The making of lobster croquettes is a pleasant sort of business, for
there is so much anticipation of good to come stirred in with it. Cut
the meat--don't chop it--rather finely: moisten with a bit of cream
and the butter from the lobster. Mould and roll in crumbs and fry a
golden brown. Don't go to seasoning these croquettes very highly or
the delicacy will depart from them. But you know that. And do you know
that you may add to almost any sauce used for boiled or baked fish
some diced cooked lobster to the benefit of everything and everybody
concerned? Well, you may--my word for it.
If I were to tack a sub-title to this screed it might very properly
be: "Women's Luncheons," inasmuch as it was in aid of one of these
mild social dissipations that I last perambulated through the markets.
Very properly also I might characterize the trip as a "peripatetic
wandering through the market-place," for all the while I was in quest
of edibles suitable to put before a purely feminine company I was
talking to myself about the probable origin of this form of
hospitality. When, where, and by whom it was invented? My own
conjecture as to its inception finally took this course: Algernon was
in the habit of attending a great many goings-on to which women were
never bidden. And Araminta frequently discussed with him the calls
thus made upon his time. Whereupon it came to pass that after one
particularly interesting debate on the subject, which debate was
brought to an end by the sharp, quick closing of the street door,
Araminta had an idea. An idea which she called an inspiration, nothing
less, and it had for its starting-point a luncheon, a dainty, gay
little affair, at which no black coat should be allowed to intrude.
And the _pièce de résistance_ of the meal should be a sweet called
"revenge." Oh, yes indeed, not only would her guests applaud her
originality, but the hearts of the absent males would be torn to
tatters at her assumption of independence. And doubtless Part One of
the programme was carried out to the letter, but, between you and me,
I don't believe Algernon ever lost a wink of sleep over it. In fact,
when he settled the bill I have good reasons for mistrusting that he
said something about the "game being jolly well worth the candle."
But to-day the women's luncheon is an institution, and a very chic and
dainty diversion into the bargain. And there are those who make it
their business to tell how a woman should be arrayed at such a
festivity, but that is out of my province. If, however, you would know
how the menu should read at this time of year, allow me:--
Cantaloupe.
Bouillon in cups.
Lobster patties.
Lamb cutlets with mushrooms.
String beans fried in butter.
Broiled quails.
Tomatoes stuffed with celery and mayonnaise.
Wine ice cream. Grapes. Coffee.
I almost said oysters at the beginning of the menu, but oysters we
shall have with us for several months to come, while cantaloupes are
beginning to say it's about time they were going. As yet, however,
they are just as delicious and no more expensive than they have been
at any time through the season.
Now as for bouillon. I get it canned, and think myself very fortunate
in being able to do so. But you may prefer to make your own, and if so
you probably have an always reliable recipe. _Mes congratulations._