"Suppose in the autumn you find peaches and pears are expensive; do you go on and do them up regardless of price, or do you depend on these winter preserves?"
"I certainly never do anything 'regardless of price.' I get around the difficulty some other way. If I cannot afford peaches and pears, I preserve some apples, for one thing, making them just as rich and transparent as I can, and they do to help out in the place of the better things. Then I always have a good deal of summer fruit, for some of that is bound to be cheap at one time or another, no matter what the season is. And I put up melon rind in the place of pickled peaches, and citron and crab-apples in the place of pears. So you see I have enough with the winter preserves, even when I have to do without the costly fruit."
"It sounds as though you were supplying a boarding-school or a hotel with all these things, but I suppose you mean that I shall make only a little of each kind."
"That is it, exactly; make these things up as you can, a glass or a can at a time. For instance, when you have cranberry sauce for dinner and have a cupful left over, boil that down the next day with an orange and some raisins and a little more sugar, and you will have two glasses of compote. So with the other things; do not take a whole rule at a time, but divide it and make up a small amount."
"I am sure with a closet full of such goodies I shall be extravagant and use them all up as fast as I can; it will be such a temptation."
"Then you must resist it. Have things only when you need them. Put on the jelly when the dinner seems just a little bit too plain, and if there is any over, do not feel bound to eat it up at luncheon the next day in order to 'save' it. That idea of saving is too absurd. But make it up into something useful for dessert; tartlets, perhaps."
"And when do you have the preserves and canned fruit?"
"Those are for Sunday night suppers and company luncheons and to put with too plain a pudding when somebody drops in at dinner-time. And when butter and eggs are beyond the dreams of avarice, I just fly to this closet for relief. I make deep tarts of cherries or plums or blueberries and put a crust on top only; they are about the best winter desserts that we ever have. And the bits of crust left over from them I make into small tartlets, to fill with jam or jelly and help out luncheons, or I cut the crust into strips and cover it with sugar and bake it in a very hot oven, so the sugar melts and turns to a brown caramel. Those go well with afternoon tea. Or, sometimes I cover the strips with a little white of egg and chopped nuts and put them in the oven to just brown. They are what our grandmothers called 'toothsome dainties.'"
"Let's make pie to-day and try those; they sound perfectly delicious," begged Dolly.
"Very well, we will. And, by the way, remember when you make cake to keep out just a little batter and thin it with water or milk and pour it on a buttered tin; bake it quickly, mark it off while warm into strips, cover with the egg and nuts as before, and brown it; that is just as nice as a more elaborate cake."