THE LUNCH BASKET.
TO many people the lunch basket and its contents are quite as important as any regularly set-out meal of the day—more important than such occasional luxuries as ceremonious déjeûners à la fourchette and standing lunches.
Among this number are not only the school-children who, five days out of the week, must carry what the Southern boys and girls would term a "snack" with them to school, but also the army of men and women whose employment takes them to such a distance from their homes that it is impracticable for them to return there for the midday meal. With these must not be forgotten the band of night workers who, in one capacity or another, have part in making the morning papers, and who, turning day into night, find it as essential to take a midnight as others do a midday repast.
In a less degree interest is felt in the lunch basket by those young people who regard the coming of the summer chiefly as the return of the picnic season. All these desire to know of something appetizing to supply their needs, and nearly all agree in condemning certain articles as stale and hackneyed, asserting that they are tired to death of them. Among these are generally ham and tongue sandwiches.
In making suggestions on this subject, the first thing to be considered is the basket, and to begin with, it should be a basket, and not a close tin box or pail that cannot be sweetened except by scouring and scalding between the times of using. A basket, by permitting the passage of air through its interstices, prevents the food acquiring a close, musty taste; and even the basket should have frequent airings and sunnings, and an occasional plunge into hot salt and water, followed by a rinsing in fresh hot water, and a wiping and drying in the sun or near the fire.
Only fresh napkins must be used for wrapping about the lunch, and if their use proves too severe a strain upon the linen drawer, Japanese paper napkins may be substituted, or even fresh white tissue-paper, or druggist's paper. The daintiness of ribbons to tie the different parcels is all very pretty, but it is hardly possible for the hurried house-mother who has to put up even one lunch a day, much less when she has two or three to prepare. In order to succeed in making them even ordinarily attractive, she must take thought for these lunches as carefully as she does for the other meals of the day, and make provision accordingly, not waiting until the last moment, and then hastily gathering up whatever odds and ends she can find, and hurriedly cramming them all together into the basket in a manner that savors unpleasantly of the bestowal of "broken victuals" and cold bits upon the beggar at the kitchen door.