea" or "At Home," and the day and the hour of
the entertainment. The card of any friend who is visiting the hostess,
or who entertains with her, is enclosed in the same envelope. If the
invited guest cannot be present, she sends her card, by post or by
private hand, so that it may reach the hostess upon the day when she

Those people who live in the country, or who are so fortunate as to
possess summer places out of town, can give charming outdoor teas,
which far surpass in pleasantness anything that can be devised in the
city. We Americans live too much in the house, and that, too, in a
climate which offers great facilities for a freer mode of life. A tea
on a lawn or veranda when the air is full of the perfume of flowers
and the country is in its holiday trim is a delight to all those
lucky enough to be invited to it. For such a kettle-drum, iced tea
and lemonade or claret-cup, sandwiches, and cake may be offered, with
berries or other fruits when these are in season.


For a small company the high tea is an excellent form of entertainment.
It is not suitable for a large assembly, but when a limited number of
guests have been invited to spend the evening in some such recreation
as card-playing, it is very pleasant to ask them first to high tea.
Or if the latter part of the evening is to be devoted to dancing, a
chosen few of the guests may be invited to tea first, and the remainder
requested to come later. In that case no supper should be offered to
the dancers except cake, ices, and coffee.

Should the dining-table be large enough to accommodate all the guests
bidden to the high tea, it may be drawn to the requisite length, and
all the company seated about it. But if, from the limited dimensions of
the dining-room, or because it better suits the fancy of the hostess,
small tables are preferred, these may be laid so as to accommodate at
each six, or four, or even two, always taking care in the last case
that the right two are placed together.

If one large table is used, it may be spread with either a dinner or a
tea cloth. Flowers should be in the middle upon a pretty centre-piece,
and there may be small vases set about here and there. Individual
bouquets are not at all necessary. The places should be arranged as
usual, with small silver for each course, and the usual accompaniments
of butter-plates—or of bread-and-butter plates—salt-cellars, glasses,
napkins, etc. If it is warm weather, the table may be further
beautified by the bowls or baskets of fresh fruits that are to make
part of the dessert, and, in winter, dishes of cake, of preserved or
brandied fruits, etc., may be on the table. Should the hostess prefer,
however, these may be placed on the sideboard, thus allowing space for
the more substantial viands, which at a tea are seldom relegated to the
position on the side-table that they would take at dinner.

At the head of the table sits the hostess, with the tea-tray in front
of her. It by no means follows, however, because this repast is called
a tea that the Chinese herb should be _en évidence_. If the party is
composed chiefly of young people, the chances are strongly in favor of
their preference being for coffee or chocolate. They may be offered
their choice of these beverages, which the hostess pours out, the
servant passing them with cream and sugar, that each may add of these
to suit himself. Russian tea may possibly be offered, but even this is
apt to be less popular than either chocolate or coffee.

Should small tables be used, the hostess may preside over a tray
placed upon one of them, or, when it seems more convenient, the cups
may be filled outside, and passed to each with the cream-pitcher and
sugar-bowl. It saves some delay in serving if there are a cream-pitcher
and sugar-bowl on each table. These little tables may be covered with
small cloths or large napkins, and need have nothing else upon them
beyond the necessary furniture for each place, except, perhaps, a vase
of flowers. While small tables are often admirable as accommodating
more people with comfort than could be seated at a large table, yet the
latter gives opportunity for a prettier display of floral decoration,
china, silver, etc., than is afforded by the former.

The bill of fare is easily arranged. There are no raw oysters or clams,
as at a lunch or dinner; and while bouillon may be provided, it is
not at all necessary. The meal may begin with oysters in some form,
as fricasseed, fried, broiled, steamed, or panned, or in croquettes.
With them are passed bread-and-butter (brown or graham bread cut thin
is good with oysters) or rolls. The plates are then removed, and the
next course brought in. This may consist of chicken—broiled or fried—or
broiled birds, or French chops, and of potatoes in some form, as _à
la parisienne_, French fried, or hashed with cream and browned. Cold
tongue or ham is sometimes also passed at this time, and warm bread
in some shape, as French rolls, sally-lunn, tea-biscuit, rusk, or
waffles. The coffee or chocolate is also served at this stage in the

After this course comes a salad—lettuce and tomato mayonnaise, or
chicken, lobster, or salmon—fresh plates being served for this, as
a matter of course. Olives and some fancy cheese—Brie, Roquefort,
or Gorgonzola—usually come with the salad. Cheese at this stage is
strongly recommended by the epicure; but it is not essential, except to
those who hold, in the words of the old doggerel, that

    "A dinner (or supper) without cheese
    Is like a kiss without a squeeze."

The table is now cleared, and the dessert brought in. This may be quite
simple, as, say, preserved or brandied fruit with fancy cakes; or it
may be more elaborate, and comprise jelly, charlotte-russe, or fresh
fruit of some kind, and light cakes. Ices are not strictly _en règle_,
although no canon of taste is seriously offended if they are offered.
It is better, however, to serve them later in the evening. Still, they
are not essential even then. Finger-bowls set on doilies laid on
pretty plates must be passed the last thing before the guests quit the

Of course the _menu_ suggested above may be altered to suit the season
and the taste of the entertainer. Lobster or crabs, clams or shrimps,
may be substituted for the oysters. Green pease may accompany chops,
or sweetbreads may be the principal meat dish of the second course.
Roast duck, turkey, or chicken may be provided if broilers are out of
season, or birds may be served with a lettuce or celery salad for the
third course. And when one reflects upon the fancy dishes which may be
prepared for dessert—the blanc-manges, the jellied fruits, the Spanish
or Bavarian or Hamburg creams, the charlottes of divers kinds, the
whips, custards, and syllabubs—the only difficulty that arises is where
to choose.

A pretty notion is to introduce some unexpected feature into the
high tea which will appeal to the imaginations of the guests as well
as to their palates. A little ingenuity will suggest some novelty
of this sort. The literary salad, which has become well known in
certain localities, may yet be unfamiliar in others. This is made by
cutting a number of slips of paper, writing on each one a prose or
poetic quotation, and attaching each strip to a leaf of pale green
tissue-paper, cut and crimped into the fashion of a lettuce leaf.
Different shades of the paper should be selected, so that the tints may
blend as they do in a veritable head of lettuce. These leaves are then
arranged in a bowl, and at some point in the meal, usually just before
the dessert, the bowl is passed, and each guest draws out at random two
or three of the leaves. The endeavor then is to guess the authorship
of the different quotations, and a prize is usually offered to the
one who guesses the greatest number correctly. The prize may be the
bowl or dish in which the salad is served. Or, instead of quotations,
conundrums may be written on the slips, and puzzling out their answers
usually affords a great deal of amusement.

A bright young hostess, who was always bubbling over with new and
charming ideas, hit upon the clever one of having her guests'
characters told by chirosophy. She obtained a specimen of the
handwriting of each of those whom she had invited, and sent the
samples to a specialist, who deduced from each an estimate of the
characteristics of its writer. The verdicts thus obtained were enclosed
each in an envelope bearing the name of the person whose peculiar bias
was therein described. The envelopes were then bound with ribbons,
tied, and sealed. One was laid at the place of each guest at the table,
and after providing a fruitful source of wonder and comment during
the early part of the meal, the seals were broken when the fruit was
passed. Each read aloud the statement contained in her envelope,
and it was curious and amusing to observe with what accuracy many
idiosyncrasies and singular traits of disposition had been indicated.


In these days of theatre and opera parties the matter of late suppers
assumes more importance than it possessed in the time when these
amusements were less universally popular. Upon the occasions when a
young man escorted his "best girl" to the play or the concert, he took
her afterwards, as a natural sequence, to a restaurant, where they
partook of some such light refreshment as ice-cream, cake, and coffee,
this style of supper being varied sometimes by the introduction of
oysters in one form or another. But when a company of young people go
to the theatre nowadays, and return afterwards to the house of their
chaperon or of some other member of the party, they are usually hungry
with the healthy appetite that it is no longer the foolish fashion to

The members of whist clubs, of literary or dramatic circles, of
small dancing classes, of amateur orchestras, and of a variety of
other similar social organizations, feel a like desire for food after
an evening's busy occupation, while even in the family the sensible
custom is gaining ground of eating something not long before retiring—a
something which, if not equal in extent and weight to the late supper
of our English cousins, is yet more substantial than the caramels and
chocolate creams with which school-girls, and often their seniors,
solace the hunger that is apt to attack them about bedtime.

When one gives only an occasional reception or evening party it is
taken for granted that the refreshments will be rather elaborate in
their nature. But when the meetings of a club of any sort are of
weekly, fortnightly, or even monthly recurrence, the expense becomes an
object. There may be some members of the body to whom the disbursement
of a few dollars more or less is a matter of trivial moment, but there
is very rarely any club of this sort where there are not some who
would feel seriously the cost of entertaining in a showy fashion.
For the sake of these weak brothers or sisters, a certain amount of
consideration should be shown, and no display made by the wealthy ones
which would throw into the shade the simpler entertainment which is all
many can afford to offer. A supper need not be poor because it is not
costly, but it must make up in daintiness and unusualness for what it
lacks in price.

A chief object to be sought in planning these suppers is to select
something which can be made ready beforehand, so that the hostess can
enjoy her evening without being handicapped in her pleasure-seeking
by the thought of possible complications arising in the preparation
of the supper which may require her absence from the room. Unless she
has a practised cook, she should not attempt dishes of oysters, or of
anything of the kind which demands careful supervision at the last
moment. Instead of this, she should content herself with chocolate or
coffee and bouillon for the hot items of her _menu_, and for the rest
take her choice from among the many salads and other cold dishes which
are generally popular. Cold chicken or duck, jellied tongue or fowl, or
a really fine galantine, or a dish of salad, and rolls or sandwiches
at discretion, may be chosen. For sweets, ices are always excellent if
they can be procured; or if not, there are jellies, which, with whipped
cream and light cakes, coffee, or chocolate, are quite enough—indeed,
more than enough in many cases. Often sandwiches, cake, and coffee are
sufficient; but let the sandwiches be of something besides ham and
tongue, the cake be light and delicious, and the coffee strong and
clear, and served with whipped cream.

If hot dishes are indispensable, something should be selected like
chicken or sweetbread pâtés, or lobster in some form, which will not
be injured by warming over. Croquettes too, if properly prepared, are
delicious, but they must be soft and creamy inside, not hard like
sausage balls.

For the home supper the preparations are much simpler. This late repast
may consist merely of a plate of crackers, or of light biscuit, or of
bread-and-butter, with perhaps a tin of potted meat, or a few sardines,
or a piece of cheese, or a box of guava jelly, or a little fruit. Iced
water, or milk and Apollinaris, or Seltzer are the best beverages to
serve, or, for those who like it, a bottle of ale or beer.

In the hope of aiding housekeepers who desire to prepare something a
little different from the stereotyped suppers so common at evening
entertainments, and which usually consist of oysters, chicken or
lobster salad, sandwiches, ice-cream, and coffee, there are appended
a few recipes for dishes perhaps less commonly known than those just

_Lobster Salmi._—Two cups boiled lobster (_cut_, not chopped, into
small pieces), three eggs (the yolks only), two tablespoonfuls butter,
half a pint of cream, one wine-glassful sherry, one tablespoonful
brandy, Cayenne pepper and salt to taste, one teaspoonful lemon juice.
Put the lobster over the fire in a double boiler with the butter, wine,
brandy, pepper, and salt; let it become smoking hot. It will not
injure it to stand covered at the back of the stove for some time. Just
before it is to be served bring the water in the outer vessel to the
boiling-point, and stir into the scalding hot lobster the beaten yolks
of the eggs and the cream. Let this stand one minute longer on the
fire, remove, add the lemon juice, and serve at once in small silver or
china shells or in nappies.

_French Fish Salad._—Select some firm white-fish (halibut is excellent
for this purpose), and boil. When perfectly cold cut it into neat
slices; on each slice lay a sardine, and arrange the fish upon and
among crisp lettuce leaves. Prepare a mayonnaise dressing, and into a
half-pint of it stir three sardines rubbed smooth with the back of a
fork. Pass the sauce in a pitcher containing a spoon or small ladle,
that each guest may help himself.

_Lobster Mayonnaise Sandwiches._—Into half a cupful of finely minced
lobster stir two tablespoonfuls of mayonnaise dressing. Season to taste
with Cayenne pepper and salt, with a little lemon juice if it seems to
be needed. Select bread a day old for this purpose, butter it light
on the loaf, and cut very thin. Spread a slice with the mixture, and
lay another buttered slice upon it, face downward. Cut into small neat
squares or triangles. The crust is sometimes trimmed off.

Chicken mayonnaise sandwiches may be made in the same way, rejecting
all bits of skin or gristle, and omitting the lemon juice. Ham, tongue,
and shrimp mayonnaise sandwiches are also good prepared in similar

_Veal Galantine._—Select a breast of veal about eighteen inches long
by twelve wide, and remove from it all bits of bone or gristle. Spread
the inside of it with a layer of sausage meat, or of salt or corned
pork finely chopped, and highly seasoned with minced onion, parsley,
and sweet-herbs. Upon this lay a few thin slices of cold boiled ham
and tongue and several strips of raw veal. Spread these with more of
the force-meat, taking care not to bring it too near the edges, as it
would then squeeze out when the galantine is rolled. Sprinkle chopped
herbs and onion over the inside, and roll up the piece of veal, the
force-meat inside. Bind and skewer into shape, sew it up in a stout
cloth, and place it in a pot containing a hock of pork or a knuckle of
veal well cracked, a bouquet of herbs, a sliced onion, a sliced carrot,
and two or three stalks of celery. Cover all with cold water, and let
the pot, after coming gradually to a boil, simmer at the back of the
stove for at least four hours. Remove the pot from the fire, and let
the galantine become cold in the liquor; then take it out, tighten the
bandage about it, and place under a heavy weight for several hours;
uncover, and surround with aspic jelly. To make this, clear the liquor
in which the galantine was cooked by bringing it to a boil with the
white and crushed shell of a freshly broken egg, straining it, as
soon as the scum rises to the top, through a piece of thick cotton
cloth. Season a quart of the clear liquid thus left with a wineglass
of sherry, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, pepper and salt to taste.
While boiling hot dissolve in it an ounce of gelatine which has been
previously soaked in cold water for an hour. Pour a little of the
jelly into a brick-shaped mould large enough to hold the galantine,
first wetting the mould with cold water, and when the jelly forms lay
the galantine on this. Pour the remaining jelly over it, and let it
stand in a cold place until firm. Turn all out of the mould, and serve
garnished with lettuce leaves.


That housekeeper must be a noteworthy exception to the majority of the
members of that honorable body whose heart does not yearn to possess a
goodly store of china and glass. She may begin her married life with
the resolve to content herself with very little, but she will find, in
this form of acquisition as in nearly every other, that appetite comes
with eating, and the more she has the more she wants. Curiously enough,
she learns also that although she may get along very comfortably for
a long while without certain articles, she has not owned them a month
without reaching a state of mind where she cannot understand how she
ever managed to keep house lacking the new possessions.

In these days a bride is usually pretty well supplied with handsome
china and glass by the friends who send them to her as wedding
presents. She receives from them at least the luxuries of table
furniture, if not the necessities. Among her gifts she has almost
always one or more fine cut-glass bowls or dishes, and possibly
several small bonbon, pickle, or olive saucers. An ice-cream set is
also a favorite gift, and the bride usually receives also a set of
after-dinner coffee cups and saucers and at least a dozen fruit-plates.
A few young couples are so fortunate as to number a complete dinner set
among their presents; and they may deem themselves lucky indeed, for
the cost of this necessary purchase makes a big hole in the sum that
the bride received, or that she has laid aside for household plenishing.

Of course there are some young married people to whom money is, so
to speak, no object, who have but to go to a shop and order whatever
pleases their fancy. But they are few and far between. To most newly
made housekeepers the filling of their china closets must be slow work,
and each new addition is generally the evidence of a bit of economy
or good management, or else a memento of some Christmas or holiday,
and all the more valued on that account. Even when the proud young
manager is beginning to view with pride the accumulation of months,
she is sadly liable to find their ranks lessened some woful day by
one of those accidents which will happen so long as china and glass
are breakable commodities. The cheese-dish, the berry-bowl, or the
cake-plate has come to grief in Bridget's or Gretchen's or Dinah's

"Shure, ma'am, it jist slipped out of me hands as I was a-wipin' it,"
or, "It came in two pieces when I put it into the wather. Feth an' it
must have been cracked before."

Of course a dish will get broken occasionally. Once in a while one
will go to pieces even under the careful touch of the mistress, and
no hireling can be taught to handle fragile things as carefully as
will their owner. A potent aid in inculcating caution is the habit of
deducting from a servant's wages the price of the pieces broken. This
rule should not be enforced in the case of a really careful maid, but
only with one who shows a decided tendency to heedlessness. Even with
this penalty there will be chips and cracks that will prove almost as
great a trial to the mistress as a total fracture. To the importance
of these minor accidents the average serving-maid seems serenely

"Norah, if I treated you as you deserve, I would take the value of this
out of your wages," said a mistress, ruefully contemplating a Limoges
chocolate pot, from the lip of which a triangular fragment had been
neatly chipped.

"Indade, ma'am, an' can't ye use it as well as iver ye did?" was the
surprised reply.

Without going as far as one woman, who used to declare she would rather
have a piece of china completely smashed than to see it cracked,
one may safely say that the good housekeeper never perceives even a
trifling breakage in any piece of her table-ware without a real pang at
heart. To avert these accidents she is wise if she intrusts to no hands
but her own or those of an exceptionally careful maid the cleansing
of her most precious belongings of porcelain and crystal. Sometimes,
however, a woman's other duties are so pressing that she cannot spare
the time to wash the delicate dishes which she prides herself upon
having in constant use, and then she must simply make up her mind to be
resigned to the losses she must sustain if she permits her servants to
take entire charge of these breakables.

Without using unsightly stone-ware, it is yet possible to procure for
every-day service pretty crockery that is less easily broken than the
delicate French china. In purchasing a dinner set which is to do steady
duty, the housewife must be guided by prudential as well as artistic
considerations. She can find what is known as the English Dresden and
one or two other kinds of china which combine pretty designs with
durability of material, and are not very expensive.

Often there are included in a dinner set a full dozen each of tea,
breakfast coffee, and after-dinner coffee cups; and sometimes the set
can be purchased to greater advantage by taking them all. Frequently,
too, the dealer will not break the set. Unless either or both of these
conditions should prevail, there is little gain for the housekeeper
in taking the whole set. Usually she already has a fair number of
cups and saucers, and in any case she would not need as many as the
set comprises. By a little search it is often practicable to pick up
a broken set, consisting of a certain number of plates, vegetable and
meat dishes, and in this day there is no obligation upon one to have
everything to match. The principal pieces should be alike, if possible;
but the fish, salad, dessert, and fruit plates may all be of different
designs, and be none the worse on that account.

Her dinner dishes purchased, the young mistress may congratulate
herself. There is no other equally heavy pull ahead of her in the line
of china. Now she may at her leisure pick up her pretty harlequin set
of cups and saucers, her dessert dishes, her large cake and bread
plates, and her small bread and butter plates, her fish set, her
chocolate-pot, her bouillon-cups, her nappies, her individual dishes
for shirred eggs, for scalloped fish, oysters, or chicken, and the
dozen of other dainty fancies with which the china shops are crowded.
Her accumulations will be all the dearer to her because many of them
have been procured at the cost of a little personal sacrifice.

When one begins to price cut glass she is generally wofully
discouraged. The cost of the plainest cut is very high if the glass is
heavy, and a little experience soon teaches the housekeeper that it
is very poor economy to buy the thin glass for every-day use. It will
often break in washing in spite of the most careful handling, and a
slight blow to it means fracture. Now that pressed glass comes in such
pretty patterns, it may be made to do duty for common use, and is so
attractive that no one need be ashamed to put it on her table.

"You should see my new glass dish," said a young housekeeper,
gleefully. "It cost me just seventy-nine cents, and when you set it on
handsome damask it looks like the real cut. Of course you can't put two
cheap things together, but my table-cloths are all so good that I can
afford to set a few imitations on them."

The advantages of this heavy glass are seen less in the dishes, large
and small, than in the goblets or tumblers that are in daily use. Here
the havoc is dreadful when the glass is of the egg-shell species. Cheap
though it often is, it does not pay to purchase it when its destruction
is merely a question of a few days or weeks.


Even at the best, securing a provision of table linen is bound to be
a heavy expense. Whatever economies the housekeeper may practise by
purchasing Japanese or stout English porcelain, and pressed glass, she
will never find that it pays to buy cheap damask. It does not look
well even at the first, and it is worse after each washing. No matter
how handsome may be the china, silver, and glass put upon it, a sleazy
damask will give a cheap appearance to the whole table.

On the other hand, really good linen pays by its wearing qualities for
the original outlay. If it is not allowed to become so dirty before
it is washed that hard rubbing is required to make it clean, it will
last for years. The first tiny breaks must be carefully watched for and
repaired at once. By such precautions even a cloth which is in daily
service may be made to last several years. Above all, no washing-soda,
no bleaching preparation of any kind, must ever be used upon it. It may
whiten the linen at first, but the small holes with which the damask
will soon be riddled will tell more plainly than words the harm the
fabric has sustained from the alkali. Should the linen become yellow,
it may be whitened by being laid on the grass in the dew or rain first,
and afterwards in the sunshine.

Linen should never be put away damp, as it is almost certain to mildew.
These spots may sometimes be removed or lessened by boiling the stained
linen in buttermilk, or by the use of Javelle water, but it is a
difficult and doubtful task.

A young housekeeper does not need a large supply of table linen at the
beginning of her career. Of course it is very delightful to her to feel
that her sideboard drawers are so thoroughly stocked that they will not
need to be replenished for years to come; and if she has had a long
engagement in which to make her preparations, or if she has followed
the wise old-fashioned custom of beginning a linen chest while yet a
young girl, she may be able to rejoice in a generous assortment of
table-cloths, napkins, and doilies. Or possibly some kindly relative or
friend has given her a check to be expended in this fashion; or she may
have a wealthy father whose liberality relieves her from the necessity
of economizing in this direction.

Taking it for granted, however, that every dollar counts, the young
wife must consider seriously just what she will need. If she expects
to entertain a good deal of company, she will have to lay in a large
supply of linen. But if she intends to live in comparative quiet, not
giving many luncheons or dinner parties, even although always ready
to receive her own or her husband's friends, she will find that she
can manage comfortably without a large quantity of napery. In a family
where there are few children, and where ordinary care is observed, it
is quite practicable, barring accidents, to get along easily with but
one white table-cloth a week. In this case, of course, a colored cloth
must be used for breakfast and lunch or for breakfast and tea. If the
bare table is used at lunch, the housekeeper may manage to make shift
with one breakfast cloth, with the accompanying dozen napkins. If she
can possibly afford it, however, she should buy two colored cloths and
two dozen colored napkins. For dinner use she must provide two white
cloths with the napkins to match. These cloths may be about two and a
quarter or two and a half yards long. Besides these, she should have
one handsomer white cloth a little longer, to use when she wishes to
entertain several guests. There is no reason in her purchasing the long
table-cloths that range from twelve to sixteen feet in length, unless
she has a very large dining-room and anticipates an occasional family
party, which will oblige her to use the table in its most extended form.

To buy table-cloth damask by the yard is cheaper than to purchase the
cloth in one piece. The designs are often very pretty, but the separate
cloth is usually more satisfactory. Large flaring patterns are out of
place on a small table. Such designs as the old and always pleasing
snow-drop pattern, or a little block or diamond, or ivy or fern leaves,
or small stars or shells, one does not weary of so soon as of something
more showy. It is not worth while to purchase a cloth chiefly on
account of its attractive border, for this is seldom seen. The centre
figures are those which receive the most attention.

In doing up table-cloths there should always be a suspicion of starch
used, but there should be none in the napkins.

With the provision of table-linen described above and a set of fruit
napkins, the housekeeper will be able to manage very easily. Of course
she will desire tray cloths, sideboard covers, centre-pieces, doilies,
and the like, but these may be made by her own fingers. The costliness
of these consists in the work bestowed upon them, and they can be made
at home for half or less than half the price asked for them in the
shops. By working them herself play is given to the ingenuity of her
fancy, and she may have the pleasure of knowing that she has something
different from what every one else can buy.

The housewife can hardly have too many doilies. Not only are they
useful to put under finger-bowls, and to lay on cake and bread plates,
but they are admirable to place under hot dishes, to lay between a
scallop-shell and the plate, under pâtés, etc. And when the home
mistress has enough of these, she may set to work to provide herself
with carving-cloths, corn and biscuit napkins, and the many other
pretty pieces of table linen that are always in demand.

There is very seldom a bride who does not receive enough small silver,
such as forks and spoons, to supply her own table. If she is not so
fortunate, however, she should, if possible, try to buy solid silver,
even if she can afford to get but half a dozen pieces of each kind.
Should this be beyond her means, she will find plated silver in neat
designs, although it will in time wear out, while the solid silver will
last a lifetime or longer. It never pays to buy thin silver, for this
bends and dents easily.

Some people who own solid small silver lock it up except upon rare
occasions, and use only plated ware when _en famille_, affirming that
the peace of mind thus gained is worth more than the luxury of using
real silver. In this matter every one must judge for herself; but if
a vote were taken the chances are that those who use the solid silver
would testify that its care costs them very little time or thought. The
simple expedient of counting it two or three times a week is generally
sufficient to insure its safety, and the duty of carrying it up-stairs
at night is too trifling to deserve mention.

Those who have ever been so fortunate as to possess plated silver
vegetable dishes or a soup tureen would never willingly use those of
china. Not only do the silver vessels keep their contents hot, but they
are not breakable, and a dent may be remedied at a small cost. They are
not hard to keep clean. A plunge into clean scalding water, and a quick
wiping afterwards, whenever they have been used, with an occasional
rubbing with a piece of flannel or chamois-skin, will generally keep
them bright.

Whenever silver, solid or plated, needs a thorough cleaning,
electro-silicon may be used; and after the scouring has been done
with a brush dipped in the powder, the pieces should be rinsed off
in scalding water containing a little ammonia, and well rubbed with
flannel. Even the most tarnished silver may be brightened by this


  Anchovy toast, 138.

  Apples and bacon, 81.

  Apples, méringued, 227.

  Apricot fritters, 211.

  Asparagus biscuit, 144.

  Asparagus with eggs, 213.

  Baked mince, 52.

  Bananas, baked, 130.

  Bananas, fried, 211.

  Beef _à la mode_, 219.

  Beef, crisped smoked, 55.

  Biscuit, breakfast, 84.

  Biscuit, brown, 56.

  Biscuit, cheese, 136.

  Biscuit, lunch, 133.

  Biscuit, quick, 64.

  Biscuit, rye, 148.

  Bread, Boston brown, 54, 141.

  Bread, fried, 152.

  Bread, hot loaf, 134.

  Bread omelet, 55.

  Bread, rice, 131.

  Bread-and-butter, 130.

  Breakfast cloth, 19.

  Breakfast mats, 20.

  Breakfast menu, 44.

  Breakfast, wedding, 46.

  Brewis, 52.

  Broth, mutton and rice, 207.

  Brown Betty, peach, 205.

  Brown-bread toast, 150.

  Butter cakes, 65.

  Cabbage, baked, 233.

  Cake, hot, 152.

  Cake, orange, 160.

  Cakes, bread-and-milk, 85.

  Cakes, butter, 65.

  Cakes, lunch, 162.

  Cakes, rice, 156.

  Candles, 8.

  Cauliflower, scalloped, 237.

  Caviare toast, 134.

  Cerealine fritters, 153.

  Cerealine, moulded, 59.

  Cheese biscuit, 136.

  Cherry dumplings, 214.

  Chicken, deviled, 140.

  Chicken, jellied, 159.

  Chicken mince, 60.

  Chicken pie, cold, 149.

  China, buying, 292, 293.

  Chowder, fish, 214.

  Cocoa, 90.

  Cod, creamed with potatoes, 50.

  Cod, scalloped, 135.

  Cold slaw, 158.

  Company dinner, menu, 192, 193.

  Corn, baked, 235.

  Corn, boiled, 145.

  Corn-bread, boiled, 145.

  Corn-bread, loaf, 81.

  Corn croquettes, 144.

  Corn-meal gems, 67.

  Crullers, quick, 154.

  Crumpets, 79.

  Crumpets, rice, 140.

  Cucumbers, fried, 219.

  Custards, chocolate, 232.

  Custards, cocoanut, 223.

  Cut glass, 294.

  Desserts, Sunday, 186.

  Diet for children, 249.

  Dining-room draperies, 6.

  Dining-room floor, 5.

  Dining-room furniture, 11, 12, 13.

  Dining-room walls, 4.

  Dinner-cloth, 167.

  Dinner toilette, 171.

  Doilies, 301.

  Dumplings, cherry, 214.

  Egg-plant, fried, 222.

  Egg-plant, stuffed, 228.

  Eggs _à la crême_, 139.

  Eggs, curried, 54.

  Eggs, moulded, 83.

  Eggs, poached, with anchovy toast, 141.

  Eggs, scrambled, with asparagus, 136.

  Eggs, timbales, with cheese, 75.

  Fish, left-over, 155.

  Fish-cakes, dropped, 72.

  Fritters, clam, 74.

  Fritters, green-corn, 61.

  Furniture polish, 89.

  Galantine, veal, 285.

  Gems, corn-meal, 67.

  Gems, Graham, 53.

  Gems, oatmeal, 135.

  Gems, rye, 59.

  Gems, wheat-flour, 73.

  Gingerbread, 150.

  Griddle-cakes, corn-meal, 151.

  Griddle-cakes, simple, 73.

  Ham, barbecued, 65.

  Ham, deviled, 148.

  Ham fritters, 129.

  Ham toast, 48.

  Hash, a scrap, 131.

  Hash, turkey, 158.

  Hominy croquettes, 160.

  Invalids' food, 38.

  Jelly, coffee, 238.

  Jelly toast, 148.

  Jumbles, 164.

  Kidneys, stewed, 153.

  Lamb, stewed, _à la Jardinière_, 224.

  Lawn teas, 260, 269.

  Left-overs, 93.

  Lemon tarts, 236.

  Lettuce, 212.

  Light loaf, 83.

  Liver toast, 132.

  Lobster, creamed, 155.

  Lobster croquettes, 136.

  Lobster mayonnaise sandwiches, 284.

  Lobster salmi, 283.

  Luncheon menu, 100, 110, 111.

  Macaroons, 158.

  Mackerel, salt, broiled, 61.

  Mackerel, salt, broiled, _à la maître d'hôtel_, 82.

  Mackerel, soused, 71.

  Mayonnaise dressing, 138.

  Meat loaf, 151.

  Menu for high tea, 274, 275.

  Muffins, batter, 161.

  Muffins, corn, 50.

  Muffins, English, 74.

  Muffins, feather, 52.

  Muffins, griddle, 51.

  Muffins, hasty, 75.

  Muffins, nursery, 163.

  Muffins, plain, 154.

  Muffins, raised, 152.

  Muffins, raised corn-meal, 147.

  Muffins, rice, 54.

  Muffins, risen, 82.

  Muffins, rye, 78.

  Muffins, sour milk, 80.

  Muffins, toasted, 160.

  Mutton, boiled, 206.

  Mutton, deviled, 134.

  Mutton, minced, with poached eggs, 70.

  Omelet, baked, 63.

  Omelet, baked chicken, 144.

  Omelet, baked with cheese, 128.

  Omelet, bread, 55.

  Omelet, parsley, 49.

  Omelet with corn, 66.

  Onions, browned, 230.

  Orange cake, 160.

  Orange roly-poly, 231.

  Oysters, curried, 157.

  Oysters, panned, 133.

  Pancakes, canned pea, 83.

  Parsnips, creamed, 208.

  Pâté, game, 141.

  Peach Brown Betty, 205.

  Pease, canned French, 212.

  Pease, canned green, 236.

  Pickerel, fried, 142.

  Pie, sliced peach, 224.

  Pigeons, stewed, 211.

  Pop-overs, Graham, 62.

  Porridge, 25.

  Potato balls, 71.

  Potato, moulded, 75.

  Potato purée, 226.

  Potatoes _au gratin_, 154.

  Potatoes, buttered, 50.

  Potatoes, hashed, 86.

  Potatoes hashed with cream, 69.

  Potatoes, Lyonnaise, 76.

  Potatoes, Parisian, 62.

  Potatoes, savory, 85.

  Potatoes, sliced, 148.

  Potatoes, stuffed, 67.

  Pudding, baked peach, 220.

  Pudding, cream rice, 229.

  Pudding, peach and tapioca, 227.

  Pudding, plain fruit, 235.

  Pudding, raspberry, 216.

  Pudding, rice and pear, 226.

  Puddings, cup, 204.

  Rapid eating, 174.

  Rice bread, 131.

  Rice cakes, 156.

  Rice croquettes, 157.

  Rusk, 132.

  Rye gems, 59.

  Salad, 171.

  Salad, asparagus, 210.

  Salad, celery and radish, 142.

  Salad, chicken, 138.

  Salad, egg, 145.

  Salad, French fish, 284.

  Salad, literary, 276.

  Salad, potato, 150.

  Sally-Lunn, quick, 69.

  Sally-Lunn, raised, 62.

  Sandwiches, 125, 126, 285.

  Sandwiches, lobster mayonnaise, 284.

  Sardines _au gratin_, 62.

  Sardines, broiled, on toast, 162.

  Sauce, cream, 62.

  Sauce, hard, 205.

  Sauce, mint, 218.

  Sauce, soubise, 206.

  Sauce, white, 60.

  Sausage, baked, 161.

  Sausage, broiled, 73.

  Sausage rolls, 78.

  Scallop patties, 53.

  Scallops, fried, 86.

  Seasoning, 245.

  Setting breakfast-table, 42.

  Setting dinner-table, 168.

  Shad roes in ambush, 59.

  Short-cake, canned peach, 150.

  Short-cake, peach, 64.

  Short-cake, raspberry, 56.

  Silver, cleaning, 303.

  Silver, solid, 301.

  Silver-plated dishes, 302.

  Soup, 171.

  Soup, asparagus, 216.

  Soup, black-bean, 237.

  Soup, canned, 183.

  Soup, cauliflower, 221.

  Soup, cheese, 218.

  Soup, corned-beef, 234.

  Soup, egg, 217.

  Soup, green-corn, 210.

  Soup, green-pea, 213.

  Soup, lentil, 204.

  Soup, oyster, 233.

  Soup, salmon, 228.

  Soup, tomato, _maigre_, 225.

  Soup, turkey, 232.

  Soup, veal, 223.

  Spaghetti, creamed, 209.

  Spanish chestnuts, roast, 156.

  Sponge-cake trifle, 208.

  Standing lunch menu, 118.

  Steak, broiled, with mushrooms, 72.

  Strawberries, 58.

  Strawberry méringue, 215.

  Sugar cakes, 163.

  Supper dishes, 258.

  Sweetbread pâtés, 147.

  Sweet potatoes, buttered, 205.

  Table linen, 297, 298.

  Table manners, 248.

  Tomatoes, baked, 209.

  Tomatoes, broiled, 140.

  Tomatoes, deviled, 66.

  Tomatoes and corn, baked, 222.

  Tongue, jellied, 142.

  Tripe, Lyonnaise, 85.

  Turnip purée, 230.

  Veal croquettes, 79.

  Veal cutlets _au maître d'hôtel_, 69.

  Veal galantine, 285.

  Veal Hamburg steaks, 163.

  Waffles, quick, 71.

  Waffles, raised, 162.

  Welsh rabbit, 145.

  Wheat-flour gems, 73.

  Wheat puffs, 76.

  White-fish, baked, 225.



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     Parlor, the Library, the Kitchen, the Sick-Room. pp. 280. 16mo,
     Cloth, $1 00.

A sensible book, and a most valuable one.... We consider that the wide
distribution of this handy and elegant little volume would be one of
the greatest benefactions, in a social and economical sense, that could
be made to our countrymen and countrywomen.—_Christian Intelligencer_,
N. Y.


     Marriage, Establishment, Servants, Housekeeping, Children, Home
     Life, Company. pp. 266. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00.

Its pages are characterized by common-sense, and the book, with its
practical style and useful suggestions, will do good.—_Independent_, N.


☞ HARPER & BROTHERS _will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid,
to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price_.

 │ Transcriber's Note:                                               │
 │                                                                   │
 │ Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.      │
 │                                                                   │
 │ Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant  │
 │ form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.     │
 │                                                                   │
 │ Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. Word        │
 │ combinations that appeared with and without hyphens were changed  │
 │ to the predominant form if it could be determined, or to the      │
 │ hyphenated form if it could not.                                  │
 │                                                                   │
 │ Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters,          │
 │ _like this_.                                                      │
 │                                                                   │
 │ Other correction:                                                 │
 │ Page 105 "in no wise" → "in no ways".                             │

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