Chapter I: Front Matter (1)

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Transcriber’s note:

In the section Pickled nutmeg melons, melons change to
mangoes part way through, viz.
“Lay the _mangoes_ in strong brine for three days. Drain
off the brine and freshen in pure water for twenty-four
hours. “Green” as you would cucumbers—that is, have a
kettle lined with green vine leaves, and lay the _mangoes_
evenly within it, scattering powdered alum over the layers.
A piece of alum as large as a pigeon’s egg will be enough
for a two-gallon kettleful. Fill with cold water; cover
with vine leaves, three deep; put a close lid or inverted
pan over all, and steam over a slow fire five or six hours,
not allowing the water to boil. When the _mangoes_ are a
fine green remove the leaves and lay the melons in cold
water until cold and firm.”
This has been corrected.

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

MARION HARLAND’S COMPLETE COOK BOOK

MARION HARLAND’S COMPLETE COOK BOOK

A Practical and Exhaustive Manual of Cookery and Housekeeping

Containing Thousands of Carefully Proved Recipes—Prepared for the Housewife, not for the Chef—and Many Chapters on the Care and Management of the Home—the Final Expression of Her Life’S Experience

by

MARION HARLAND

Author of Common Sense in the Household, Etc.

New Edition, Revised and Enlarged

Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers

Copyright 1903 The Bobbs-Merrill Company

June

Copyright 1906 The Bobbs-Merrill Company

March

Press of Braunworth & Co. Bookbinders and Printers Brooklyn, N. Y.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

MARKETING 3

CARE OF HOUSEHOLD STORES 6

KITCHEN UTENSILS 9

CHEMISTRY IN THE KITCHEN 12

CARVING 15

SERVING AND WAITING 18

AMONG THE LINENS 23

THE CHILDREN 25

DIET AND DIGESTION 28

THE IMPROMPTU LARDER 32

FAMILIAR TALK

BREAKFAST 34

BREAKFAST FRUITS 38

BREAKFAST CEREALS 42

BREAKFAST BREADS 46

HOT BREAKFAST BREADS 54

QUICK BISCUITS 61

MUFFINS AND THEIR CONGENERS 63

WAFFLES 65

GRIDDLE CAKES 66

BREAKFAST BREADS OF INDIAN MEAL 71

DIVERS KINDS OF TOAST 75

EGGS 78

FAMILIAR TALK

WHO RULES THE HOME 89

FISH FOR BREAKFAST 93

FAMILIAR TALK

WHERE WE EAT 107

BREAKFAST MEATS 110

BREAKFAST BACON 110

TRIPE 114

BEEFSTEAK 116

KIDNEYS 118

SWEETBREADS 120

LIVER 122

CHICKEN 123

OTHER BREAKFAST MEATS 126

BREAKFAST GAME 129

BREAKFAST VEGETABLES 131

FAMILIAR TALK

WITH MARTHA IN HER KITCHEN 137

THE FAMILY LUNCHEON 143

LUNCHEON DISHES 145

FAMILIAR TALK

LIVING TO LEARN 183

CROQUETTES 188

WITH THE CASSEROLE 194

CHEESE DISHES FOR LUNCHEON 198

THE TOAST FAMILY 205

LUNCHEON VEGETABLES 207

SANDWICHES 214

TEMPTING PREFIXES TO LUNCHEON 221

SALADS 224

LUNCHEON FRUITS, COOKED AND RAW 241

SWEET OMELETS 247

FAMILIAR TALK

WITH THE NOMINAL MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE 249

LUNCHEON CAKES 258

FROSTINGS FOR CAKES 278

VARIOUS FILLINGS FOR CAKES 279

GINGERBREADS 281

SMALL CAKES 284

THE DOUGHNUT AND CRULLER FAMILY 292

FAMILIAR TALK

A FRIENDLY WORD WITH “OUR MAID” 296

DINNER 300

SOUPS 303

BISQUES 314

CREAM SOUPS 318

VEGETABLE SOUPS WITH MEAT 322

VEGETABLE SOUPS WITHOUT MEAT 328

FISH SOUPS 333

FISH 337

SAUCES FOR FISH AND MEAT 353

FAMILIAR TALK

IS IMPROMPTU HOSPITALITY A LOST ART 361

MEATS 367

BEEF 367

VEAL 377

MUTTON 385

MEAT AND POULTRY PIES 388

PORK 395

POULTRY 400

TURKEY 400

DUCKS 404

CHICKENS 405

GEESE 413

GAME 415

DINNER VEGETABLES 427

EVEN THREADED LIVING 498

SWEETS OF ALL SORTS 503

PIES 503

HOT PUDDINGS 518

BAKED PUDDINGS 528

FRITTERS 544

PANCAKES AND DUMPLINGS 548

SOME PUDDING SAUCES 551

COLD PUDDINGS AND CUSTARDS 555

WHIPPED CREAM DISHES 558

BLANC MANGE 563

FRUIT DESSERTS 576

ICE CREAM AND ICES 580

HOME-MADE CANDIES 590

AFTERNOON TEA 604

SOME DAINTIES FOR AFTERNOON TEA 610

FRAPPÉ BEVERAGES 614

WAFERS 616

STEWED FRUIT, PRESERVES, FRUIT JELLIES, ET CETERA 617

PICKLES 633

CATSUPS, ET CETERA 648

THE HOME BREW 652

FORMAL BREAKFASTS AND LUNCHEONS 663

CONCERNING DINNER GIVING 668

SOME STUDIES OF COLOR IN FAMILY DINNERS 673

AN EVENING RECEPTION AND CHAFING-DISH SUPPER 676

FAMILIAR TALK

COMMON SENSE AND “ETIQUETTE” 681

CANNED GOODS 684

“HANDY” HOUSEHOLD HINTS 693

FINAL FAMILIAR TALK

EMERGENCIES, BROKEN CHINA, ET CETERA 715

SOME CULINARY TERMS 719

FOR READY REFERENCE 724

INDEX 729

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

AFTER DINNER COFFEE IN A COZY CORNER 672

AFTERNOON TEA ON THE VERANDA 606

ANCHOVIES ON TOAST 464

BEEF, ROAST 380

BELGIAN HARE, ROAST 416

BEVERAGES 652

BIRTHDAY CAKE 520

BISCUITS, HOT 364

BRANDIED PEACHES, GARNISHED 628

BREAKFAST EQUIPAGE 36

CAKE, SLICED HOME-MADE 364

CALF’S HEAD, BOILED 380

CAVIAR TOAST, GARNISHED 222

CHEESE AND EGG ENTRÉES 202

CHICKEN PIE, SMALL 388

CHICKEN PIE IN SILVER STAND 388

CHICKEN OMELET 84

CHICKEN SALAD MANTLED WITH CREAM MAYONNAISE AND GARNISHED 232

CHICKEN, SCALLOPED 404

CHICKEN, SCALLOPED 126

COD, BOILED 344

COFFEE, CAPITAL CUP OF 364

COVERED CHEESE DISH FOR LIMBURGER 202

CRAB, SCALLOPED, IN SHELL 156

CREAMED MACARONI IN PINEAPPLE CHEESE SHELL 202

CROQUETTES 126

DAFFODILS 84

DINNER, A LITTLE 668

“DINNER, A PICK-UP” 364

EGGS 78

EGGS, BAKED 78

EGG OMELET 78

EGGS, STUFFED 202

ENTREES 126

FISH 100

FISH 344

FLOATING ISLAND 520-558

FONDU OF CHEESE 202

FRUIT SALAD, GARNISHED 232

FRUIT SALAD, IN BANANA-SKIN 232

GAME 416

GAME PIE IN NAPKINNED DISH 388

GRAPE FRUIT PREPARED FOR LUNCHEON 222

GREEN PEAS, GARNISHED 464

HALIBUT STEAK 100

HARLAND, MARION Frontispiece

ICE CREAM WITH HOT MAPLE SAUCE 582

INDIVIDUAL FLOATING ISLAND 558

IRISH STEW AND BROWNED POTATOES 364

LAMB CHOPS 126

LOBSTER CUTLETS AND WHIPPED POTATOES 156

MERINGUE GLACE AND WHIPPED CREAM 558

MOCK PIGEON 380

MOULD OF JELLY, GARNISHED 628

ORANGE MARMALADE 582

OYSTER COCKTAILS 222

OYSTER PATTIES 344

OYSTERS SCALLOPED 84

PAIR OF BOILED FOWLS, GARNISHED 404

PAIR OF ROAST DUCKS 404

PARTRIDGE, ROAST 416

PERCH, FRIED 100

PLUM PUDDING 520

POULTRY AND ENTRÉES 404

PUNCH, STRAWBERRY 628

QUAIL ON TOAST 416

RANGE SCREEN LOWERED TO SHUT IN HEAT 140

RANGE SCREEN PARTLY RAISED 138

SALADS 236

SALMON, BOILED 344

SANDWICHES

AFTERNOON TEA 582

BRUNETTE 216

CRESCENT 216

WHOLE WHEAT BREAD 216

SIDE-BOARD AND CHINA CLOSET 718

SMELTS, FRIED 100

SWEETBREADS, BRAISED 404

SWEETBREAD CUTLETS AND SARATOGA POTATOES 156

TABLES

AUTUMN DINNER 300

BRIDESMAID’S, WITH PINK ROSES 500

CHRISTMAS, DECORATED WITH HOLLY 300

DECORATED WITH PINE CONES 266

DECORATED WITH CHRYSANTHEMUMS AND PALMS 300

EASTER WEDDING BREAKFAST 266

ENGAGEMENT DINNER 500

JAPANESE DECORATIONS FOR CHILDREN’S LUNCHEON 266

SUNFLOWER LUNCHEON 500

A LITTLE DINNER 668

TOAST AND ANCHOVIES GARNISHED 464

TOMATO SALAD 236

TOMATO SALAD WITH WHIPPED CREAM DRESSING 236

TOMATOES, STUFFED AND GARNISHED 464

TROUT, FRIED 344

TURKEY, ROAST 404

VEAL AND BEEF 380

VEAL CHOPS AND SPINACH 380

VENISON, ROAST 416

WAFERS 616

WHIPPED CREAM 520

WHIPPED CREAM, GARNISHED WITH CHERRIES 558

WOODCOCK, ROAST 416

Marion Harland’s

Complete Cook Book

DEDICATORY PREFACE

_To My Fellow Housekeepers, North, East, South and West_:

Thirty-one years ago I wrote, dedicated to you, and sent to press, COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD.

The daring step was taken in direct opposition to the advice of all who knew my purpose. I was assured that I should lose the modest measure of literary reputation I had won by novels, short stories and essays if I persisted in the ignoble enterprise.

One critic forewarned me that “whatever I might write after this preposterous new departure would be tainted, for the imaginative reader and reviewer, with the odor of the kitchen.”

He may have been right. I do not know nor do I care whether his judgment or mine was the better. I gave my first cook-book to you because I knew from my own experience, as a young, raw and untaught housekeeper, that you needed just what I had to say. The hundreds of thousands of copies which have been sold, the thousands of grateful letters received from my toiling sisters, testify to that need and that to me was appointed the gracious task of supplying it.

Under the impulse of a conviction as solemn and as strong I offer you now a work embodying the best results of mature Housewifery. Or, as I would rather name it, Housemotherhood. Before I put pen to paper I stipulated that the contract with the publishers of THE COMPLETE COOK BOOK should contain a clause forbidding me to prepare and issue any book of a similar character during the next ten years.

Whatever I have to say to you through the medium of a printed and bound volume in all these years must be said here.

I have had this thought in my mind with the writing of every page. In every page, in every line, in every word I have done my best to serve you. I know you well enough to be assured that you will not forget this. If such a thing might be I would have every dish compounded according to my directions a souvenir to each of you of one who has given thirty-odd of the best years of a busy life to the task of dignifying housewifery into a profession, and ennobling the practice of it in your eyes.

For the fair degree of success which has followed these efforts I am thankful. Thankful, too, to those of you whose appreciation of my aim and my work has held up weary hands and stayed the failing heart.

This talk, made purposely as “familiar” as if I were face-to-face with each of you, is not a valedictory, but an _au revoir_. The book in your hands contains the gleanings of an active decade. Housewifery keeps pace with other professions in the swinging march of an Age of Wonders. I have faith in it and in myself to believe that I shall go on with the fascinating work of accumulating. I add, hopefully, I have also faith in you that, in the future as in the thirty years overpast, you will aid me in that accumulation.

MARION HARLAND.

MARKETING

MUTTON and BEEF may be called the Marketer’s Perennials. They are in season all the year round.

In buying mutton see that the fat is clear, very firm and white; the flesh close of grain, and ruddy. Buy your meat fresh, even if you mean to hang it in the cellar for a week—or longer in cold weather. “Begin fair!”

The best cuts of mutton are loin, saddle and leg. French chops are cut from the rib, the fat taken off and several inches of the bone cleaned from meat. They are nice to look at, good to eat—and expensive. You can do the trimming at home when you have once seen it done and save the extra cent or two paid for the word “French.” Loin chops are cheaper and usually more tender and better-flavored.

A more economical piece than the leg for the housewife who does her own marketing is the fore-quarter. You can bone and stuff part of it for a roast; the chops are almost as good as those cut from the loin, and the bones, when removed, make good stock for broth. The meat is really more juicy and sweet than that of the leg, and the cost from two to three cents a pound less.

LAMB is in season from May to November. What is sold under that name in winter is undersized mutton, and usually tough and dry.

BEEF—the Englishman’s main-stay—is quite as important in the American kitchen. Seek, in purchasing, for rosy, red meat, “shot” with cream-colored suet, dry and mealy, and a good outer coat of fat. Press the meat hard with the tip of your thumb. If it be flabby, and, after yielding to pressure, retains the dent, let it alone.

The rib roast is a choice cut. It is more comely when the bones are removed, the meat rolled and bound into a round. In which case insist upon having the trimmings sent home. You pay for them, and, when you order soup-meat, for that as well. Have the bones cracked, buy one pound of coarse lean beef for perhaps ten cents, and you have foundation for a good gravy soup, or stock enough for several hashes and stews.

The round costs about two-thirds as much as a rib-roast and half as much as a sirloin, and serves admirably for _à la mode_ beef, or a pot-roast.

The sirloin steak is far more economical than a porterhouse. Remove the bone before cooking. This cut often contains really more of the coveted tenderloin than the porterhouse, and the rest of the steak is more tender, as a rule, than the dearer cut. Have the steak cut at least an inch thick.

Summer FRESH PORK is less desirable than winter lamb. It should be barred from the market after the first of May, and not allowed there before December first, if then. The lean should be pink, the fat pure white and solid, the skin like white, translucent parchment. That it is cheap and “goes far” recommends it to many people.

The chine, the spare-ibiss and loin are the best cuts for roasting. Pork chops are popular, and pork tenderloins much affected, even by epicures. Children and invalids should never touch unsalted pork at its best estate.

VEAL comes into market earlier than genuine spring lamb, and is seasonable all the summer through. Be sure it is not that most objectionable variety of what is rated by dieticians as a decidedly objectionable meat—known in slang usage as “bob-veal.” No calf should be slaughtered until at least six weeks old. The meat should be a clear, pale red, the fat very white, the texture firm. Veal may be innutritious, but the knuckle and, indeed, all the bony parts are invaluable for soups, containing much gelatinous matter. The breast, the fillet and loin are the most popular roasting pieces. Veal chops are really better eating and cheaper than the cutlet, and should be better known to the frugal housewife.

A calf’s head, scraped free of hair and well-cleaned, may be bought in country markets for fifty cents, and can be made into a dainty dish fit for John and John’s unexpected friend.

Sweetbreads are an acknowledged delicacy, and liver, properly cooked, will be approved by all.

By the way, lamb’s liver costs less than calf’s liver, and is more toothsome.

In choosing POULTRY, slip your bare forefinger under the wing where it joins the body and press hard with the nail. If the skin breaks easily, the fowl is probably young. Then try the tip of the breast-bone. If the cartilage gives readily and springs back slowly, the signs are still favorable. Next, look for hairs on the body and hard horny scales on the legs; for scrawny necks and a livid hue in the flesh—all unfavorable indications. Tough fowls should be cheaper far than tender. If your market-man calls them frankly “fowls,” commend his honesty, and if you contemplate a fricassee or chicken pie, reward his integrity by a purchase. Chickens may be “fowls,” yet good,—that is, nourishing and amenable to judicious “tendering.”

A veteran housewife, with a reputation to support, tells me she has but one method of securing really excellent meats for her table: “When a market-man sells me tough flesh, or superannuated poultry, or ancient fish, I give him warning. At the second offense, I transfer my custom to another dealer. The rule works well!”

It is especially useful when one would be certain of getting FRESH FISH. Now that fish and oysters are bedded in ice until the wiliest connoisseur may be mistaken in their age, it behooves the housemother to know, first of all, that she is dealing with a man with a conscience as free from reproach as she would have her halibut, salmon and oysters.

CARE OF HOUSEHOLD STORES

APPLES, POTATOES, TURNIPS, CARROTS, BEETS, etc., if stored in bins or barrels, should be picked over every week. The defective should be thrown away, and if there be any sign of sweating, the good should be spread out on the floor for a day or two to dry before they are repacked. Fruit should be handled with care. Bruises are incipient decay.

Particularly FINE FRUIT—apples and pears—should be wrapped, each separately, in soft, unprinted paper and, when packed, covered with fine, dry sand. Thus protected, they will keep plump and sweet for months, and need no overhauling meanwhile.

When practicable, keep VEGETABLES in large quantities elsewhere than in the cellar under your dwelling. Putrefying roots, cabbages and apples were responsible for much of the winter and spring diseases that puzzled our forefathers and mothers. Even now many a farmhouse reeks with “cellar smells,” as subtile and dangerous as sewer gas.

Keep EGGS in a cool place, yet not where they will be liable to freeze. If you store them in large quantities, pack in dry salt, the small end down. As an additional precaution, grease the shells, and pour melted lard upon the topmost layer of salt.

DRIED BEANS AND PEAS should be kept in wooden or tin boxes with close tops.

Have canisters with tight lids for COFFEE AND TEA, and keep them shut. Coffee loses strength and flavor when exposed to the air. Tea softens and molds.

In buying CRACKERS give the preference to those packed in tin cases. If they come in paper boxes, set these in tin receptacles, or in stone crocks with snugly fitting tops. Never throw away a tin cracker-box. It is always useful.

After CHEESE is cut, wrap in tin-foil, or in soft (unprinted) paper and keep in tin, or in stoneware.

CRUSTS, BITS OF TOAST, BROKEN CRACKERS AND STALE SLICES of bread should be kept in the kitchen closet until perfectly dry; then set in a moderate oven for an hour before crushing them with a rolling-pin. Keep these crumbs in a glass jar with a close top. They are invaluable for breading chops and croquettes, and for scallops.

Brown FLOUR by the quantity, and when cool put into glass jars ready for use.

SALT cakes and hardens in damp weather. Store it in your warmest and driest pantry. In very wet weather mix a little corn starch with that you put into the table salt-cellars.

FLOUR can not be kept too dry, nor can INDIAN OATMEAL, and all kinds of SUGAR. PULVERIZED SUGAR is as susceptible to humidity as salt. Tin boxes are absolutely necessary for keeping it tolerably free from lumps.

SPICES, PEPPER AND DRIED HERBS must also be shut up closely, and never be kept in open receptacles. Some brands of BAKING-POWDERS actually effervesce when exposed for days at a time to the open air. All are injured seriously by such exposure.

For all these staples and ingredients, have closely-fitting lids—_and keep them on_!

Store DRIED FRUITS in stone jars with covers; CANNED FRUITS AND PICKLES in glass jars; tumblers of JELLY AND MARMALADE should be kept in the dark. The light acts chemically upon the contents. If your storeroom be light, wrap jars and tumblers in thick paper tied on with strings.

As soon as MEAT comes home from market remove every bit of the brown paper enveloping it, and lay upon a clean dish near the ice—never upon it. FISH does not suffer from contact with ice. Meat does, becoming flabby and viscid. If your refrigerator is so arranged that you can hang the meat up, that the air can get at all sides of it, it will keep far better than when laid on a platter.

A good meat preserver is a box, as large as you can make room for in the refrigerator, the top and bottom of which are of wood, the sides of wire netting. Stout hooks are screwed into the inside of the top, and one of the netted sides is hinged, like a door. MEAT hung in this box will remain untainted and sweet much longer than when hung upon the side of the refrigerator. If you have a cool cellar, keep the meat box, thus prepared, upon a shelf in the darkest corner. The netting excludes insects, yet allows the air to enter, and by drying the surface forms an impervious coating which will keep in the juices.

Get large tin boxes for BREAD AND CAKE. Scald them frequently, drying thoroughly in the sun, and have clean, dry cloths in which to wrap each fresh batch of cake and baking of bread and biscuits.

It is an excellent plan to make cotton bags in which to put LETTUCE, CELERY, TOMATOES, SPINACH and other green things you wish to store in the refrigerator. The shelves and ice-box are kept clean, the esculents fresh. Many housewives have adopted the expedient within a few years, and none has abandoned it after a trial. The bags are of coarse, light cotton cloth, or of cheese-cloth, and go into the weekly wash.

TABLE BUTTER, wrapped in dampened cheesecloth squares, keeps sweet and firm. These squares are as large as a child’s pocket handkerchief, and hemmed to prevent raveling. Half a dozen will last a year, unless the “hired gurrel” takes them for dish-cloths.

BUTTER, made into balls for the table, should be kept in a bowl of cold water in the refrigerator, and the water changed every morning.

Keep in your own mind, and so far as you can, impress upon the conscience of servants, that whatever has been once in the refrigerator must be returned to cold storage, unless used. Meats soften and taint, butter turns rancid, fruits and vegetables decay when this precaution is neglected.

KITCHEN UTENSILS

It is not my purpose to discourage the housewife by a list of culinary furniture.

The readers of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” may recall that Mr. St. Clair declared the evolution of irreproachable course dinners through such means as his negro cook employed in a smoky little kitchen with scanty store of pots and kettles—to be “nothing short of genius.” I have, before now, visited kitchens environed with pot-closets, where hung a glittering assortment of every conceivable patented “indispensable”—and sat down in the dining-room to greasy, watery soups, scorched meats, soggy bread and curdled custards.

It is well to have a plentiful supply of tools. If there be not sense and skill behind them, failure is a foregone conclusion.

The object of this brief chapter is to tell our housemothers how to keep such pots and kettles, griddles and pans in working order, and how to make them last a reasonable time.

To begin with—get good ware. The clumsy iron vessels that gathered grime and soot over the fires kept up by our grand-dames have been pushed aside by lighter and cleaner utensils of various sorts. Coppers—that must be as bright outside as they were within, and gathered unto themselves murderous verdigris, if not cleaned before each using, with salt and scalding vinegar—were banished, and righteously, long ago, in favor of galvanized, porcelain, granite, agate-iron and nickel-steel-plated wares that neither rust nor green-mold. These wares are as easily kept clean as stone china, and if less durable than iron and copper that descended from mother to daughter and even down to the third generation, last reasonably well when properly handled.

Pots, kettles and the like should be _set_ upon the range—not thumped and banged. A nicked cooking utensil is a disgrace to the handler thereof.

Cracks and scaling-off are still oftener the result of sudden overheating and of allowing an empty vessel to stand over the fire. The teakettle boils dry, the soup seethes and simmers until bones and meat stick to the bottom of the pot. To complete the wreck, the ignorant or indifferent cook snatches off the misused utensil and runs with it to the sink, turning the cold-water faucet upon the heated metal. Yet the mistress marvels at the semi-yearly necessity of replenishing kitchen tools!

Never put away a vessel which is not both clean and dry. Wash with hot water, good soap, and household ammonia. Use mop and soap-shaker, if you would spare your hands and do justice to bottoms, seams and sides of pot and pan. Rinse off the suds, wipe and set, upside down, upon the range for thirty seconds to make assurance doubly sure.

Hang up everything that furnishes the semblance of a loop by which it may be suspended. And always in its own place, so that you could find each in the dark.

Cover the shelves of the crockery closet with strips of scalloped oilcloth that come for the purpose, and the shelves on which you keep metal pie-plates and pans with stout paper, pinked at the edges.

If you use tin milk-pans, have them seamless, scald daily with boiling water into which you have stirred a little baking soda, rinse with pure water and stand in the sun.

Wooden ware should be scrubbed with a clean, stiff brush and soda-and-water, rinsed well, wiped and dried near the fire or in the open window.

Buy three qualities of dish-towels—the finest for glass, silver and china; the second best for crockery used in kitchen work; the third for heavy kettles, griddles, etc., and have them washed every day. Even when no grease adheres to them they have a musty odor if used several times without washing.

Rub gridirons and griddles with dry salt before each using, wiping it off with a clean towel.

Never undertake to polish your stove until it is quite cold, and do not rekindle the fire too soon when the polishing is done.

Next to the range, or stove, the sink is the most important feature of the kitchen.

“Let me see a woman’s sink, and I will tell you what sort of a manager she is!” was the saying of a shrewd housemother who had seen much of life and of cooks.

The waste-pipe should be flushed every day when the water in the boiler is hottest. During the flushing two tablespoonfuls of strong ammonia should be poured down the grating over the waste. Once a week in summer add a handful of crushed washing-soda. And _keep the sink, itself, clean all the time_!

Grease should never accumulate upon the sides and in the corners; tea leaves and other débris never be clotted over the vent.

A stout whisk-brush must hang above the sink and be used freely in scrubbing it. When the whisk becomes stained and flabby, burn it up and get another. A dirty brush, mop or dish-cloth makes—not removes—dirt.

Follow these directions, and if the outer drain-pipes are properly built, you will have no occasion to employ disinfectants and deodorizers.

The old New England kitchen was the family sitting-room in winter, and in thousands of farm-houses, this is still the custom. Since no device can make the sink and its appurtenances ornamental, or passably comely, have a tall folding screen that may be drawn in front of it when the day’s work is done. The mistress who never sits in her own kitchen, but wishes that her maids should have a pleasant resting-place in the evenings, may offer the screen for their use. The better class of “girls” will appreciate the kindly thought.

CHEMISTRY IN THE KITCHEN

Here again I shall be brief and practical. Nobody would read this page were I to prate learnedly (apparently) of proteids, phosphates, dextrine, hyposulphites and computed chemical and dietetic values. The purpose of the honest cook-book is to help, not hinder.

A few facts relative to chemical effects and changes in every-day cookery should be tabulated.

For example, the mission of the much-used and oft-abused bicarbonate of soda—familiarly called “baking-soda”—is imperfectly apprehended by those who handle it most frequently. The average cook does this handling heavily. “Soda makes bread and biscuits rise,” is the sum of her knowledge and the aim of her practice in this direction.

Soda should be measured as accurately as if it were a potent drug, and never used except in combination with an acid. Even then, lean to the side of mercy in measuring. One even teaspoonful of soda to two rounded teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar, one even teaspoonful of soda to two cupfuls of buttermilk, or “bonny clabber,” one even teaspoonful of soda to one cupful (one-half pint) of molasses, cause what may be considered an equitable effervescence, liberating gases that lighten dough and batter without making them unwholesome. The “greeny-yellowy” streaks in farmhouse quick biscuits are poisonous, but the alkali is not in fault. Soda should never be driven in single harness.

The first stage of incipient decomposition is acidity. If, when a slightly-suspected fowl or cut of meat is to be boiled or stewed, a teaspoonful of soda be thrown into the pot as soon as the boil begins, violent effervescence will attest the presence of the disturbing acid. This subsiding will leave the meat free from unpleasant taint.

Beefsteak and chops, which are just a trifle “touched,” may be restored to sanity by a bath of soda and water, well rubbed in. Butter that has suffered in quality through the neglect of the maker in not working all the milk out may be made tolerable for kitchen use by working it over in iced water in which a little soda has been dissolved. After which the butter should be wrapped in a salted cloth with a lump of charcoal in the outer fold.

Ammonia is another beneficent agent in correcting natural or artificial deficiencies. A bottle of household ammonia should be as invariably an adjunct to the kitchen sink and that of the waitress’s pantry as the soap-dish. It “kills” grease by a chemical combination with it, and lends luster to silver by the same.

Dry soda, laid upon a burn or scald, heals, but not merely by excluding the air. Flour would do that as well. The alkali acts directly upon the decomposing skin and vitiated juices of the flesh. The sting of a bee, wasp or hornet is formic acid; that of a mosquito something akin to it. Ammonia, applied instantly, neutralizes the venom and eases the smart.

In the composition of salad dressing, stirring the oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and dash of mustard together, long and skilfully, makes a chemical emulsion smoother and more palatable than the hasty slap-dash mixture too often served as “French dressing.”

Bread-dough which has begun to sour can be brought to terms by working into the batch a little saleratus dissolved in boiling water, which is then allowed to become lukewarm before it is kneaded faithfully through the dough. A like solution should be beaten hard into griddle-cake batter that has a pungent smell.

Vinegar and lemon juice are invaluable aids in the business of “tendering” tough meats. Beefsteak, covered for some hours with vinegar or lemon juice, and olive oil, is made eatable by the action of the acid upon the fibers which are further “suppled” by the oil.

Vinegar put into the water in which a fowl or mutton is boiled will serve the same purpose, and a dash of vinegar in boiling fish removes the strong oily taste that would otherwise cling to it.

Powdered alum stirred into turbid water—an even tablespoonful to four gallons—will cause a precipitate and a settlement. The clear water may be drawn off cautiously and used for washing and even for drinking, having no perceptible taste of the alum.

A bag of powdered charcoal sunk in a pork barrel will keep the brine sweet through the winter, without blackening it or the meat.

Javelle water, invaluable for removing mildew and rust-stains, may be made at home in the following manner:

Place four pounds of bicarbonate of soda in a large granite or porcelain-lined can, and pour over it four quarts of hot water.

Stir with a stick until the soda has dissolved, add a pound of chloride of lime and stir until this also has dissolved.

Allow the liquid to cool in the pan, strain the clear portion through thin cloths into wide-mouthed bottles or jugs and cork tightly for use.

The part that contains the sediment may also be bottled and used for cleaning sinks, kitchen tables, etc.

An excellent detersive for cleansing and sweetening a kitchen sink is washing soda. Dissolve a couple of handfuls in hot water and when boiling hot pour down the drain.

To prevent oil-lamps from smoking or giving forth a disagreeable odor, boil the wicks in vinegar, then dry in the sun.

CARVING

The present mode of serving meats after the manner of the table d’hôte—the carving done in the kitchen, and the results placed upon the platter to be served to the guests by butler or waiter—has in large measure done away with the demand for hints to the master or mistress of the home upon the art of carving. To those who adhere to the earlier custom, directions can be merely outlines; for the single means by which one may become an adept as a carver is in the repeated practice which is required for skill in any work of manipulation.

A prerequisite to carving is appropriate implements. The knife, the edge of which has been dulled upon the bread-board, or hacked in the offices of the kitchen, where it has been employed as the scullion’s tool, may puncture and tear, but it will not carve. In the hand of even the most skilful it is exasperation.

The mistress of the home owes it to the head of the table, as well as to the ease of mind of her guests, to see that the carving set—the knife and its companion fork—shall be in the best condition for their work.

To carve a roast of beef

This will depend upon the form in which the roast is placed upon the platter. If it include several ribs, furnishing sufficient room for a base of bone, it may be so put before the carver that he may cut perpendicularly in thin slices, passing the knife in a line parallel with the ribs. If, however, the roast be laid upon the side, as is usual, the same direction is to be observed as to the cutting in lines parallel to the ribs.

Where a tenderloin roast is to be carved—having but the one large bone which divides the tenderloin from the more solid portion—there is little choice whether the knife is drawn with or transversely to the grain: the tenderness of the meat is assured in either case. It may be more convenient to sever entirely the tenderloin from the firmer part of the roast before beginning to slice. This will leave the carver at liberty to serve a portion of each quality of the meat to every guest, as the tenderloin may not be of sufficient size to serve to all.

To carve a leg of lamb or mutton

If the small ribs—which are generally taken off for chops—are left with the leg, the carver is free to ask the preference of each guest for the rib or solid slice. The chops may be detached by drawing the point of the knife between the ribs, and—if the butcher has properly done his part—in severing the light cartilage at the backbone, as in parting vertebræ. The fleshy portion of the leg will be more tender if cut in slices at a right angle with the bone, as one would carve a ham; that is, across the grain. Some carvers, however, prefer to cut lamb or mutton with the grain, as it enables them to serve a portion more or less thoroughly cooked, according to the preference of those to be helped. These directions apply equally to carving a haunch of venison.

To carve poultry

The fowl—whether turkey, chicken or duck—should be placed on its back upon the platter. This will permit the carver to transfix the breastbone firmly with the fork; for, upon the stanchness of the hold here will depend the success of all further operations. The wing from the nearer side should first be dissevered by a gash of the knife underneath the socket. This, if the fowl be tender, is easily accomplished with a single cut. The first and second joints of the leg may next be separated, and the second or upper joint removed from its junction with the body, as was the wing. This is easily effected by a slight cut and pressure of the bone outward. The sidebone may be taken off by running the blade directly along the backbone; for it adheres only by a filament of skin and the soft fat that attaches to it on this line.

These joints having been taken off, the breast is now entirely exposed, and further carving is a very simple matter. The removal of the leg has laid bare the cavity, from which the dressing may be lifted with a spoon, and the cutting of a few slices from the breast, near the neck, will open the crop with the stuffing usually placed there to plump the fowl. The main joint and the pinion of the wing may be severed by cutting the cartilage at the junction of the two bones.

To carve fish

There is an art in carving fish, and it is confined to a single direction. It is to open with a knife at the back, drawing the blade the whole distance from head to tail just above the backbone, and pressing the meat loose from its fastening. Portions may then be served by cutting transversely with the backbone. Fish so carved is freed from the intricate mass of small bones which are sure to mingle with the flesh if it be cut in any other way. The head, if not already removed, should first be taken off, and the collar or shoulder-bone lifted from the fish.

SERVING AND WAITING

If a butler be engaged to do the family serving and waiting, he understands his business, or he should not apply for the place. The rules written out here are for the benefit of households where but one or, at the most, two maids are kept. I assume that the waitress takes charge of the table after the mistress has once shown her how it is to be set.

By the way, I hope you call her a “maid,” not a “girl.” The latter word has been so rubbed and soiled by persistent usage on the part of domesticated foreigners, who shed the name of “servant” as soon as they stamp upon American soil, and by the handling of would-be “genteel” housewives, that people of refinement hesitate to touch it. What the old-fashioned New Englanders called “hired help” would shake the dust off the soles of the shoes they are not yet quite used to wearing, were you to allude to them as “servants.” “Maid” sounds well, bearing to their tickled ears a certain dignity not unsuited to their new estate.

Beginning with the first meal of the day, we will suppose a cereal, fruit, one dish of meat, bread and butter, potatoes, hot muffins, tea and coffee—a typical American breakfast, in fact.

A fruit-plate, holding a doily, on which is a finger-bowl half-filled with water, cold in summer, tepid in winter, is set for each person. If fruit that requires paring or cutting is to be eaten, lay a fruit-knife on the plate. If oranges are served, add an orange-spoon. At the right of the plate are the water tumbler, a knife, with the sharp edge toward the plate, and a cereal-spoon, bowl upward. At the left should be the bread-and-butter plate, the fork, tines upward, and a folded napkin.

In front of each plate are a pepper-cruet and a salt-cellar.

In the center of the board have a bowl of flowers, or something green and growing, all the year round. At the foot, carving-knife and fork, a steel or other “sharpener,” and a tablespoon; unless you have a polished table, cover it with a neat breakfast-cloth, using napkins (“serviettes”) to match. If your table-top be at all presentable, lay a hemstitched or embroidered square of linen—sold as a “breakfast or luncheon square”—in the center, and under each plate a doily of the same style. A thick mat to protect the varnish against the heated meat dish; a carafe, or glass pitcher, of ice-water on each side of the table, and the tea and coffee equipage at the head, complete the preparations for serving.

The basket, or dish of fruit, is handed from the sideboard where are arranged tablespoons, the glass or silver tub of broken ice to replenish glasses, and, if there are no carafes on the table, a pitcher of iced water, with a relay of knives and forks in case an extra supply should be required on account of accidents.

At the last minute, before the mistress is told at the sitting-room door that “breakfast is on,” the glasses are filled with iced water, a firm ball of butter and a freshly-cut slice of bread are laid upon the small plate at the left of each place.

When the family and guests are seated, the waitress, dressed in a neat gingham or print gown, a clean apron, with _bretelles_, bib and full skirt, and a white cap pinned above orderly hair (not used to cloak unkempt elf-locks), passes the fruit basket or dish to the mistress of the house from the left side; then to each person at table.

The fruit eaten, let the waitress, beginning as before, at the head of the table, take from the right side of each person, plate, knife and spoon in one hand, finger-bowl in the other, and remove to a side table, or to the “waitress’s pantry,” where they are to be washed. Never pile plates and saucers upon one another, or upon a tray. The habit is slovenly and lazy. Still more displeasing is the scraping of plates at the side table, or within hearing of the eaters.

If the cereal be cooked, it is usually served by the mistress of the house. In this case set the hot dish upon a mat beside or before her, when you have put a cereal saucer with a plate under it before each person. Have a tray, with a napkin or doily within it, ready to receive each saucer as it is filled; offer to the eaters from the left, and when all are served pass sugar and cream on the tray.

When the cereal has been discussed, remove first the dish, then the saucers, and bring in hot plates, quickly and dexterously setting one before each person. They should have been warmed through slowly in the kitchen, but not be so hot as to draw the varnish through the doilies. Next set the dish of hot meat, chicken or fish, in front of the carver. As each portion is laid upon a plate, the plate is set upon the tray you hold. Taking the plate in your hand when you reach the mistress of the house, set it down before her from the _right_.

There need be no confusion in this much-debated question of “left and right” if the waitress will bear in mind one simple rule:

When plate, cup or other article is to be taken from the tray by the eater, or he is to help himself from an offered dish, the waitress must stand on his left, that he may use his right hand freely. What the waitress puts upon the table with her own hand must be done from the right.

For example, the plate with meat on it is set down from the _right_ of the person who is thus served. He takes his cup of coffee and helps himself to sugar and cream from the _left_.

Before the waitress leaves the breakfast-room for the pantry, if she does not remain throughout the meal, let her replenish glasses with water and ice, pass bread or muffins a second time, and if cups are emptied, offer her tray to take them back to the head of the table to be refilled. Should she begin to wash plates and saucers in the adjoining pantry to save time, let this be done very quietly. The rattle of china is not a musical accompaniment to table-talk.

The manner of setting the table and waiting at luncheon is substantially the same as at breakfast. Dinner demands certain variations, while the general principles are the same.

The waitress of to-day has a dinner uniform, decorous in all, becoming to a large majority of women. She wears a black gown, deep white cuffs and collar, and an apron of finer material and somewhat more ornate in fashion than in the forenoon.

Under the damask table-cloth is laid a covering of felt made for this purpose—sold as “table-felt,” or a “silence-cloth.” The linen cover lies more smoothly over this and appears to be of better texture than when spread upon bare boards. Besides the damask table-cloth, a “carving square” is laid at the foot of the table, and under it a thick mat on which the hot dish may stand. On this are carving-knife, fork and “steel;” also tablespoon and gravy ladle, leaving room between for the large dish. A cold plate stands at each place, to be taken up when the hot is set down by the waitress. At the right of the plate lie the soup-spoon, bowl uppermost, two knives, edges turned toward the plate, and a fish-knife (if there is to be fish) beyond the dinner-knives. A tumbler for water, and, if wine is used, glasses for this, stand also on the right, a little beyond the array of knives.

Some prefer to lay the soup-spoon at right angles to the knives, and back of where the plate is to be.

At the left of the plate have two large forks; then one for fish, and outside of this an oyster-fork, if there are to be raw oysters. The napkin, folded flat, and inclosing a slice of bread, cut thicker and narrower than for breakfast, lies also on the left.

Plates for the several courses are in array on the sideboard, except such as must be brought hot from the kitchen. Salad plates and those for dessert stand in order. Saucers for ices are set upon plates lined with doilies. Fruit plates are also supplied with doilies, on which are finger-bowls half-full of water.

A side table is reserved for vegetable dishes. They are not placed upon the principal table now, even at the daily family dinner. Pickles and olives are on the dinner-table; carafes of water, and always flowers.

Some housewives have soup served in hot plates directly from the kitchen. If the tureen be used instead, the mistress preferring to pour it out herself, have a carving-cloth at that end of the table also. The soup ladle lies at her right. As she ladles out the soup it is set on the waitress’s tray. She takes it off with her hand and puts it from the right before any guest who may be present; then the family in turn. At a dinner party, those on the right of the hostess are served first. The soup-plate is set upon the cold plate in front of the eater, and when removed is taken from the right, leaving the lower stationary cold plate in its place, until the fish comes, when it is exchanged for a hot one.

In clearing the table after each course the soup-tureen, and in its turn the large dish at the foot of the table go out first, the soiled plates afterward.

Before the dessert is brought in, crumb the table, using a clean folded napkin, when you have cleared the cloth of salt, pepper, pickles, etc.

After the sweets comes the coffee. This is often sent to the guests into the drawing-room. In this case, the waitress covers a large tray with a white napkin, arranges the filled cups, smoking hot, upon it, sets the sugar in the middle and takes the whole into the room where the party is assembled.

Liqueur-glasses follow the coffee, and are also carried into drawing-room or library. In announcing to the mistress, in sitting-room or elsewhere, that a meal is ready, the waitress says, “Breakfast is on,” or “Luncheon is ready,” or “Dinner is served”—according to modern usage. One frightened unfortunate, on duty at a trial-dinner party, filled the hostess with confusion, the guests with secret amusement, by rattling off all three formulas in a breath.

It is impossible to write out rules that will meet every form and exigency of “entertaining.” The hostess who, having mastered the leading principles here given, trains her waitress into the daily practice of them, insisting that her family shall be served three times a day in the right order, and as punctiliously as if a state banquet were the business of the hour, need fear no embarrassing “situations,” no matter how large the number, nor how important the stations of her guests.

AMONG THE LINENS

Everything commonly classed under this head should be carefully aired before it is put away. Even when this duty has been conscientiously performed, real linen, made of pure flax, has marvelous properties for absorbing humidity. And humidity is the parent of that relentless foe to housewifely peace—mildew. Table-cloths, napkins and linen sheets that have been packed securely—as the owner supposed—in closets, drawers and chests, sometimes present to our horrified eyes a collection of small blotches, like dark freckles, and as ineradicable, and the folds, when opened, smell musty. The walls of the closet were not quite dry, or the chest has stood in a damp room, or the sideboard drawers have gathered must in an unaired basement dining-room.

It is a matter of common prudence to overhaul the contents of linen closets, and especially linen drawers and chests, once a month, if only to make sure that the contents are keeping well. At the same time be on the lookout for rents, broken threads and thin places.

Never buy cheap linen. If you can not afford the finest, you may secure that which is “all linen,” round-threaded and evenly woven. A little practice in the purchase of these treasures will initiate you into the art of judicious choosing. Having bought good “material,” take care of it. A break in a table-cloth or napkin, or towel, if neatly darned, will give you several more weeks of wear out of it—perhaps months. Hemstitched articles are liable to “give” first in the drawn work, and a stitch here in time, saves ninety.

You may keep napery in drawers, if more convenient than elsewhere, or upon shelves in a roomy sideboard. When at all practicable have a light, airy closet for bed linen. My own linen-room, built to order, has a southern window, unshuttered, through which the sun streams all the afternoon on fine days. Except in wet weather this window stands open for an hour of every day—not longer, lest dust should blow in.

Suffer another personal paragraph:—Not a sheet, towel or pillow-case is taken from this closet except by myself. Each pile has place and meaning. Each set of towels belongs to an especial apartment. Heavy bath towels; soft damask for the leastest baby’s use; big, rough huckaback for the boys’ lake baths, and the orderly heaps of different styles and textures, every one marked with embroidered letter or monogram designating chamber or owner—are known familiarly to but one person in the family.

I modestly commend this rule to each housemother. Let the linen shelves be the especial charge of some one particular keeper. If not yourself, one of your daughters. This is rendered almost necessary by the system of rotation that should regulate the use of sheets, pillow-cases, counterpanes and towels. Those which come from the wash this week should be kept by themselves. In laying out clothes for the beds, and towels for the various rooms, select from the bottom of the pile of those laundered one, two or four weeks ago, working gradually upward, week by week, until all have gone through the wash and consequently, all are evenly worn. Never make up a bed with freshly washed linen, no matter how well aired it may seem to be.

Sheets, pillow-cases, towels, table-cloths—all folded linens—should be laid upon the shelves with the open and hemmed ends toward the wall, the round folds outward. The effect is neater to the eye, and articles are more easily taken out.

There should be no smell in this airy closet except the indescribable sweet sense of freshly laundered linen—not strong enough to be called an odor. Lavender, scented grasses, and dried rose leaves are poetical in the writing and the hearing thereof, but the sleeper between smooth cotton or linen sheets sickens of artificial smells. They are neither “goodly,” nor wholesome.

THE CHILDREN

Our forefathers and foremothers were dressed, in infancy, precisely like their fathers and mothers. As we see by the portraits treasured among our curios, they were abridged copies of the adults of a hundred years ago. Parents were then consistent in feeding their progeny with food they considered convenient for themselves.

When the royal father ate fermenty for breakfast it is upon record that a baby prince, suffering from marasmus, was nourished (!) upon barley, boiled soft with raisins. They sat up to late functions—those wretchedly dissipated princelings—and the cotter’s children went to bed at the same time with himself.

He who doubts whether or not our times are better than the former would be converted to steadfastness of conviction by patient study of the nursery habits of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

We have children’s outfitters nowadays, who fashion garments utterly unlike those worn by be-corseted, be-trained, and be-pantalooned grown people. The cotter’s wife clothes her boys in knickerbockers and blouses, her girls in loose waists and brief skirts, all designed expressly—although she does not know it—to allow free and healthful growth of the immature creatures.