Chapter IV: Part 4

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

DINNER AT NOON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SUNDAY DINNER

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

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

"The day that comes between
The Saturday and Monday"

as is ever offered on any non-religious holiday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE SMALL DINNER-PARTY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A LARGE DINNER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FAMILY DINNERS FOR SPRING

1.

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

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

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

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

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

2.

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

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

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

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

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

3.

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

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

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

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

4.

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

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

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

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

5.

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

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

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

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

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

6.

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

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

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

FAMILY DINNERS FOR SUMMER

1.

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

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

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

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

2.

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

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

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

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

3.

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

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

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

4.

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

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

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

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

5.

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

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

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

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

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

6.

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

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

FAMILY DINNERS FOR AUTUMN

1.

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

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

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

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

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

2.

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

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

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

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

3.

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