COMPANY TO TEA, AND SOME RECEIPTS.
You remember that grandmamma in the very middle of her headache gave
orders about boiling the ham and the tongue.
We made a rule after that, and Veva, who was secretary, wrote it in the
club's book: "Always begin getting ready for company the day before."
I had not noticed it then, but it is mother's way, and it saves a great
deal of confusion. If everything is left for the day on which the
company is expected, the girl who is hostess will be much too tired to
enjoy her friends. She ought to have nothing on her mind which can worry
her or keep her from entering into their pleasure. A hurried, worried
hostess makes her guests feel somehow in a false position.
Our house was, fortunately, in excellent order, so I had nothing to do
except, in the morning, to set the table prettily, to dust the parlors,
to put fresh flowers in the vases, and give a dainty finishing touch
here and there to the rooms. There were plenty of pleasant things to do.
I meant to have tea over early, and then some of the club's brothers
would be sure to come in, and we could play tennis on our ground, and
perhaps have a game of croquet. Then, when it was too dark for that sort
of amusement, we could gather on the veranda or in the library, and have
games there--Dumb Crambo and Proverbs, until the time came for the girls
to go home.
First, however, the eating part of the entertainment had to be thought
of.
Aunt Hetty was in a wonderful good humor, and helped with all her might,
so that my preparations went on very successfully. Grandmamma felt so
much better that I asked her advice, and this was the bill of fare
which she proposed:
Ham Sandwiches.
Cold Sliced Tongue.
Quick Biscuits.
Apple-Sauce.
Strawberries and Cream.
Tapioca Blanc-Mange.
Cup-Cake.
Cookies.
Cocoa.
The ham, having been boiled till tender the afternoon before, was
chopped very fine, a tiny dash of mustard added to it, and then it was
spread smoothly between two pieces of the thinnest possible
bread-and-butter. Around each of the sandwiches, when finished, I tied a
very narrow blue ribbon. The effect was pretty.
The tongue was sliced evenly, and arranged on a plate with tender leaves
of lettuce around its edge.
The biscuits I made myself. Mother taught me how. First I took a quart
of flour, and dropped into it two teaspoonfuls of our favorite
baking-powder. This I sifted twice, so that the powder and flour were
thoroughly blended. Mother says that cakes and biscuits and all kinds of
pastry are nicer and lighter if the flour is sifted twice, or even three
times. I added now a tablespoonful of lard and a half teaspoonful of
salt, and mixed the biscuit with milk. The rule is to handle as little
as possible, and have the dough very soft. Roll into a mass an inch
thick, and cut the little cakes apart with a tin biscuit-cutter. They
must be baked in a very hot oven.
No little housekeeper need expect to have perfect biscuits the first
time she makes them. It is very much like playing the piano. One needs
practice. But after she has followed this receipt a half dozen times,
she will know exactly how much milk she will require for her dough, and
she will have no difficulty in handling the soft mass. A dust of flour
over the hands will prevent it from sticking to them.
Mother always insists that a good cook should get all her materials
together before she begins her work.
The way is to think in the first place of every ingredient and utensil
needed, then to set the sugar, flour, spice, salt, lard, butter, milk,
eggs, cream, molasses, flavoring, sieves, spoons, egg-beaters, cups,
strainers, rolling-pins, and pans, in a convenient spot, so that you do
not have to stop at some important step in the process, while you go to
hunt for a necessary thing which has disappeared or been forgotten.
Mother has often told me of a funny time she had when she was quite a
young housekeeper, afflicted with a borrowing neighbor. This lady seldom
had anything of her own at hand when it was wanted, so she depended upon
the obliging disposition of her friends.
One day my mother put on her large housekeeping apron and stepped
across the yard to her outdoor kitchen. The kitchens in Kentucky were
never a part of the house, but always at a little distance from it, in a
separate building.
"Aunt Phyllis," said my mother to the cook, who was browning coffee
grains in a skillet over the fire, "I thought I told you that I was
coming here to make pound cake and cream pies this morning. Why is
nothing ready?"
"La, me, Miss Emmeline!" replied Aunt Phyllis. "Miss 'Tilda Jenkins done
carried off every pie pan and rolling-pin and pastry-board, and borrowed
all de eggs and cream fo' herself. Her bakin' isn't mo'n begun."
This was a high-handed proceeding, but nothing could be done in the
case. It was Mrs. Jenkins' habit, and mother had always been so amiable
about it that the servants, who were easygoing, never troubled
themselves to ask the mistress, but lent the inconvenient borrower
whatever she desired.
Sometimes just as we were going to church, I was too little at the time
to remember, mother said that a small black boy with very white teeth
and a very woolly head, would pop up at her chamber door, exclaiming,
"Howdy, Miss Emmeline. Miss 'Tilda done sent me to borrow yo'
Prayer-book. She goin' to church to-day herself."
Or, of a summer evening, her maid would appear with a modest request for
Miss Emmeline's lace shawl and red satin fan; Miss 'Tilda wanted to make
a call and had nothing to wear.
All this, I think, made mother perfectly _set_ against our ever
borrowing so much as a slatepencil or a pin. We were always to use our
own things or go without. I never had a sister, but cousins often spent
months at the house, and were in and out of my room in the freest way,
forever bringing me their gloves to mend or their ties to clean, as
cousins will.
"Never borrow," said my mother. "Buy, or give away, or do without, but
be beholden to nobody for a loan."
Another rule for little housekeepers is to wash their hands and faces
and have their hair in the nicest order before they begin to cook. The
nails should be cleaned and the toilet attended to as carefully as if
the girl were going to a party, before she begins any work in the
kitchen.
I suppose you think my bill of fare for a company tea very plain, but I
hadn't time for anything elaborate. Besides, if what you have is very
good, and set on the table prettily, most people will be satisfied even
if the fare is simple.
"Apple-sauce," said Amy one day, "is a dish I never touch. We used to
have it so often at school that I grew tired at the sight of it."
But Amy did eat apple-sauce at our house. Aunt Hetty taught me how to
make it, and I think it very good. We always cook it in an earthenware
crock over a very quick fire. This is our receipt: Pare and slice the
apples, eight large ones are sufficient for a generous dish, and put
them on with a very little water. As soon as they are soft and pulpy
stir in enough granulated sugar to make them as sweet as your father and
brothers like them. Take them off and strain them through a fine sieve
into a glass dish. Cook the apple-sauce about two hours before it is
wanted on the table. Put beside it a bowl of whipped cream, and when you
help to the sauce add a heaping spoonful of the cream to every dish.
People spoil apple-sauce by making it carelessly, so that it is lumpy
and coarse, or has seeds or bits of the core sticking in it, and mother
says that both apple-pies and apple-sauce should be used the day they
are made. They lose their _bouquet_, the fine delicate flavor is all
gone if you keep them long before using. A great divine used to say that
"the natural life of an apple pie is just twelve hours."
_Tapioca Blanc-Mange._--This is the receipt: One pint of fresh milk,
three-quarters of a cupful of sugar, half a pound of tapioca soaked in
cold water four hours, a small teaspoonful of vanilla, a pinch of salt.
Heat the milk and stir in the tapioca previously soaked. Mix well and
add the sugar. Boil it slowly fifteen minutes, then take it off and beat
until nearly cold. Pour into moulds, and stand upon the ice.
This is very nice served with a teaspoonful of currant or raspberry
jelly to each helping, and if cream is added it makes a beautiful
dessert. This ought to be made the day before it is needed. I made mine
before noon and it was quite ready, but you see it tired me to have it
on my mind, and it _might_ have been a failure.
_Cup-Cake._--Three teacups of sifted sugar and one cup and a half of
butter beaten to a cream, three eggs well beaten (white and yolks
separately), three teacupfuls of sifted flour. Flavor with essence of
lemon or rose water. A half teaspoonful is enough. Dissolve a
teaspoonful of cream of tartar and a half teaspoonful of baking soda in
a very little milk. When they foam, stir them quickly into the cake.
Beat well until the mixture is perfectly smooth, and has tiny bubbles
here and there on the surface. Bake in a very quick oven.
_Cookies._--These were in the house. We always keep a good supply. One
cup of butter, one of sugar, one of sour milk, half a nutmeg grated,
one teaspoonful of saleratus dissolved in a little boiling water, flour
enough to roll out the cookies. Cut into small round cakes and bake.
Keep these in a close tin. They will last a long time unless the house
is supplied with hungry school-boys.
_Cocoa._--Two ounces of cocoa and one quart of boiling water. Boil
together for a half hour on the back of the stove, then add a quart of
milk and two tablespoonfuls of sugar. Boil for ten minutes and serve.
Everything on the table was enjoyed, and we girls had a very merry time.
After tea and before the brothers came, we arranged a plan for learning
to make bread. I forgot to speak of the strawberries, but good
strawberries and rich cream need no directions. A pretty way of serving
them for breakfast, or for people who prefer them without cream, is
simply to arrange the beautiful fruit unhulled on a cut glass dish, and
dip each berry by its dainty stem into a little sparkling mound of
powdered sugar.
As for our games, our talk, our royally good time, girls will understand
this without my describing it. As Veva said, you can't put the soul of a
good time down on the club's record book, and I find I can't put it down
here in black and white. But when we said good-night, each girl felt
perfectly satisfied with the day, and the brothers pleaded for many
more such evenings.