You might for a flyer try rice muffins with this hash. Have a cup of flour and sifted through it two heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder. Add to it a tablespoonful of sugar, a saltspoonful of salt, and pass this through a sieve. Have three eggs well beaten in a cup of milk with half a cup of melted butter and stir into the flour. When it is perfectly smooth add to it two cupfuls of cold boiled or steamed rice. Turn into small pans and bake in a hot oven. By grating in a little nutmeg to these muffins you will have a delicious dish for luncheon.

Rhode Island Johnnycake

Now, our friend Steevens spoke of griddle cakes and buckwheat cakes. Of these you know all that is necessary for any housekeeper to know. But I’ll wager a good sum that Rhode Island meal is an unknown quantity to you. Make its acquaintance then as soon as possible and set about having Rhode Island johnnycakes often. You will want nothing but the meal, some milk and salt. Have them considerably thinner than ordinary flour griddle cakes and fry in a little fat on a hot griddle so that the edges are crisp and toothsome. If you want to bake them have a cup of meal to a cup and one-half of milk with a pinch of salt, and bake in gem pans till brown. Instead of having butter with either the fried or baked specimens of this johnnycake try some of our “nectarous cream.” Is it a go?

Now and then, throughout this book, the directions for making a salad are brought in incidentally to the main topic of discourse. Nowhere are they treated as the pièce de résistance, so to speak, of a chapter. And here are not many—only a few that go especially well in cold weather, when to have any variety at all in salads incurs a considerable outlay of rumination. Just a little inventive faculty and a firm purpose to have your table superior, even in details, to that of your dearest enemy, and you can with materials on hand in January have salads that give the eternal chicken and lobster with mayonnaise the go-by,—though, I fear me, the snubbing in the near future will come from the lobster itself. But that’s not to be discussed at just this minute.

Red Cabbage Salad

Before this you have probably made red cabbage salad with a French dressing and with a spread of mayonnaise over it, so that you think you know it all, but have you tried adding to it some celery? This is the way it is done. All the coarse outside leaves of the cabbage are removed and the inside is finely shredded. Then the best stalks of a head of celery are cut into inch pieces and put into the salad bowl, a layer of celery, then one of the cabbage, and so on, heaping a bit in the centre. Garnish with the fresh green leaves of the celery; pour a dressing, made of a beaten egg, three tablespoonfuls of oil, two of vinegar, a saltspoon of salt, a dash of cayenne, and a suspicion of mustard, over all, and let stand for half an hour in a cool place before serving. For luncheon, when you are having croquettes of left-over ham bits, or of cold tongue scraps, this goes very near to being what would tempt any sane person to ask for a second helping.

Spanish Onion Salad

Then there is a way to make an onion salad, that sets you to wondering why you never heard of it before. Have the Spanish onions, and soak them four or five hours, after peeling, in cold water, changing the water every hour, or even oftener, if your time isn’t too precious. Then slice and chop them, but not to the mussy stage. Freeze them, not too hard, but so they will be crisp and cold. Meanwhile, prepare a dressing of two-thirds oil to one-third vinegar, with salt and pepper to taste, and pour over them. Serve immediately. But don’t forget the garnish, which naturally suggests itself—parsley, to be sure, and plenty of it. With this salad? Well, we will suppose it is making its début in your household at an after-theatre snack. So have with it toasted water crackers, a bit of Swiss cheese, a smoked herring or two. And beer, of course.

Sardine Salad