If the idea of cooking cucumbers assimilates itself harmoniously with
your ideas of gastronomy you may not hesitate to try a dish of fried
cucumbers. And don't let any one infect your mind with the idea that
they are especially indigestible. They're not. Peel them first, then
slice them into quarter-inch slices, say, then dip in beaten egg, then
in crumbs, and then fry to a delicate brown in a little butter. Try
either way of cooking the cucumbers with a tender spring chicken
broiled. For if you are not deprived of your rights nowadays you
should be finding "broilers" in good condition and not too high in
price. You see of game there is little to be said in the Eastern
markets during this month; so if you are trying to do the handsome
thing in the bird line you've not much of a list from which to make a
selection. To be sure you have a right to inquire at market for brant
just now, come to think of it. You will be apt to find them, and in
good condition, too. Roasted shall we say? With them new potatoes of
course. Don't tell me you can't afford them, I know better. And you
can also afford to secure some new summer squash to go with the
roasted brant. Don't ask me where it comes from. I only know that in
every up-to-date market it is on sale. So are young, sweet little
carrots that appeal to you for a white cream sauce like that you serve
with cauliflower.
By now you may reasonably be ordering blackberries if you are longing
for a change. But my advice is to stick to the strawberry while it
will stick to you. By the way, if you are to "do up" strawberries, get
the first "natives" that come to town. Get them, you know, before they
are soft from overripeness, and next winter when set on your table
just as they are, or with the syrup of them jellied with a bit of
gelatine, you will see the wisdom of being forehanded with them.
"Give us breakfasts; tell us housekeepers what we can put before our
families for the first meal of the day in summer that shall drive away
the morning sulks."
Thus did a matron young neither in years nor in experience beseech me
as I set out for market one day. And while I was parleying with the
marketman as to the ways and means and the whys and wherefores of
things edible that plaintive "Give us breakfasts" rang so insistently
in my ears that I could pay no attention to viands essentially
suitable for later meals, but fell to thinking and planning breakfasts
which should be antidotes--antidotes for that ill which more than any
other human ailment is strengthened by recognition, the "morning
sulks."
And my first definite plan took shape in this wise: Cherries, for this
is the month _par excellence_ for that delicious fruit, cherries with
some green leaves piled upon cracked ice in such a manner that the
sight of them refreshes, while to taste of them leads one to think
"All's well with the world." And then, to follow, there must be
croquettes of fish; all kinds are so abundant now that it is only a
case of paying one's money and taking one's choice. But whatever fish
is chosen, the croquettes should be smaller than those for use at
luncheon or dinner, for the eye is repelled at breakfast-time by sight
of large portions. With croquettes the daintiest and lightest parsley
omelette imaginable should be served, it seems to me, and there you
have a simple breakfast, easy of accomplishment, but one sure to be
appreciated by King Sulks himself.