Then, there's tunny-fish always to be depended upon to furnish an
impromptu dish that seems like one planned long before. Drain it from
the oil in which it is preserved. Lay it on a dish, sprinkle with
lemon juice, chopped parsley, and capers; and keep your eyes open for
the admiring glances your guests will be trying to hide from you when
they first taste of it.
Then smoked, boneless herring, you know, are good almost any way; but
broiled till they curl up a bit over a hot fire, and sent to table
flanked by olives, water crackers, and a bottle or two of lager beer,
they are leaders.
Of course, with two or three kinds of devilled meats in the house the
making of sandwiches, even at short notice, is just a pastime; and with
all the crackers now to be had it would be foolish to waste tears over
the absence of bread. In fact, the world, the market, and the grocery
store are filled to the brim with substitutes nowadays--substitutes that
make it easy to forget originals.
Although 'tis by signs of promises soon to be richly fulfilled that a
market interests me chiefly at this season, there is no lack even
to-day of a good supply of edibles, both substantial and delicate, and
do I go a-marketing determined to buy everything on an economical
basis I find Dame Nature and the marketman in league to help me
furnish forth my table daintily and inexpensively. Or, if in a
reckless mood of extravagance I betake myself to the vendor of viands,
I find him and the dear old dame quite as helpful in carrying out my
plans.
Naturally, in trips to market, my methodical mind leads me to inquire
first what is suitable for breakfast; what is best calculated to
minister to an appetite capricious in the fickle springtime. Numerous
answers are forthcoming to my inquiry, the first of which says shad
roes made into delicious croquettes with a garnishing of lettuce
hearts. Very good, I say, very appropriate, but what else is
there?--every one doesn't care for that dish. And then, taking the
matter into my own hands, as the marketman is perfectly willing that I
should, I peer around to see what is to be had, and make notes
mentally for future use. There are mackerel of finest flavor, which,
if broiled to a turn and having as an accompaniment crisp, fresh
radishes, are fit to put before a king. Another breakfast dish, which
is also quite good enough for any royal person, is of kidneys broiled
on skewers with alternate slices of bacon. A bit of parsley serves not
only to decorate this last dish, but forms a piquant relish for it,
and relishes for breakfast dishes are more of a necessity now than at
any other season. The orange juice which has proved so potent an
appetizer when the mercury ranges near to zero, fails to supply the
needed zest for a springtime morning meal, and we must have recourse
to a fresh green vegetable, in addition.
From breakfast fare to luncheon dishes I turn my attention logically,
and learn that sweetbreads are particularly fine just now in whatever
way they are served, but in my opinion they are never quite so good as
when simmered gently in butter and served with cream sauce, to which
has been added a few fresh mushrooms.
Spring chickens, tender and toothsome if broiled as they should be,
are worthy of an honored place at any luncheon, and the marketman
tells me those lately received are of excellent quality.
That dainty of dainties, in the estimation of many people, frogs'
legs, if broiled or served with a cream sauce, appeals to the most
fastidious palate. And just now they are not only plentiful and in
fine condition, but are quite inexpensive.
A dish which we cannot always obtain, and which is especially suitable
for a midday meal, is of the Taunton River alewives smoked; they
should be broiled, and there should be served with them, without fail,
a potato salad made from the Bermuda potatoes, which are exceptionally
desirable at this season.
In the ordering of a dinner I have always maintained that though it
consists of only two courses, there is an opportunity for the exercise
of great discretion. A knowledge of the eternal fitness of things is
essential above all else in order to arrange a dinner at which the
courses shall not be at war with each other. A certain famous lawyer
remarked in my hearing not long ago that "he knew women who could play
whist and play it as it should be, and he knew women who could order a
dinner fit for the gods, but never had he known and never did he
expect to know, a woman who could do both." Perhaps he was right, but
I believe there are women in plenty who are quite capable of doing
both to perfection.
At this season, with oysters almost out of the running, little-neck
clams may be depended upon to whet the appetite, while the soup which
follows must be at once delicate and yet so rich that the first
spoonful enchants. If the next course is to be of bluefish, or of
salmon, or of striped bass, all of which are in first-class condition
in this month, potatoes should be served in any desired shape if the
fish is to be boiled or braised; should it be broiled or fried, then
by all means let its accompaniment be cucumbers, which are plentiful,
and are sold at a comparatively low figure, by now.
If you follow my advice you will avoid the heavy, clumsy, and
unimaginative joint. Decide rather upon ducklings to be roasted or
broiled, or upon squabs; or, if these are a thought too expensive,
choose fowl, which should be good and plentiful. Have it parboiled and
then fried Maryland style, or fricasseed, or boil it till quite
tender and serve with a caper sauce.
As for vegetables, just now, and for several weeks to come, nothing
can be better than asparagus, which improves, and is less expensive
every day. Frequently I tire of it served on toast, in which case,
after boiling it, I moisten it with melted butter, sprinkle grated
Parmesan over the top and brown it in the oven. Or, if I wish to serve
it as a salad, I have it ice-cold and pour over it a dressing made of
oil, vinegar, pepper, and salt, with a suspicion of French mustard
added.
For salads, tomatoes, perhaps, have first choice, for they are really
very fine, coming in from the hothouses fresh every day. Watercress is
at its best estate, and whether it be served as a salad or taken
simply with a grain of salt, it is a delicacy worthy of honor.
It is hardly possible to serve fruit out of place at dinner; before
the soup it is appetizing, as a compote for an entrée it is highly
delectable, while at dessert its presence is time-honored, and I would
that there were more varieties in market just now. However, the
strawberries and pineapples due are quite sufficient to console us
for the absence of other fruits.
With that most delicious vegetable asparagus as good and as plenty as
it is bound to be for two months or so longer, it is but a waste of
time to search for any other vegetable to take its place. The truth
is, it hasn't a rival, and it never had one--even in Pliny's day, when
it grew wild. But gardeners in those days cultivated it just as they
do now, and it was no uncommon thing for them to produce stalks of
which it took but three to weigh a pound. If any gardeners do raise
such mammoth specimens in these days they keep very quiet about it.
But perhaps they don't taste any better than smaller ones. Why should
they?
It will do to have asparagus boiled, just plainly boiled, two out of
every three times that you have it. But the third times are those of
which I would talk.