Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

Scald a cup of milk, putting in a tiny pinch of soda. Beat the yolks of six eggs until light and creamy, and the whites till stiff enough to stand alone. Add one-half teaspoonful of salt, a dash of pepper and one rounded tablespoonful of butter to the milk and stir it into the yolks; then beat in the whites very quickly. Pour into a deep, buttered pudding dish and bake in a moderate oven ten minutes, or to a delicate brown. Serve immediately in the bake-dish.

Baked eggs soufflé (No. 2)

Beat six eggs light, whites and yolks separately. Heat one cupful of milk, add one teaspoonful of corn-starch, one-half teaspoonful of salt, and the whipped yolks of the eggs. Cook in a saucepan until as thick as cream, add the whites, beaten stiff, put into a well-buttered frying-pan, set in a hot oven and bake well until browned slightly, then slide off upon a hot platter.

Eggs and tomatoes

Cook a tablespoonful of butter and one of flour together in a saucepan until smooth and hot. Add a cupful of tomatoes, canned or raw, chopped fine, and strained from the juice. Season with paprika, celery salt, a half teaspoonful of sugar, and a teaspoonful of onion juice. Cook five minutes. Have ready on a bowl six eggs, beaten—whites and yolks together; take the saucepan from the fire and add the contents gradually to the eggs. Set back over the fire, stir for one minute, or until the eggs are set, and serve in a hot, deep dish.

Olla podrida omelet

Make a roux of one tablespoonful of butter and the same of browned flour in a deep frying-pan. When hissing hot stir in one cupful of canned tomato, one-half cupful of canned mushrooms, sliced fine, the same quantity of minced ham, tongue or chicken. Season with onion juice, paprika and salt to taste. Let it simmer five or eight minutes, then stir in four beaten eggs. Stir carefully as it thickens, and when the eggs are set serve on buttered toast.

Scrambled eggs with cheese

(Contributed)

Break ten eggs and slip them into a saucepan. Beat them with one-fourth of a pound of butter, one-fourth of a pound of grated cheese and salt and pepper to taste. Butter a saucepan and when hot, pour in the mixture and allow it to cook for five minutes over a light fire, stirring all the while. When the mixture becomes quite thick, pour into a deep dish, and serve with fried toast.

Scrambled eggs with asparagus tops

(Contributed)

Cut the tender tops of asparagus into pieces one-half inch long. Cook them in salted water for about ten minutes, then let them drain. Scramble the eggs and when they are cooked add the asparagus tops and serve on toast. Lobsters, cooked and cut into dice, may be substituted for the asparagus tops.

Rice omelet

(Contributed)

To one cupful of cold boiled rice add one cupful of warm milk, one tablespoonful of melted butter, one teaspoonful of salt and a dash of pepper; mix well and add three well-beaten eggs. Heat a tablespoonful of butter in a frying-pan and when hot pour in the omelet and set the pan in a hot oven. When it is thoroughly cooked fold it double, turn out on a hot dish and serve at once.

Fish omelet

(Contributed)

Make about a half pint of white roux, add a piece of butter about the size of an egg, twelve shelled and cooked shrimps; season with salt and pepper; let it cook for two or three minutes, stirring all the time, then add half of a green sweet pepper, chopped fine, and cook for one minute. Make an omelet of six eggs; when brown, turn up and fill with this mixture. Serve at once on a hot platter.

Frizzled beef and eggs

(Contributed)

To every half pound of chipped beef allow half a pint of milk, one tablespoonful of butter and one tablespoonful of flour. Put the butter into a frying-pan; when hot add the beef and stir for about two minutes, or until the butter begins to brown, then dredge in the flour. Stir well, add the milk and a little pepper, and just before taking from the fire whip in two well-beaten eggs.

Ham omelet

(Contributed)

Make an omelet in the usual way; pour into an omelet pan and before the egg sets sprinkle over the top one teacupful of finely minced, cold, cooked ham.

Egg croquettes

(Contributed)

Cut hard-boiled eggs into one-quarter inch dice. Add one-fourth as many chopped mushrooms and turn into a thick white sauce. When cold, mold into croquettes, dip into egg, then in bread crumbs and fry in deep fat.

Eggs in cases

(Contributed)

Make little paper cases of buttered writing paper; put a small piece of butter in each and a little chopped parsley or onion; pepper and salt. Put the cases upon a gridiron over a moderate fire of bright coals, and when the butter melts break a fresh egg into each case. Strew over them a few buttered bread-crumbs, and when almost done glaze the tops with a hot shovel.

Minced eggs

(Contributed)

Chop up, but not too fine, four or five hard-boiled eggs. Put over the fire, in a saucepan, one tablespoonful of butter, and when it begins to bubble, stir into it one tablespoonful of flour; cook one minute, then add one cupful of hot milk. When it cooks thick like cream, put in the minced eggs. Stir it for a few minutes, and serve garnished with sippets of toast.

Scalloped eggs

(Contributed)

Slice in rings twelve hard-boiled eggs. Cover the bottom of a well-buttered baking dish with fine bread-crumbs; over this put a layer of eggs, some small pieces of butter and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Alternate in this way until the dish is filled, being careful to have bread-crumbs on top. Add two tablespoonfuls of rich milk or cream and bake in a moderate oven.

Shirred eggs

Butter small “nappies” and drop an egg carefully into each, taking care not to break the yolk. Set the nappies in a pan of boiling water on the range, and cook until the white is set. Put on each egg a bit of butter, and a dash each of pepper and salt. Serve at once.

FAMILIAR TALK

WHO RULES THE HOME?

The question is seldom put so baldly. Indulgent husbands yield the point in verbal gallantry. Politic wives make it a point of conscience and etiquette to speak of their husbands as owners of house and contents and lawful directors in all pertaining thereunto. At heart, the complaisant Benedict knows his will to be potent, if not supreme, in home and family. The wedded Beatrice is secretly conscious that she can wind her boastful Benedict about her taper finger, and he will not suspect.

An old, old ballad, warbled with sly smiles by our foremothers, thus sums up her view of the matter:

“Now, sisters, since we’ve made it plain
That the case is really so,
We’ll even let them hold the rein,
But _we’ll_ show them the way to go!”

Honest John, while his sinewy fingers feel the taut rein between them, believes himself master of the situation. He pays for house, food and servants, and often works hard for the money that secures these for his family. Upon general principles he has a right to know that the money is wisely spent and husbanded; a right to be well lodged and fed and made as comfortable when at home as his means will allow. If he sees furniture abused, food badly—hence unwholesomely—cooked, and needless waste in any department, he has an unquestionable right to direct his wife’s attention to the existing state of things, and insist that it be amended. On the other hand, in giving his wife his name, he has made her the managing, as he is the financial, partner of the firm matrimonial.

She is not his hireling.

Failure to comprehend this vital truth wrecks the happiness of more married couples than incompatibility of temper, fickleness and intemperance, all put together.

A reasonably good wife earns so much more than her own living that the surplus ought to go to her credit. If not in money, in a hundred other ways. When John stoops to captious surveillance of her methods, and personal inspection of her work, he degrades her to the position of a suspected menial, and sinks his manhood into Bettyishness. “Bettyishness,” according to lexicographers, is the synonym for “womanishness,” and for John to be “womanish” is to be unmanly; Mary would rather have him savage, now and then.

I saw a spotless reputation discounted the other day, and many rare, amiable traits of disposition shrivel as waste paper in the fire, under a single sarcastic utterance of a society woman who had her own reasons for disliking the person under discussion.

“Yes!” she said, dubiously, to the praise an elderly matron had given an excellent son and brother. “But, then, he is such a _ladylike_ person!”

The epithet was apt. Not one of us could deny it. Every woman present, while she laughed, would have preferred to have her husband called a brute.

John takes ugly risks when he tempts his hitherto loyal spouse to name him to her confidential self as “Bettyish,” “Miss Nancy-ish” or a “Mollycoddle.” They all mean the same thing. As a sloven he may be forgiven in consideration of the solid manliness back of personal carelessness. We wink at rusty shoes, and collars awry, and tousled hair, and missing sleeve-links. For the same reason we condone crossness, and even a touch of savagery. When he comes home “in a temper,” he has had a trying day down town, or he is hot, or headachy, or hungry. Womanly ingenuity is set to work to soothe down the inclement mood, and womanly love glides to the front with the mantle of tenderest charity to hide the fault from others, and put it out of our own minds when it is past.

I know a man—squarely-built, robust and keen-eyed—who carries the keys of the store-room, and lends them to his wife at night and morning to give out the supplies needed for the daily meals. He registers in day-book and ledger every pound of butter and box of crackers and quart of vinegar brought into the house, with the date of purchase.

I knew another (who ceased from his labors ten years ago), who visited kitchen, pantries and store-room several times every week to see that everything was clean and orderly. He used to smell milk-pans, run a critical finger around the insides of kettles and pots and inquire into the destination of scraps—and all without a blush or misgiving. In each case it was, of course, impossible to keep servants who could get any other place. Wives belong to the class that can not give warning.

If either of these men would have tolerated the apparition in his counting-room or office, at stated, or irregular, periods of his wife—bent upon inspection of accounts and sales, the clerks undergoing examination, or standing as witnesses of his humiliation—then he was justified to his conscience for his policy of home rule.

Mary would go to prison _for_ her John, and to the scaffold _with_ him. She springs to arms in his defense if her nearest of kin dare to intimate that he is not the pink of perfection she would have them believe. His grossest eccentricities are graces so long as they are masculine.

But let him prowl into the pantry, peep into the bread-box, criticize the arrangement or _de_rangement of china-shelves, pull open linen drawers, spy out dusty rungs of chairs, take down, sort, and hang in better order the contents of clothes-hooks and hat-racks—and he may shift for and shield himself. With lofty scorn the wife of his immaculate shirt bosom leaves him to the fate he deserves.

In which course there is some reason and a little unreason. For which of us does not draw upon John’s sympathies in her domestic distresses? He must not undertake the management of Bridget, or Daphne, or Marie. These be womanish matters, in which a man should not intermeddle. It may be the most temperate of suggestions, such as, “My dear, I don’t like to find fault, but if you _would_ speak to Margaret about meddling with the papers upon my table when she dusts the library?” It is a distinct trespass upon wifely preserves. Margaret is under the protection of her mistress’ wing. The interests and credit of the two are identical. But there comes a day when the league snaps in two, like scorched twine. The maid gives warning, and company is expected, and the mistress “did think she had a right to expect better things from Margaret, after all the kindness she has shown her in sickness and in health, and the excellent wages she has given her, and here, at the most inconvenient time she could have chosen, the creature is deserting her!”

Thus runs the torrent of talk into the ears of a man who left a much worse complication behind him in his office when he set his face toward home and imaginary peace. Had he found fault with Margaret a week ago, he would have been a “Molly.” Should he withhold sympathy from the mistress to-day, to the extent of commending the ingrate’s past services, and wondering if there may not be possible palliation somewhere for her present behavior—he is unfeeling, and—“a MAN!” When a woman brings out the monosyllable in that accent, she may as well go a semi-tone higher and say, “Monster!”

To be explicit, John must dance when his spouse puts the pipes to her lips, and not presume to mourn but at her lamenting. As her sister, my sympathies topple dangerously toward her. As an impartial chronicler I can not deny that much may be said in his defense, even when he is convicted of womanish meddling. He is but a passenger upon the domestic craft in fair weather, a paying passenger, who is expected, nevertheless, to be smilingly content with his accommodations, to eat as he is fed, sleep upon the bed as it is made, and to complain of nothing until the sea gets rough, and another and a stout hand is needed on deck and in the rigging.

The principle should work well both ways, or it will go to pieces of its own weight.

FISH FOR BREAKFAST

A modern Peter Magnus, always on the alert for coincidences, once called my attention to the singular fitness of the height of the fish season and the coming of Lent.

“It happens uncommonly convenient, at any rate. How very, very awkward it would be if there were no fish in the market just when the Church forbids meat!” prosed my interlocutor, whose nationality I need not specify.

I might have replied, had there been any hope of his seeing the point of the story, with the anecdote of one of his countrymen who invited me to view the total eclipse of the moon through his telescope, and, while I gazed, remarked upon the happy accident that this particular eclipse “had taken place at the full of the moon.”

Dame Nature adjusts kindly and cleverly all seasons and happenings to the need of her children. Fish, easily digested and rich in phosphates, are in their delicious prime as winter suddenly relaxes her hold upon our world and our systems. We needed fats to keep up animal fats in cold weather. The first warmer days ease the taut running-gear of muscles, nerves and digestive apparatus. She cries, “’Ware meat!” peremptorily. However deaf we may be to the Church’s behest, we can not afford to disregard the Great Mother’s.

The breaking up of winter, the general letting down of physical energies and the abundant supply of food precisely adapted to the season’s needs, form a “coincidence” that the most stupid must perceive. The like principle of demand and supply might, one might imagine, be recognized in the matter of breakfast foods. Fish, rightly cooked, tempts the appetite and does not overload the stomach. Another recommendation which should have weight with commuters and “hustlers,” is that the yielding fibers require less strenuous mastication than those of steaks, chops and rashers.

The truism that as a nation we are inordinate flesh-consumers is tattered by much wear. Since vegetarianism comes as a hard lesson to the mass of our race, and the exacting palate demands more definite flavors than those of eggs in any form, resort to crustacean and finny delicacies should follow as a matter of course and of common sense.

Shad

Sturgeon is known in England as the “Queen’s Own Fish.” Hiawatha names him as the “King of Fishes.” The American epicure has transferred this title to the more delicately flavored salmon. If a vote of native-born gourmands of all ranks of society were taken, I think the shad would be the elect favorite—the dainty queen of fishes, the more royal for the wealth of roes that bespeak her prime.

Planked shad

Have your fish cleaned and split down the back. Wash and wipe dry. Have ready a clean oak or hickory plank, about two and one-half inches in thickness and of such a length that it will go easily into your oven. Set it in the oven until it is heated through. Rub your shad on both sides with an abundance of butter, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Lay it, open side up, on the hot plank and fasten it firmly into place by putting a tin tack at each of the four corners. Lay the plank on the upper grating of the oven, and rub the fish with butter every few minutes until done. You can tell when this point is reached by testing with a fork. Carefully withdraw the tacks and slip the fish upon a hot platter. Serve with melted butter, and garnish with slices of lemon and sprigs of parsley.

Broiled shad with sauce piquante

Split the fish down the back, wash, wipe dry, and lay it open on a well-greased gridiron. Broil over clear coals, taking care to turn the fish often, as it burns easily. If the shad is a thick one it will take about twenty minutes to cook thoroughly. Remove carefully from the gridiron, lay on a hot fish platter, butter well and sprinkle with pepper and salt. Pass with the fish a sauce made in the following manner:

Rub to a cream three tablespoonfuls of butter and two teaspoonfuls of lemon juice. Whip into this two teaspoonfuls of finely minced parsley. The sauce should be light green in color. Keep in a cold place until time to serve it with the fish.

Fried shad

Mrs. S. T. Rorer, whose authority on culinary counsels few dare dispute, says: “Shad, being rich in oils, should never be fried.”

In tide-water Virginia, where shad are eaten in their perfection and within a few hours after they are drawn from the river, frying is a most popular method of preparing them. Some cooks there rid the fish of all suspicion of an oily taste by holding it up by the gills and pouring a pint or so of boiling water over it. After the shower-bath it is immediately laid in ice water to keep the flesh firm. Then have the shad split down the back, and cut each half of the fish into four pieces. Wash quickly and wipe dry. Roll in beaten egg and cracker crumbs, lay the pieces, side by side, on a platter and set in the ice-box for two hours. Fry to a golden brown in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat. Drain all the grease off in a colander; arrange the fish in neat order on a folded napkin laid in the bottom of a fish platter. Garnish with slices of lemon and sprigs of parsley. Serve Bechamel sauce with the fish.

Shad croquettes

Flake the remains of yesterday’s fish into bits with a silver fork. There should be about a cupful of the picked fish. Cook together a tablespoonful of flour and one of butter and pour upon them a cup of milk. Stir to a thick sauce; pour this gradually upon the beaten yolks of two eggs, mix well, add the flaked fish, season to taste, and turn upon a platter to cool and stiffen. When the mixture is cold and firm form it into small croquettes and roll these, first in cracker dust, then in beaten egg, and once again in cracker dust. Set aside in a cool place for two hours, and fry in deep boiling cottolene or other fat brought slowly to the boil. Serve with sliced lemon.

Scalloped shad

Pick cold shad into bits, removing skin and bones. Put two tablespoonfuls of butter into a frying-pan and fry a sliced onion in this. Remove the onion, stir in a tablespoonful of browned flour, and, when this is blended with the butter, pour upon it slowly a cup of clear beef-stock. Stir to a smooth sauce, season with pepper and salt, a very little kitchen bouquet, and a half-cup of tomato liquor. When smooth and as thick as cream, add the fish, stir and toss for a moment and remove from the fire. Turn into scallop shells, sprinkle with crumbs and bake, covered, for twenty minutes; then uncover and brown.

Broiled shad roes

Parboil the roes in salted water as soon as they are taken from the fish. Cook ten minutes and leave in ice water until cold and firm. “Marinade” them in bath of lemon juice and salad oil for one hour. Wipe lightly and broil to a nice brown, turning several times. Pass with lemon sauce.

Fried shad roes

Parboil as directed, let them get chilled in ice water, wipe dry, roll in beaten egg and salted cracker crumbs and fry in deep hot cottolene or other fat heated gradually to the boiling point before the roes go in.

Scallops of shad roes

Parboil and blanch. When perfectly cold break up and pass through a colander or vegetable press. Season with lemon juice, kitchen bouquet, paprika and salt. Have ready a cup of rich drawn butter. Stir the roes into it, beat up well, pour into scallop shells or pâté-pans, sift fine crumbs over the top and bake quickly upon the upper grating of the oven.

Shad roe croquettes

Proceed as with the scallops, except that you make the drawn butter rather thicker, and add a well-beaten egg, together with a tablespoonful of fine crumbs, to give the croquettes consistency. Let the mixture get perfectly cold; mold into croquettes, roll in egg and cracker crumbs and leave on the ice over night. In the morning renew the crumbs and fry in deep hissing cottolene or other fat which has been brought gradually to the boil.

Fried smelts with lemon sauce

Clean, wash and dry the smelts. Roll in salted and peppered flour, and leave in a cold place for an hour to get firm. Fry in deep cottolene or other fat to a light brown, laying each in a hot colander as you take it from the pan, to drain off the grease. Serve in a hot dish. A pretty way of serving them is to fringe several thicknesses of white tissue paper at both ends, and lay in the bottom of the dish, the fringe showing beyond the heap of fish. Serve with—

Lemon sauce

Heat (not melt) three tablespoonfuls of butter until you can beat it to a cream. Whip into it the strained juice of one large or two small lemons, with a heaping tablespoonful of finely-minced parsley. It should be like a light-green cream when done. Fill with this mixture the halves of lemons, from which all the pulp and inner skin have been scraped, and garnish the dish of smelts with them, serving one of the “cups” with each portion of fish.

Fried trout

Clean, wipe inside and out, pepper and salt; roll in egg and cracker crumbs and fry in deep, hot cottolene or other fat, always recollecting to heat this gradually to boiling point before the fish go in.

Or, having cleaned and dried them, roll in salted and peppered meal; then fry.

Fried perch and other pan-fish

Cook as directed in last recipe. It is always well to have the fish on ice for an hour or more after they are egged and breaded, or rolled in meal.

Fish cutlets

Mince cold boiled or baked salmon, haddock, cod, or any other firm-fleshed fish. Season to taste and mix well with a little rich drawn butter, made quite thick with corn starch. Spread upon a broad platter, and, when stiff, cut into the desired shape with a tin “form.” Roll in fine crumbs, then in egg and in cracker crumbs again; leave on the ice to get firm, and fry in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat which has been heated slowly.

Lobster and crab cutlets

Are made in the same way.

Salmon steaks

Have the steaks cut nearly an inch thick. Wipe with a damp cloth and lay in salad oil for an hour. Drain and put upon a gridiron over a clear fire. Broil slowly, rubbing with butter from time to time. They will take at least twenty minutes to cook, and must be watched carefully that they do not scorch. When done, put upon each steak a generous lump of butter and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Salmon loaf

Flake cold boiled salmon and moisten it with a gill of cream, a half-gill of milk and two beaten eggs. Stir in a handful of fine crumbs, the juice of half a lemon, a tablespoonful of butter, salt and pepper to taste, and a tablespoonful of minced parsley. Mix thoroughly, turn into a greased pudding-dish, and bake in a steady oven for about three-quarters of an hour, then turn out upon a hot platter. Serve with a white sauce. You may also boil this in a covered mold.

Salmon croquettes

With a silver fork flake the contents of a can of salmon, or two pounds of fresh salmon, into bits—removing all pieces of skin and bone—and season to taste with salt, pepper and a few drops of lemon juice. Cook together a tablespoonful, each, of butter and flour, and when they bubble pour upon them a cup of milk. Stir to a smooth, white sauce, add slowly a raw egg, then turn in the salmon mixed with two tablespoonfuls of fine crumbs. When the salmon is heated remove from the fire and set aside to cool. When cold, form into croquettes, roll these in beaten egg and cracker crumbs and set in the ice-box for an hour before frying in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat, which has been heated gradually.

Scalloped salmon

With a silver fork pick into bits the contents of a can of salmon, rejecting all particles of skin and bone. Make a sauce of a half-pint of milk, thickened with a white roux, and turn the salmon into this. Stir and toss over the fire until smoking-hot; season to taste, put into a greased pudding-dish. Strew thickly with crumbs, dot with bits of butter and bake for twenty minutes.

Broiled haddock

Haddock is not popular among “good livers” in the United States. For some reason it is ranked as a second-hand and plebeian fish. Yet it can be made good although cheap.

Clean, wash and wipe well, and gash the back with a sharp knife. Then “marinade” as you would his patrician brethren: i. e., cover him with salad oil and vinegar, or lemon juice, and let him lie in the bath for an hour. Wipe and broil, turning when half done. Transfer to a hot dish, anoint with butter, lemon and chopped parsley, and send to table.

Haddock fillets

Two pounds of what the cooks call “the thick of the fish” will make four fillets, about four inches long by two wide. Skin each piece with a sharp knife; trim into shape and leave in a marinade of oil and vinegar with a tablespoonful of minced chives, or, if you have none, a tablespoonful of onion juice. Let the fillets lie there for an hour. Then drain well, roll in a good batter, afterward in fine crumbs, and fry in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat. Drain upon hot tissue paper, and send to table very hot. Send around tomato sauce with it.

Halibut fillets

May be cooked in the same way.

Broiled halibut steak

Rub well with salad oil and lemon juice on both sides, wipe, and broil over a clear fire, turning three times. Pepper and salt, lay upon a hot dish and butter well. Send Bearnaise sauce around with it. (See Sauces.)

Fried halibut steaks

Marinade for an hour; drain, roll in salted flour, then in beaten egg, lastly in salted and peppered crumbs. Leave on ice for an hour, and fry in clarified dripping, or in cottolene or other fat.

FRIED SMELTS

HALIBUT STEAK

FISH]

Fried pickerel with cream sauce

Clean, wash and wipe dry. Roll in white cornmeal or in flour, and lay aside in a cold place while you fry slices of fat salt pork quickly almost to a crisp. Strain the fat and return to the pan; lay in the fish and brown, turning once. When done, remove to a heated, covered dish and keep hot over boiling water. To the fat left in the pan add a tablespoonful of butter and a little boiling water; boil up and stir in a tablespoonful of flour. When it begins to bubble add four tablespoonfuls of cream with a tiny pinch of soda. Stir until smoking-hot, and strain over the fish.

Fried catfish

Skin and clean; lay the fish in very cold water for a few minutes, then wipe them dry. Dredge thoroughly with flour, or roll them first in beaten egg, then in cracker crumbs, and fry to a delicate brown.

Fried frogs’ legs

Have them carefully skinned, wash well, wipe perfectly dry, roll in cracker or bread crumbs, dip in well-beaten egg, then roll again in the crumbs and fry in butter to a golden brown.

Fricassee of frogs’ legs

Skin and wash well, drain; lay in boiling water for five minutes. Put over the fire in enough warm milk to cover them and simmer until tender. Then drain, and lay in a hot dish, buttering well. In another saucepan make drawn butter, using milk instead of water; season with salt, paprika and minced parsley, with a dash of lemon juice; remove from the fire and stir in two well-beaten eggs. Cook one minute, stirring all the time, and take from the range. Pour over the frogs’ legs, cover, and set over hot water for a few minutes before serving. They will be found delicious.

Stewed frogs’ legs

Skin and lay in a marinade of lemon juice and salad oil, with a dash of onion juice or of minced chives, for one hour. Heat two tablespoonfuls of butter in a saucepan, add a teaspoonful of minced onion, one minced tomato and one green pepper chopped fine. Cook for five minutes. Add the frogs’ legs, cover closely and cook ten minutes. Add a little browned flour and cook until tender. Season and serve.

Clams on toast

Chop a dozen clams and boil them for five minutes in their liquor; drain, and add to them two tablespoonfuls of fine crumbs, a tablespoonful of butter, salt and pepper to taste, and a gill of milk in which a heaping teaspoonful of cornstarch has been dissolved. Stir constantly over the fire until the mixture boils, then add a gill of cream; stir for a moment longer and pour upon the toast.

Deviled clams

Slice an onion and fry it to a light brown in a large spoonful of butter. Strain out the onion and put the hot butter back upon the fire. Chop two large (peeled) tomatoes fine, season with salt, half a teaspoonful of sugar, a good dash of paprika and the same of nutmeg. Stir into the hissing butter; stir for three minutes, and add a teaspoonful of butter rolled in half as much flour. Have ready the clams, drained and chopped fine, and mix them with the butter and tomatoes. Fill buttered scallop-shells, or clam-shells, or a buttered pudding-dish with the mixture; sift fine-crushed cracker over all, dropping tiny dabs of butter on top, and cook until delicately browned.

Fried clams

Drain the clams and dry them by laying them on a soft napkin. Season with a dust of paprika. Beat two eggs light in a soup-plate and have ready in another deep plate an abundance of cracker crumbs. Dip each clam in the egg, and then in the crumbs, until thoroughly coated. Lay side by side on a large platter and set in a cold place for an hour. Fry in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat to a golden brown, drain in a colander, then transfer to a hot platter. Garnish with slices of lemon and sprigs of parsley.

Clam scallop

Drain the liquor from two cupfuls of soft clams and set aside while you chop the clams fine. Moisten two cupfuls of cracker crumbs with equal parts of clam liquor and milk, season with paprika and a tablespoonful of melted butter, and lastly, add three beaten eggs, and the chopped clams. Mix thoroughly, and turn into a greased pudding-dish. Bake until brown and serve from the dish in which the scallop was cooked.

Clam fritters

Make a batter of a pint of flour sifted twice with an even teaspoonful of baking-powder and half as much salt; one cup of milk, half a cup of clam liquor and two well-beaten eggs. Chop two dozen soft clams fine; season with salt and pepper, add to the batter, and drop by the tablespoonful into deep, boiling cottolene or other fat which has been heated slowly. They are made more digestible and, to my taste, more palatable by cooking the batter, as you do griddle-cakes, upon a soapstone griddle.

Fried scallops

Parboil in hot salted water for five minutes; drain and set them upon ice to get cold and firm. Roll them in salted flour, next in beaten egg, then in fine crumbs. Set on ice for half an hour and fry in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat, which has been gradually heated to the boil.

Curried scallops

Stew the scallops in just enough oyster liquor to cover them. (Your fish merchant will give you all the oyster liquor you want and be glad to get rid of it.) Bring gradually to the boil, after which cook two minutes. Have ready in another vessel a roux made by stirring into a great spoonful of hissing hot butter a tablespoonful of white flour and a teaspoonful of curry powder. Add to these, when smooth and all a-bubble, the hot liquor from the scallops, a little at a time, keeping the spoon busy until all is in. Lastly, put in the scallops; boil one minute and serve. Garnish with rice croquettes, serving these instead of plain boiled rice. Send around sliced lemons with this dish. The lovers of scallops will enjoy it.

Soft-shelled crabs

Remove the fringe, or loose shell, from each side of the crab, and the sandbag; then cut off the eyes. Wash the crabs well, dry and sprinkle with salt and pepper and roll in flour. Fry in butter, turning frequently. When nicely browned they are done.

Creamed codfish

Flake cold boiled cod into bits with a silver fork. Cook together a tablespoonful of flour and one of butter, and pour upon them a cup of milk. Season to taste and, when smooth, stir in the flaked fish. Stir and toss until very hot, add salt and pepper and serve.

Fish-balls

If salt cod be used, shred it finely and soak six hours. Boil half an hour and let it cool. Mash potatoes to a cream; allow half as much potato as you have fish. Mix and heat by setting in a pan of boiling water over the fire, stirring frequently. When hot, beat in an egg, whip the mixture smooth; let the paste get cold, make into cakes or balls, roll in flour and set on ice. Of course, this should be done over night. In the morning fry in deep boiling beef dripping, clarified, or in cottolene or other fat. Cold fresh cod makes delicious “balls.” Proceed as with the salt, leaving out the soaking, and salting to taste.

Boiled salt mackerel

Wash and go all over the fish with a stiff whisk to dislodge salt crystals. Put on to soak in warm water, exchanging this three hours later for warmer, and leave all night. In the morning cover with hot water and set at the side of the range. Half an hour before breakfast drain and put into boiling water to which a tablespoonful of vinegar has been added, and boil gently for twenty-five minutes. Drain and lay upon a hot dish. Cover with a white sauce into which a finely-chopped boiled egg has been stirred, and serve. You may substitute tomato sauce for white, if you like. It is very nice when milk is used instead of water in boiling it.

Broiled salt mackerel

Soak and proceed as in the last recipe. Early in the morning take the fish from the hot water, cover with ice-cold water for five minutes; wipe dry, “marinade” in olive oil and lemon juice for half an hour, drain and broil. Serve with sauce tartare.

Fried eels

Skin, clean well, taking especial heed of the fat, which must be removed to the last bit. Cut into short pieces, marinade in salad oil and vinegar for an hour; roll, first in salted flour, then in beaten egg, then in rolled cracker, and fry in deep, boiling cottolene or other fat. Drain, dish and garnish with parsley and lemon.

Stewed eels

Skin and clean; cut into short lengths, lay in cold water for half an hour; then put over the fire in cold water, just enough to cover them, and cook slowly for half an hour, or more, according to their size. A large eel may require an hour to make it tender. Turn off the water, cover the eels with a good white sauce seasoned with paprika, onion juice, salt and minced parsley; simmer five minutes and serve.

Roe herring (smoked)

Soak over night when you have washed it well. In the morning lay in hot water for half an hour, then in ice-cold water for ten minutes, wipe dry and grill on a gridiron over a clear fire. It is most appetizing. Pass corn bread with it.

Finnan haddie

Wash the fish thoroughly, leave in cold water for three-quarters of an hour, then lay in scalding water for five minutes. Wipe very dry, rub butter and lemon juice well into the fiber of the fish and broil over a clear fire for fifteen minutes. Serve with a hot butter sauce, or with sauce tartare.

Broiled smoked salmon

Wash a piece of smoked salmon in several waters, and soak it for an hour. Cover with lukewarm water in a saucepan and simmer for twenty minutes. Drain and wipe very dry, then broil on a buttered gridiron until browned on both sides. Transfer to a hot dish, rub with butter, sprinkle lightly with pepper and minced parsley, garnish with sliced lemon, and serve.

Fried smoked salmon

Wash, soak and parboil the salmon as in the former recipe. Wipe very dry, roll in egg and cracker dust, and set in a cold place for an hour before frying in hot salad oil or in cottolene or other fat. Serve with sauce tartare.

FAMILIAR TALK

WHERE WE EAT

“We eat to live; we do not live to eat,” is a time-stained saying. It is almost invariably uttered complacently, and seldom in absolute sincerity. There is something wrong, physically, with the man who “does not care what he eats.” There is a twist in the moral make-up of the woman who finds catering for the appetites of those she loves “a wretched bore, don’t you know?”

Next in importance to the “house-place” in the estimation of the wise and tender mother of the home comes the dining-room where, three times a day, she has her brood under the wings of her comforting, provident and nourishing love. Whatever may be said as to the merits of the “food products” that fly at the masthead of the company the motto—“Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are”—there is a potent grain of truth in the legend.

So much of a man’s temper and morals during the day depends upon what he has had for breakfast that the mother may well give serious thought to the composition of the meal. So much depends upon where and how he eats his breakfast, that the wonder grows in the philosophic mind that the eating-room and the appurtenances thereof are a third-rate consideration with so many otherwise excellent managers.

The housemother who can let sunshine into the morning meeting-place of the family scores an important point in favor of the success of her pious scheme. Since this can not always be, her aim should be to simulate the blessed sunbeams as far as she can. Walls of pale buff, the flash of a gilt frame here, and a bit of bright drapery there; yellow silk sash curtains, and, on the sideboard, the glitter of silver and glass will go far to relieve the depressing influence of an apartment where the sun never falls.

Thanks to the ingenious florist whose name is preserved in the “Wardian case,” it is quite possible to have a window-garden in the dining-room on the shady side of the house. A stanch framework of wood, filled in with glass on the sides and on the hinged top, with a zinc-lined bottom on which are spread first a layer of broken flower-pots or other crockery, mixed with charcoal, and on this a stratum, two inches deep, of garden mold, supply the foundation for the undertaking.

Stock with ferns, tradescantia, English and German ivy, fill the spaces between the roots with moss, water well, and close. Your gardening is done for the season, except that, once a day—say while you are at breakfast—the lid is raised a little way to admit a supply of air, and once in a fortnight it would be well to water the plants. Shield from the sun, which, striking through the closed glass, would scald the succulent greenery that will soon fill the case. Hang the canary’s cage above it for an added touch of cheer.

Always have flowers upon the family table. A pot of ivy, a geranium, a fern borrowed from some other room at meal times, will serve the desired end if you can not afford cut flowers in winter. If you have no window plants, manage to get a vase of evergreen sprays—something to lift the gracious ceremonial of eating together above the sordid commonplace. If you “eat to live,” let that living be comely and pleasant.

There is no excuse nowadays for setting a table with coarse, thick stoneware, even when there is no “company” (hateful phrase!) present. Graceful designs may be had in ware so cheap as to be within the reach of any woman who can spread a table of her own.

In the matter of napery, modern fashion comes benevolently to the help of the poor in purse. Have the top of your table polished with a mixture of raw linseed oil and turpentine—three parts of oil, one of turpentine—rubbed in long and well. Then set for breakfast and for luncheon with a linen square—embroidered or simply hemstitched—laid diagonally to the table corners, in the middle, with doilies of the same under the plates; a carving-cloth before the master of the house, and a tray-cloth before the mistress. The effect is pleasing and decorative, the more agreeable to the housewifely eye because the weekly wash is materially lessened thereby.

If your table has not a polished top, you would better have for breakfast and luncheon one of the pretty colored lunch-cloths with napkins to match, which come in divers patterns and at varying prices.

If your china-closets are insufficient to hold all your china, and especially if the walls of the room are ungracefully bare, run a shelf a foot wide near the ceiling and set in graceful array upon it some of your pretty and odd pieces. The device elevates them to the dignity of a bric-a-brac, relieves the burdened closet shelves and produces a frieze-like effect that will further detract from the business-like look of the apartment.

Tax your ingenuity in every way to make the place tempting to eye and to thought, as well as to appetite. A place where one is disposed to linger over one’s meals for social converse and social enjoyment, instead of bolting food in hungry silence, preparatory to bolting from the place he calls “home,” through custom and courtesy, to return not until the approach of the next feeding time.

Since the dining-room chairs are higher than those in the sitting-room and parlor, women of medium height sit with their feet barely touching the floor, and short women dangle their toes helplessly and painfully, the weight of the lower limbs depending from the weary spine.

Provide for each of the shorter sex a footstool or hassock, and reap your reward in the shallowed lines in brow and cheek, the happier light in the eyes, the cheerful ring in the voice.

BREAKFAST MEATS

BREAKFAST BACON

Mrs. Mary J. Lincoln—than whom there is not a more trustworthy authority upon everything pertaining to cookery—says in a sprightly chapter upon breakfast bacon:

“It has been offered me frequently in thick slices, swimming in grease, browned almost to blackness, and salt as the briny waves. You will seldom find a market-man who will take the time and pains to slice it as thin as it should be, even though they are supposed to have knives especially adapted for thin slicing. For that reason I prefer always to buy it by the strip, and slice it as needed.

“With a strong, sharp knife, begin at one end, trim off the outside strip of lean, the smoked edges and the rind, down about three or four inches; then shave off in thinnest possible slices, as thin as can be cut, and have them whole. When you come to the rind, trim off more of it if more slices are needed. Some prefer to turn the strip over and slice from the lower side down to the rind, but not dividing from the rind until sufficient is sliced. But whichever way you do it, keep the strip entire—that is, do not cut off three inches, or half a pound, and then trim and slice that amount, for the last slice will be quite difficult to hold firmly enough to slice uniformly.

“It can be cut thin much easier if very cold. By wrapping it securely in thick brown paper and changing the paper frequently, it may be kept in the refrigerator without affecting the other food.

“Have a smooth frying-pan hot, and everything else ready. Lay in the bacon and turn it frequently as it changes to the transparent stage, moving it about so all portions will cook equally. The heat should be sufficient to cook it quickly, but not to brown it. As soon as it loses the transparent appearance and begins to crisp, draw it from the liquid fat toward the edge, and you will soon tell by the way it dries off and the sound whether it is cooked enough to be crisp.

“Tilt the pan so the fat will run down away from the bacon, and let it drain thoroughly in the pan. By watching and turning it carefully, every piece will be of a uniform light and color, more or less curly, crisp as a Saratoga potato, and so dry and free from grease that it might be picked up with gloved fingers and leave no stain.

“It is less likely to brown when a little of the fat from a previous frying, or a bit of lard, is put in the pan first, as this keeps the bacon from sticking to the pan.”

I seldom borrow a recipe, for two reasons: First, because I have a few old-fashioned prejudices as to the rights of proprietorship in such products; secondly, because, to be frank, I seldom find one upon which I think I could not improve in the matter of simplicity and directness. I could not write out more clearly my ideas on the subject of cutting and cooking breakfast bacon than my distinguished fellow-laborer has expressed them. I hereby grant her permission to honor me by abstracting the same number of words from any of my printed pages.

Bacon and apples

This is a favorite southern dish, and good enough to be transplanted.

Slice bacon thin and fry it crisp. Transfer to a platter and keep it hot while you fry thick slices of unpeeled sweet apples in the bacon fat. When these are tender, drain and put in the center of a hot platter. Lay the fried bacon about the edge of the dish, sprinkle sugar over the apples, and serve.

Bacon and polenta

Wet a cupful of fine Indian meal with two cupfuls of cold water and stir it into a quart of boiling water. Add a teaspoonful of salt, beat up hard, and let it cook steadily for two hours, stirring up often to prevent lumping. Should it thicken too much, add boiling water.

When done, pour out into a broad platter and set aside until perfectly cold and stiff. If you are to have it for breakfast, cook it over night. Cut in squares, triangles or rounds, roll in raw meal (salted), and fry in plenty of boiling dripping or cottolene or other fat to a delicate brown. As each piece is done, transfer to a hot colander to drain. Serve in the center of a hot dish, with thin slices of fried bacon laid about it.

A pretty way of varying a plain but excellent dish is to pour the hot polenta into fancy molds wet with cold water, leaving it there until you are ready to cook it, when turn out and fry.

Bacon and sweet peppers

Cut the stem ends from green sweet peppers, handling very cautiously, lest the seeds should touch the walls of the peppers and make them “hot.” With a small sharp knife extract core and seeds and throw them away. Cut the peppers into rings, lay in ice-cold water slightly salted for half an hour. Fry sliced bacon in a clean pan, take up and keep hot. Dry the peppers by patting between two clean cloths and fry until clear and tender in the fat left in the pan. Arrange the peppers in the center of a hot dish, the bacon around them.

Barbecued ham

Fry slices of cold boiled ham on both sides. Transfer to a hot dish. Cook together in a frying-pan four tablespoonfuls of vinegar, a teaspoonful of granulated sugar, a teaspoonful of French mustard, and a dash of paprika. Stir until very hot and pour over the fried ham. If raw ham be used, cook for fifteen minutes in a frying-pan in boiling water to which has been added a tablespoonful of vinegar; lay in cold water for ten minutes, wipe dry and fry as directed.

Home-made sausages

Grind in a sausage-mill or meat-chopper six pounds of lean, fresh pork and three pounds of fat. Mix with this twelve teaspoonfuls of powdered sage, six, each, of black pepper and of salt, two teaspoonfuls, each, of ground cloves and of mace, and one nutmeg, grated. When the seasoning is well mixed with the meat, pack all down in stone jars and pour melted cottolene or other fat on top to exclude the air, or put into long bags of stout muslin. Dip these in melted grease and hang in the cellar.

They may be made in small quantities and used at once, and are much better than those we buy in market or shop.

Sausages and apples

Lay the sausages (“bulk sausage meat” is best) in a frying-pan, cover with hot water and bring quickly to a fast boil. At the end of five minutes pour off the water and fry on both sides, turning twice. Lift them, drain over the pan, and lay in a hot colander in the open oven, while you fry sliced and cored apples in the fat that ran from the sausages in frying.

If you use link sausage, prick each before boiling.

“Frankfurters”

Cover with boiling water and boil slowly until they rise to the surface of the water. Drain and rub over with a mixture of butter, lemon juice and made mustard.

Broiled pork chops

Are too heavy as breakfast food for any stomach save that of a hod-carrier or ditcher. But people will eat them in the “killing” season, and should have them properly cooked.

Trim away the fat and the skin from the small end; broil over clear coals, and thoroughly, for fear of trichinæ. Pepper and salt to taste. Send around tomato catsup with them.

Cutlets and spare-ribs are cooked in like manner.

Curried pork cutlets