his sex, who, owing to the training American society has furnished in
this respect, consider no party a success unless the social enjoyments
are supplemented by a big "spread." In England, where the dinner hour
falls later than it usually does in this country, the light sustenance
offered by afternoon tea serves as a welcome break in the long stretch
which intervenes between luncheon and dinner. Here a man who has his
appetite whetted for a six-o'clock repast cares little for a trifling
refection at five or half after five. It only serves to blunt his
hunger without satisfying it.
Of course, as soon as the tea was merged into the virtual equivalent of
an evening party given in the daytime, its recommendation as a cheap
and convenient method of entertaining one's friends vanished. While
one merely dropped in for a cup of tea on the way home from calls
or shopping, a plain walking gown or visiting costume was perfectly
appropriate. But with the increased formality of the tea arose the
necessity for richer dress, and the afternoon kettle-drum became a
kind of heterogeneous-looking assembly, where, at five o'clock in the
afternoon, some of the women would appear in evening gowns, with low
necks and short sleeves, and some in street suits, while the men, of
course, wore morning coats; although in small towns the sight of men in
dress suits before six o'clock is an anomaly too often witnessed.
Even apart from the matter of dress, other difficulties and
complications arose. Persons in moderate circumstances who had
rejoiced at the advent of the tea, because it rendered feasible the
gratification of their hospitable instincts at an outlay within their
means, shrank back in dismay from this hybrid form of assembly,
declaring that it was as easy to give a regular evening party, and get
the credit for that, as it was to receive guests in a fashion which
assumed simplicity, but cost no less than an affair that made more show.
A few women have had the courage to adhere to what was the original
design of the afternoon tea, and to offer their guests only the light
refreshments suitable for this form of entertaining. To such people
the labor connected with thus gathering their friends about them is
a trifling task. The hostess sees that her rooms are in their best
looks; fills a few vases with fresh flowers, to give a festal air; sets
a round-table in her drawing-room or library, or in the dining-room,
if these apartments are _en suite_; draws up her prettiest cups and
saucers and plates in battle array, and invites a few young girls or
intimate friends to assist her. They wear either pretty house costumes
or dainty tea gowns. For refreshments are provided tea and chocolate,
possibly bouillon, bread-and-butter or tiny sandwiches, and plenty of
light cakes. The eating is a secondary matter, the _raison d'être_ of
the company being the desire for pleasant social intercourse in an
informal fashion.
The woman who has a regular "at home" or a weekly "afternoon tea"
during the season provides even less. She has tea or cocoa—rarely
both—bread-and-butter or fancy biscuit, and cake. The toasted muffins
or crumpets and the many tea-cakes dear to the British palate are
little in vogue here, where the dinner hour is almost invariably six or
half after six. Very few are the houses where daily afternoon tea is
the rule.
Numberless pretty adjuncts can be procured to contribute to the
attractiveness of the kettle-drum. The tall crane, with its brass,
copper, or silver kettle, the daintily embroidered tea and tray cloths,
the fine fringed or hem-stitched doilies, the exquisite china, the
quaint teapot, the cozy, the odd dishes for cake and biscuit—all afford
opportunity for the display of a cultured taste or of a quick fancy.
Nothing need be very costly, but everything must be pretty, and in this
day the combination of beauty and cheapness is by no means difficult or
unusual.
The cards for an afternoon tea bear simply the name of the hostess,
and that of her daughter if the latter is "out," and in the corner is
written or engraved "Tea" or "At Home," and the day and the hour of
the entertainment. The card of any friend who is visiting the hostess,
or who entertains with her, is enclosed in the same envelope. If the
invited guest cannot be present, she sends her card, by post or by
private hand, so that it may reach the hostess upon the day when she
receives.
Those people who live in the country, or who are so fortunate as to
possess summer places out of town, can give charming outdoor teas,
which far surpass in pleasantness anything that can be devised in the
city. We Americans live too much in the house, and that, too, in a
climate which offers great facilities for a freer mode of life. A tea
on a lawn or veranda when the air is full of the perfume of flowers
and the country is in its holiday trim is a delight to all those
lucky enough to be invited to it. For such a kettle-drum, iced tea
and lemonade or claret-cup, sandwiches, and cake may be offered, with
berries or other fruits when these are in season.
HIGH TEA
For a small company the high tea is an excellent form of entertainment.
It is not suitable for a large assembly, but when a limited number of
guests have been invited to spend the evening in some such recreation
as card-playing, it is very pleasant to ask them first to high tea.
Or if the latter part of the evening is to be devoted to dancing, a
chosen few of the guests may be invited to tea first, and the remainder
requested to come later. In that case no supper should be offered to
the dancers except cake, ices, and coffee.
Should the dining-table be large enough to accommodate all the guests
bidden to the high tea, it may be drawn to the requisite length, and
all the company seated about it. But if, from the limited dimensions of
the dining-room, or because it better suits the fancy of the hostess,
small tables are preferred, these may be laid so as to accommodate at
each six, or four, or even two, always taking care in the last case
that the right two are placed together.
If one large table is used, it may be spread with either a dinner or a
tea cloth. Flowers should be in the middle upon a pretty centre-piece,
and there may be small vases set about here and there. Individual
bouquets are not at all necessary. The places should be arranged as
usual, with small silver for each course, and the usual accompaniments
of butter-plates—or of bread-and-butter plates—salt-cellars, glasses,
napkins, etc. If it is warm weather, the table may be further
beautified by the bowls or baskets of fresh fruits that are to make
part of the dessert, and, in winter, dishes of cake, of preserved or
brandied fruits, etc., may be on the table. Should the hostess prefer,
however, these may be placed on the sideboard, thus allowing space for
the more substantial viands, which at a tea are seldom relegated to the
position on the side-table that they would take at dinner.
At the head of the table sits the hostess, with the tea-tray in front
of her. It by no means follows, however, because this repast is called
a tea that the Chinese herb should be _en évidence_. If the party is
composed chiefly of young people, the chances are strongly in favor of
their preference being for coffee or chocolate. They may be offered
their choice of these beverages, which the hostess pours out, the
servant passing them with cream and sugar, that each may add of these
to suit himself. Russian tea may possibly be offered, but even this is
apt to be less popular than either chocolate or coffee.
Should small tables be used, the hostess may preside over a tray
placed upon one of them, or, when it seems more convenient, the cups
may be filled outside, and passed to each with the cream-pitcher and
sugar-bowl. It saves some delay in serving if there are a cream-pitcher
and sugar-bowl on each table. These little tables may be covered with
small cloths or large napkins, and need have nothing else upon them
beyond the necessary furniture for each place, except, perhaps, a vase
of flowers. While small tables are often admirable as accommodating
more people with comfort than could be seated at a large table, yet the
latter gives opportunity for a prettier display of floral decoration,
china, silver, etc., than is afforded by the former.
The bill of fare is easily arranged. There are no raw oysters or clams,
as at a lunch or dinner; and while bouillon may be provided, it is
not at all necessary. The meal may begin with oysters in some form,
as fricasseed, fried, broiled, steamed, or panned, or in croquettes.
With them are passed bread-and-butter (brown or graham bread cut thin
is good with oysters) or rolls. The plates are then removed, and the
next course brought in. This may consist of chicken—broiled or fried—or
broiled birds, or French chops, and of potatoes in some form, as _à
la parisienne_, French fried, or hashed with cream and browned. Cold
tongue or ham is sometimes also passed at this time, and warm bread
in some shape, as French rolls, sally-lunn, tea-biscuit, rusk, or
waffles. The coffee or chocolate is also served at this stage in the
proceedings.
After this course comes a salad—lettuce and tomato mayonnaise, or
chicken, lobster, or salmon—fresh plates being served for this, as
a matter of course. Olives and some fancy cheese—Brie, Roquefort,
or Gorgonzola—usually come with the salad. Cheese at this stage is
strongly recommended by the epicure; but it is not essential, except to
those who hold, in the words of the old doggerel, that
"A dinner (or supper) without cheese
Is like a kiss without a squeeze."
The table is now cleared, and the dessert brought in. This may be quite
simple, as, say, preserved or brandied fruit with fancy cakes; or it
may be more elaborate, and comprise jelly, charlotte-russe, or fresh
fruit of some kind, and light cakes. Ices are not strictly _en règle_,
although no canon of taste is seriously offended if they are offered.
It is better, however, to serve them later in the evening. Still, they
are not essential even then. Finger-bowls set on doilies laid on
pretty plates must be passed the last thing before the guests quit the
table.
Of course the _menu_ suggested above may be altered to suit the season
and the taste of the entertainer. Lobster or crabs, clams or shrimps,
may be substituted for the oysters. Green pease may accompany chops,
or sweetbreads may be the principal meat dish of the second course.
Roast duck, turkey, or chicken may be provided if broilers are out of
season, or birds may be served with a lettuce or celery salad for the
third course. And when one reflects upon the fancy dishes which may be
prepared for dessert—the blanc-manges, the jellied fruits, the Spanish
or Bavarian or Hamburg creams, the charlottes of divers kinds, the
whips, custards, and syllabubs—the only difficulty that arises is where
to choose.
A pretty notion is to introduce some unexpected feature into the
high tea which will appeal to the imaginations of the guests as well
as to their palates. A little ingenuity will suggest some novelty
of this sort. The literary salad, which has become well known in
certain localities, may yet be unfamiliar in others. This is made by
cutting a number of slips of paper, writing on each one a prose or
poetic quotation, and attaching each strip to a leaf of pale green
tissue-paper, cut and crimped into the fashion of a lettuce leaf.
Different shades of the paper should be selected, so that the tints may
blend as they do in a veritable head of lettuce. These leaves are then
arranged in a bowl, and at some point in the meal, usually just before
the dessert, the bowl is passed, and each guest draws out at random two
or three of the leaves. The endeavor then is to guess the authorship
of the different quotations, and a prize is usually offered to the
one who guesses the greatest number correctly. The prize may be the
bowl or dish in which the salad is served. Or, instead of quotations,
conundrums may be written on the slips, and puzzling out their answers
usually affords a great deal of amusement.
A bright young hostess, who was always bubbling over with new and
charming ideas, hit upon the clever one of having her guests'
characters told by chirosophy. She obtained a specimen of the
handwriting of each of those whom she had invited, and sent the
samples to a specialist, who deduced from each an estimate of the
characteristics of its writer. The verdicts thus obtained were enclosed
each in an envelope bearing the name of the person whose peculiar bias
was therein described. The envelopes were then bound with ribbons,
tied, and sealed. One was laid at the place of each guest at the table,
and after providing a fruitful source of wonder and comment during
the early part of the meal, the seals were broken when the fruit was
passed. Each read aloud the statement contained in her envelope,
and it was curious and amusing to observe with what accuracy many
idiosyncrasies and singular traits of disposition had been indicated.
SOME HINTS ABOUT SUPPER
In these days of theatre and opera parties the matter of late suppers
assumes more importance than it possessed in the time when these
amusements were less universally popular. Upon the occasions when a
young man escorted his "best girl" to the play or the concert, he took
her afterwards, as a natural sequence, to a restaurant, where they
partook of some such light refreshment as ice-cream, cake, and coffee,
this style of supper being varied sometimes by the introduction of
oysters in one form or another. But when a company of young people go
to the theatre nowadays, and return afterwards to the house of their
chaperon or of some other member of the party, they are usually hungry
with the healthy appetite that it is no longer the foolish fashion to
conceal.
The members of whist clubs, of literary or dramatic circles, of
small dancing classes, of amateur orchestras, and of a variety of
other similar social organizations, feel a like desire for food after
an evening's busy occupation, while even in the family the sensible
custom is gaining ground of eating something not long before retiring—a
something which, if not equal in extent and weight to the late supper
of our English cousins, is yet more substantial than the caramels and
chocolate creams with which school-girls, and often their seniors,
solace the hunger that is apt to attack them about bedtime.
When one gives only an occasional reception or evening party it is
taken for granted that the refreshments will be rather elaborate in
their nature. But when the meetings of a club of any sort are of
weekly, fortnightly, or even monthly recurrence, the expense becomes an
object. There may be some members of the body to whom the disbursement
of a few dollars more or less is a matter of trivial moment, but there
is very rarely any club of this sort where there are not some who
would feel seriously the cost of entertaining in a showy fashion.
For the sake of these weak brothers or sisters, a certain amount of
consideration should be shown, and no display made by the wealthy ones
which would throw into the shade the simpler entertainment which is all
many can afford to offer. A supper need not be poor because it is not
costly, but it must make up in daintiness and unusualness for what it
lacks in price.
A chief object to be sought in planning these suppers is to select
something which can be made ready beforehand, so that the hostess can
enjoy her evening without being handicapped in her pleasure-seeking
by the thought of possible complications arising in the preparation
of the supper which may require her absence from the room. Unless she
has a practised cook, she should not attempt dishes of oysters, or of
anything of the kind which demands careful supervision at the last
moment. Instead of this, she should content herself with chocolate or
coffee and bouillon for the hot items of her _menu_, and for the rest
take her choice from among the many salads and other cold dishes which
are generally popular. Cold chicken or duck, jellied tongue or fowl, or
a really fine galantine, or a dish of salad, and rolls or sandwiches
at discretion, may be chosen. For sweets, ices are always excellent if
they can be procured; or if not, there are jellies, which, with whipped
cream and light cakes, coffee, or chocolate, are quite enough—indeed,
more than enough in many cases. Often sandwiches, cake, and coffee are
sufficient; but let the sandwiches be of something besides ham and
tongue, the cake be light and delicious, and the coffee strong and
clear, and served with whipped cream.
If hot dishes are indispensable, something should be selected like
chicken or sweetbread pâtés, or lobster in some form, which will not
be injured by warming over. Croquettes too, if properly prepared, are
delicious, but they must be soft and creamy inside, not hard like
sausage balls.
For the home supper the preparations are much simpler. This late repast
may consist merely of a plate of crackers, or of light biscuit, or of
bread-and-butter, with perhaps a tin of potted meat, or a few sardines,
or a piece of cheese, or a box of guava jelly, or a little fruit. Iced
water, or milk and Apollinaris, or Seltzer are the best beverages to
serve, or, for those who like it, a bottle of ale or beer.
In the hope of aiding housekeepers who desire to prepare something a
little different from the stereotyped suppers so common at evening
entertainments, and which usually consist of oysters, chicken or
lobster salad, sandwiches, ice-cream, and coffee, there are appended
a few recipes for dishes perhaps less commonly known than those just
mentioned.
_Lobster Salmi._—Two cups boiled lobster (_cut_, not chopped, into
small pieces), three eggs (the yolks only), two tablespoonfuls butter,
half a pint of cream, one wine-glassful sherry, one tablespoonful
brandy, Cayenne pepper and salt to taste, one teaspoonful lemon juice.
Put the lobster over the fire in a double boiler with the butter, wine,
brandy, pepper, and salt; let it become smoking hot. It will not
injure it to stand covered at the back of the stove for some time. Just
before it is to be served bring the water in the outer vessel to the
boiling-point, and stir into the scalding hot lobster the beaten yolks
of the eggs and the cream. Let this stand one minute longer on the
fire, remove, add the lemon juice, and serve at once in small silver or
china shells or in nappies.
_French Fish Salad._—Select some firm white-fish (halibut is excellent
for this purpose), and boil. When perfectly cold cut it into neat
slices; on each slice lay a sardine, and arrange the fish upon and
among crisp lettuce leaves. Prepare a mayonnaise dressing, and into a
half-pint of it stir three sardines rubbed smooth with the back of a
fork. Pass the sauce in a pitcher containing a spoon or small ladle,
that each guest may help himself.
_Lobster Mayonnaise Sandwiches._—Into half a cupful of finely minced
lobster stir two tablespoonfuls of mayonnaise dressing. Season to taste
with Cayenne pepper and salt, with a little lemon juice if it seems to
be needed. Select bread a day old for this purpose, butter it light
on the loaf, and cut very thin. Spread a slice with the mixture, and
lay another buttered slice upon it, face downward. Cut into small neat
squares or triangles. The crust is sometimes trimmed off.
Chicken mayonnaise sandwiches may be made in the same way, rejecting
all bits of skin or gristle, and omitting the lemon juice. Ham, tongue,
and shrimp mayonnaise sandwiches are also good prepared in similar
fashion.
_Veal Galantine._—Select a breast of veal about eighteen inches long
by twelve wide, and remove from it all bits of bone or gristle. Spread
the inside of it with a layer of sausage meat, or of salt or corned
pork finely chopped, and highly seasoned with minced onion, parsley,
and sweet-herbs. Upon this lay a few thin slices of cold boiled ham
and tongue and several strips of raw veal. Spread these with more of
the force-meat, taking care not to bring it too near the edges, as it
would then squeeze out when the galantine is rolled. Sprinkle chopped
herbs and onion over the inside, and roll up the piece of veal, the
force-meat inside. Bind and skewer into shape, sew it up in a stout
cloth, and place it in a pot containing a hock of pork or a knuckle of
veal well cracked, a bouquet of herbs, a sliced onion, a sliced carrot,
and two or three stalks of celery. Cover all with cold water, and let
the pot, after coming gradually to a boil, simmer at the back of the
stove for at least four hours. Remove the pot from the fire, and let
the galantine become cold in the liquor; then take it out, tighten the
bandage about it, and place under a heavy weight for several hours;
uncover, and surround with aspic jelly. To make this, clear the liquor
in which the galantine was cooked by bringing it to a boil with the
white and crushed shell of a freshly broken egg, straining it, as
soon as the scum rises to the top, through a piece of thick cotton
cloth. Season a quart of the clear liquid thus left with a wineglass
of sherry, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, pepper and salt to taste.
While boiling hot dissolve in it an ounce of gelatine which has been
previously soaked in cold water for an hour. Pour a little of the
jelly into a brick-shaped mould large enough to hold the galantine,
first wetting the mould with cold water, and when the jelly forms lay
the galantine on this. Pour the remaining jelly over it, and let it
stand in a cold place until firm. Turn all out of the mould, and serve
garnished with lettuce leaves.
CHINA AND GLASS
That housekeeper must be a noteworthy exception to the majority of the
members of that honorable body whose heart does not yearn to possess a
goodly store of china and glass. She may begin her married life with
the resolve to content herself with very little, but she will find, in
this form of acquisition as in nearly every other, that appetite comes
with eating, and the more she has the more she wants. Curiously enough,
she learns also that although she may get along very comfortably for
a long while without certain articles, she has not owned them a month
without reaching a state of mind where she cannot understand how she
ever managed to keep house lacking the new possessions.
In these days a bride is usually pretty well supplied with handsome
china and glass by the friends who send them to her as wedding
presents. She receives from them at least the luxuries of table
furniture, if not the necessities. Among her gifts she has almost
always one or more fine cut-glass bowls or dishes, and possibly
several small bonbon, pickle, or olive saucers. An ice-cream set is
also a favorite gift, and the bride usually receives also a set of
after-dinner coffee cups and saucers and at least a dozen fruit-plates.
A few young couples are so fortunate as to number a complete dinner set
among their presents; and they may deem themselves lucky indeed, for
the cost of this necessary purchase makes a big hole in the sum that
the bride received, or that she has laid aside for household plenishing.
Of course there are some young married people to whom money is, so
to speak, no object, who have but to go to a shop and order whatever
pleases their fancy. But they are few and far between. To most newly
made housekeepers the filling of their china closets must be slow work,
and each new addition is generally the evidence of a bit of economy
or good management, or else a memento of some Christmas or holiday,
and all the more valued on that account. Even when the proud young
manager is beginning to view with pride the accumulation of months,
she is sadly liable to find their ranks lessened some woful day by
one of those accidents which will happen so long as china and glass
are breakable commodities. The cheese-dish, the berry-bowl, or the
cake-plate has come to grief in Bridget's or Gretchen's or Dinah's
hands.
"Shure, ma'am, it jist slipped out of me hands as I was a-wipin' it,"
or, "It came in two pieces when I put it into the wather. Feth an' it
must have been cracked before."