Veal Croquettes. Stewed Potatoes.
Sour-milk Muffins.
Stewed Prunes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Veal Croquettes._—One cup cold veal, minced fine; tiny bit of onion,
scalded and chopped; half teaspoonful parsley; one cup milk, or half
milk, half soup stock; one tablespoonful flour; one tablespoonful
butter; pepper and salt to taste; one egg. Cook the butter and flour
together until they bubble; pour the milk or milk and stock on them,
and stir until they thicken. Remove from the fire, and pour upon the
beaten egg; then stir in the meat, seasoned with the onion, parsley,
pepper, and salt. Set this aside until cold enough to handle, then
form into croquettes between the floured hands. Roll in egg, and then
in fine cracker crumbs, and drop into boiling lard. They are better
prepared an hour before frying.
In making veal croquettes, oyster liquor may be used in place of the
stock, and a few oysters chopped with the veal will improve the flavor.
_Sour-milk Muffins._—One egg, two cups sour milk, half teaspoonful
salt, half teaspoonful soda dissolved in hot water; flour to make a
stiff batter. Beat hard, and bake quickly.
4.
Bananas.
Wheat Flakes.
Apples and Bacon. Loaf Corn Bread.
Saratoga Potatoes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Apples and Bacon._—Fry thin slices of bacon crisp in its own fat. Take
up the bacon and keep hot while you fry in the fat left in the pan
apples sliced across and cored, but not peeled. Arrange the apples in
the centre of the dish, the bacon around the sides.
_Loaf Corn Bread._—Two eggs, two cups milk, two cups corn meal, one
cup flour, one tablespoonful lard, one tablespoonful sugar, two
teaspoonfuls baking-powder, saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs light,
add the melted lard, the milk, the flour, and meal, sifted with the
baking-powder and salt, and beat very hard. Bake in a round tin, one
with a tube in the middle, if you have it.
5.
Grapes.
Cerealine.
Broiled Salt Mackerel _à la Maître d'Hôtel_.
Stewed Potatoes. Risen Muffins.
Tea. Cocoa.
_Broiled Salt Mackerel à la Maître d'Hôtel._—Soak the mackerel
overnight. In the morning wipe it dry, broil, lay on a hot dish, and
anoint plentifully with _maître d'hôtel_ butter, made by directions
given in the preceding chapter.
_Risen Muffins._—Two cups milk, two eggs, one tablespoonful lard, one
tablespoonful sugar, saltspoonful salt, half yeast cake dissolved in
a little warm water, flour enough for batter. Set a sponge of all the
ingredients except the eggs to rise overnight. In the morning beat
these light, add them to the batter, and bake the muffins in tins in a
quick oven.
6.
Wheat Germ-Meal Porridge.
Broiled Ham. Canned Pea Pancakes.
Buttered Toast.
Baked Apples.
Cocoa. Coffee.
_Canned Pea Pancakes._—One can of green pease, one egg, one cup milk,
two teaspoonfuls melted butter, half cupful flour, half teaspoonful
baking-powder, salt to taste. Open the can several hours before it is
to be used, and drain off the liquor. Rinse the pease in cold water.
Mash them with the back of a spoon, and mix with them the butter and
salt. Make a batter of the egg, the milk, and the flour, with the
baking-powder. Add the pease, beat well, and bake on a griddle.
7.
Tangerines.
Rice Porridge.
Moulded Eggs. Ham Toast.
Baked Potatoes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Moulded Eggs._—On the bottom of well-buttered patty-pans with straight
sides sprinkle finely minced parsley and a little pepper and salt.
Break an egg into each pan, set them in a large pan filled with boiling
water, and bake until set. Turn out on a flat dish, and pour a white
sauce over them.
_Ham Toast._—To every cupful of chopped cold boiled ham put a
half-teaspoonful of made mustard, as much butter, and a little
Worcestershire sauce. Trim the crust from slices of bread, toast and
butter them, and spread them with the chopped ham.
8.
Bananas.
Oatmeal.
Broiled Smoked Salmon. Breakfast Biscuit.
Savory Potatoes.
Cocoa. Coffee.
_Breakfast Biscuit._—Two cups milk, half cake yeast dissolved in warm
water, two teaspoonfuls white sugar, two tablespoonfuls lard, one
tablespoonful butter, saltspoonful salt, flour for soft dough. Warm
the milk, melt the shortening, and set the sponge overnight. The next
morning roll into a sheet, cut out with a biscuit cutter, let them
rise twenty minutes in the pan, and bake.
_Savory Potatoes._—Two cupfuls cold potatoes sliced, half cup gravy,
quarter of an onion sliced. Heat the gravy in a frying-pan with the
onion, add the potatoes, and leave them until they are brown, stirring
often. Serve potatoes and gravy together.
9.
Oranges.
Cracked Wheat.
Lyonnaise Tripe. Boiled Potatoes.
Bread-and-milk Cakes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Lyonnaise Tripe._—One pound boiled tripe, one onion, one tablespoonful
butter, one cupful stewed tomatoes, pepper and salt. Brown the onion
in the butter, add the tripe, cut into neat pieces, add the seasoning.
Brown lightly, add the tomatoes, and, when these are hot, serve.
_Bread-and-milk Cakes._—One cup fine bread crumbs, two cups milk,
one egg, two teaspoonfuls melted butter, saltspoonful salt, two
tablespoonfuls flour. Soak the crumbs in the milk ten minutes; beat
in the whipped egg, the butter, the salt, and the flour. Bake on a
well-greased griddle.
10.
Apples.
Graham Flakes.
Fried Scallops. Light Loaf.
Hashed Potatoes.
Tea. Coffee.
_Fried Scallops._—Stew the scallops five minutes in their own liquor.
Take out, drain, and roll first in egg, then in fine cracker crumbs.
Fry to a light brown in deep fat, lay on a sheet of brown paper in a
hot colander, and serve on a small napkin laid on a heated dish.
_Light Loaf._—One cup milk, one tablespoonful sugar, one tablespoonful
butter, two eggs, two cups flour, two teaspoonfuls baking-powder,
saltspoonful salt. Beat the eggs light; add the butter, melted, the
sugar, salt, milk, and, last, the flour sifted with the baking-powder.
Bake in one loaf, and serve hot.
_Hashed Potatoes._—Chop cold potatoes fine, have ready in a pan a
tablespoonful of bacon dripping made very hot, stir into this two
cupfuls of the potatoes, and toss about until well browned.
AT LUNCHEON
Properly treated, luncheon may be the pleasantest meal of the day.
Simple or elaborate, as the housekeeper's taste may dictate, always
informal, it is more comfortable than the breakfast because less
hurried, more agreeable than the dinner because less ceremonious.
The table at luncheon may either be set as for breakfast, with a pretty
colored cloth to cover it; or a prettier way, if one has a table with
a handsome top, is to spread on this a large luncheon napkin that only
partially conceals the polished surface. One or more of these napkins
may be used, according to their size and the amount of space you wish
covered. A fringed doily or a crocheted or netted mat may be laid at
each place to protect the table-top from the heated plate. Other mats
should be laid under the hot dishes of meat, etc., while a tile or a
trivet will hold the chocolate or teapot.
A writer on household decoration in a recent article in a popular
magazine enlarged upon the charming effect produced by painting a
table-top white, and thus producing a good background upon which to
display old blue-and-white china. This would doubtless be extremely
pretty, but in the practical mind the suspicion arises that, by the
time the bare white table had held hot dishes during half a dozen
meals, its surface would be marked with yellow rings that would
leave no choice to the housewife but to conceal the whole of the
defaced expanse with a table-cloth. A good furniture polish, or a
simple mixture of sweet-oil and turpentine, applied with a piece of
flannel, will restore the beauty of a hard-wood table-top, but it is
questionable if the white paint could be so readily renovated.
The flowers that should have freshened the breakfast board must not
be lacking at luncheon-time. The table may be spread with a luncheon
set of china, or, if one does not own this, with the same plates,
etc., that are used at breakfast and at tea. The tea-tray, with its
burden of sugar-bowl, cream-pitcher, tea-caddy, and dainty cups and
saucers, may stand in front of the mistress of the house, while at her
elbow may be the five-o'clock-tea crane bearing its kettle of boiling
water; or a smaller hot-water urn in brass, copper, or silver, with a
spirit-lamp under it, may be on the table near her right hand, with the
teapot beside it. If the small hot-water pot is used, and the table is
bare, a tray should hold the kettle and stand, lest a drop of blazing
alcohol should blister the polished surface of the wood. When cocoa
or chocolate is drunk at luncheon, the paraphernalia of kettle and
spirit-lamp is, of course, unnecessary.
There are some brands of cocoa for which it is claimed by the
manufacturers that they are excellent when prepared for use by simply
pouring the boiling water on the powder. So far as the writer's
experience has gone, however, there is not one of them that is not
benefited by being boiled for a few minutes before serving.
Nearly everything that is to compose the ordinary luncheon for the
family may be put upon the table at one time. Of course there must be
an exception to this rule when the first course consists of soup or
bouillon; but even then all the cold dishes may be in place when the
guests are seated. The waiting need be only of the simplest, unless
formality is desired. Those about the table may help themselves and one
another, while the duties of the waitress may be confined to passing
the dishes that are on the sideboard, changing the plates, bringing in
hot dishes, etc.
The truth, often reiterated, that women cook only for men, and that
a woman would never take the trouble to prepare anything for herself
beyond a cup of tea and a slice of toast, is strongly emphasized by
the carelessness many of them manifest in the matter of luncheon. Of
course, when there are several in the family the needs and tastes of
others have to be consulted; but when the mistress of the house has
to sit down to a solitary meal, or at best to one that is the nursery
dinner for two or three children whose diet is of the simplest, she is
apt to let her luncheon consist of little more than a "cold bite," and
the—almost—invariable cup of tea. Such a course must affect the health
sooner or later, and is a species of carelessness of self against
which a woman must guard if she does not wish to reap its fruits in
headaches, dyspepsia, and general depression of the system. Without
getting up a troublesome _menu_, she may yet devise divers tempting
little dishes which will coax her appetite. She will feel happier and
work better for a substantial although not heavy meal in the middle of
the day.
Luncheon is pre-eminently the meal at which to make use of potted
meats, sardines, _pâtés_, and the like. There are many of these from
which to make a choice. A luncheon is not to be despised that begins
with a cup of bouillon, or with a plate of soup left over from last
night's dinner, continues with fresh rolls or biscuit or muffins, or
toasted crackers, or good cold bread—white or brown—cut in delicate
slices, and one of the _pâtés_ put up by certain French and American
companies, or a Gotha liver sausage, or a few sardines, accompanied by
a cup of tea or cocoa, and concludes with some simple sweet, such as
marmalade, jam, or fruit.
But luncheon need not be confined to cold delicacies that must be
bought outright. It is the time for using up left-overs, for trying new
recipes for side-dishes and _entrées_, for the housekeeper to learn for
herself and to teach her cook the daintiest methods of utilizing those
remnants which the uninitiated might stigmatize as "scraps." Great is
the variety of styles in which these may be employed. That bit of cold
fish from last evening's dinner may be picked to shreds, stirred into a
white sauce, and baked in a scallop-shell. Or it may be mixed with half
as much mashed potato, moistened with boiling water and a little melted
butter, and tossed up into a dish of creamed fish.
The scraps of pastry left from pie-making and the sausage or two that
were spared at breakfast may compose a sausage-roll, the cold potato
and the fragment of steak may be turned into a hash, and odd slices
of cold lamb, mutton, or veal are just the thing for croquettes and
fritters. And of the odds and ends of poultry what delicious compounds
may be made! Croquettes, scallops, minces, fritters, filling for
_pâtés_, salad enough for one or two if eked out with lettuce, and a
dozen other dainty _plats_. Or a tiny omelet, either baked or _sauté_,
may be prepared; and when one begins to count up the appetizing dishes
which may be made of eggs, the list seems without an end. Even when
several people are to partake of the meal a variety of little dishes
may take the place of a single large one for which new material would
have to be purchased. In the cultivation or creation of a talent as a
_réchauffeuse_ true economy consists.
In some homes luncheon is a quite elaborate affair, and comprises
several courses, including, perhaps, a soup or bouillon, a meat course,
a salad, and fruit or sweets. In the majority of establishments owned
by people of moderate means, however, the meal is simpler, but need
be no less delightful. Many people can eat muffins, griddle-cakes,
and other hot breads at noon with less after-discomfort than at
any other season, and dishes of this sort are usually acceptable on
the luncheon-table. With their help the meal can hardly fail to be
appetizing.
A SMALL LUNCHEON
Luncheons are among the most popular forms of entertainment that can
be selected, when only a limited number are to be honored. To these
affairs men are seldom invited, and there are not wanting those among
the sterner sex who do not hesitate to attribute their banishment to
desire on the women's part for the opportunity to chat uninterruptedly
and unreservedly on those subjects presumed dear to their hearts—dress,
babies, and servants. Other men go so far as to hint that gossip, and
even scandal, engage the tongues of these much-maligned women, while
even the most charitable husbands and brothers cannot refrain from
openly expressing their pity for the unfortunate ladies debarred, for
even a limited period, from the delights of the society of the lords of
creation.
Casting aside the intimations respecting gossip or scandal as unworthy
of notice, and tracing the animus of the other slurs to their source,
in the overpowering jealousy on the part of their perpetrators that
they are excluded from the select assemblages they affect to condemn,
it may be said in refutation of the last charge that there are few
women who do not agree in considering a luncheon among the most
delightful of their social experiences. An invitation to one is usually
hailed with joy, and a woman will undergo a good deal of inconvenience
sooner than consent to decline it.
A luncheon is elastic in its nature, and may be of any size the
hostess's fancy or judgment dictates. One woman may invite another to
share the meal with her, and to help form that _solitude à deux_ so
delightful to two congenial souls. In such a case a long and elaborate
_menu_ is out of place, and not in the best form. What dishes there are
should be wisely selected, perfectly prepared, and carefully served;
but a multiplication of courses or viands is unnecessary, and savors of
vulgar display. The same principle applies at any _small_ luncheon.
The definition of size is a rather difficult matter, but a company of
this sort of not more than five or six persons may fitly be called
small. With every addition to the number the need increases for more
items in the _menu_.
For a small and unpretentious luncheon the invitations should not be
issued long in advance, unless the hostess finds it necessary to do so
in order to secure the presence of some especial guests. In that case,
if the entertainment is to be very simple, it is as well to inform the
guests of the fact when writing to them. Either a written or a verbal
invitation is admissible. It should always be clearly understood,
however, that the engagement, when once made, is no less binding than
if it were a promise to attend the largest and most ceremonious dinner.
Indeed, fidelity to one's acceptance and prompt attendance are even
more obligatory at a small than at a large affair, because at the
latter the defection of one person is less noticeable than it would be
were very few expected to be present. In either case failure to keep
the engagement is a grave breach of etiquette. It may be said, in this
connection, that more of a compliment is implied by the request to be
one of a small and—by inference—select band than is shown when the
invitations embrace a larger party.
An even number is usually better than an odd number at a luncheon,
unless the table is a large round one, about which the guests can
gather without leaving an awkward gap on one side.
The covering for the table may either be a very pretty luncheon cloth
with a little color about it, or else of plain white. Of course, should
the hostess desire to have any one tint predominate in her table
appointments, it is better to have the cloth of that shade or of white.
If artificial light is required, candles give a pleasanter light than
anything else, and one candelabrum of several branches is generally
enough for a small table. Should this not sufficiently illuminate the
room, the gas may be lighted and partially turned down, or a lamp or
two may be placed on a mantel-shelf or on a bracket. There should
always be flowers in the centre of the table, preferably a flat or
low dish or vase, for where there are few guests they should be able
to see each others' faces, instead of being obliged to dodge around a
tall ornament that effectually conceals those seated on one side of
the board from those placed on the other. _Bouquets de corsage_, while
always pretty, are not essential at a simple luncheon, nor are cards
necessary.
The table should be spread with the daintiest china and silver. At each
plate must be the usual articles—knife, fork, tumbler, butter-plate,
and napkin. A knife and fork for each course may be laid by every
plate, the knives on the right side, the forks on the left. A roll or
two or three sticks of bread must lie on each napkin. The usual little
dishes of olives, salted almonds, pea-nuts or pistachio-nuts, radishes,
bonbons, etc., should stand here and there, and by their color or
sparkle add to the beauty of the repast.
The first course may be either beef or chicken bouillon. This is served
in bouillon-cups, with covers and saucers, if one has them, or, if
not, in tea or after-dinner coffee-cups. The latter are a trifle small,
but one need not go to the other extreme, as was done at a lunch given
not long ago, where the bouillon was served in _mugs_ nearly as large
as those commonly used for shaving, and quite as thick and heavy. It
was impossible to help recalling the saying of the woman who declared
that when she took coffee from one of the breakfast cups in use at most
hotels she felt as though she were drinking it over the side of a stone
wall. Bouillon is usually sipped with a spoon, however, although it is
not out of the way to raise the cup to the lips.
The bouillon may either be on the table when the guests enter the room,
or be brought in as soon as they are seated. It is followed by fish
in some dainty form, as creamed fish, creamed or buttered lobster,
croquettes of lobster, oysters, or fish; or oyster or lobster _pâtés_.
These are not passed in the dish, but are brought in already served,
and a plate holding a portion placed in front of each guest. Rolls,
French bread, or bread and butter are then passed.
The next course in a luncheon of this size need not be an _entrée_,
although one may be introduced here. Sweetbreads, chicken cutlets,
_timbales_ of some sort, a _vol-au-vent_—any one of these will answer,
but there is no violation of rules if it is omitted altogether at
a _small_ luncheon. In that case the next course—the _pièce de
résistance_—may follow the fish directly, and may consist of French
chops with pease, and potatoes daintily prepared, or chicken broiled,
fried, or cooked in some attractive fashion, or broiled tenderloins of
beef with mushrooms, or birds.
After this the salad appears, and may be of chicken, lobster, shrimps,
oysters, or tomatoes, avoiding, of course, any meat or fish that has
appeared earlier in the meal, even although in another form. The olives
should be passed with this, and, indeed, may have gone the rounds
during and between the other course, as have the salted nuts and the
radishes.
The salad eaten, the table is cleared and crumbed, and the dessert
brought in—ices in some pretty form, accompanied by fancy cakes. Fruit
may succeed this, or it may be omitted, and the final cup of chocolate
or coffee served at once. The bonbons now receive attention, and are
usually carried into the drawing-room by the guests, who, being women,
seem to find almost as much enjoyment in nibbling these as men do in
discussing their post-prandial cigars.
A LARGE LUNCHEON.
A much more ceremonious affair than that described in the preceding
chapter is the large luncheon, where there are present anywhere from
eight to twenty guests. The invitations for this are issued at least
ten days, and often three weeks or more, previous to the date for which
the guests are asked, and should be written, not verbal, except when
given to an intimate friend. The recipient should reply at once. The
hour set is usually one or half-past one, and the most punctilious
promptness should always be observed. Nothing short of a serious
accident or illness or a death in the family can justify any one in
breaking such an engagement.
"People don't always keep that precept," says a woman, decidedly. "I
can give more than one example to the contrary from my own experience.
Here is an instance. I had a letter not long ago from a friend living
out of town, begging me to fix a time when she could come and see me.
She dreaded making the trip into town when it was doubtful if she would
find me at home. I knew she had few outings, so I wrote and asked
her to lunch with me upon a certain day, adding that there would be
a couple of other old friends present whom she would be glad to meet
again. The appointed day came, and was misty and drizzly. It never
occurred to me that the weather would keep any one housed, and at the
lunch hour 'the guests were met, the feast was set'—or, at least, two
of the guests were there—but the one in whose honor they had been
invited failed to appear. A whole mortal hour did we wait for that
woman. Then in despair we sat down to a luncheon that had been in no
ways improved by the delay. It was to have been a _partie carrée_, and
one side of the table looked wofully blank and bare."
"But did you not get a satisfactory explanation of your friend's
absence?" queries an interested listener.
"Only a note the next day, stating that as it had stormed, she had
supposed I would not expect her. It never seemed to occur to her that
she ought at least to have telegraphed."
"I had an experience that equals that," chimes in another. "I had
promised a young girl friend a lunch party whenever she should come to
the city. Just before the holidays she wrote to me that she would be
in town for a week. I was run to death with Christmas preparations and
social engagements, but I sent her a note at once, asking her to fix a
day for her luncheon, and enclosing the list of guests—most of them old
school friends—whom I would invite to meet her. She replied, setting
a day. I went to no end of trouble and expense to get up the most
_recherché_ luncheon I could devise. Just before the appointed hour one
of the guests, who had promised to call for my young friend and bring
her to my house, brought instead a verbal message that Jennie 'was not
very well, and would be unable to come. She was extremely sorry,' etc.
As I learned from another source that she went to the theatre that
night, I concluded her indisposition, whatever it was, had not been
very serious."