_What to Eat_
_How to Serve it_
BY
CHRISTINE TERHUNE HERRICK
AUTHOR OF "HOUSEKEEPING MADE EASY"
"CRADLE AND NURSERY" ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1891
Copyright, 1891, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE DINING-ROOM 1
AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 16
MORE ABOUT BREAKFAST 24
THE INVALID'S BREAKFAST 32
A BREAKFAST-PARTY 40
FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR SPRING 48
FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR SUMMER 58
FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR AUTUMN 68
FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR WINTER 77
AT LUNCHEON 88
A SMALL LUNCHEON 96
A LARGE LUNCHEON 104
A STANDING LUNCH 112
THE LUNCH BASKET 120
FAMILY LUNCHES FOR SPRING 128
FAMILY LUNCHES FOR SUMMER 137
FAMILY LUNCHES FOR AUTUMN 147
FAMILY LUNCHES FOR WINTER 157
DINNER AT NIGHT 165
DINNER AT NOON 173
THE SUNDAY DINNER 181
THE SMALL DINNER-PARTY 188
A LARGE DINNER 196
FAMILY DINNERS FOR SPRING 204
FAMILY DINNERS FOR SUMMER 213
FAMILY DINNERS FOR AUTUMN 221
FAMILY DINNERS FOR WINTER 230
WHAT SHALL WE EAT? 239
THE CHILDREN'S TABLE 247
THE FAMILY TEA 255
AFTERNOON TEA 263
HIGH TEA 271
SOME HINTS ABOUT SUPPER 279
CHINA AND GLASS 288
LINEN AND SILVER 296
INDEX 305
_WHAT TO EAT_
_HOW TO SERVE IT_
THE DINING-ROOM
The apartment in which the members of a family assemble three times a
day for meals must be pleasant. There is a chance to escape from any
other part of the house. The business man rarely sees his drawing-room
until after the shades are drawn and the lamps lighted. The wife and
mother divides her time between nursery, sewing-room, and kitchen,
while school-children are out of the house nearly as much as they are
in it—at least during their waking hours. But no matter how widely the
little flock may be scattered by their different employments, always
twice and often three times a day they are all together in this common
rallying-place of the home.
Only in the houses of the wealthy, or of those possessed of
exceptionally large dwellings, is there found a breakfast-room other
than that in which are eaten all the meals of the family. English
mansions frequently possess both a family and a state dining-room, and
the same custom prevails in some of the private palaces of our own
millionaires; but in the average American home one room must do duty
for every repast, whether simple or superb; and in our large cities
this apartment is too likely, alas! to be situated in the basement.
The immeasurable superiority of a dining-room built above-ground over
one even partially beneath it hardly needs demonstration—it is more
cheerful, more airy, and as a consequence more healthful, better
lighted, of finer proportions, and more susceptible of effective
decoration and furnishing—the advantages might be continued _ad
infinitum_. No one who has ever had the pleasure of using an up-stairs
dining-room can contentedly descend to one below the level of the
street. Apart from every other consideration, such rooms are very
liable to be damp. It is not uncommon to have carpets grow musty and
mouldy on their floors, or to find a perceptible dampness on their
walls. These faults may be to some extent remedied by a layer of
thick felt paper under the carpet, and by good fires and constant and
thorough ventilation.
A few housekeepers express their preference for basement dining-rooms
because of the nearness of these to the kitchen, and the work saved
thereby. This is an important consideration in houses where but one
maid is kept. Her work as cook and waitress is almost doubled when she
has to run up-stairs to remove the dishes from the dumb-waiter, and
then fly back to her kitchen between the intervals of waiting on the
table. In the country and in country towns it is the rule rather than
the exception to find the kitchen in the L, or as an extension, and on
the same floor with the dining-room and parlor, but in the majority of
city houses the apartment in which the family gathers at meal-times
is a little below ground. When this is the case, and when there is no
possibility of converting the back parlor up-stairs into a dining-room
by introducing a dumb-waiter and pantry, or when expediency or want
of space precludes such a change, the best must be made of existing
circumstances, and the efforts redoubled to render the despised
basement as pleasant as possible.
The wall-paper must never be dark in a room like this, which at the
best of times is never too light. Choose instead a creamy ground well
covered with some small figure, or, better still, an ingrain paper
of a solid color—a soft gray, a pale green, a cream, or one of those
indescribable neutral tints that make good backgrounds, and furnish
well but not obtrusively.
Unless the room is wainscoted with wood, a very pretty and inexpensive
substitute can be made of India matting, secured at the top by a narrow
band of wood moulding. The matting can be washed off with salt and
water whenever it needs cleansing. An excellent plan is that of having
the walls done in hard finish, and then painting this. The surface can
then be scoured as often as it becomes stained or specked, and will
always look neat and fresh. An additional coat of paint can be put on
when the first becomes worn or faded.
In a rented house the tenants must, of course, take what they can get,
and in many cases the landlord is unwilling to make changes. Still,
pretty pictures, draperies, neat furniture, and a well-set table will
do wonders, even for a room that appears unpromising at the outset.
It never pays to purchase an expensive carpet for the ordinary
dining-room. Something durable should be selected, like an ingrain of
a mixed color, or with a minute, closely-set figure. Better still is a
rug, an art square, or a Smyrna rug, neither of which is high-priced,
while either is satisfactory both in appearance and in wearing
qualities.
The floor should be stained or painted, for a distance of from two to
three feet from the wall all around the room, in a neat dark color.
Borders of wood-carpeting are handsome and last a long time, but are
costly, and one does not often find hard-wood floors in a rented house.
The rug may be either laid loosely or tacked down around the edges.
The draperies in a dining-room should not be heavy. Not only do such
darken the room, but they catch and retain the odors of food, and hold
constantly in their folds depressing reminders of former feasts. Scrim,
lace, or light Madras or China silk, decorates the room and softens
outlines without impeding the entrance of light or air. Shades are
essential, and so should be also window-screens from the appearance of
the first fly in the spring until the last one has vanished in the fall.
An open fireplace in a dining-room is unsurpassed for cheer and comfort
there, as it is everywhere. A screen should always be in readiness to
temper the glow and glare while the family are at meals. The chimney is
a potent aid to ventilation, and helps to disperse those odors that
will collect in the best-ventilated _salles à manger_, and which are so
appetizing before meals and so unpleasant afterwards.
Basement dining-rooms are seldom too cold. If they are heated by a
register or a stove, or even by a coal fire in the grate, the constant
struggle of the housekeeper is to prevent their becoming uncomfortably
warm. Vicinity to the kitchen has much to do with this, and is in
summer-time a serious draw-back to comfort. An equable temperature must
be striven for by frequent airing at all seasons, and during the heated
term by shading the windows, and by keeping, as much as possible, the
doors shut that communicate with the kitchen. One advantage at least
is possessed by the basement dining-room in summer. In common with the
cellar, or with any other partially subterranean chamber, it is cooler
than one that is above ground and thus unprotected from the hot air
without.
The best method of artificially lighting a dining-room is hard to
decide. Nothing is prettier or pleasanter than candle-light, and it is
preferable to gas or lamps in that it does not heat a room perceptibly.
But candles are expensive, if enough are used to produce a respectable
illumination, and nothing is more dismal than eating by a dim light.
Good candles are costly, and cheap ones not only give a poor light, but
drip and smoke and smell, and are otherwise intolerable. A new style of
candle has recently been introduced which is pierced through its length
with three holes. These tiny pipes are supposed to carry off the melted
wax, and their advocates claim that these candles will not drip on the
outside.
Except on state occasions, candles are barred out for people of
moderate means, and they must have recourse to lamps or gas. The light
should always be suspended above the table, except, of course, where
candles and candelabra or a tall-stemmed lamp are used. A side-light
does not serve the purpose of a central one, for some one must always
sit with his back towards it, and his plate is thus in a perpetual
eclipse. Pretty hanging lamps come at all prices, but it never pays to
get a cheap one. It may do very well for a time, but before long the
burner will be out of order; the machinery by which the wick is turned
up or down will prove refractory, and repairs will do little good. The
only efficient way of mending a poor lamp is by buying a new one.
Among the best-known makes of lamps there is one with a powerful burner
which gives a clear, steady flame, equal to two or three ordinary
gas-jets. The only draw-back connected with it is the intense heat it
radiates, which makes it objectionable in summer. Such a lamp costs
about seven dollars, is furnished with a large ground-glass shade, and
supplied with fixtures and a chain, by means of which it may be raised
and lowered at pleasure.
Whichever is used, gas or kerosene, the glare should always be softened
by a shade of some kind. Globes of ground or colored glass may be
used on gas-burners, or, if they are of clear glass, the light may
be subdued by the Japanese half-shades, which can be slipped over
the lower half of the globe. A pretty fashion is that of fastening a
Japanese umbrella, stick upwards, under the chandelier, although this
darkens the table too much, unless there is a strong light above it.
If any member of the family suffers from weak eyes, and is distressed
by the light that is none too brilliant for the others, quaint
paper-screen shades, also of Japanese make, may be hung on the side
of the globe towards the sufferer. The long pliable wires attached to
these shades permit them to be twisted at almost any angle. Or the
fancy paper screens which imitate roses, pond-lilies, sunflowers, and
the like may be hung on the globes.
There has been a good deal of discussion among furnishers as to what
style of picture should be hung in a dining-room. One declares that
the stereotyped paintings and engravings of fruit, fish, and fowl are
the only appropriate works of art for this room; while another argues
that it is enough to see the food in its prepared condition upon the
table, without being forced to contemplate it in its natural state
upon the walls. The wise course to follow seems to lie between the two.
Really pretty pictures of game birds or fish, or of fruit or flowers,
are undoubtedly in their place in a dining-room, but there is no reason
why every other kind of picture should be excluded. Pastoral or marine
scenes, _genre_ pictures, almost anything except family portraits,
may fitly be placed there. _Their_ place is in the library, the
sitting-room, or in the large hall, if there be one.
Nothing should hang in the dining-room that is not good of its kind.
A cheap chromo, a poorly executed drawing or water-color, or an
indifferent photograph annoys beyond words the unfortunate wight who
has to sit opposite it for an hour or two each day.
The furniture of a dining-room should be durable, even if its owners
cannot afford to have it very handsome. Cheap chairs and table are
out of place here. Even those who cannot afford leather-upholstered
chairs and a heavy mahogany or black-walnut or oak dining-table may
get solid, durable substitutes. Cane seats for the chairs, and an
unpolished top for the table, are better than showy—and cheap—elegance.
A square table generally allows more space to those seated about it
than does a round one. Almost any amount of money may be expended upon
a sideboard, but a good one may be purchased at no great outlay. In
addition to this, if space permits, there should be a table, with a
shelf or two above it, to serve as a dinner-wagon. This is almost a
necessity when the vegetables are passed instead of being placed on the
table, and it is also useful for holding relays of clean plates, etc.
The amount of furniture that is useful and appropriate in a dining-room
is of necessity limited. Besides the articles already named, there may
be a china press or cabinet, an easy-chair or two, or even a sofa. The
last is a boon to an invalid or convalescent, who grows weary of a long
_séance_ in a high, straight-backed chair. The couch may be forced to
serve a double purpose by being made in the form of a long box, broad
and low, covered with cretonne, denim, or any other durable material,
and provided with a hair mattress on the top. When two or three square
pillows are added to this, behold a comfortable divan, that will at
the same time be a receptacle for the table-linen. Some such coffer as
this is almost a must-have in a dining-room, unless the china closet is
provided with drawers.
A wall cabinet for choice pieces of china is a pretty ornament for a
dining-room, and so is an over-mantel. The latter may consist of two,
three, or more shelves, and should be solid at the back, as small hooks
may then be screwed in, upon which to hang tea or coffee cups. These
shelves may extend the full length of the mantel, or occupy only part
of the space. In any case they are excellent for displaying such pieces
of china as one may not wish to keep concealed in the depths of a china
closet. Nothing very delicate that will be injured by dust should stand
here.
A corner cupboard adds to the beauty of a room, and may either be
bought ready-made, or built to fit some especial corner. The lower
part of the cupboard may have a solid wooden door, while glass doors
for the upper part permit a view of the glass or silver stored there.
Blessed is that woman whose house contains a butler's pantry. Too often
the fine china and glass must either be washed in the kitchen, or else
in a dish-pan brought into the dining-room. When a pantry is lacking,
there should be a butler's tray to hold the solid dishes. Such a tray
may be closed, and put out of the way when not in use. A folding screen
covered with Japanese pictures, with wall-paper, or with some textile
fabric, may conceal the door to the pantry, or the slide by which
dishes enter the dining-room, or may cut off the corner in which stands
the butler's tray.
To the woman of quick wit and ready fingers countless are the
opportunities provided for beautifying her dining-room. She may drape
her mantel and conceal the ugly marble, using for this stamped Madras,
or silkolene, both of which are pretty and cheap; she may make covers
for her sideboard, rich with drawn-work and embroidery; she may set
a box of growing plants in the window, and tend them, so that she may
always have a vase of fresh blossoms or of green sprays for the centre
of the table; and she may expend boundless energy in the manufacture of
doilies, tray-cloths, and the thousand and one dainty pieces of linen
dear to the housewife's soul.
AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE
Everything in reason should be done to make the breakfast a tolerably
pleasant meal. Very cheerful or jovial it seldom is. The father is in
a hurry to get to his office or business, and usually buries himself
in the morning paper; the children are burdened with the thought of
approaching school duties; the mother is silently mapping out the line
of her day's operations, and is disinclined to conversation. Add to
this that all are apt to be more or less dominated by the physical
depression of tone and passive discomfort so well known that one
judge is fabled to have refused to ordain capital punishment for a
man convicted of having committed a murder before breakfast. Until
after that meal, even the best-tempered are prone to petulance, while
those of a taciturn nature are quiet to the verge of what _looks_ like
sullenness.
Here, as everywhere, upon the mother devolves the burden of the family
well-being. If her face is cast down and gloomy, its reflection is seen
in the countenances of all those about her; while if she is bright and
sunny, there is a perceptible rise in the spiritual thermometer. Only
by making a positive duty of cheerfulness is it practicable sometimes
for the mother to conquer the weariness and languor, the aching head,
and the loathing for food, that are so frequently a woman's morning
portion. The discomfort the other members of the family know is
increased tenfold in her case if a restless child, an ailing baby, or
worry over financial or domestic matters has robbed her of part of her
night's sleep.
A good deal may be done to create an atmosphere of pleasantness by due
attention to the condition of the room. Unless it has been left in
spotless order the preceding evening, either the maid or one of the
family must bestow some attention upon it beyond putting the breakfast
on the table. No crumbs from the last repast should disfigure the
carpet; no dust of yesterday's raising should be thick upon the
furniture. The windows should have been open long enough to change the
air of the room; then, in cold weather, been closed a sufficient length
of time before the entrance of the family to allow the atmosphere to
become comfortably warmed. The vase of flowers or the growing plant
that ought to grace the centre of every table should have a drink of
fresh water, and be ready to do its part in brightening the board.
The table should be carefully set, the food well cooked, and promptly
served. And, above all, there should be a sincere and conscientious
endeavor on the part of each member of the household to sink his own
disagreeable feelings, and to do all in his power to contribute his
share towards the sum total of the family cheerfulness. Conversation
on pleasant topics should be encouraged, and the items of morning news
distributed to all, not monopolized by the one in possession of the
paper.
No amount of accustomedness should ever induce the mistress of the
house to condone carelessness on the plea that there is no one present
but the family. Just because it _is_ "only home folks," everything
should be at its brightest. There is no necessity for urging the parade
of pretty china, the preparation of tempting dishes, when an honored
guest is to be served. Should not even more pains be taken to have
everything attractive and appetizing when those are to be fed who have
not the charm of novelty to act as sauce, and to whom the ordinary
methods of cookery may seem stale and hackneyed?
The table should always appear at its best at breakfast-time. A colored
cloth is economical as well as pretty, for it does not show every spot
or splash with the readiness of a white cloth. There is a large variety
of these table coverings from which the housekeeper may make her
selections, ranging in beauty and price from the plain, comparatively
cheap red cloth with light figures to the exquisite pieces of fine
damask, gorgeous with embroidery, and with a lace-like border of
drawn-work. For common daily use, the judicious choice will probably
lie somewhere between these, either in a buff, a buff and scarlet, a
buff and blue, or one of the beautiful Holbein cloths that come, with
the dozen napkins, at about eight dollars the set. The ground in these
is well covered, and they have the advantage of being nearly as pretty
on the wrong side as they are on the right. Another recommendation is
that they wear admirably, one at least within the writer's knowledge
having been in constant use for between four and five years without
showing a sign of old age, except in the thinning of the fringe, while
the body of the cloth remained without a break. The delicate tints of
the worked pattern will fade with frequent washing, so that blue and
pink would better be avoided, and the preference given to the scarlets
and buffs, which hold their own well.
The cloth is saved by the use of mats under dishes. Those of straw
or wicker-work are apt to become soiled and stained, and are not
readily cleansed. On the contrary, those which are knitted, netted,
or crocheted may be washed every week, if necessary. It is almost
impossible to find a waitress so careful that once in a while a dish
will not be brought to the table with a black rim on the bottom, or
wet or greasy with something spilled where it has been standing on the
kitchen-table. Wherever this touches, the cloth beneath is disfigured,
and it is better to protect it against such misadventures by the use
of mats in the first place than to be forced to conceal the blemishes
afterwards by "setting the table to humor the spots."
Worked and fringed doilies are pretty substitutes for mats, and when
there is a cover of felt on the table under the damask cloth—as there
should always be—they are thick enough to guard the varnished table-top
from injury from the hot dishes. A carving-cloth should be spread under
the meat-platter, and will generally by the close of the meal bear upon
its surface eloquent testimony to the service it has done in saving the
table-cloth.
While it is no sign of stinginess not to have one's best and most
fragile china for constant use, poor judgment is shown when only plain
heavy white ware is employed for the family when they are alone.
Decorated porcelain is cheap nowadays, and makes a table look extremely
pretty. Each one of the household should have his own especial oatmeal
set, either the bowl, plate, and pitcher, or one of the deep saucers
that come for this purpose in dark blue and white ware, with a plate
to match, while the cream or milk may be held for common use in one
good-sized pitcher, to be served by the mother, or passed to each, as
may seem best. Every tea or coffee drinker should have his own cup and
saucer, and in his imagination his favorite beverage will taste better
from that cup than from any other.
There is little chance to make mistakes in setting the breakfast-table.
The hostess has the tray before her, and serves the tea, coffee,
or chocolate. At the other end of the table is the principal dish,
presided over generally by the master of the house, while biscuit,
bread, muffins, or griddle-cakes and potatoes have their posts at the
sides. An oatmeal set stands at each place, accompanied by the knife,
fork, and spoon, tumbler, napkin, butter-plate—unless the oatmeal
course is preceded by one of fruit, when fruit plates, with fruit
napkins and finger-bowls, should hold the first place.
With the fresh room, the bright cloth, the shining glass and silver,
the vase of flowers, the appetizing food, one must be either very
dyspeptic or a confirmed pessimist who does not feel a slight rise of
spirits as he takes his place at the breakfast-table.
MORE ABOUT BREAKFAST
In the majority of the homes where fruit is served for breakfast
it appears as a first course. Countless are the headaches to which
this custom has given rise among those whose stomachs resent the
introduction of the acid as the earliest nourishment of the day. The
choice should always be given each eater between beginning with fruit
or reserving it as a final course. When it is served last it acts as a
pleasant neutralizer of the solid or possibly greasy food that has been
already consumed, and sends one from the table with what children call
"a good taste" in the mouth.
The habit of eating some cereal for breakfast is happily becoming
almost universal. There are comparatively few households in which
porridge of one sort or another does not appear on the breakfast-table,
and it is usually relished by both children and elders. It need
not be always of oatmeal. There are numerous varieties of cereals
in the market at present, and an occasional change will prevent any
one's wearying of the wholesome dish. With cracked wheat, cerealine,
wheat-germ meal, wheatena, wheat, oat, and Graham flakes, corn-meal
mush, hominy boiled plain, hominy boiled in milk, and a number of
others to choose from, there is no reason why any one should have
occasion to complain of monotony. Cream adds greatly to the toothsome
qualities of any one of these preparations, and may usually, even in
the city, be procured in sufficient quantities to allow a modicum for
each of the elders. The healthy appetites of the children rarely need
this encouragement.
The tea should always be made on the table when it is possible, as by
this means there need be no doubt that the water used in its concoction
is actually boiling. The "loud-hissing urn" is a decided addition to
the beauty and brightness of the table, especially when the "urn" is
in the form of a pretty brass or copper kettle, swinging from one
of the tall cranes known as a "five-o'clock tea." Some people prefer
making the coffee on the table too, and this is possible when a Vienna
coffee-pot or a French drip coffee-pot is used. The only trouble is
that the coffee in the latter pot is apt to cool before it has stood
long enough to extract the full strength of the berry.
The tea-cozy should never be lacking, and it is not a bad plan to have
a similar wadded cap with which to cover the coffee-pot. One of the
prettiest and best kinds of tea-cozy is the covered Japanese basket
with a thick stuffed lining, in which the china teapot is set. These
are not costly, and will outwear the ordinary cozy made of silk,
woollen, or chamois-skin. When the lining of the basket is worn out, it
may easily be renewed.
The substantial part of our American breakfast is not marked by
much variety. At nearly all of them will be found the steak, chops,
or cutlets, varied once in a while by fish, a hash, or a stew,
semi-occasionally by a dish of eggs. Potatoes in some form—stewed,
baked, boiled, or fried—are in order, and these are flanked by a plate
of hot biscuit or muffins, or oftenest by successive instalments of
griddle-cakes.
There is no use in adding further to the diatribes that have been
written and spoken against the American breakfast. Such as it is, it
appears to be here to stay, and it is a waste of time, breath, and
energy to attempt a radical reform. All one can hope to do is possibly
to modify it, and lighten its sameness by suggesting dishes that may
please the palate and not impair the digestion. The adoption of the
Continental breakfast has been vainly urged, and it is an open question
whether or not the habit ever survives transportation. The American
climate and mode of life differ so much from those of the Continent
that other fashions must be followed here than those which prevail
there. Many families, who during a long foreign residence have found
quite sufficient for their matutinal meal the coffee or chocolate,
the rolls and butter, possibly supplemented by fresh eggs or a little
marmalade, have conscientiously endeavored to pursue the same custom
upon their return to this country. In not a single case within the
writer's cognizance has the attempt proved other than a failure,
recognized as such at the end of a few months. _Autre pays, autres
mœurs._
While the children are still young, the entire family usually
breakfasts together. The obligation upon the younger members of
reaching their schools at a given hour forces them to be on time,
although there are homes in which the wretched practice is observed
of permitting the school boys and girls to rush in at the last moment
and gulp down a few mouthfuls, hurrying off to their recitations after
having thus successfully sown the seeds of future dyspepsia. As the
sons and daughters grow into manhood and womanhood, they drift more
and more into unpunctual habits. The breakfast-table is left standing
well on into the middle of the morning, and sundry _plats_ are kept
hot in the oven for Mr. Jack or Miss Mamie, who has been out late the
night before. Often the demands of business require the young man to be
down in season, but there are no such claims obliging his sister to
quit her couch at a—to her—unseasonable hour. As a consequence, what
should be one of the family gathering-places becomes little better
than a hotel breakfast-room, where the guests come and go as suits
themselves. Besides all other considerations, the work of the servants
is increased, and their own duties are crowded out by the necessity of
being in readiness to serve these tardy ones.
At the first glance it may seem harsh to exact the prompt appearance at
the breakfast-table of the girl who has danced until after one o'clock
in the morning, and whose head has not touched her pillow until an
hour or two later. But the habit of self-indulgence fostered by such
concessions, does the girl no good. Is it any harder for her to rise
betimes than it is for the weary mother, whose domestic cares forbid
her lying in bed? Does not this indolence to a certain degree unfit the
daughter for the duties that will devolve upon her when she in turn
becomes a wife and mother?
One sensible matron, who still held the reins of family government
as firmly when her children were grown as when they were first
short-coated, always insisted on promptness at the breakfast-table.
"Human beings are gregarious," she would say, "and they should eat
together. If you are tired and sleepy, take a nap later in the day, but
be on hand at breakfast-time."
Of course there may be exceptions to this rule, and here the maternal
judgment must appear. More privileges can be allowed to the delicate,
nervous girl, than to the strong, robust one; but then the former
should avoid late hours and dissipation. An occasional morning nap does
no harm; but there is little rhyme or reason in permitting the young,
healthy members of the family to be the lie-abeds.
Without encouraging any disposition to "finicalness" concerning food,
special attention should be paid to individual preferences in catering
for the family breakfast. Children are apt to take whims, and these
should not be fostered; but when either a child or an older person
has a decided distaste for some article of food, he cannot be forced
into a fondness for it. Better is it to humor his idiosyncrasies by
preparing something that he will eat. In a private family it may be
out of the question to cook a separate breakfast for each one, but a
little forethought will enable the housekeeper to so arrange her _menu_
that every one will have at least one dish to his or her taste. This is
not a difficult matter, unless there is the unusual combination of a
large family and very distinct preferences. Generally there is so much
in common that trifling varieties in the bill of fare will accommodate
each person.
THE INVALID'S BREAKFAST
For the invalid there is often no possibility of the slight stimulus
to appetite produced by the change of air from one room to another.
Breakfast, the hardest meal of the day to many well people, is doubly
difficult to one who must eat it in the same room where she has spent
the night—perhaps many nights—of feverish restlessness, that has given
her a detestation of the bed, the bedroom, and everything connected
therewith, chiefest of all being the disgust with herself, the weary,
distraught being with aching limbs, heavy head, and ill-tasting mouth.
When feasible, the invalid should be taken from bed to eat her regular
breakfast, previously strengthening her by a cup of beef-tea, of
chicken or oyster broth, or a glass of hot milk, or of hot milk and
seltzer. First of all, however, the face and hands should be sponged
off in tepid water and dried quickly, and the mouth well rinsed out.
Then, refreshed and stimulated by this and the warm draught, a little
more elaborate toilet may be made, always allowing a few moments for
the settling of the stomach after the food before the dressing begins.
A more thorough bathing, a combing of the hair, a change of linen, the
slipping on of a warm dressing-gown, and the moving to another couch or
an easy-chair will not be a prolonged piece of work if the attendant is
quick and deft, and has everything in readiness for bath and toilet.
A great advantage is gained when the invalid can be wheeled or
supported into another room, and have a completely changed air and
scene in which to take her meal. But when this is impracticable the
room should be well aired before the patient is taken out of bed, and
as soon as she is established on her couch or in her chair, and this
placed as far as possible from the bed, the covers of this should be
stripped off and carried from the room. Every piece of cast-off linen,
every receptacle containing soiled water, everything that recalls
the fact that this is a sleeping-room and that can be removed, should
be banished. A screen should be set between the patient and the bed,
and if the chamber still seems close, she should be bundled up while
another draught of fresh, pure air is allowed to rush into the room.
After all this, when a table bearing an attractive breakfast is moved
to the invalid's elbow, she is usually quite ready to partake of it.
In many cases it is out of the question for the patient to leave
her bed, and then the coaxing of the appetite is a more difficult
task. The very fact of being in bed seems to render eating almost an
impossibility to some people. The woman who complained petulantly that
everything she ate in bed tasted of the blanket and pillows, only
voiced the sentiments of a multitude of her sisters. Among some women,
breakfast in bed is esteemed a luxury; but it is one thing to take it
there from choice, and quite another to be forced to do so by weakness
or ill-health. Still, with due care, it may be made less distasteful
than would seem practicable at the first glance.
The preliminary sponging, mouth-washing, and hot drink should take
place in this as in the other case. Then, after a brief rest, during
which the windows should have been opened for a few minutes, and closed
long enough to allow the room to regain a comfortable temperature,
the task of rearranging the bed and its occupant should be begun.
Clean linen and pillows should be at hand, and the patient be sponged
off, have her hair combed, be arrayed in another night-dress, moved
to the other side of the bed, and provided with a fresh pillow, as
expeditiously yet gently as may be. Then, when the soiled clothing has
been removed, the room been once more aired and warmed, the patient
may be raised on pillows and her breakfast brought to her. There is an
admirable little table which may be arranged above the patient's knees,
and is a great comfort to any one compelled to take her meals in bed
for any length of time.
Nothing should be left untried to render the invalid's breakfast
tempting. The tray should be covered with a spotless cloth, the china,
silver, and glass should be of the best the house affords, and the same
napkin should never be offered a second time.
The tea or coffee cup and the egg-glass should be filled with boiling
water, that they may not cool what is put into them. A pretty little
pot should hold the tea or coffee, and there should be a tiny cream-jug
and sugar-bowl. A vase containing a few flowers, preferably those
without a heavy perfume, should grace the tray, and in the preparation
of the food every evidence should be given of the loving thoughtfulness
that has left unsought no means of lightening the discomfort of the
sufferer. Where there is no bed-table, there should be another tray,
smaller than that in which the breakfast is brought. This may then be
placed on a stand or chair beside the bed, while the other holds the
cup or plate upon the patient's lap. A large napkin or clean towel
should always protect the bedclothes from food that may possibly be
spilled upon them, for few things are more unpleasant to a sick
person, especially to one afflicted with a squeamish stomach, than the
sight of a spot of egg, coffee, or grease on sheet or spread. When
such an accident occurs, the stained article should always be promptly
exchanged for a fresh one.
The meal over, every vestige of food and every reminder of the repast
should be at once removed, the patient's face and hands again sponged
off, the pillows shaken and turned, and the invalid's position changed.
Should any odor of food remain, the room may once more be aired.
Peace and quiet must reign while the invalid eats. If visitors are
to be admitted it must not be at that time. Only one or possibly two
members of the family, and those the quietest ones, may be present, and
the conversation must be pleasant and cheery. No distressing topics
must be broached, no references except encouraging ones made to the
invalid's state of health. In the delicately balanced condition of
nerves which generally afflicts a sick person, very little will serve
to upset the equilibrium and to effectually banish appetite.
All that love's ingenuity can suggest should be done to provide a
variety of food for the invalid. After a little while she usually
tires of what impatient men, under similar circumstances, stigmatize
as "slops," and wearies for something more substantial and appetizing
than gruels, broths, and soft toast. In those cases where solid food
is forbidden by the physician, catering is more difficult, but often
a convalescent is permitted to eat a greater variety of food than
is offered her. Cream soups, clear soups, broiled birds, a bit of
tenderloin steak, a lamb chop, a tiny baked omelet, raw, stewed, and
roast oysters, broiled and fricasseed chicken, poached and soft-boiled
eggs, a bit of venison, dishes of rice, sago, and tapioca, jellies,
custards, blanc-manges, fruits, plain ice-cream—there is almost no end
to the dainty _menus_ that can be arranged. Every meal should be a
surprise; there should be no discussion in the invalid's presence of
what she can eat, although every reasonable wish she expresses for any
article of food should be gratified, if feasible. The sick one's lot
is hard enough at the best, and no expedient should be left untried to
ameliorate it.
A BREAKFAST-PARTY
Large breakfasts, or _déjeûners à la fourchette_, are not a very
common form of entertainment in this country, and yet they may be made
charming. Unlike luncheons, where there are usually only women present,
both men and women may be invited to a breakfast. The hour is usually
twelve, although it may be a little earlier or later. One o'clock is
the latest hour which it is advisable to set for a breakfast.
The number of guests invited is optional, but a small party, consisting
of from six to twelve, is pleasanter than a crush. Indeed, unless one
has an exceptionally spacious _salle à manger_, it is difficult to
accommodate comfortably more than a dozen guests, and an over-crowded
table is always unpleasant. The writer preserves a vivid memory of a
dinner she once attended where fourteen people were packed about a
table of the proper size for ten guests. There was hardly room for the
waiters to pass the dishes between the _convives_. Each one elbowed
his neighbor, and what might have been a delightful repast became a
struggle at close quarters with the difficulties of getting through the
courses without nudging his next companion, knocking over his glass, or
materially interfering with his eating.
At a ceremonious breakfast the table should be spread with a handsome
breakfast or lunch cloth, either of pure white, hem-stitched or adorned
with drawn-work, or one containing more or less color. If the table is
very handsome, the cloth may be left off. The floral ornamentation is
less formal than at a dinner. There may be a bowl of flowers in the
centre of the table, but quite as pretty as this are three or four
graceful vases scattered here and there, each holding a few choice
blossoms, and supplemented, if the table is large, by a few tiny globes
or little dishes filled with short-stemmed flowers that look well,
massed, like pansies, violets, primroses, etc., mixed with plenty
of delicate feathery green. If a central ornament for the table is
desired, there is nothing prettier than a wicker or metal basket filled
with growing ferns, grasses, or lycopodium, with possibly one or two
plants in bloom among them.
In setting the table for a large breakfast, a plate, napkin,
water-glass, and a butter-plate holding a tiny pat or ball of butter,
are laid at each place, and a salt-cellar also, if individual salts
are used. At the right of each plate is the silver butter-knife, and
one other knife; to the left is the fork. The taste of the hostess
must decide the point of placing more small silver than is needed at
each course by the plates when the table is first spread. Laying it
all at once saves waiting, but some good authorities ordain that a
waiter should bring in a fresh knife and fork with each course for
each guest, while others, equally reliable, advocate placing the knife
and fork upon a cold plate in front of each person at the beginning
of every course. The guest instantly removes them, and a hot plate is
substituted by the waiter for the cold one before the next dish is
passed. This system involves much additional waiting, and should not be
attempted unless an exceptionally well-trained butler is in charge.
The little dishes of bonbons, _marrons_, and _glacé_ fruits that
are always _en règle_ at a luncheon should not appear on the
breakfast-table. There may, however, be olives, radishes, and salted
almonds placed here and there.
The first course should consist of fruit. The plates, holding each its
doily, finger-bowl, fruit-knife, fork, and spoon, may be on the table
when the guests enter the room, or be put there as soon as they are
seated. The variety of fruit offered must be decided by the time of
year. When they are in season, nothing could be more delicious than big
strawberries, served uncapped. These may be passed in a dish, and each
guest allowed to help himself. Sugar into which to dip the berries may
then be served to each. Prettier still is it to place in front of each
guest a plate bearing a tiny decorated basket filled with the berries.
The sugar may be in tiny individual sugar-cellars or be passed in a
bowl. Unless the berries are fine large ones, it is better to serve
them hulled, and to eat them with sugar and cream. In that case they
are eaten from saucers.
Peaches, pears, apricots, nectarines, etc., in summer, and oranges,
apples, mandarins, bananas, and the like in winter, all add greatly to
the beauty of a breakfast-table when they are garnished with leaves
and heaped upon a large flat salver, or in a cut-glass bowl, or an
open-work one of china or silver.
After the fruit may come a course of oysters cooked _à la poulette_,
broiled, steamed, panned, or in croquettes. For these may be
substituted lobster or crab in some form, if preferred, or both the
oysters and the other may be served in successive courses. Next may
come some such _entrée_ as sweetbreads roasted, broiled, fricasseed, or
in _vol-au-vent_ with mushrooms, or chickens may be served in some such
dainty form as _pâtés_, _timbales_, _à la marengo_, or _au suprême_.
Next are chops, cutlets, or small beef tenderloins, with potatoes in
some fanciful style. There should be no other vegetable. French bread
or rolls must be passed frequently.
The next course may consist of a game pie, either cold or hot, or
of boned fowl, and may be followed by a salad. The name of these is
legion, but the plain lettuce salad is better reserved for dinner, and
in its stead at breakfast there may be served something like tomatoes
and lettuce with mayonnaise dressing, celery mayonnaise garnished with
radishes, and accompanied by crackers and cheese, or a fruit-salad of
oranges, grape fruit, or pineapple.
The dessert may be of any cold sweets, and if ices are used they
should be of the punch order—one of the many varieties known as Roman,
Siberian, creole, cardinal, etc. If crackers and cheese are not served
with the salad, they may be passed at the close of the breakfast. Brie,
Gorgonzola, or Roquefort may be used.
At a breakfast of ceremony the tea or coffee tray is never placed on
the table, but breakfast coffee or cocoa is served in large cups after
the fruit, and is passed by the butler, instead of being poured by the
hostess. Tea may also be offered. Wines are not strictly _selon les
règles_ at a breakfast, although occasionally claret is served about
the middle of the meal.
The waiting at such a breakfast as this is about as ceremonious as
it would be at a luncheon. No large dishes are placed on the table,
but everything is passed by the butler or waitress. Each dish may go
the rounds, and the guests be allowed to help themselves, or a plate
containing a portion may be placed by the butler in front of each
person. The guest always helps himself to cheese and _hors-d'œuvres_,
but the ices are served separately on plates. _Bouquets de corsage_,
_boutonnières_, cards and _menus_ are not necessary at a breakfast.
A wedding breakfast is conducted on much the same line as that
described above, except that there are usually fewer hot and more cold
dishes served, such as salmon, lobster, or chicken _à la mayonnaise_,
boned turkey and chicken, _pâté-de-foie-gras_, jellied tongue and
fowl, and a greater variety of such sweets as creams and jellies.
Wines, too, are quite _comme il faut_.
The giving of a breakfast need not be a matter of dread to the hostess
who has confidence in her cook and waitress. The _menu_ suggested
may be so modified or increased as to make it as simple or as
elaborate as preference may dictate. A breakfast is a pleasant style
of entertainment, for, while both sexes are admitted, as at dinner,
there is not the formality of dress essential at that meal, the men
appearing in morning coats, and the women in handsome high-necked and
long-sleeved house or calling costumes.
FAMILY BREAKFASTS FOR SPRING
While the principal features of the home breakfast remain essentially
the same throughout the year, variety is gained by adapting the
different articles of food to the season of the year in which they
are served. A lighter, less carbon-producing diet is not only more
agreeable, but more healthful, in warm weather than one containing much
animal food, while the latter is preferable and almost necessary in
winter. To this consideration is added the eminent propriety of making
one's bills of fare seasonable, and thus achieving fitness and economy.
With the desire to aid the housewife in her labors, a few selected
_menus_ for each meal and each season will be given, none of them too
costly to be beyond the reach of people of moderate means, and appended
to each bill of fare will be recipes for the preparation of certain
dishes therein mentioned which may possibly be unfamiliar to the
readers of these chapters.
1.
Oranges.
Cracked Wheat.
Parsley Omelet. Corn Muffins.
Buttered Potatoes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Parsley Omelet._—Five eggs, two tablespoonfuls milk, one tablespoonful
butter, one tablespoonful finely minced parsley; pepper and salt to
taste. Beat the whites and yolks of the eggs separately and very light;
add the milk to the yolks and stir in the whites, not mixing them in
thoroughly, however; season to taste. Pour into the omelet pan in which
the butter has been heated, and set over the fire in a moderately hot
spot. Keep the omelet from adhering to the pan by slipping a knife
between them from time to time. Just before the omelet is "set,"
sprinkle it thickly with the chopped parsley. When done, fold one half
over the other, slip to a hot dish, and serve at once, as it falls
quickly.
_Corn Muffins._—One and a half cups flour, one and a half cups yellow
corn-meal, three tablespoonfuls sugar, two tablespoonfuls butter, two
eggs, one and a half cupfuls milk, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder, half
teaspoonful salt. Sift the salt and baking-powder with the flour; beat
the eggs light; add the milk, the butter (melted), and the sugar. Stir
in the flour and meal; beat hard, and bake in muffin-tins.