My second plan, when it assumes tangible shape, shall be like this:
Watermelons, not cut up into ungainly chunks with juice and seeds
playing at hide-and-seek in one's plate, but with the pretty pink
portion cut into two-inch cubes, say, with all the seeds removed, and
sent to table after being well cooled, fancifully piled on shaven ice.
If you don't mind a little fuss and bother, you may after it is cut up
sprinkle the melon well with powdered sugar, put it into the freezer
and frappé but not freeze it, and then send it to table. To the
palates of many of this day and generation watermelon well chilled
comes as a boon, for the best of men now and then are afflicted with a
thirst these warm mornings which nothing save ice-water seems to
quench, but the physicians and moralists have held forth at such
length on the subject that one feels like a guilty thing upon taking a
drink of cold water before breaking fast. Now you are going to ask
what will be quite good enough to follow watermelon, and for answer I
shall recommend chicken, or fowl, boiled the previous day, and cut
into neat pieces, then browned well in butter, with hot cream poured
over it just before it is sent to the table. If you want a delightful
adjunct for the chicken, let it be cold asparagus, with lemon juice
and salt sprinkled over it. If you have never partaken of cold
asparagus at breakfast, there is a new pleasure in store for you, for
good as this vegetable is hot at dinner or luncheon, it seems
especially apt when served cold in the morning.
Quite as attractive, and simpler in preparation, perhaps, you will
find my third recipe for an antidote, it goes something like this: To
begin with, blackberries, growing better and more abundant every day;
to follow the blackberries smoked beef tossed in hot cream which has
been seasoned with cayenne pepper, and thickened a trifle with corn
starch, and--as a complement for the smoked beef you will desire
something sour--try watercress dressed with lemon juice and salt,
unless you are so enamored of tomatoes that you prefer them to any
other vegetable in the morning, now.
My next (really I don't mean this to read like an enigma) idea if you
choose to put it into action will cause your breakfast table to answer
to this description: Raspberries, sweetened a bit, tossed in whipped
cream and put into paper cases which come on purpose for the carrying
out of dainty table schemes, and then chilled on the ice for at least
an hour before serving. Trouble? Oh, yes, there's some trouble
involved, but your reward will be swift and sure, my word for it.
Something exceptionally dainty and palate-appealing must follow the
raspberries so prepared, and how does the thought of veal, minced
finely and seasoned perfectly, with poached eggs on top, coincide with
your idea of the fitness of things?