The Game of Menus
"Now for our game," said Mrs. Thorne, after looking in the refrigerator
the next day. "I have been thinking about what it is like, and I have
decided that it is not so much like chess or whist as it is like
anagrams. But though it may not be as great an intellectual feat to
master it as though it were one of the famous games, it takes brains,
nevertheless. So take heart and try and learn it."
She took one sheet of paper and gave Dolly another, and went on.
"You know already that the refrigerator plays a large part in our
housekeeping and we must be guided in our planning by what we find there
morning by morning. But still there is always a place for new dishes
after combining the old ones. So first we see what we have and then
decide what will best go with it."
"Do you always write down what you are going to have? Why?"
"Oh, no, of course I do not write every meal down, but I keep a lot of
possible menus on hand and turn to them for inspiration when I feel
stupid. Or if I have a maid, I hand her over a few and have her follow
them, and so be sure--that is, tolerably sure--that the meal will come
out as I planned it. Besides these good reasons, there are more which
apply especially to you. One is that when you have once learned to make
up menus rapidly, you will save yourself a lot of mental storm and
stress. Often young housekeepers groan over thinking out meals,
especially dinners, of course, since they are the most difficult, and
declare that they have had every known meat and vegetable again and
again. Instead of that sort of thing, if they had at hand a number of
dinners written down, they could select one and save bothering.
"And one thing more. You might often go on having the same thing over
and over without realizing it. Now, in writing down the dinners for a
week at a time you soon see if you are repeating yourself. If the words
'beef stew,' for instance, appear frequently you presently grasp the
idea that you are having too much of that festal dish, whereas if you
did not see the words in black and white, you might not guess it."
"I still do not see how you can plan a second day's meals at the same
time you plan the first day's, unless you can gauge with accuracy the
size of the family's appetites. Suppose some night, instead of each
one's taking one helping of meat all around, we should all take two
helpings; that would smash your written menu to bits."
"Yes, of course it would, and such things have happened. But written
menus are not binding contracts, but only suggestions, and when you and
Dick recklessly eat up all the meat between you some night,--personally
I should know better than to join you in your extravagance,--then you
will have to modify your next day's menu and either plan a new meal or
substitute something else for the meat you had arranged for. But still
you will find written menus a great help if you use them sensibly and do
not feel bound to follow them literally. Now let us begin to play the
game. You write down a dinner for to-night, and then I will undertake
the thankless task of criticizing it."
Dolly gazed thoughtfully at the chandelier a few moments and then wrote
rapidly. Presently she read glibly:
"Potato soup.
Lamb pot pie with dumplings; boiled rice; macaroni and cheese.
Tapioca pudding.
Coffee."
Mrs. Thorne smiled. "Poor Fred! If that is the sort of meal you are
arranging to give him, I think he had better stay where he is. Now
think a minute. Potato soup first, and potatoes are starchy; next,
boiled rice, dumplings and macaroni,--more starch; and last, tapioca
pudding! Starchier and starchier, to parody Alice in Wonderland."
Dolly pouted. "Well, I am perfectly sure he would eat that dinner
thankfully and say it was a good one. He would never know he was eating
starch if you did not put it into his head. I think it is all nonsense
to point such things out to a man, anyway; it makes him notional about
his food."
"Later on he would wonder why on earth he had dyspepsia, my child. You
would not like to have a dyspeptic husband, would you? People who have
poor digestions are proverbially cross, you know, and too much starch is
certain to ruin even the very best of stomachs in time.
"Now let me explain what I took it for granted you knew already. You
must not have too much of any one ingredient in your food; not too much
fat, or starch, or sugar or anything else, because it is not wholesome.
The perfect dinner is like this: First a good soup; then meat with one
green and one starchy vegetable; then a fresh vegetable salad dressed
lightly with oil; then a very simple sweet; coffee last; or, omitting
the sweet, coffee alone. Of course you and I cannot afford to have
dinners like that all the year around, because green vegetables cost
too much, but that is the ideal toward which we must strive. In place of
the things we cannot have, we must have substitutes as nearly resembling
them as may be. In summer, of course, it is the easiest thing in the
world to have salads and green vegetables, and in winter we must do the
best we can without them. Now try another menu, and do not mind my
criticisms. And put a date on this one, so we can tell the time of year
and see whether or not you are having the proper things; suppose you say
this is a March dinner."
Dolly again consulted the chandelier, and after much study produced this
result:
"Clear soup.
Veal stew; mashed potatoes; canned string-beans.
Prune pudding.
Coffee."
"Better," said her sister doubtfully. "But don't you think veal would be
pretty expensive in March? And why string-beans, when parsnips and
salsify are plenty? And as to prune pudding, consider the egg whites!"
"Mary, you are too exasperating for words," ejaculated her much tried
sister. "I am sure that was a beautiful menu. However, I'll try again.
Still winter?"
"Yes, still winter."
"Well, here is a perfect one; absolutely faultless," Dolly said
presently.
"Clear soup.
Mutton and barley stew; potatoes; parsnip cakes.
Deep apple tart.
Coffee."
Her sister laughed outright. "This game evidently has more to it than
you thought when you began to learn it, hasn't it? Now this menu has its
good points, but I think you were rash in pronouncing it faultless. The
clear soup is all right, provided you made it out of what you had in the
house, and the mutton and barley stew is good and nourishing. But why
have potatoes and barley at the same meal? You do not need them both.
Instead, drop out the potatoes and have a dish of spiced fruit with the
meat instead of a second vegetable. Or, omit the soup, have the stew
first, and then a salad. As to dessert, unless it was a phenomenal apple
year, I am afraid you would find deep apple tart would cost too much in
March. However, that menu is an improvement on your other. Now make a
second dinner off the remains of the first, if you can."
"That is worse still. I think we will eat the whole up one night, this
time, and have no remains."
"If you do, you must have half-priced things the second night, then."
"Well, how is this?
"Mutton croquettes; mashed potatoes; minced turnips.
Celery salad; crackers and cheese.
Bread pudding with dates.
Coffee."
"That does very well. I see you had no carrots and had to buy turnips,
but they are cheap. Celery, however, I am afraid was rather expensive,
wasn't it? Could you not have had shredded cabbage instead? And you
really did not need crackers and cheese with it; you might have had them
with coffee for dessert. But, you are learning. Now try another winter
dinner, because they are most difficult of all."
Dolly wrote, after some thinking:
"Purée of dried lima bean soup.
Rounds of pork tenderloin; minced carrots; potato balls.
Cherry pie.
Coffee."
"Fair; pretty good," commented her sister. "I see you plan to put the
carrots and potato balls around the one pork tenderloin you had
Frenched, so it would be enough, and you had a heavy soup with the light
meat. So far I have no fault to find. But I cannot approve of pie after
pork. Can you not have the canned cherries another way?"
Dolly scratched out the word "pie," and wrote in "pudding."
"That is all right. Now just one more to use up the scraps left from
this."
"Cream of carrot soup.
Veal chops, breaded; scalloped canned tomato; sweet potatoes.
Chocolate custard.
Coffee,"
wrote Dolly.
"Now that is what I call a good dinner," Mrs. Thorne said approvingly.
"The left-over carrots you made up into soup. You had no pork to use up,
so you got two veal chops, and those are fairly cheap. Having tomatoes
was a master stroke, because they go so well with veal, and you will
have enough of them over for a second dinner. I suppose the custard does
not call for eggs?"
"No, it's a soft corn-starch pudding served in glasses. But, Mary, I did
not intend to use up the tomatoes for a second dinner, but to have them
for luncheon as Spanish toast."
"Oh, very well, that will do for once, especially as I hope you bought
only a small can of them. By the way, speaking of luncheon, remember
when you have cabbage for dinner, to keep out half after it is creamed,
and the next day have it baked with layers of cheese; that is a
delightful luncheon dish. You can use up boiled rice in the same way
with white sauce and cheese, or you can merely mix your tomato and rice
and bake that. Or, you could have rice croquettes and tomato sauce. But
I am getting off the subject. Now try a July dinner, for a change."
"Oh, that's easy.
"Cream of celery soup.
Lamb chops and peas; new potatoes in cream.
Strawberry shortcake.
Coffee."
"Where will you buy celery in July, my dear? That must come off your
menu the very first thing. Remember you can have only seasonable things.
And lamb chops are always expensive by the pound, and very small, with
lots of bone and trimming, too, so they will not do; you must change
them for a cheaper meat. As to strawberries--strawberries in July?"
"It's the very first of the month, Mary. They are still plenty and
cheap."
"All right, then. But if the weather is warm I don't think Fred will
care for a hot soup and hot coffee too. Why soup at all?"
"Just because. I can change that if you do not approve. How is this?
"Veal cutlet in strips; peas and new potatoes.
Sliced tomatoes on lettuce.
Strawberry shortcake.
Coffee."
"That is perfect. But do not let yourself be eaten up with pride yet,
for as you said, summer menus are easy to do. Try one in September."
"Boiled corned beef; potatoes; cabbage.
Watercress salad.
Chocolate corn-starch pudding.
Coffee."
Dolly wrote down rapidly, and read aloud.
Her sister laughed again. "This time you have decidedly lost the game,"
she said. "I think you have everything wrong in that menu that you
possibly could have. Remember the rule: you must eat whatever is in
season. Now, why have in September the food you should reserve for
winter, and why omit all the good fall vegetables and fruits? Try again.
I blush for you, my dear."
Dolly muttered something about people who were too particular, but
rewrote her menu docilely.
"Cream of corn soup.
Lamb and tomatoes stewed; fried eggplant; sweet potatoes.
Frozen peaches.
Coffee."
"Perfectly delicious; I wish we could have that to-night. You see you
really know how to use what you can have in market if only you think
about it. Corn for soup, and tomatoes, eggplant and peaches all in one
good dinner, and yet all cheap. Now, cover yourself with glory again in
a menu for December. And this time use up some probable left-overs. Let
me see. Suppose you had the lamb only the night before and there was a
little left of that, and half the corn and sweet potatoes. Add what you
need to those, since all of them come in December as well as earlier."
This took more time, but presently Dolly read:
"Lamb soufflé; sweet potato puff; corn fritters.
Oranges.
Coffee."
"That is a distinctly inferior menu," said Mary severely. "I see you are
not ready for a prize yet, unless it's a booby prize. That soufflé of
the lamb is quite right, but imagine what a light and trifling meal for
a hungry man! Soufflé,--half fluff; corn fritters, and potato
puff,--more fluffiness. What should have begun that dinner, Dolly, in
December?"
"Oh, of course! A heavy bean soup; but I will add that."
"Before you do, let me finish my criticisms. Oranges are too light a
dessert for a simple meal unless everything else is heavy. With the bean
soup you will improve things, but it seems to me you should have either
crackers and cheese with the fruit and coffee, or nuts and coffee
instead of the oranges."
"Oh, well, I can easily rewrite the whole thing. How is this?
"Black bean soup.
Lamb soufflé; fried sweet potatoes; succotash.
Nuts and raisins.
Coffee."
"Splendid! I could not do better myself. You put dried beans in with the
corn, and sliced and fried the sweet potatoes. That is a very good
dinner indeed. Now do two menus for January and use up left-overs
again."
"Corned beef; cabbage; mashed potatoes.
Canned string-bean salad.
Mince pie and cheese.
Coffee."
"Dolly, I do think you are crazy! Corned beef and cabbage and mince pie!
Do you want your husband to expire in agonies that very same night?
Never have mince pie with a heavy meat. I might almost say never have it
at all, because it is so hearty it ought to be a meal all by itself. If
you ever do have it, put it after the lightest things you can find, and
have green salad or apple sauce, or something of the sort, to counteract
it."
"Well, I'll cut the pie out. But what is the matter with corned beef and
cabbage? I thought those went particularly well together."
"If you do not cook them in the same pot, but prepare the cabbage as I
told you, in such a way that anybody can digest it, even a child or a
confirmed dyspeptic, you can have it with any meat. But never cook
anything with corned beef, except a slice of onion to season it. As for
dessert, what will you have instead of mince pie?"
"Oh, canned blueberry tart; eggs and butter are dear in January. You see
I do know something."
"Very good. Now make a second dinner and use the left-overs of this
one."
"Split pea purée.
Creamed corned beef, baked; string beans; mashed potato cakes.
Steamed fig pudding.
Coffee."
"That menu is really a success. You made the purée of the water the
corned beef was boiled in, I see, and used up your half-can of
string-beans for a vegetable; and of course the potato cakes were the
mashed potatoes reheated. But why that particular pudding?"
"Fred ate up all the blueberry tart the night before; not a scrap of it
was left, because it was so good," said Dolly demurely.
"Well, I don't blame him. Now I think you understand the game, and you
can go on and practise it as you get time. Making out a whole set of
menus for a year, four or five for each month, would be excellent
practice for you, Dolly. But that is all for to-day."
"But, Mary, why do you skip all the breakfasts and luncheons? I am quite
as capable of making glaring mistakes there as in dinners. If you don't
tell me what to have, I shall certainly lunch on cold meat, and have two
eggs apiece every morning in the week--also grapefruit!"
"What a frightful threat! Well, then, here are a few breakfasts, just to
start you off comfortably:"
Spring
1. Poached eggs on toast; muffins; coffee.
2. Boiled rice and raisins, with cream; milk toast; coffee.
3. Codfish croquettes; pop-overs; coffee, toast, orange marmalade.
Summer
1. Cold oatmeal with berries; coffee and toast.
2. Scrambled eggs; corn bread; coffee.
3. Slices of fried eggplant; muffins; coffee.
Autumn
1. Sliced peaches; little pan fish; toast; coffee.
2. Fried tomatoes with cream sauce; rice muffins; coffee.
3. Parsley omelette; sally-lunn; coffee.
Winter
1. Cereal with chopped figs; creamed codfish; toast; coffee.
2. Bacon; fried apples; corn-meal puffs.
3. Creamed hard-boiled eggs on toast; coffee; fried hominy and syrup.
"Those are all practical and cheap, Dolly, I think, but you must modify
them to suit your own needs, of course. If you find any of them
expensive, substitute something else. You can have broiled dried beef in
place of the bacon in one of the winter menus, for one thing, and in
place of the eggs in any menu you can have some left-over you cannot use
elsewhere. Now for the luncheons:"
Spring
1. Canned corn fritters; tea; jam tartlets.
2. Spinach on toast; tea; cheese crackers.
3. Codfish cutlets; tea; drop cakes.
Summer
1. Lettuce with mayonnaise; sandwiches; iced tea; berries.
2. Stuffed and baked eggplant; tea; lettuce and French dressing.
3. Baked tomatoes; iced coffee and fruit.
Autumn
1. Vegetable croquettes; cocoa; grapes.
2. Plain omelette; tea; stewed pears.
3. Baked sweet potatoes; tea; baked apples.
Winter
1. Cheese soufflé; tea; wafers.
2. Cup of soup; macaroni and tomatoes.
3. Potatoes filled with creamed fish; doughnuts.
"There! I think you might write those down and add to them as you like,
too. I did not say which luncheons were made from left-overs and which
were not, but some of them are, you can see for yourself. Of course you
must never forget to use up what you have in the house rather than buy
anything whatever for any meal. I think I have sufficiently impressed
that on your mind, haven't I?"
"You have, indeed. Now let's stop playing this game for awhile and go
and get luncheon; I am starved."
"Dear me, I should think you would be; it's lunch time now. I declare,
Dolly, this game is as absorbing as bridge."