And this is the way the grouse were cooked: After the feet, necks, and pinions had been removed their bodies were divided into three pieces and put in a stewpan with the pinions and a little chopped bacon; after frying a bit some salt and pepper were introduced. Then were added two tablespoonfuls of white wine for each bird; then the birds were taken off and cooled; after which they were arranged with the wine in a pie dish with hard-boiled eggs cut in quarters amongst them, covered with the best pastry crust that the landlady knew how to make, and it was pretty good, really. In fact the dish turned out a great success, as the result of a good many conferences between the donator of the birds and the cook. The Professor had bought, the day before, the latest and best thing in the way of a cookery book, and after carefully reading it had come to the conclusion that this recipe for cooking grouse would be more easily mastered by the landlady than any other. The beauty of a grouse pie, too, as everybody knows, lies in its being just as good cold as it is hot.
Roasted Plover
The plovers were dressed, and with a pinch of salt and a bit of pepper put inside of them and the thinnest possible slice of fat salt pork tied over their breasts, were roasted for about twelve minutes in a hot oven.
And with the game was served some of the choicest stalks of celery that it has ever been the lot of mortal to enjoy at this time of year.
As for the fruit that was donated for this special occasion you would consider it a treat to hear the landlady tell of it, and of the sensations she experienced at seeing such a variety when the “apples on the Early Harvest tree on the south side of the orchard wall were only just beginning to get mellow.”
There were plums of almost every color under the sun; there were nectarines, the mere sight of which would make one’s mouth to water; there were delicious Delaware grapes and some little white grapes called the Lady de Coverley, that come from California. They are just as good, too, as one would expect from the name that has been given them. There was a curiosity in the shape of a banana cantaloupe, and there were all sorts of other melons, but the melon par excellence was what is known as the Montreal cantaloupe. They are raised on the banks of the St. Lawrence River, and simply refuse to grow in any other locality. Gardeners in other places have done everything to induce it to become naturalized, but all to no purpose. The particular specimen that found its way to the Peaceful Valley weighed just twenty-one pounds, and cost the purchaser $2.50. But it wasn’t extravagance to buy twenty-one pounds of such deliciousness, even if it had cost twice that sum.
And what do you suppose these nature-worshippers did after partaking of all the good things herein described and set forth? Well, they went out and sat under the trees and began to talk of what Thoreau said about huckleberries!
I came away then.
As a refreshing entr’acte let us dwell on the subject of ices. Let us have something more than just the ordinary way of making every-day routine ice creams. We will say “ices”—they mean unutterable, indescribable things that tickle the palate and cool one’s very existence simultaneously. Though after all it may be well to talk a minute of ice creams—beginning with generalities. The first of these I have found is that the easiest and best ice cream is made by using one-third rich cream to two-thirds milk with sugar as desired. No eggs and no cooking. If it is frozen smoothly it is perfect. This, however, is but the working plan—the flavoring and the moulding are to be arranged to suit yourself.