You now tell your grateful cook not to bother preparing a meal. You next take one flivver and hurriedly drive her to her daughter’s in the village. Then you buy in the village one and one-half pounds of American cheese, one can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup and a dozen bottles of beer—real beer, if you can get it, Volstead beer if you can’t.
NOW:—
Pry your guests away from the cocktail shaker and shoo them into the kitchen. Everybody from this on who is not occupied in mincing the green pepper in a chopping bowl is busy cutting the American cheese into cubes about an inch square. Everybody else beats two fresh eggs—whites and yolks together.
Drop a lump of butter into a saucepan to prevent “sticking.” Begin to melt the pound and one half of diced cheese in the saucepan, stirring the lumps to prevent burning. When the cheese is fairly well melted, pour into it the can of tomato soup and the two beaten eggs. Stir into the mixture about one-third of a bottle of beer. Pour in also the finely chopped green pepper and continue stirring until smooth.
Have hot dinner plates ready, each plate containing a large slice of hot, unbuttered toast. Place at least one bottle of beer—two if it’s real—beside each plate.
Holler “Ready, people!” and pour on each piece of toast enough of the contents of the saucepan to form a pinkish overflow of rum-tum-tiddy on the plate.
That’s all—except to shake ’em up a semi-final cocktail and then start right back to the village in the flivver for another pound and one half of cheese, another pepper and more beer to make another immediately when the first rum-tum-tiddy is gone. One calls for two, often three.
Serve preferably in the kitchen. Serve in any room far from the kitchen if you want leg work exercise. Eat until gorged.