Scrape the stalks and lay in cold water for an hour. Tie loosely together with a piece of soft twine, put over the fire with enough salted water to cover them, and boil until tender. Drain, sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper and lay upon a platter on slices of buttered toast. Pour white sauce over all.
POTATOES
“The Tyrant Potato” is not assailed ignorantly, nor yet flippantly. After careful study of its properties, its works and its ways, the utmost concession that is now made to peculiar prejudice is in the declaration that, since people will make potatoes nine-tenths of their vegetable diet, it is essential to the national digestion that the ninety-three parts of water and of starch contained in the tuber be cooked in such manner as shall render the esculent as palatable and as little hurtful as is practicable when the constituents are not to be ignored.
The above protest stands at the head of that section of the “National Cook Book” which is headed “Potatoes.” I wrote it ten years ago, and am “of the same opinion still.”
Talk against it as we may, the potato holds its sway in defiance of chemistry and dietetics, and our Johns, one and all, insist upon its daily appearance. As one weary housewife said to me:
“If I give my fingers to be burned in the preparation of a half dozen vegetables and have not potatoes in the number, my culinary and housekeeping skill are as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals—to my husband, at least. And I am so tired of the same old ways of cooking the same old potatoes!”
Her remark made me wonder why housekeepers adhere to the “same old ways.” Why not try new ones?
One hint may be acted upon with advantage to cook and to eaters.
One of the bugbears to the housewife is paring potatoes. It is not a pleasant task, and the necessity of performing it recurs with disagreeable frequency.
The housekeeper is wise if, while the potatoes are in the process of peeling, she pares and cooks more than enough for the repast for which they are intended, and by utilizing the cold left-overs does away with the necessity of peeling more of the tyrannical starch-and-water for the next meal.