There is a future here for various new kinds of culinary work. But
for one kind, it is to be hoped, there is no future, and that is the
community kitchen--a single kitchen for a number of families. This plan
has been tried in various countries, always without success. Berlin had
its "Einküchenhaus"--for a time. The New York "Independent" of March 6,
1912, contains an account of a similar experiment in America. A dozen
women presided in succession with invariably disastrous results.
It is impossible in such a case to suit the taste and purse of every
family. In a large restaurant it is possible to cater to every patron's
wishes, but where there are half-a-dozen or a dozen families clubbed
together, some are willing to pay for fresh eggs and poultry and
unsalted butter, for example, while others would prefer to save the
money and live on storage eggs and poultry, salted butter, wilted or
canned vegetables, and so on. There is sure to be constant squabbling;
troubles arise from feeing, bribing, and a hundred other sources. No;
most of us want to be able to order our own meats, vegetables and
fruits, and have them cooked and served as we like them.
"It was the fashion of forty years ago," wrote E. P. Powell in 1904,
"for progressive economists to discuss a reform village, built in
squares, one house on each corner, and a community boarding-hall and
kitchen in the center of each square. Some experiments were made along
such lines, but they fell to pieces over the table question. It is not
easy for four families to agree on a menu three times a day, and on the
qualities of the cooking. As a rule every woman must be mistress of her
own kitchen."
The German delicatessen store (now acclimated in all our cities) with
its cooked cold meats, pickles, cheeses, and diverse fancy groceries,
is likely to be the nearest approach to a community kitchen (nearly
every block has one) that the future will know; and the delicatessen
store is only an appendix to the private kitchen.
Nothing could be more ridiculous than the wails of certain writers over
the "waste of time" in having the cooking done separately for each
family. There are plenty of persons in search of profitable employment
to supply the demand; and surely, it is infinitely more human, more
intellectual, more enjoyable to practise the noble and useful art of
cooking than to be merely one cog in a huge machine for making shoes
or garments, or cigarettes, as are hundreds of thousands of factory
workers, most of whom could lead much happier and more elevated lives
if they were cooks.
"The gourmet distrusts dishes provided by pastry cooks and caterers,"
wrote the late Theodore Child; and this is another of the many reasons
why every family that can afford it should have its own cook. I have
never yet eaten ice cream, even in the most expensive places, as rich
and luscious as the cream we make at home. Excellent jams and jellies
are now for sale in the markets; but in your own kitchen you and your
helpers can make jams and jellies, and preserves that are better
still--made of material you have seen, and sweetened, or otherwise
seasoned, to your individual taste.
The word home-made is still the synonym of gastronomic excellence.
When a dealer wants to specially commend his offerings, he labels or
advertises them as "home-made."
Owing partly to the present difficulty of getting good cooks, and
partly to the selfish disinclination of too many American women to do
as much at home for their husband or father as the husband or father
does for them in the office, thousands of homes have been abandoned in
favor of apartment hotels. How these families can endure the insipid,
monotonous, unappetizing meals served in these (for the most part
expensive) places, is to me incomprehensible.
A reaction will come in favor of private kitchens, and it will be
greatly accelerated by the latest improvements, now to be considered.