should be laid on the ice—the dry, for a half or three-quarters of an
hour; the sweet, several hours before using. Great care should be taken
when putting the bottles on the ice not to shake them.
SOME STUDIES OF COLOR IN FAMILY DINNERS
A green and white dinner
In the springtime you will have no difficulty in finding pale green
leaves or delicate ferns with which to grace your table. Blossoms,
such as the snow-drop, or the white wood-anemone, may be surrounded
by fragile ferns and serve as a dainty floral piece for the middle of
the table. Pear blossoms, with their bright green leaves, will form an
attractive mass of flowers and foliage. If you have a center-piece and
doilies embroidered with green silk, make use of them for this family
dinner. If you do not possess such, your plain damask will be entirely
in keeping. Your menu may be as follows:
Cream of Spinach Soup
Lamb Chops
Mashed Potatoes, Green Peas
Lettuce Salad
Cocoanut and Citron Layer Cake
Crackers and Sage Cheese
Coffee
A pink dinner
(For Friday.)
The month of June is the time of all the year for a pink dinner, for
then the table may be decked with a profusion of pink roses that will
delight the heart of the flower-lover. Set a huge bowl of these upon
a white, or pink-and-white center-piece, dropping a bud or half-blown
rose here and there upon the table-cloth. Have your lights softened by
pink shades, and use as much white, or pink-and-white china as you have
at your command.
Have the following menu:
Cream of Beet Soup
Boiled Salmon
Potatoes Fried Whole, Tomato Soufflé
Beet and Celery Salad
Strawberry Sponge
Pink-and-White Cake
Crackers and Cheese
Coffee
A brown dinner
Need not be a somber array if you will give it in autumn, and study
the countless shades of golden-brown, olive-brown, redbrown,
greenish-brown, and even the purple-brown of the oak—exquisite and
indescribable—which field, forest and fen offer to one who has the true
artist’s love for color. Decorate your table and the room with autumn
leaves, keeping the color scheme in mind all the time. Have brown nuts,
and chocolate, and coffee bonbons, and if there be no brown china upon
your shelves, see to it that there are no discordant hues.
MENU
Bean Soup
Braised Beef
Boiled Potatoes—browned
Baked Onions Scalloped Tomatoes
Salad of “Mignonette” Lettuce
Chocolate Pudding
Coffee Graham Crackers Camembert Cheese
A yellow dinner
Cream of Cheese Soup
Boiled Fowls with Egg Sauce
Stewed Carrots Yellow Turnips
Buttered Rice
Macedoine Salad
French Tapioca Custard
American Cheese Egg Crackers
Café au Lait
Goldenrod, if in the autumn; daffodils in the early spring; coreopsis
in summer, for decorations.
[Illustration]
AN EVENING RECEPTION AND A CHAFING-DISH SUPPER
The old-fashioned evening party—which was by no means a dancing party,
nor even a card party—has almost gone out of date. In this rushing day
it seems next to impossible to pass an evening with one’s friends with
only conversation to make the time glide pleasantly. If there is no
special amusement for the sake of which the company is assembled, there
must be music or recitations, or something else to prevent the guests
from boring one another.
Still, once in a while even now there is an old-fashioned party.
More often it takes the form of a reception to meet this or that
distinguished person, or to celebrate some occasion. At such affairs,
as at a wedding reception, it appears to be necessary to make up to the
guests for the boredom they are presumably suffering by carrying out
the principle—“feed the brute.” Accordingly, an elaborate collation is
spread, and the men and women who have no other especially cheerful
recollection of the evening, can at least testify that they have eaten
and drunk well.
For such events the supper is a pretty serious affair, and unless the
hostess has well-trained servants she would better commit the matter
into the hands of professionals. Still, if she be one who herself
looks well to the ways of her household, and has her own ample corps
of competent domestics, she may, perhaps, achieve the supper without
turning to outside help. In this case the refreshments will amount to
much less in cost than if she relied upon professional caterers and
waiters.
For the supper, which is to supply a large evening party, the bill
of fare may, in a measure, resemble that already suggested for an
extensive afternoon tea or reception. I give two menus, either of which
is entirely suitable for an evening collation.
MENU FOR EVENING SUPPER.
I
Bouillon Creamed or Scalloped Oysters
Lobster, Shrimp, or Chicken Salad
Sandwiches, or Thin Bread-and-butter
Ices and Parfaits, Cakes, Coffee, Fruit Punch
MENU FOR EVENING SUPPER.
II
Bouillon, Oyster Croquettes, Sweetbread in pâtés
Salmon, or Chicken Salad Cold Turkey, or Chicken
Mousses, Biscuits and other Ices Fancy Cakes Fruit
Coffee Iced Tea Punch
The table is set in the dining-room, which is not opened until late in
the evening. Everything that the house possesses in the way of handsome
china, cut glass and silver may be called into requisition to beautify
the occasion. There is usually a corps of waiters in attendance,
although the gentlemen are also expected to do their duty in fetching
and carrying, and in serving the ladies under their escort. There are
times when they do nearly all the helping to the various dishes as
well, but this custom grows less and less common.
Usually the table has a center-piece of flowers and fruit, which is
meant for beauty rather than for use. If fruit is to be passed it is
either served in smaller dishes, or is taken with care from the foot
of the central pyramid, where its loss will not interfere with the
beauty of the table. Piles of plates, napkins, knives, forks and spoons
are arranged on the main table, or on a sideboard, and the dishes of
salad, sandwiches, oysters, etc., are also on the principal table.
Such a supper as this is appropriate for a dancing party, a wedding
reception or any other form of evening gaiety. As a rule, there is also
a bowl of punch in evidence in the hall near the drawing-room to allay
the thirst of those who can not wait until the full supper is served.
For smaller parties, like card parties, club reunions and the like,
so elaborate a bill of fare is not necessary or desirable. For such
functions as these the chafing-dish has supplied a felt want. With
little trouble and comparatively small expense it is possible for the
owner of a chafing-dish to set out a feast that will hardly fail to
satisfy even a hungry college boy.
A couple of bills of fare are herewith suggested for the use of the
hostess whose experience with the chafing-dish has been too limited to
take her beyond the realm of lobster à la Newburg and Welsh rarebit.
The amateur generally fancies that these are the only combinations
which lie within the range of the chafing-dish, and it comes to him as
a surprise to be told that there are scores of toothsome dainties he
can manage if he have the knack of the chafing-dish.
CHAFING-DISH SUPPER.
I
Pigs in Blankets
Chicken Bouillon
Thin Bread-and-Butter
Welsh Rarebit
Ale or Beer
Coffee
CHAFING-DISH SUPPER.
II
Scotch Woodcock
Crackers
Oysters or Clams, creamed
Lettuce Sandwiches
Cheese Fondu
Coffee
For a chafing-dish supper there should be no more guests than can
group themselves comfortably about the dining-room table. As a rule,
the dishes that are prepared are not of the variety that one can eat
readily from a plate balanced on the knee, or in the hand. If the main
table be not large enough to permit of all being seated about it, there
may be smaller tables for the “overflow.” If one chafing-dish is too
small to prepare as much as the appetites of the eaters crave, there
may be one at each end of the table, and there should be an expert in
charge of each.
The table may be simply set—either bare, or covered with a plain cloth.
Flowers are out of place in the middle of it, as interfering with the
free view of the chafing-dish by the guests. For it makes no difference
how often one has seen a dish cooked, there is always curiosity to
see it done once more. About the chafing-dish are placed all the
paraphernalia that attend upon that kind of cookery—the condiments,
the utensils, the spoons, forks, knives, measuring cups and the like.
In chafing-dish cookery nothing can wait, and everything that by any
chance can be needed must be there in advance.
Let no one be so deluded by any amount of theoretical knowledge as to
venture to make a maiden essay at chafing-dish cookery in the presence
of a company of guests. There should always be a rehearsal beforehand.
Nowhere else is stage fright more imminent. Nowhere else has it more
disastrous possibilities.
If feasible there should be a servant at hand with a supply of hot
dishes. All the other work of cooking and waiting may be performed by
the hostess and her guests. The occasion should be most informal.
Persons who can not unbend readily should never go to chafing-dish
parties. They will find themselves much out of place. To those who
are fond of easy laughter and simple fun and a good deal of nonsense,
and whose digestions—this is chiefest of all—are in good working
order, there are few social relaxations that are pleasanter than a
chafing-dish “affair.”
Some recipes which may be cooked in a chafing-dish
[References are to pages.]
Scrambled eggs (79)
Mince of tongue and eggs (81)
Mince of ham and eggs (81)
Eggs and tomatoes (85)
Olla podrida omelet (86)
Corn omelet (448)
Scrambled eggs with cheese (86)
Rice omelet (86)
Fish omelet (87)
Ham omelet (87)
Minced eggs (88)
Creamed oysters (145)
Oyster stew (148)
Curried oysters (149)
Lobster à la Newburg (154, 347)
Creamed lobster (154)
Curry of lobster (154)
Deviled lobster (155)
Crabs and champignons (156)
Buttered shrimps (157)
Curried shrimps (157)
Shrimps and eggs (158)
Maryland terrapin (158)
Curry of salmon (162)
Pigs in blankets (151)
Broiled oysters (146)
Panned oysters (149)
Oyster omelet (83)
Creamed clams (152)
Sardine eggs (160)
Creamed codfish (104)
A “pick up” of fish (164)
A “toss up” of veal (172)
Broiled mushrooms (135, 459)
Stewed kidneys (119)
Creamed potatoes (473)
Cream toast (76)
Anchovy croutons (161)
Sautés oysters (152)
Cheese omelet (85)
Creamed chicken (125, 196)
Curried chicken (172)
Broiled chicken (124, 407)
Creamed sweetbreads (122)
Frizzled beef and eggs (180)
Nonpareil Welsh rarebit (202)
Cream cheese golden buck (202)
Oysters with mushrooms (150)
FAMILIAR TALK
COMMON SENSE AND “ETIQUETTE”
A bright young fellow told the anecdote at a dinner party. I borrow it
for the occasion.
A self-making man in process of manufacture, dined with a more
sophisticated friend at a city restaurant. When the soup was brought
on, the S. M. M. prepared for business by laying a slice of bread
on the cloth, and troweling it with butter. His host, who had been
requested by the guest to “coach him a little in city ways,” said
mildly:
“That isn’t quite the thing, old man! Break off a bit of bread and
butter it, as you wish to eat it.”
“All right!” said the other, “I want to know about the latest touches.”
His next solecism was to fish up a bit of meat from the dish with his
own fork, and his friend again set him right. Blunder No. 3 was putting
his knife into his mouth; No. 4 was cutting up his salad; No. 5,
sandwiching cheese between two crackers and crunching it noisily; No. 6
was creaming black coffee.
“I say!” he broke in at this point, still good-humoredly, “what do you
call all these fool rules you’ve been telling me? I s’pose a fellow
ought to know something about them. But they come hard, at first.”
“I suppose,” said the mentor, somewhat nonplussed, “that they may all
be classed under the head of table etiquette.”
“Et-er-ket!” slowly and thoughtfully. “Well, I say, old fellow—there
ain’t many that has got on to it yet—is there?” Resisting the
temptation to dwell upon the many who never “get on to it,” let us look
for the commonsensible basis of certain minor social usages which are
accepted as matters of course by well-bred people, and contemned by
the boorish and ignorant as “fool rules” that hamper personal liberty.
Few conventionalities are arbitrary. Most of them are reasonable, many
so just as to be binding upon the lovers of decency and order, not to
say healthfulness.
To carry food to the mouth with the knife-blade is awkward, and if the
knife have an edge, unsafe. If I were at the point of death, I should
laugh and blush together at the memory of the commotion excited in a
London family hotel last year by the exclamation of an American tourist
who jumped up from the dinner-table and clapped his napkin to his mouth
with—“Waiter! Never put a sharp knife at my place again! I have cut my
mouth badly! It might have done serious harm!”
The rule against touching fish with a knife dates back to a time when
steel knives were in general use. Steel imparts an unpleasant taste to
the more delicate kinds of cooked fish. Hence, the custom of leaving
the knife beside the plate, and using the fork alone during the fish
course.
A like rule obtains with regard to salads. To cut is to bruise the
tender esculents, and to injure the flavor. The leaves of lettuce
should be torn apart in preparing it for the table, with as little
handling as possible, and eaten as soon as the salad is dressed. Other
salads—as beets, celery, etc., are cut up and ready for eating when
sent to table. To use the knife upon them is a reflection upon cook and
host.
To butter a whole slice of bread at once—especially when it is laid on
the table in order to do it—is slovenly, wasteful and awkward. If eaten
as a whole, one must gnaw or nibble at it, and to cut it after it is
buttered is neither neat nor convenient.
[Illustration]
The fashion of finger-bowl and napkin would seem to commend itself to
everybody as eminently cleanly and comfortable. Yet there are still
well-to-do people who sneer at the idea of “doing one’s washing at the
table.”
The by-law obeyed by the transient guest who lays his napkin carelessly
on the table when the meal is over, instead of folding it, is easily
understood. To fold it implies that it may be used again before it is
washed.
“Mr. Blank has no napkin, James!” said a hostess of the _nouveau riche_
order, to her butler.
“I beg pardon!” interposed the guest, lifting a corner of the napkin
from his knee that she might see her mistake. “I have one.”
“Ah!” with an apologetic smile. “I saw that you did not have it _on_!”
To tuck the napkin into the collar, or pin it around the neck before
attacking one’s food may be a wise precaution if one has never learned
to convey it to the mouth without dropping or dripping it. Gentlemen
are supposed to have put away bibs with other childish things. The
suggestion of putting a napkin “on” is not agreeable. The place for
the useful bit of fine linen is on the knee or lap, out of sight of
fellow-eaters.
Black coffee in after-dinner coffee cups is a digestive agent—a
gastronomic expletive—not a beverage. To cream it is to pervert its
meaning, and to defeat the end for which it is served. It is well
known that the addition of cream or milk to coffee causes a chemical
change in both ingredients. To some stomachs creamed coffee, or _café
au lait_, is poisonous. Clear black coffee is a tonic, and agrees with
everybody.
To toss off a glass of water as soon as one sits down to a meal is
an infringement of table-etiquette. Those who recognize the fact do
not always bethink themselves of the reason lying back of the “fool
rule.” To fill the stomach with iced water is to check the process of
digestion temporarily. To add to the water a plateful of hot soup is
to disgust the diaphragm by a load of lukewarm liquid, very like the
dish-water in the pan of an untidy scullion.
I might go on, _ad infinitum_, multiplying instances of what are
sneered at by the untaught and unthinking slaves of their own
prejudices as foolish and useless limitations to a man’s right to eat,
drink and make merry after his own fashion. Which—I may observe—is
usually the fashion of the beasts that perish.
Enough has been said to give credit to the sagacity and humanity of
those who set the pace for our better classes—better in so far as they
conserve the best interests of the race, and lend countenance to all
that is kindly, wholesome and comely.
“CANNED GOODS”
CANNED FRUITS
I clip from a family paper an item linking ancient and modern
housewifery:
“It is a singular fact that we are indebted to Pompeii for the great
industry of canned fruits. Years ago, when the excavations were just
beginning, a party of Americans found, in what had been the pantry of
a house, many jars of preserved figs. One was opened, and its contents
were fresh and good. Investigation showed that the figs had been put
into the jar in a heated state; an aperture had been left for the steam
to escape and then sealed with wax. The hint was taken, and the next
year fruit-canning was introduced in the United States.”
There is no reason why canned fruits which have kept one year should
not keep for a hundred years in a dark place. The light acts chemically
upon the contents. If not properly canned they will spoil within a few
weeks. Hence, no preliminary which will make this, the heaviest work of
the summer, thorough, yet as easy as possible, should be neglected.
Granite or porcelain lined kettles, with bales and lips for convenience
in pouring, and which are free from all blemish or break in the
glazing, are almost essential for this work. They should be broad, that
considerable surface may be exposed to the heat, and deep enough to
prevent boiling over.
A small, sharp-pointed knife for paring; also, an old silver-plated
knife ground to a fine edge, will be found convenient for articles
which a steel knife might discolor.
Wooden spoons, a wire spoon, large and small silver spoons, scales, a
hair sieve, an agate-iron colander, a wooden masher, a fruit press,
coarse and fine cheese-cloth, and fine cotton and wool flannel, are
almost essential to the sort of work I have indicated.
Quart and pint glass jars, with large tops, are the best for general
use. See that the glass covers are free from nicks, the spring, or
clamp, in perfect order, and that the rubbers are new and free from
cracks. A few jars of the two-quart size will not be amiss if you plan
to can large fruit whole.
Use the best granulated sugar, and “agate-nickel-steel” or
porcelain-lined ware as kettles.
Canned tart apples
Peel and quarter firm apples, throwing them into cold water as you do
so. Weigh the fruit and allow two pounds of granulated sugar to eight
pounds of apples. Put the apples into a preserving-kettle, pour over
them barely enough cold water to cover them, and let them cook gently
until tender. While these are cooking, make a syrup by mixing the sugar
with water (allowing a cupful of water to each pound of sugar) and
bringing to a boil. Cook for four minutes, then lift the tender apples
from the water, lay them gently in the syrup, simmer for a minute, and
while very hot, put into self-sealing jars. These apples make excellent
pies.
Canned sweet apples
Core campfield, or “pound sweets,” or other sweet apples, dropping them
in water as you do this. When all are ready, pack in heated glass cans.
Have at hand a syrup made by mixing a cupful of sugar with a cupful
of water, allowing this quantity to every two-quart can. Boil hard
fifteen minutes, adding the juice of half a lemon for every two cups of
sugar. Roll the cans in hot water before putting in the apples; fill
at once with the boiling syrup, and set in a bake-pan of hot water,
then in a good oven. When the syrup is again at the boiling point, seal
immediately.
Larger apples may be put up in this way by coring and quartering. They
are delicious eaten with cream.
Canned apple sauce
Cut up tart apples without paring, leaving out the cores. Put over
the fire with a cupful of water in the bottom of a large kettle to
prevent burning, and cook soft. Rub through a colander to get rid of
the peel, reheat to the boiling point, add two tablespoonfuls of sugar
to each pint of the sauce, stirring it over the fire; fill the jars to
overflowing and seal while boiling-hot. It will keep well for years,
and be most acceptable when apples are scarce.
Canned seckel pears
Peel the pears, dropping them into cold water as you do so, to prevent
their turning dark. To every two quarts of fruit allow a quart of water
and a half-pound of granulated sugar. Bring the sugar and water to a
boil, and when bubbling lay the pears in this syrup. Boil until the
fruit can be pierced with a straw. Pack the hot fruit in air-tight
cans, fill to overflowing with the boiling syrup and seal.
Canned pears, unpeeled
Wash and core large, firm pears in cold water, put into a kettle, cover
with cold water, and simmer gently until tender, but not until they
begin to break or crumble. Remove from the fire and spread in pans to
cool. Make a syrup of a pound of sugar to four pounds of the fruit
and a quart of water, and boil for five minutes, then add the juice
of two lemons. Pack the pears carefully into jars, fill the jars to
overflowing with the scalding liquid, and seal.
Canned peaches
Peel, stone and halve the peaches, dropping them into cold water as you
do so. Allow a cupful of sugar to four quarts of fruit. Pour a cupful
of water into the bottom of a preserving-kettle, put in a layer of
peaches, sprinkle with sugar, add more peaches and more sugar until all
the fruit is used. Bring slowly to a boil, and do not cook for more
than fifteen minutes. Can and seal immediately, boiling-hot.
Canned plums
To six quarts of plums allow a cupful, each, of sugar and water. Wipe
the plums and prick each with a needle. Put the sugar and water into
a porcelain kettle, and lay the plums in this. Bring slowly to a boil
and cook for five minutes. Put the plums into jars and fill these to
overflowing with the boiling liquid. Seal at once.
Canned green gages
Prick each plum in two places with a darning-needle. To every pound of
fruit allow a half-pound of sugar and a half cupful of water. Bring the
sugar and water to a boil, lay the plums in this, and simmer for five
minutes. Pack the plums in jars, fill with boiling syrup and seal.
Canned cherries
To every pound of washed and stemmed Morello cherries allow a
half-pound of sugar. Put the sugar over the fire with enough water to
dissolve it, and boil to a thin syrup. As the scum rises to the top of
the liquid, remove it. Turn the cherries into the boiling liquid, and
cook for five minutes. Remove the cherries from the kettle, pack into
pint jars, fill with the boiling syrup, and fit on air-tight lids.
These cherries may be used in filling baked pastry-shells, and thus
form delicious tarts.
Canned rhubarb
Rhubarb may be canned the same as cherries, cut in inch lengths without
peeling; allow three-fourths of a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit.
Scald quickly, fill jars and seal.
Canned raspberries (1)
To each quart of raspberries allow a half teacupful of water and a
half-pound of granulated sugar. Cover the berries with the sugar, and
let them stand for an hour. Put berries and sugar over the fire with
the water, bring to a hard boil, then can.
Canned blackberries
Measure your berries and allow a heaping tablespoonful of sugar to
each quart of fruit. Put the berries on alone, and bring slowly to the
boiling point, and if there is any surplus juice, dip this out before
adding the sugar. Boil the berries and sugar for fifteen minutes and
can quickly, filling each can to overflowing.
Canned strawberries
Weigh the berries, and to every pound of fruit allow a quarter-pound of
granulated sugar. Put sugar and berries in an earthen jar, and stand
for an hour. Turn into a preserving-kettle, add a pinch of alum, and
simmer slowly for fifteen minutes. Dip out the superfluous juice. Fill
the jars to overflowing with the fruit, and seal immediately.
Canned raspberries (2)
Follow the last recipe in every particular.
Canned gooseberries
Make a syrup with one pound of white sugar to each pound of fruit, stew
them till quite clear and until the syrup becomes thick, but do not let
them be mashed. Do not cover the pan while stewing.
Canned quinces