“Now the cabbage, Marta. You see this water is boiling very fast; put it in gently, so that if there is too much in the saucepan you may dip some out before it overflows,—no, it all goes in, and the water covers it well; now put in one table-spoonful of salt and one scant salt-spoonful of baking soda. Remember, Marta, cabbage must never be allowed to remain long in hot water before it boils up; it must boil very fast; for that reason it must always be in the hottest part of the stove, and there must be abundance of water and the saucepan always large. As soon as it comes back to the boiling-point, take off the cover, and leave it off all the while, and push the cabbage down under the water from time to time. The whole secret of boiling cabbage without filling the house with a bad odor and sending to table a vulgar, yellow, wilted vegetable, full of dyspepsia, is to remember—rapid boiling, plenty of water, plenty of room, and the cover off.”
She took off the stove-lid as she spoke, and brightened the top of the fire, and in another minute the cabbage was “galloping.”
“Twenty-five minutes from now it will be done. Now, Marta, I want you to run to that white house across the lot, and ask for half a pint of cream.”
The peaches were cut up, and Molly put them in a bowl and set it on the ice. When she came back she grated a small piece of cheese, about as big as her thumb, and shook it into the macaroni, shaking the saucepan about, so that it would mix without breaking the pipes, and set it back to keep hot.
There was nothing to be done now till the cabbage was cooked.
Suddenly Molly remembered something she had forgotten, and stopped short, very much vexed.
“I have no cake to eat with the peaches, and Harry is so fond of cake! I’ve just time to make a ‘fifteen minutes’ cake,’ and I will. No, I wont! it will make getting dinner on time a scramble; I shall go in flushed and heated, and Harry will think I am killing myself, and Marta will think she may scramble ever after. We will do without cake.”
Marta returned with the cream, which was put in the ice-box, and she was then set at chopping the leaves of some mint for mint sauce. Molly had found, on walking around Greenfield the first day they visited the house, a quantity of mint growing near, and had pulled a few roots and replanted them in the garden. When it was chopped quite fine, she took one table-spoonful, an equal quantity of sugar, and as the vinegar was very strong, she used one table-spoonful of it and one of water, poured them over the mint and stirred it till the sugar was dissolved.
Marta, meantime, had put the plates and dishes to warm, and Molly sent the mint sauce to the table.
“Marta, you will need, to dress the cabbage, a little milk, a table-spoonful of butter, and a large tea-spoonful of flour. Make the flour and butter to a paste with the end of a knife. When I take up the meat, you pour the cabbage, which I see will be done in a few minutes, into the colander; the leaves are like marrow now, but the stalk is a little hard; when it is in the colander, press it with a plate to get every drop of water out, and put it back into the pot, with butter and flour, a scant salt-spoonful of salt, a little white pepper, and half a tea-cupful of milk. You must remember, too, that when I am not here to help you dish the dinner, you must put your meat in the oven five minutes sooner; it can be taken up before the vegetables, but on no account must you take up vegetables first, and let them wait. Never put them on too soon. Now put the warm dishes on the table in the order in which they will be needed; the meat-platter first, the vegetable-dishes next. The macaroni you will bring in after I ring for you to take out the meat,—I mean, you will take away the meat and vegetables, then bring in the macaroni and fresh plates, and after that, the tomatoes, as a salad; and, last of all, the fruit and tea. Now go and put the cracked ice on the table, the pitcher of water, and the butter with a piece of ice on it, and come quickly back.”