THANKSGIVING DAY SUPPER
"Mother Blair, did you ever think that Thanksgiving Day has one great
defect?"
"Why, no, Mildred, I don't believe I ever did," smiled her mother. "Do
tell me what it is."
"Well, we have to have dinner in the afternoon so the littlest cousins
can go home early, and so Norah can get away in time for her regular
party--she always goes to one, you know, that evening; and that leaves
us with nothing to do for hours before bedtime. I don't know why it is,
but that time always drags."
"That is a real defect, Mildred, and I'm glad you told me, because we
don't want any part of Thanksgiving Day to drag. It ought to be lovely
till the very end. What can you think of that we can do to make it so?"
"I think if all the cousins would stay on instead of going home at dark,
and if we arranged something interesting, like a little play or
charades, first, and then, when we got hungry, about eight o'clock, we
had a hot supper, that would be just perfect."
"Of course! That's a bright idea, Mildred. All the cousins are old
enough now to spend the evening, and we can have a lovely time together.
You arrange the play, and I'll get up the supper for you."
"No, indeed, Mother Blair! We three juniors will get it--that's part of
the fun. And don't you think it would be nice to have it in here on the
big library table? We could bring the things in on trays and then just
help ourselves."
"That's another bright idea! Of course it would be delightful to have it
in here. Then afterwards we could have a wood fire in the grate and sit
around it to tell stories, and have games, and charades, and sing some
songs together, and be just as thankful as possible. What shall we have
for supper? I fancy we shall not want anything very heavy after our
dinner."
"No, of course not; but it can be something awfully good. Cold turkey to
begin with, and something hot to go with it, and--and what else, Mother
Blair?"
"Oh, cranberry jelly, and perhaps a salad, and then something sweet to
finish with. Do you think that would do?"
"Yes, and some kind of a hot drink, I suppose; coffee for Father and
Uncle and Aunt Mary and you, and cocoa for the rest of us; only I'm so
tired of cocoa, I don't believe I could drink a drop."
"We certainly have had it pretty often for lunch lately; I've noticed it
myself and meant to speak to Norah about it. I think I can find
something else for all of us which you will like better--something
especially meant for Thanksgiving."
"What the Pilgrim Fathers had for their Thanksgiving dinner, I suppose,"
laughed Mildred. "I'm sure it will be good, too, and we'll love it."
School closed the day before Thanksgiving, and that afternoon Mildred
and Brownie began to be thankful, because there would be no more lessons
till Monday. They put their books away, planned the funny little play
they were going to have the next evening, and got together everything
they would need for that; then they said it was time to think about the
supper in the library.
"We will wait till Norah has gone out and the kitchen is all in order,"
said Mildred. "Then we can get out the things we want to carry into the
other room, and put them on two trays; Jack and Cousin Fred can carry
them when we are ready. Plates, and knives, and forks, and glasses, and
napkins; and the platter of turkey--"
"And salt," said Brownie, "and bread, and butter."
"Yes; and cranberry jelly. Then we will make the hot things and bring
them in afterward."
"What shall we make to-day, Mildred?"
"I wonder if Norah has made the cranberry jelly for dinner yet; if she
hasn't, you and I might make that now, and divide it and put part away
for the supper. And we can make the dessert, or whatever Mother thinks
we had better have. The salad we shall have to make to-morrow."
Norah was that very minute preparing to make the cranberry jelly, but
she said she was in a hurry, and the girls could make it if they would
promise not to get in her way. They got the receipt from their mother,
and began in a corner as far off from Norah as they could get.
CRANBERRY JELLY
1 quart of cranberries. Pick them over and wash them, then chop
them a little.
1-1/2 cups of cold water.
2 cups of sugar.
Boil five minutes; rub while hot through a sieve, and pour into a
pretty mold.
This rule, of course, had to be doubled for two molds. They found it was
not very easy to get the cranberries through the sieve; by talking
turns, however, they were slowly squeezing them through when Norah came
to their aid and gave them the wooden potato-masher to use instead of
the spoon they were working with. The molds were set away to get hard,
and then they asked their mother for something else to do.
"I've been thinking," she said, "that we ought to have for supper
something the men would like very much; they will have had turkey once
already, and perhaps they will be tired of it. Would you like scalloped
oysters?"
"Mother, we'd perfectly love them!" exclaimed Mildred. "But do you think
we could make them? I always thought they were very hard to make."
"My dear, they are the easiest thing in the world. To save time, you may
copy the rule now, and then to-morrow, when everybody is here, I will
not have to stop visiting and explain it."
SCALLOPED OYSTERS
1 quart of oysters.
2 packages of crackers, or as many loose ones--about half a pound.
Roll fine.
Salt, pepper, and butter.
1 small cup of milk.
Drain the oysters and examine each one carefully to see that it is
free from shell; strain and measure the juice; add to it an equal
quantity of milk. Butter a deep baking-dish and put in a layer of
crumbs, and cover these with a layer of oysters; sprinkle with
salt and pepper and dot with butter; put on another layer of
crumbs, then one of oysters, season, and so on till the dish is
full, with a layer of crumbs on top; cover with small bits of
butter; pour on the oyster juice and milk, and bake about half an
hour, or till brown. Serve at once--it must not stand.
"Sometimes, instead of baking these in one large dish, I fill little
brown baking-dishes in just the same way; only, of course, I do not bake
these so long--only ten or fifteen minutes. And sometimes for a lunch
party, I get from the fish-market very large oyster, or clam, or scallop
shells, and fill those instead of the little dishes, and they are very
pretty."
"Mother Blair, those would be sweet--simply sweet! I think I'll give a
luncheon and have them."
"Do, Mildred, and I'll help," said Brownie, unselfishly.
"Or you can have a luncheon and _I'll_ help!" Mildred replied. "And now
what else can we do to-day, Mother? Make some sort of dessert?"
"Yes, I think so; try this; it's simple and very nice."
CHOCOLATE CREAM
1 pint of milk.
4 tablespoonfuls of sugar.
2 squares of unsweetened chocolate.
1 tablespoonful of cornstarch.
1 pinch of salt.
1/2 teaspoonful of vanilla.
1/2 pint of thick, sweet cream. (Or this may be omitted.)
Put the milk in a saucepan after taking out a small half-cupful
and mixing it with the cornstarch; put in the sugar and salt.
Scrape the chocolate (the squares are those marked on the large
cake) and put this in next. When it steams and the chocolate is
melted and looks brown and smooth, stir up the cornstarch and put
it in, stirring till smooth. Cool, add the vanilla, and pour into
glasses. Just before serving put a spoonful of whipped cream on
top of each glass.
"I do love that," said Brownie, as she wrote down the last word. "When I
eat it, I always think I'm eating melted chocolate creams."
"So do I!" laughed Mildred. "Perhaps Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary won't eat
their creams to-morrow night, and then you and I can have them for lunch
the next day, Brownie."
"They'll surely eat them!" sighed Brownie. "They're too good to leave."
When these were made and safely put away, all but the creamy tops, which
were to go on just before supper the next day, Jack came strolling in.
"Smells awfully good!" he said. "Turkey, and onions, and mince-pies, and
spicy things. Got any cooking for a boy to do--proper cooking, I mean?"
"I've just thought of something," his mother said quickly, "and I need
you to do it right away. The girls are getting up a supper for
Thanksgiving night, and they really ought to have some cake to eat with
the dessert they have just been making."
"Cake!" ejaculated Jack. "I draw the line at cake, Mother Blair; making
cake is not a man's job."
"Not cake, Jack,--only something to go in cake. I want you to crack some
nuts and pick them out for the girls. Here is what they are going to
make now."
NUT CAKES
2 eggs.
1 cup of light brown sugar.
1 cup of nut meats, chopped fine.
2 tablespoonfuls of sifted flour.
1/4 teaspoonful of salt.
Beat the eggs without separating them, and stir in the sugar,
flour, and salt. Add the nuts last, and spread the whole in a thin
layer on a well-greased tin; bake ten minutes, or till the top is
brown. Cut into squares and take quickly from the tin; lay on a
platter till cold.
Jack thought he could crack and even pick out nuts without injuring his
dignity, so he went to work on a panful of pecans, and, by the time
Mildred and Brownie were ready to chop them, they were all ready and
waiting. Before long the little cakes were in the oven and out again,
crisp and hot; almost too good to be saved, the girls thought, and so
did Jack. But they knew there would not be time to-morrow to make any
others, so they had to keep these, and when they were cold, shut them up
in the cake-box.
"Now I think you have cooked enough for to-day," said their mother,
after she had tasted one small crumb of their cakes and pronounced them
perfect.
"But, Mother, what about the salad?" asked Brownie.
"Oh, do you really think we need salad with all these good things?"
"Honestly, I don't think we need it at all," said Mildred; "but I do
think it would be nice to have it, because it's a party."
"Very well! But what can we have? Lettuce, and tomatoes, and other fresh
vegetables are really out of season, or, at any rate, we cannot get them
in this town; and yet we ought to have a green salad, because, of
course, nobody could possibly eat chicken or lobster salad after a
Thanksgiving dinner."
"I could!" called Jack, from the next room; but nobody paid any
attention.
"Well, here is an idea--string-bean salad. That is very easy to make,
and very good, too, and we can make it out of canned beans and nobody
will know it. I will tell you how to make it now, because I'll be so
busy to-morrow, and then, in the afternoon, you can get it ready
quickly."
STRING-BEAN SALAD
1 pint of string beans, cooked and cold.
2 hard-boiled eggs.
A little lettuce, if you have it.
French dressing.
Drain the beans well and sprinkle them with a little salt and
pepper. If they are canned, let them lie on a platter for at
least an hour. Arrange them on a few white lettuce leaves on
plates, or omit the lettuce and use a few yellow celery leaves;
put two strips of hard-boiled egg on the plate, one on each side
of the beans, and, just before serving, pour a little French
dressing over all. This salad must be very cold.
"Now, certainly, that is all," said Mother Blair, as they wrote this
down, "and I'm sure nobody will go home hungry after such a supper as
that!"
"And what hot drink are you going to have, Mother?"
"Oh, I almost forgot that. I planned something which is especially
Thanksgivingy, too. It is really and truly what the Pilgrim Fathers are
supposed to have made for Thanksgiving Day out of wild grapes; but I am
sure they had no lemons or spices, so it could not have been quite as
good as this. We will have this with the turkey and oysters for the
supper, and no coffee or cocoa."
MULLED GRAPE-JUICE
1 quart of bottled grape-juice.
1 pint of water.
1 cup of sugar.
2 lemons.
2 sticks of cinnamon.
1 dozen cloves.
Put the spices in a piece of thin cloth and tie this up like a
bag; put it in a saucepan with the grape-juice, sugar, and water,
and let it slowly heat till it steams; stir well and let it stand
on the back of the fire for ten minutes. Add the juice of the
lemons and the thin yellow rind of one (you can peel this off in a
strip and drop it in); bring it all to the boiling-point, take out
the lemon-peel, taste it, and, if not sweet enough, add more
sugar. Serve very hot.
The next evening, just as it grew dark, Mildred and Jack hung a sheet
before the double doors of the library, and they, with some of the
cousins, gave a funny shadow-play, "Young Lochinvar," with a
rocking-horse for the "steed," and a clothes-basket for a boat, and
their father read the poem as they acted it. When everybody had stopped
laughing at it, the junior Blairs brought in the supper (the oysters had
been quietly cooking while they played), and arranged it on the library
table. Everything was hot and delicious, or cold and delicious, and the
mulled grape-juice was almost the best of all. After everything had been
eaten up, they all gathered around the fire and told stories. At last,
when the visitors had gone and bedtime had come for the Blairs, Mildred
said impressively:
"Now _that_ was what I call a Thanksgiving Day without a flaw!"