THE DINNER YEAR-BOOK

“COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD” SERIES.

THE
DINNER YEAR-BOOK

BY
MARION HARLAND,
AUTHOR OF “COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD,”
“BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON AND TEA,” ETC.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS,
1883.

Copyright by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS.
1878.
Trow’s
Printing & Bookbinding Co.,
205-213 East 12th St.,
NEW YORK.

Transcriber’s Note:

The books by the same author, referenced often in this text, Common Sense in the Household and Breakfast, Luncheon and Tea, may be found at Project Gutenberg, etexts 48804 and 49944, or, if supported by your device, by clicking [here] or [here].

Familiar Talk with the Reader.

“Do not laugh when I tell you that one of the most serious perplexities of my every-day life is the daily recurring question, ‘What shall we have for dinner?’” writes a correspondent.

I do not smile at the naïve confession. I feel more like sighing as I recollect the years during the summers and winters of which the same query advanced with me into the dignity of a problem. There were several important ends to be compassed in the successful settlement of the question. To accomplish an agreeable variety in the family bill of fare; to accommodate appetites and individual preferences to the season and state of the local market; to avoid incongruous associations of meats, vegetables, sauces, entrées and desserts; to build fragments into a structure about which should linger no flavor of staleness or sameness; so to manage a long succession of meals that yesterday’s repast and the more frugal one of to-day should not suggest the alternation of fat and lean in the Hibernian’s pork, or the dutiful following of penance upon indulgence; to shun, with equal care, the rock of parsimony and the whirlpool of extravagance;—but why extend the list of dilemmas? Are they not written in the mental chronicles of every housewife whose conscience—be her purse shallow or deep—will not excuse her from a continual struggle with the left-overs? Such uncompromising bits of facts do these same “left-overs” appear in the next day’s survey of ways, means, and capabilities, that timid mistresses are the less to blame for often winking at the Alexandrine audacity with which the cook has disposed of the knotty subject by emptying platters and tureens into the swill-pail,—which should stand for the armorial bearings of her tribe wherever found,—or satisfied indolence, and what goes with her for humanity, by tossing crusts, bones, and “cold scraps” into the yawning basket of the beggar at the basement door.

One of these days I mean to write an article, scientific and practical, upon the genus, “basket-beggar.” For the present, take the word of one who has studied the species in all its varieties,—who has suffered long, and certainly not been unkind in the acquisition of experience upon this head,—and prohibit their visits entirely, and at all seasons. “Cold cuts” and the “heels” of loaves belong to you as certainly as do hot joints and unmutilated pies. Issue your declaration of independence to the effect that you choose to dispense charity in your own way, and that, as an intelligent Christian woman, you can better judge by what methods to relieve want and aid the really worthy poor, than can the ignorant, irresponsible creature who lavishes what costs her nothing upon every chance speculator whose lying whine excites her pity. Sympathy which, by the way, would generally lie dormant, were the listener to the piteous tale obliged to satisfy the petitioner from her own purse or wardrobe.

Returning from what is not, although it may seem to be a digression, let us talk together more briefly than is our wont in these familiar conferences, of the considerations that have moved and sustained me in the preparation of this volume, and which will, I hope, make it a welcome and useful counsellor to you. First, then, the suggestion and interrogation of sincere seekers for helpful advice pertaining to that most important of the triad of daily meals—“The Family Dinner,” superadded to my own observation and experience of the difficulties that beset the subject. Secondly, the discovery, that so far as I have been able to push my investigations—and my searching has been keen and extensive—no directory upon this particular branch of culinary endeavor has been published, at least none in the English language. We have had books, some of them admirable helps to skilful, no less than to inexperienced housekeepers, upon dinner-giving, and company dinners, and “little dinner” parties, not to refer to the mighty mountain of manuals upon cookery in general; but, up to the time of the present writing, I have found nothing that, to my appreciation, meets the case stated by the friend whose plaint heads this chapter.

My aim has been to write out, for seven days of four weeks in each month, a menu adapted, in all things, to the average American market; giving meats, fish, vegetables, and fruits in their season, and, so far as I could do so upon paper, rendering a satisfactory account of every pound of meat, etc., brought, by my advice, into the kitchen. I have taken the liberty accorded me by virtue of our long and intimate acquaintanceship, of inspecting not only the contents of your market-basket, but each morning the treasures of larder and refrigerator; of offering counsel concerning crumbs, bones, and such odds-and-ends as are held in contempt by many otherwise thrifty managers—to wit, other cold vegetables than potatoes, and dry crusts of bread and cake, while of gravy and dripping I have made specialties. I have tried, moreover, to inspire such respect for made-over dinners, as we feel for the pretty rugs made of the ravellings of Axminster carpets. We do not attempt to impose them upon ourselves or our friends as “pure Persian.” But neither do we blush for them because Mrs. Million Aire across the way would scorn to give them house-room. Let “Consistency” be stamped upon every appointment of your household, and even the parvenue opposite cannot despise you. Once learn the truth that moderate, or even scanty means do not make meanness or homeliness a necessity, and act upon the lesson, and you can set criticism at defiance. Apropos to this point of consistency, let me say, in explanation, not apology, for the small space devoted to company-dinners, that I have dealt with them upon the principle that ten times one makes ten. Having, in emulation of the Eastern beauty, carried the calf with ease for four weeks, you will hardly appreciate the difference in the weight of the cow you lift upon the fifth. In plainer phrase, give John and the children good dinners, well-cooked, and daintily served, every day, and the entertainment of half-a-dozen friends in addition to the family party will cease to be a stupendous undertaking. They have a saying in the Southern States that aptly expresses the labor and excitement attendant upon such an event in too many families; the straining after Mrs. Million Aire’s diners à la Russe, which presuppose the despotism of a chef in the kitchen, and the solemn pomp of a Chief Butler in the salle à manger. The Southern description of the frantic endeavor is—“Trying to put the big pot into the little one,” and it is invariably used with reference to preparations for company. Be content, my dear sister, to put into your little pot only so much as it will decently hold, and be thankful that you have in it a sure gauge of responsibility.

I have spoken of dinners for four weeks in each month. I have written receipts for this number, not in forgetfulness of the fact that there is but one February per annum, but because the need of adapting the bills of fare to the days of the week, instead of the month, was absolute, and if I wished the Dinner Year-Book to be a perpetual calendar, I must say nothing of the broken week that sometimes ends and sometimes begins the month. The difficulty of disposing satisfactorily of the two or three odd days brought to my mind, while blocking out my work, the summary manner in which one of my baby-girls once dismissed a somewhat analogous difficulty.

“My dear,” I said to her one night as she concluded her prayer at my knee, “you have forgotten to pray for your little cousins. How did that happen? Don’t you want our Heavenly Father to take care of them?”

She made a motion of again bending her knees, yawned sleepily, and tumbled into bed.

“Can’t help it, mamma! Baby is too tired! Horace and Eddie must scuffle for themselves just this one night!”

I have given you twenty-eight—nay, counting your possible company-meal—twenty-nine dinners in succession to little purpose if you cannot collate from previous receipts one or two for yourself, and be the better for the practice. I need hardly say that I do not anticipate or desire slavish adherence to the plan sketched for your day or week. I have sketched—that is all—not worked out a sum in which addition or subtraction would materially affect the sum-total. The framework is, I would fain hope, symmetrical. I expect you to build thereupon as convenience or discretion may dictate.

Touching Saucepans.

While it is true that the finest tools will not impart skill to the untrained workman, it is equally a matter of fact that the best artisan is he who cares most jealously for the quality and condition of his instruments as well as for the finish of his workmanship.

A visitor once asked permission to witness the operation of cooking a beefsteak in my kitchen, saying that her husband had spoken in terms of commendation of those he had eaten at my table. Like the good wife she was, she desired to “catch the trick,” whatever it might be, of preparing them to his liking. I willingly acceded to her request, and upon her return to the parlor her husband inquired eagerly: “Did you learn the secret?”

“Yes,” was the smiling answer. “You must buy me a gridiron!”

Up to that time, she then explained, fried steaks had been the rule in her house, and gridirons a thing unheard or unthought of.

A fried beefsteak being, as I have elsewhere stated, a culinary solecism, I have, perhaps, selected an extreme case as the test of my discourse upon the necessity of a supply of fitting utensils for the proper prosecution of home-cookery. Mrs. Whitney’s idea of the “art-kitchen,” so charmingly set forth in “We Girls,” may not be so chimerical (with limitations) as most practical housewives—practised in nothing more than in the exercise of patience—are apt to suppose. They tell us the tale—known already too sadly well to each of us—of the impossibility of inducing “girls” who are tractable and respectful in most things, to accept labor-saving machines, and the thousand-and-one ingenious contrivances for making cooking easier and even graceful; of the hard usage to which expensive implements are subjected in rude hands, the motive-power of which is the untilled brain, unrestrained by the conscienceless will; of how innovations are openly flouted, or secretly sneered at, “until,” say they, “we find it easier to let the cook have her own way down-stairs, and reconcile ourselves, as best we may, to obstinate stupidity and unmerciful breakages. As to art-kitchens”—a shrug and a groan,—“we are thankful if our tenderest care can keep the upper stories free from the vandalism that rages below.”

Nevertheless, acknowledging, as I have, personally, reasons for doing—the truth of all these things—I make answer, “Have an art-kitchen for yourself!” First, give your cook, or maid-of-all-work, a fair trial. It is a duty you owe to humanity and to her to prove, conclusively, whether her careless or destructive habits be ingrain and wilful, or merely the result of ignorance and bad training. There are bad mistresses, let us remember,—and more still who are indifferent or incompetent. If “our girl” has a heart or a conscience, let us find it. Make her understand the value and usefulness of the appliances you have furnished for her work, where and how they are to be kept, and set her the example of always looking for and putting them in their proper places. If they are misused, show your regret decidedly, but still kindly. Should all means of civilizing her taste up to your standard fail, make, as I have advised, an art-kitchen for your own use. Appropriate one corner of the room, where cooking is done, for your operations, and arrange there your pet tools. Have your scoop flour-sifter; your patent pie-lifter and oyster-broiler; your star-toaster; your pie-crimper, vegetable and nutmeg graters; gravy-strainer, colander, biscuit-cutter, skimmers, larding needles, wire, and perforated, and slit and fluted spoons; your weights and measures, and the tidy, serviceable tinned and enamelled saucepans, Scotch kettles, frying-pans, etc., that will retain tidiness and serviceable qualities so long in your care, and so soon come to grief in boorish clutches. Set all these, and as many others as you like and can afford to buy—always including the Dover egg-beater and its “Baby” (made for whipping one egg to more purpose than one egg, or anything else as small was ever whipped before)—in array upon walls and shelves,[A] and let the logic of daily events prove how far they will deprive work of the wearing vexations attendant upon long searches for the right article, and its wrong condition when found. Make your helpers—one and all—comprehend that these are your especial property, to be used—and kept clean—by no one else. Let them be looked down upon as the toys of a would-be-busy woman by the superior intellects about you, should they see fit thus to do, and provide such tools as are suited to coarser fingers for them to use. The chances are many to one that your dexterous manipulation of your instruments; the excellence of the products achieved by yourself and them; even the attractive neatness of the display and your corner, will win skeptics, first, to indulgence, then, admiration, then, to imitation. If you can afford the great luxury of a pastry or mixing-room, adjoining the kitchen, so much the better for you and your pious undertaking. But without regard to what may be the effect upon others, have your saucepans, of whatever designs and in whatever quantities you like—taking “saucepan” as a generic term for every description of mute helpers in the task of elevating cookery into a fine art, or, at the least, in redeeming it from the stigma of coarseness and vulgarity.

Have, also, as an indispensable adjunct of saucepans, appliances for cleansing them. There is nothing inherently degrading in dish-washing. Provide plenty of towels and hot water; a mop with a handle and a loop by which to hang it up when it has been squeezed and shaken after use; a soap-shaker—a neat wire cup, enclosing the soap, and furnished with a handle of tinned wire, and a dish-pan, with a partition running across the middle, that the soiled articles may be rinsed from grease in one of the compartments before they are purified thoroughly in the other. Have, also, at hand a can or box of washing soda, and a bottle of ammonia for taking off the grease more effectually; a cake of Indexical silver soap in a cup, with a brush, for restoring lustre to tins, Britannia or plated, or silver ware. Thus armed, the cleansing of your implements will be a matter of brief moment, and your work in the kitchen be, in no sense, a hindrance to the stated duties of the day, while your methods and occasional presence cannot fail to be a refining influence upon all except the very common and spiritually unclean. Ladyhood, if thorough, will assert itself, even behind a scullion’s apron.

JANUARY.

First Week. Sunday.

Beef Soup.

Cut the meat very fine, and crack the bones well. Put these on in a pot with a close top; cover with a quart of water, and set where they will come very slowly to a boil. If they do not reach this point in less than an hour, so much the better. When the contents of the pot begin to bubble, add the remaining two quarts of cold water, and let all boil slowly for three hours: for two hours with the top closed, during the last with it slightly lifted. Wash and peel the turnip, carrot, and onion, scrape the celery, and wash with the cabbage. Cut all into dice and lay in cold water, a little salted, for half an hour. Put the carrot on to stew in a small vessel by itself; the others all together, with enough water to cover them. Some think the carrot keeps color and shape better if hot, instead of cold water be used for it. Let it stew until tender, then drain off the water and set it aside to cool. The other vegetables should be boiled to pieces. Half an hour before the soup is to be taken up, strain the water from the cabbage, etc., pressing them to a pulp to extract all the strength. Return this to the saucepan, throw in a little salt, let it boil up once to clear it; skim and add to the soup. Put in pepper, and salt—unless the ham has salted it sufficiently—and boil, covered, twenty minutes. Strain into an earthenware basin; let it get cool enough for the fat to arise to the surface, when take off all that will come away. Return to the pot, which should have been previously rinsed with hot water, boil briskly for one minute, and throw in the carrot. Skim and serve.

This is a good, clear soup. If you like it thicker, dissolve a tablespoonful of gelatine in enough cold water to cover it well—this may be done by an hour’s soaking—and add to the soup after the latter is strained and cleared of the fat.

When practicable, make Sunday’s soup on Saturday, so far as to prepare the “stock,” or meat base. Set it away in an earthenware crock, adding a little salt. This not only lessens Sunday’s work, but the unstrained soup gathers the whole strength of the meat, and the fat can be removed in a solid cake of excellent dripping. Indeed, it is a good rule always to prepare soup stock at least twenty-four hours before it is to be used for the table.

Try, likewise, to make enough soup for Sunday to last over Monday as well. A little forethought on Saturday will lessen the labors and increase the comfort of what has been somewhat profanely named “Job’s birthday,” the anniversary which was to be accursed for evermore.

Chicken smothered with Oysters.

Prepare the chicken as for roasting. Stuff with a dressing of the oysters chopped pretty fine, and mixed with the bread-crumbs, seasoned to taste with pepper and salt. Tie up the neck securely. (This can be done on Saturday, if the fowl be afterwards kept in a very cold place.)

Put the chicken thus stuffed and trussed, with legs and wings tied close to the body with soft tape, into a tin pail with a tight top. Cover closely and set, with a weight on the top, in a pot of cold water. Bring gradually to a boil, that the fowl may be heated evenly and thoroughly. Stew steadily, never fast, for an hour and a half after the water in the outer kettle begins to boil. Then open the pail and test with a fork to see if the chicken be tender. If not, re-cover at once, and stew for half or three-quarters of an hour longer. When the chicken is tender throughout, take it out and lay upon a hot dish, covering immediately. Turn the juices left in the pail into a saucepan, thicken with the corn-starch, which should first be wet up with a little cold milk, then the chopped parsley, butter, pepper and salt, and the yolks of the hard-boiled eggs chopped fine. Boil up once, stir in the cream, and take from the fire before it can boil again. Pour a few spoonfuls over the chicken, and serve the rest in a sauce-tureen.

Celery Salad.

Wash and scrape the celery, lay in ice-cold water until dinner-time, when cut into inch-lengths, season, tossing all well up together, and serve in a salad bowl.

Cauliflower au gratin.

Boil the cauliflower until tender (about twenty minutes), having first tied it up in a bag of coarse lace or tarlatan. Have ready a cup of good drawn butter, and pour over the cauliflower, when you have drained and dished the latter. Sift the cheese thickly over the top, and brown by holding a red-hot shovel so close to the cheese that it singes and blazes. Blow out the fire on the instant, and send to the table.

Mashed Potatoes.

Pare the potatoes very thin, lay in cold water for an hour, and cover well with boiling water. (“Peach-blows” are better put down in cold water.) Boil quickly, and when done, drain off every drop of water; throw in a little salt; set back on the range for two or three minutes. Mash soft with a potato-beetle, or whip to a cream with a fork, adding a little butter and enough milk to make a soft paste. Heap in a smooth mound upon a vegetable dish.

Stewed Tomatoes.

Open a can of tomatoes an hour before cooking them. Leave out the cores and unripe parts. Cook always in tin or porcelain saucepans. Iron injures color and flavor. Stew gently for half an hour; season to taste with salt, pepper, a little sugar, and a tablespoonful of butter. Cook gently, uncovered, ten minutes longer, and turn into a deep dish.

Blanc Mange.

Soak the gelatine for two hours in a breakfast-cup of cold water. Heat the milk to boiling in a farina-kettle, or in a tin pail set in a pot of hot water. Add the soaked gelatine and sugar, stir for ten minutes over the fire, and strain through a thin muslin bag into a mould wet with cold water. Flavor and set in a cold place to form. To loosen it, dip the mould for one instant in hot water, detach the surface from the sides by a light pressure of the fingers, and reverse over a glass or china dish. Serve with powdered sugar and cream.

By all means have Sunday desserts prepared upon the preceding day. To this end, I have endeavored to give such receipts for the blessed day as can be easily made ready on Saturday.

Cocoa.

Rub the cocoa smooth in a little cold water. Have ready on the fire the pint of boiling water. Stir in the grated cocoa-paste. Boil twenty minutes; add the milk and boil five minutes more, stirring often.

Sweeten in the cups to suit different tastes.

There is a preparation of cocoa, already powdered, called “cocoatina,” which needs no boiling. It is very good, and saves the trouble of grating and cooking. I regret that, although I have used it frequently and with great satisfaction, I have forgotten the name of the manufacturer. It is put up in round boxes, like mustard, and is quite as economical for family use as the cakes of cocoa.

Sponge Cake.

Beat yolks and whites very light, separately of course, the powdered sugar into the yolks when they are smooth and thick; next, the juice and grated peel of the lemon; then the whites with a few swift strokes; at last, the flour, in great, loose handfuls. Stir in lightly, but thoroughly. Too much beating after the flour goes in makes sponge cake tough. Bake in round tin moulds, buttered. Your oven should be steady. When the cakes begin to color on top, cover with paper to prevent burning.

When cool, wrap in a thick cloth to keep fresh.

First Week. Monday.

Said an irascible householder to a friend from another city, whom he chanced to meet in the street one day, “Come and dine with me! But I give you warning we shall have nothing for dinner but a confounded dressmaker!” Few of the great middle class, who are the strength and glory of our land, would dare take an unexpected guest home on washing-day, although fewer still would dare reveal, as frankly as did our blunt citizen, the cause of their reluctance to unveil the penetralia of what are, upon all days save Black Monday and Blue Tuesday, orderly and brightsome households.

Don’t interrupt me, please, my much-tried and much-trying sister, upon whose brow the plaits of Monday’s tribulations have left enduring traces! I know Bridget is always cross on wash-day, and that Katy wears an aggrieved air from morning until night; that dusting, china-washing, and divers other unaccustomed tasks are appointed unto your already busy self; that John and the boys hate “pick-up dinners;” that the modest bills of fare set down in this book for the second and third days of the week will, at the first glance, seem preposterous and unfeeling. You will survey them with very much the same feeling as moved Pope to exclaim, with tears in his eyes, “From an old friend I had not expected this!” when his host, having allowed him to eat to repletion of less savory viands, had brought on, without a note of preparation, the poet’s favorite dish, a fine hare roasted with truffles. But the fact remains that people cannot swallow enough on Sunday to support Nature through the two days’ journey into the wilderness of making-clean that follows the season of rest and devotion. It is also true that your husband and yourself, with school-children and servants, work harder on Monday than upon any other one day of the seven, and that your food should be nourishing. Should Bridget protest against “hot mate and soup” as unprecedented and “onfaling,” Bridget’s mistress (by courtesy) must bring another unknown commodity to the obstinate Celt, to bear upon the subject—to wit, Brains. As I shall try to show, an hour given by yourself to the lower regions—too often an inferno on that direful day—will put such a repast before unexpectant John as shall have for his eye and taste none of the characteristics of a “pick-up dinner.”

Soup À l’Italienne.

Put the soup on fifteen minutes before dinner, where it will heat quickly. The moment it boils, draw it to one side, stir in the corn-starch and milk and heat anew, stirring constantly until it begins to thicken. Set it again upon the side of the range, and add the beaten eggs. Cover and leave it where it will keep hot, but not cook, while you scald the tureen and put the grated cheese in the bottom. In five minutes pour the soup upon the cheese, stir all up well, and it is ready for the table.

This is a delicious soup and easily made.

Breaded Mutton Chops—Baked.

Trim the chops neatly and put aside the bones and bits of skin for the sauce for macaroni. Pour a little melted butter over the meat. Do this as early in the day as convenient, cover them and let them stand until an hour before they are to be served. Then, roll each in beaten egg, next, in fine cracker-dust, (you can buy it ready powdered) and lay them in your dripping-pan with a very little water in the bottom—just enough to keep them from burning. Bake quickly—covering the dripping-pan with another—for half an hour. Then remove the upper, baste the chops with butter and hot water, and let them brown. When done, lay them upon a hot dish and set in the open oven to keep warm. Add to the gravy in the dripping-pan a little hot water, a teaspoonful of browned flour, a tablespoonful of catsup, a small quantity of minced onion, pepper and salt. Boil up once, strain, and pour over the chops.

Macaroni with Tomato Sauce.

Break the macaroni into short pieces and set over the fire with enough boiling water to cover it well, as it swells to treble its original dimensions. In twenty minutes it should be tender. Drain off the water carefully, not to break the macaroni, and stir lightly into it pepper, salt, and a tablespoonful of butter. Turn it into a deep dish and pour over it a sauce made as follows: To the bones and refuse bits left from trimming the chops, add a pint of cold water, and stew slowly upon the back of the range, (lest Bridget should be inconvenienced thereby,) until you have less than a cupful of good gravy. Strain out the bones, etc., season to taste, and add what was left from the stewed tomatoes of yesterday. Having had the provision for to-day’s dinner in mind, you will have acted wisely in seeing for yourself that it did not go into the swill-pail under the head of “scraps.” Cook tomatoes and gravy together for three minutes after they begin to simmer, and pour, smoking hot, over the macaroni. Let it stand covered a few minutes before serving.

Potato Puff.

To two cupfuls of cold mashed potato (more of yesterday’s leavings), add a tablespoonful of melted butter, and beat to a cream. Put with this two eggs whipped light, and a cupful of milk, salting to taste. Beat all well; pour into a greased baking-dish, and bake quickly to a light brown. Serve in the dish in which it was cooked.

Corn-starch Hasty Pudding.

Heat the milk to scalding, and stir into it the corn-starch until it has boiled ten minutes and is thick and smooth throughout. Add salt and butter, let the pudding stand in the farina-kettle in which it has been boiled—the hot water around it—for three minutes before turning it into a deep open dish.

Eat with butter and sugar, or with powdered sugar and cream, with nutmeg grated over it.

Coffee.

A French coffee-pot is a convenience on Monday. If you have one, you know how to use it. If not, put a quart of boiling water into your coffee-pot; wet up a cupful of ground coffee with the white of an egg, adding the egg-shell, and a little cold water. Put this into the boiling hot water, and boil fast ten minutes. Then, add half a cup of cold water, and set it upon the hearth or table to “settle” for five minutes. Pour it off carefully into your metal or china coffee-pot or urn.

First Week. Tuesday.

Scotch Broth.

Crack the bones and mince the meat early in the day, if you dine near midday, and put on with the cold water. Soak the barley in lukewarm water, after washing it well, and when it has lain in the tepid bath for two hours, put it in the same over the fire to cook slowly, keeping it covered fully by adding hot water from the kettle. Wash, scrape and chop the vegetables; cover with cold water, and stew in a saucepan by themselves. When they are very soft, rub them through a colander; add the water in which they were cooked, and keep hot until the meat in the soup-kettle has boiled to rags. For this purpose four hours are better than three. Strain out bones and meat; put soup-stock, barley (with the water in which it has boiled), vegetable broth, pepper, and salt, into one kettle and boil slowly for thirty minutes. A little chopped parsley is an improvement.

Rolled Beefsteaks.

Take out the bones from the steak and throw them into the soup-pot. If your butcher has not already done so, beat the meat flat with the broad side of a hatchet, and cover it with a force-meat made of bread-crumbs, minced pork, and half an onion. Moisten this slightly with water, and season to taste. Roll each steak up, closely enclosing the stuffing; bind with twine into two compact bundles and lay in a dripping-pan. Dash a cupful of boiling water over each, cover with an inverted pan, and bake about three-quarters of an hour, in their own steam. At the end of this time remove the cover, baste with butter and dredge with flour to brown the meat. When they are of a fine color, lay upon a hot dish. Thicken the gravy with a little browned flour, boil up and send to table in a boat. In removing the strings from the rolled beef prior to serving, clip them in several places, that the form of the meat may not be disturbed.

Cabbage Salad.

Heat milk and vinegar in separate vessels. To the boiling vinegar add butter, sugar, and seasoning, lastly the chopped cabbage. Heat to scalding, but do not let it boil. Stir the beaten eggs into the hot milk. Cook one minute together after they begin to boil. Turn the hot cabbage into a bowl; pour the custard over it; toss up and about with a wooden or silver fork, until all the ingredients are well mixed. Cover and set in a very cold place for some hours.

This is a very delightful salad, quite repaying the trouble of cooking the dressing.

Browned Potatoes.

Boil large potatoes with their skins on; peel them, and, when you uncover your beef for browning, lay the potatoes in the dripping-pan about the meat. Dredge and baste them as well as the beef. If not quite brown when the meat is ready, leave them in the gravy for awhile, before thickening the latter. Drain in a hot colander, and arrange neatly around the steaks in the dish.

Baked Beans.

Soak dried beans all night in soft water, exchanging this in the morning for lukewarm, and this, two hours later, for still warmer. Let them lie an hour in this, before putting them on to boil in cold water. When they are soft, drain and turn them into a bake-dish. Season with pepper and salt, with a liberal spoonful of butter. Add enough boiling water to prevent them from scorching and bake, covered, until they smoke and bubble. Remove the cover, and brown. Serve in the bake-dish.

Apple and Tapioca Pudding.

Arrange the apples in a deep dish; add a cup of cold water; cover, and steam in a moderate oven until tender all through, turning them once or twice. Turn off half the liquid and pour the tapioca, which should have been soaked in a warm place, over the apples, when you have filled the hollows left by the cores with sugar and put a clove in each. The tapioca should be slightly salted. Bake one hour, or until the tapioca is clear and crusted on top. Serve in pudding-dish.

Hard Sauce.

To two cups of powdered sugar add half a cup of butter, slightly warmed, so that the two can be worked up together. When they are well mixed, beat in half a teaspoonful of nutmeg and the juice of a lemon. Whip smooth and light, mound neatly upon a butter-plate, and set in the cold to harden.

First Week. Wednesday.

Split Pea Soup.

Soak the peas all night in soft water, changing it in the morning for warm—not hot. Throw this off after an hour and cover the peas with four quarts of cold water. Boil in this—adding the meat, cut small, the bones well cracked and the celery—four hours. Always boil soups slowly. The neglect of this rule leaves in the kettle a mass of toughened meat and an ocean of dish-water.

When you are ready to take up your soup, strain in a colander, picking out and casting aside bits of bones and shreds of meat. Rub the peas and celery through the holes of the strainer until nothing more will pass. Season with pepper and salt; add the juice of a small lemon, and return to the kettle, which must first be rinsed with hot water. Let all boil together two minutes. Should it not seem so thick as you would like, you can put in, while it is boiling, a little corn-starch wet up with cold water. Put a couple of slices of stale bread, cut into dice and fried crisp in dripping, in the heated tureen, and pour the soup upon them.

Halibut Steaks—Fried.

Wash and wipe the steaks. Roll each in flour, and fry upon a buttered griddle, turning carefully with a spatula, or cake-turner, when the lower side is done. They should be of a nice brown, and tender throughout. Remove to a hot dish and garnish with sliced lemon; in carving, see that a bit of the lemon goes to each person, as many prefer it to any other sauce for fish. Send around potatoes with the steak. Worcestershire is a good store-sauce for fish and game. Anchovy is pre-eminently a fish sauce, but many do not like it.

Leg of Mutton—Boiled.

Do not have the mutton too fat or too large. Cut off the shank, which the butcher will have nicked for you, leaving about two inches beyond the ham. Wash and wipe carefully and boil in hot water, with a little salt, until a fork will readily pierce the thickest part. About ten or twelve minutes to the pound is a good rule in boiling fresh meat. Serve with caper sauce. Since you intend to use the liquor in which the meat is boiled for to-morrow’s soup, do not oversalt it. But sprinkle, instead, salt over the leg of mutton after it is dished; rub it all over with butter and set in a hot oven for a single minute.

Caper Sauce.

Heat the liquor to boiling, and skim before stirring in the flour, which must be perfectly free from lumps, and rubbed smooth in cold water. Stir until the sauce thickens evenly. It is best to cook all sauces in a vessel set within a larger one of hot water. When it has boiled about a minute, add the butter gradually, stirring each bit in well before putting in more. Salt, and drop in the capers. Let it just boil, and turn into a sauce-boat.

Spinach.

Pull the spinach from the stalks, leaf by leaf; wash carefully, and leave in cold water one hour. Boil in hot water fifteen minutes. Drain very dry in a colander; chop extremely fine in a wooden bowl, then return to the saucepan with a tablespoonful of butter, a little salt, and a teaspoonful of white sugar. As it heats beat it up with a wooden spoon until it is a soft paste. Let it bubble up once, and dish. Lay a hard-boiled egg or two, cut in thin slices, upon the surface. Few vegetables are more often ruined in the cooking than spinach. The above receipt is simple and good.

Stewed Potatoes.

Pare and cut into large dice some good potatoes. Lay in cold water half an hour. Stew in cold water, a little salted. There should be enough water to cover them well. When they are tender and begin to crumble at the edges, drain off half the water, and pour in as much milk. When they are again scalding hot, stir in a lump of butter the size of an egg (for a large dish) rolled in flour, salt, pepper and chopped parsley to taste. Boil up once and serve in a covered dish.

Cottage Pudding.

Rub the butter well into the sugar; add beaten yolks; the milk, salt, then whipped whites and yolks alternately. Bake in a buttered mould. When you can bring out the testing-straw clean from the middle of the loaf, turn it out upon a dish. Cut in slices while hot, as it is wanted.

One who has never tried it can hardly believe that the result of a receipt which may be tried fearlessly by a novice in cookery, could be the really elegant pudding just described.

It is also as economical as toothsome.

Sauce for Cottage Pudding.

Rub the butter into the sugar; add hot water gradually; then spice and wine. Cover tightly to keep in the strength of the wine, and set for twenty minutes in a saucepan of boiling water. Stir up and send to table.

First Week. Thursday.

Vermicelli Soup.

Take off all the fat from the broth in which your mutton was cooked yesterday, and boil it down slowly to two-thirds of the original quantity. Stew to pieces, in another vessel, a stalk of celery, one small onion, a carrot, and a bunch of sweet herbs—all cut up fine. A ham-bone, if you have it, or a couple of slices of lean ham, will be an improvement to the broth. Strain the soup; rub the vegetables through a fine colander with the water in which they were boiled; return to the fire with a double handful of vermicelli broken into short pieces; boil for ten minutes; add a tablespoonful of butter rolled in flour; boil up and serve.

Send around a saucer of grated cheese with vermicelli and macaroni soups. It is a great improvement to the flavor and consistency. Each person may take as much or as little as he likes.

Scalloped Oysters.

Butter a baking-dish and cover the bottom pretty thickly with pounded cracker. Wet with oyster liquor and a few spoonfuls of cream. Next, lay oysters, one deep, closely over these. Pepper and salt, and stick a bit of butter upon each. Another layer of crumbs, wet as before; more oysters, and proceed in like order until your dish is full, making the top layer of crumbs with butter dotted over it. Set in the oven, invert a plate or tin pan over the dish, and bake until the juice bubbles up to the top. Uncover; set upon the upper grating of the oven to brown, and send to table in the bake-dish. Pass around sliced lemon with it.

Oysters, like fish, follow immediately after soup, and are a course by themselves.

Mince of Mutton with Potato Frill.

Heat the sauce to a boil, add the seasoning and the onion, chopped very fine; then, the meat. Draw the saucepan to the side of the range, and let it stand, closely covered, in boiling water for ten minutes. Set again over the fire and bring to boiling point. Add the eggs and milk and set back at the side for five minutes, still covered. The mince should never really boil after the meat goes in.

Potato Frill.

Boil and mash some potatoes; working in a little milk and butter, but not so much as to make the paste very soft. Season with salt, and, while still hot, knead in a beaten egg. Shape this paste into a fence, on the inside round of a shallow dish; fluting it regularly with the round handle of a knife. Set for one minute in a hot oven, but not long enough to cause the fence to crack. Glaze quickly with butter, and pour the meat carefully within the wall. The mince should not be so thin as to wash away the “frill.” If well managed this is a pretty and a savory dish.

Baked Tomatoes.

Drain off two-thirds of the liquor from the tomatoes; salt it and set aside for another day’s soup. One has no excuse for waste whose “stock-pot” is always near at hand. Little comes amiss to it. Cover the bottom of a bake-dish with crumbs; lay the tomatoes evenly upon this bed; season with pepper, salt, sugar, and parsley, with bits of butter here and there. Strew bread-crumbs over all, a thicker layer than at the bottom; put tiny pieces of butter upon this, and bake, covered, about thirty-five minutes. Take off the cover and brown upon the upper shelf of the oven. Do not let it stay there long enough to get dry.

Celery—Raw.

Wash, trim, and scrape the stalks, selecting those that are white and tender. Crisp by leaving them in very cold water until they are wanted for the table. Arrange neatly in a celery-stand. Pass between the oysters and meat.

Tipsy Trifle.

Make a custard of the milk, sugar, the yolks of the eggs and the whites of two. Put in the latter ingredients when the milk almost boils, and stir until it begins to thicken. Flavor when cold. Put a layer of sliced cake in the bottom of a glass bowl. Wet with the wine and a few spoonfuls of custard, and when it is quite soaked, put on more cake. Proceed in this manner until the cake and wine are used up, when pour on, a little at a time, the remainder of the custard; holding down the cake with a bread spoon as you do this to keep it from floating. Lay a heavy plate upon it, for the same purpose, while you prepare a méringue by whipping stiff the rest of the whites, and then beating in the currant jelly. Cover the trifle with this just before dinner-time.

Apples and Nuts.

Polish the apples, and crack the nuts, unless you have plenty of nut-crackers. Give a knife to each apple-plate, and teach the children to pare them neatly for themselves, instead of “munching” like rabbits at family dinners, and being awkwardly ill at ease when “company” is present. Silver or ivory knives are better for fruit than steel.

First Week. Friday.

Soupe Maigre.

Clean, scrape, and mince the vegetables, and put on to cook in cold water, enough to cover them well. When they are scalding hot, drain, and cover them with three pints of boiling water. Stew slowly in this until they are reduced to pulp. Rub through a colander, season, and heat again to boiling. Stir in the bread-crumbs; then the butter, very gradually. Have the milk ready, heated in another vessel, and pour into the soup-kettle at this juncture. Let the soup get very hot, but not boil. Set upon the side of the range, and, dipping out a cupful, add it, a little at a time, to the beaten eggs. When well mixed, return eggs and liquor to the rest of the soup; stir over the fire for an instant, but never to boiling, and serve in a hot tureen.

The eggs should not be allowed to curdle in the liquor; hence the need of carefulness in following the directions above given. A little grated cheese is a pleasant accompaniment to this soup, each person adding it as pleases him.

Boiled Cod.

Lay the fish in cold water, a little salt, for half an hour. Wipe dry, and sew up in a linen cloth, coarse and clean, fitted to the shape of the piece of cod. Have but one fold over each part. Lay in the fish-kettle, cover with boiling water, salted at discretion. Allow nearly an hour for a piece weighing four pounds.

Sauce.

To one gill of boiling water allow as much milk; stir into this, while boiling, two tablespoonfuls of butter, added gradually, a tablespoonful of flour wet up with cold water, and, as it thickens, the chopped yolk of a boiled egg and one raw egg, beaten light. Take directly from the fire, season with pepper, salt, a little chopped parsley and the juice of a lemon, and set, covered, in boiling water, but not over the fire, for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Pour part of the sauce over the fish when dished; the rest in a boat. Send around mashed potatoes with it.

Roast Duck.

Clean the duck very carefully, rinsing it out with a little soda and water, and afterwards with fresh water. Lay in cold, salted water for an hour. Wipe dry, inside and out, and stuff with a dressing of bread-crumbs, seasoned with pepper and salt, a very little powdered sage and a “suspicion” of minced onion. Sew up; dash a cup of boiling water over them, as they lie in the dripping-pan, and roast, covered, for the first half-hour. Remove the cover, and baste freely—three times with butter and water, four or five times with the gravy from the pan. Stew the giblets in a little salted water, and reserve to piece out to-morrow’s salmi. Dish the ducks upon a hot platter.

Bread Sauce.

Skim the fat well from the gravy left in the dripping-pan; have ready a handful of bread-crumbs (stale), wet up with hot water. Thicken the gravy with these when it has come to a boil; season with pepper, salt, and a pinch of mace. Boil all together once and serve.

Mashed Potatoes.

See receipt for Sunday.

While I would spare you all waste of time and pains in looking up receipts in other parts of this volume, I yet deem it hardly worth while to write out in full the same directions twice for the same week—or month.

Rice Croquettes.

Work rice, butter, egg, etc., into an adhesive paste, beating each ingredient thoroughly into the mixture. Flour your hands and make the rice into oval balls. Dip each in beaten egg, then in flour, or cracker-dust, and fry in boiling lard, a few at a time, turning each with great care. When the croquettes are of a fine yellow-brown, take out with a wire spoon and lay within a heated colander to drain off every drop of fat. Serve hot, with sprigs of parsley laid about them, in an uncovered dish.

Stewed Celery.

Cut the celery into inch lengths; cover with cold water and stew until tender. Turn off the water and supply its place with enough milk to cover the celery. When this begins to boil stir in a good lump of butter rolled in flour; pepper and salt to taste, and stew gently five minutes.

You will like this vegetable thus prepared. Eat, if you like, with a little lemon-juice or vinegar.

Apple Pie.

Chop the lard into the dry flour. Wet with ice-water into stiff paste, touching as little as may be with your hands. Roll out very thin, always from you. Stick bits of butter all over the sheet; roll up tightly as you would a sheet of paper. Beat flat with your rolling-pin, roll out again, and again baste with butter. Repeat the operations of rolling up, rolling out, and basting until your butter is used up. Set the roll of pastry in a cold, dry place for at least one hour. All night would not be too long. When it is crisp and firm, roll out and line your buttered pie-plates. The bottom crust should be thinner than the upper. And, as a rule, you would do well to give the roll of pastry intended for the latter a “baste” or two more than that meant for the lower.

Pare, core and slice juicy, tart apples; put a layer upon the inner crust, sprinkle with sugar thickly—scatter a few cloves upon the sugar; then another layer of apples, and so on, until the dish is full. Cover with crust, pressed down firmly at the edges, and bake. Eat warm, or cold, with white sugar sifted over the top.

Apple pie is very good with cream poured over each slice.

First Week. Saturday.

Macaroni Soup.

Fry the meat until half done, in a very little dripping. Take it out and fry the onions and bones in the same gravy. Put all into a soup-kettle with the herbs, and cover with 4 quarts of water (cold). Bring to a slow boil, and, at the end of four hours, strain into a great bowl to cool, in order that the fat may rise and be taken off. Meanwhile, make ready your macaroni by breaking it into short bits, covering well with boiling water, a little salted, and stewing slowly twenty minutes, or until tender. Add a lump of butter the size of a walnut; let it stand, covered, for a few minutes, while you season the soup, adding the tomato-juice or catsup. Boil, skim, and thicken with a tablespoonful of corn-starch wet up with cold water. When it is again on the boil, turn in the macaroni, taking care not to break it. Heat to scalding, but do not boil; pour out, and serve.

Ham and Eggs.

Cut your slices of ham of a uniform size and shape, cutting off the rind. Fry quickly in their own fat. Remove from the pan with a wire spoon so soon as they are done, and arrange upon a hot dish, setting this within the open oven, or upon a pot of boiling water to keep warm. Drop the eggs, as you break them, into the hot fat left in the frying-pan. Do not put so many in as to crowd one another. Each egg should preserve its individuality. Cook about three minutes, without turning. Take up with a spatula, or cake-turner, and lay one upon each slice of ham. Do not send the gravy to table. Strain, and use for dripping.

Salmi of Duck.

From the cold ducks left after yesterday’s dinner cut all the meat in as neat slices as you can, leaving the joints of legs and wings whole. Take off the skin; break the carcass into pieces, and put these, with the stuffing, into a saucepan with a fried onion, some sweet herbs, pepper, salt, and a pinch of allspice. Cover with cold water and stew gently, after it reaches the boil, for one hour. Cool, that the fat may rise and be taken off. Strain the gravy when you have skimmed it; return to the saucepan, boil and skim again, and stir in two tablespoonfuls of browned flour, wet with cold water; lastly, stir in a great spoonful of butter. Stew five minutes longer, and put in the meat. Draw to one side of the range, and set, closely covered, in a pot of boiling water for ten minutes. The meat must be thoroughly heated and steeped in the gravy, but not boil. Take the meat out with a perforated spoon, pile neatly upon a dish and pour the gravy over it. Garnish with triangles of stale bread fried crisp, and send a piece to each person who is helped to salmi.

Fried Parsnips.

Boil, until tender, in hot water slightly salted; let them get almost cold, scrape off the skin, and cut in thick, long slices. Dredge with flour and fry in hot dripping, turning as they brown. Drain very dry in a hot colander; pepper and salt and serve.

Stewed Salsify.

Scrape the roots, dropping each into cold water as you do this, that they may not change color. Cut in pieces an inch long; cover with hot water and stew until tender. Drain off two-thirds of the water and add enough milk to cover the salsify. Stew ten minutes in this; put in a good lump of butter rolled thickly in flour. Pepper and salt. Boil up for one minute.

Sweet Potatoes—in Jackets.

Parboil in their skins when you have washed them, selecting such as are of like size. Then put in a moderate oven and bake until soft all through. You can ascertain this by pinching the largest. Wipe off and serve in their skins.

Rosie’s Rice Custard.

Boil the rice, drain, and stir, while hot, into the milk. Beat the eggs well; rub butter and sugar to a cream with lemon-peel and a little salt, and stir into the warm milk. Mix well and bake in a buttered dish in a brisk oven. Eat warm or cold. We like it better warm, with a little cream poured over it when served in saucers.

Second Week. Sunday.

Soupe au Julienne.

Prepare the stock on Saturday. Put meat and bones into a pot with a close cover, pour on the water, and set it where it will heat very slowly. Boil, also very slowly, six hours, at the back of the range. Should the water sink fast in the pot, replenish from the boiling tea-kettle. At the end of six hours, turn the soup, meat, bones and all, into an earthenware vessel; pepper and salt it and set on the cellar floor, covered, until next day. Take off, then, the cake of excellent dripping from the top; strain the soup and set over the fire, about an hour before dinner, and heat gradually.

The vegetables should be—

Clean, scrape, and mince all these, except the corn and tomatoes. Cut the carrot into dice and stew, by itself, in a little cold water. Boil the corn in enough water to cover it, and add more hot water as it swells. Cover the minced vegetables with cold water, and so soon as it boils, turn it off, and replenish with boiling, from the kettle. This will take away the rank taste from cabbage and onion. When they are soft enough to pulp, strain well, but without pressing, into the soup. It is needless to add the vegetables, as the strength is in the liquor. Boil up and skim the soup before putting in the boiled corn and the canned tomatoes, which should be cut up small, and the unripe parts removed. Boil fifteen minutes, add the carrot, season to taste, and serve.[B]

Roast Turkey.

Rinse out the turkey well with soda and water; then with salt, lastly with fair water. Stuff with a dressing made of bread-crumbs, wet up with butter and water and seasoned to your taste. Stuff the craw and tie up the neck. Fill the body and sew up the vent. I need hardly say that these strings are to be clipped and removed after the fowl is roasted. Tie the legs to the lower part of the body that they may not “sprawl,” as the sinews shrink. Put into the dripping-pan, pour a teacupful of boiling water over it, and roast, basting often, allowing about ten minutes’ time for every pound. Be careful not to have your oven too hot—especially during the first half-hour or so. The turkey would, otherwise, be dry and blackened on the outside and raw within. And remember how much of the perfection of roasting meats and poultry depends upon basting faithfully. Boil the giblets tender in a little water. When the turkey is done, set it where it will keep warm; skim the gravy left in the pan; add a little boiling water; thicken slightly with browned flour; boil up once and add the giblets minced fine. Season to taste; give another boil, and send to table in a gravy-boat.

Cranberry Sauce.

Wash and pick over the cranberries; put on to cook in a tin or porcelain vessel, allowing a teacupful of water to each quart. Stew slowly, stirring often until they are as thick as marmalade. Take from the fire in little over an hour, if they have cooked steadily, sweeten plentifully with white sugar, and strain through coarse tarlatan, or mosquito-net, into a mould wet with cold water.

Do this on Saturday. On Sunday, turn out into a glass dish.

Mashed Potatoes—Browned.

Having mashed them in the usual manner, mound them smoothly upon a shallow earthenware dish and set them in a quick oven, glazing them with butter as they color. They should be of a light brown. Slip the mound from a coarser to a finer platter by the help of your cake-turner. It is still better if you have one of the pretty “enamelled” bake-dishes lined with porcelain, with silver stands for the table. They are invaluable for puddings, scallops, etc.

Stewed Corn.

Stew one quart of canned corn in its own liquor, setting the vessel containing it in an outer, of hot water. Should the corn be exceptionally dry, add a little cold water. When tender, pour in enough milk to cover the corn, bring to a boil, and put in a tablespoonful of butter rolled in flour, and salt to taste. Stew gently, stirring well, three or four minutes, and turn into a deep dish. Keep the vessel containing the corn closely covered while it is cooking. The steam facilitates the process and preserves the color of the corn.

Celery

Is the usual accompaniment of roast turkey. Prepare by selecting the blanched stalks, scraping off the rust, cutting off all but the youngest and tenderest tops, and laying these in cold water to crisp until wanted for the table. Garnish your turkey with alternate light and dark green sprigs of celery.

Tropical Snow.

Peel and cut the oranges into small pieces by dividing each lobe crosswise into thirds. Extract the seeds and put a layer of the fruit in the bottom of a glass dish. Pour a little wine upon it, and strew with powdered sugar. The cocoanut must have been prepared by removing the rind and throwing it into cold water for some time before grating it. Over the layer of oranges spread one of cocoanut; cut the bananas into very thin, round slices, and lay these, one deep, upon the cocoanut. Repeat the order just given until your dish is full and the oranges and bananas used up. The top layer must be of cocoanut, heaped high, sprinkled with powdered sugar and garnished about the base with slices of banana. Eat soon, as the oranges toughen in the wine.

Supplement this pretty, but not substantial dessert by a salver of lady’s-fingers, and macaroons, and a good cup of coffee.

Second Week. Monday.

Next Day’s Soup.

Julienne soup, like most other soups the base of which is meat, is better when warmed over the second day. Set it over the fire where it will heat, not too quickly, almost to a boil. It will not “put back” the business of the day twenty minutes, and be a welcome addition to your dinner.

Turkey Scallop.

Cut the meat from yesterday’s turkey. Crack the carcass to pieces, and put, with bits of skin, fat, and gristle, into a saucepan; cover with cold water, and set on to stew slowly into gravy. Chop the meat very fine; strew the bottom of a greased bake-dish with crumbs, and cover this with a thick stratum of minced turkey, stuffing, and tiny bits of butter. Pepper and salt, and put on more crumbs, then meat, and so on. Stale bread is better for this scallop than cracker-dust. Having used up all your meat and reserved enough crumbs for a thick upper crust, cover the dish and put aside in a cool place until your gravy is ready. It is economy of time, on Monday, to slip in such work as this between the many “must be’s” of the season. Your scallop will be none the worse for waiting some hours before, or after, the gravy is added, provided you keep it covered. When the gravy has drawn all the substance from bones, etc., strain it and return to the saucepan with what was left in yesterday’s gravy-boat, having first skimmed the latter. Boil up, thicken with browned flour wet up with cold water; bring to another boil; pour over the scallop, saving a little to wet the top. Now comes your layer of fine bread-crumbs. Wet these with the gravy in a bowl, season to taste, beat to a soft paste with a couple of eggs and spread evenly over the scallop. Invert a plate over the bake-dish and set in the oven. When, at the end of half an hour or so, the gravy bubbles up at the sides, remove the cover and brown. Serve in the pudding-dish.

Panned Oysters.

A four-course dinner is hardly in order in most households on Monday. You can, if you like, and have an efficient table-waiter, bring on oysters, as usual, between soup and meat. But there will be no violation of the “unities of the drama” of a family dinner, if you send around your oysters, scallop, and vegetables together.

Have ready some “patty pans”—the more nearly upright the sides the better. Cut stale bread in rounds to fit the bottoms of these. Toast, and lay a piece in each. Wet with oyster liquor and put into each pan as many oysters as it will conveniently hold. Pepper and salt; put a bit of butter upon each; arrange all in a large dripping-pan; invert another of the same size over it, and bake eight minutes, or until the oysters “ruffle.” Send hot to table in the pans.

You can toast the bread at breakfast-time if you choose. The oysters can go into the oven when the soup is poured out, and be in good season on the table. By this arrangement they will not interfere with the other “baked meats.” Panned oysters are always popular, and there is no more simple manner of cooking this favorite shell-fish.

Roast Potatoes.

Choose large, fair potatoes, wash and wipe, and bake until soft to the grasp. Three-quarters of an hour should suffice. Take out, before the oysters go in; wipe off dust and ashes, and serve in a heated napkin. This will keep them hot a long time, yet prevent them from “sweating.”

Tomato Sauce.

Open a can of tomatoes at least one hour before it is to be used, and empty into an earthenware basin, that no close or metallic taste may linger about them. Cook in tin or porcelain. Stew half an hour, gently; add salt, pepper, a teaspoonful of sugar, and three of butter, a handful of dry bread-crumbs—or, if you have any stewed corn left from yesterday, use that instead of bread. Cook ten minutes longer, and turn out.

Floating Island.

Heat the milk to scalding, but not boiling. Beat the yolks, stir into them the sugar, and pour upon them, gradually and mixing well, a cupful of the hot milk. Return to the saucepan and boil until it begins to thicken. You can do this while breakfast is cooking, before the Moloch clothes-boiler goes on. When cool, flavor and pour into a glass dish. Heap upon the top a méringue of the whites whipped until you can cut it, into which you have beaten the jelly, a teaspoonful at a time.

Tea.

“A comfortable cup of tea” never comes amiss to a fagged housewife, be it served at breakfast, luncheon, or dinner. The best way to insure its goodness—that is, that it be strong, hot and fresh—is to have your own tea-urn or kettle on the table, with a spirit-lamp burning under it. Scald the tea-pot, put in the tea; cover with boiling water; put a “cosey” or a thick napkin about it, and let it stand five minutes before filling with more boiling water. Wait a minute longer and pour out.

Second Week. Tuesday.

Mutton Soup with Tapioca.

Put on the meat, cut in small pieces, with the bones, in two quarts of cold water. Heat very slowly, and when it boils pour in two quarts of hot water from the kettle. Chop the vegetables; cover with cold water. So soon as they begin to simmer, throw off the first water, replenishing with hot, and stew until they are boiled to pieces. The meat should cook steadily, never fast, five hours, keeping the pot-lid on. Strain into a great bowl; let it cool to throw the fat to the surface; skim and return to the fire. Season with pepper and salt, boil up, take off the scum; add the vegetables with their liquor. Heat together ten minutes, strain again, and bring to a slow boil before the tapioca goes in. This should have been soaked one hour in cold water, then cooked in the same within another vessel of boiling water until each grain is clear. It is necessary to stir up often from the bottom while cooking. Stir gradually into the soup until the tapioca is dissolved.

Send around grated cheese with this soup.

Salmon Pudding.

Mince the fish, draining off the liquor for the sauce. Rub in the butter until thoroughly incorporated. Work in the crumbs, the seasoning, at last the beaten eggs. Put into a buttered pudding-mould, set in a dripping-pan full of hot water. Cover the mould, and steam in the oven, keeping the water in the pan at a fast boil, filling up as it evaporates, for one hour. Set it in cold water one minute when you have taken it from the oven. This will make it shrink from the sides and turn out easily upon a flat dish.

Sauce for the above.

Put the egg into the thickened milk when you have stirred in the butter and liquor; take from the fire, season, and let it stand in hot water three minutes, covered. Lastly, put in the lemon-juice and turn out immediately. Pour it all over and about the pudding. Cut the latter into slices when helping it out.

Beefsteak.

First of all, let me recommend the plan of broiling a steak under, instead of over the grate. I have found so many and manifest advantages in the former method that I have had a gridiron made to fit beneath my range.

Wipe the steak dry, and broil upon a buttered gridiron, turning frequently, whenever it begins to drip. When done, which should be in twelve minutes, if your fire is clear and strong, lay upon a hot dish—a chafing-dish is best—season with pepper and salt (not until then), and butter very liberally. Put over it a hot cover, and wait five minutes before sending to table, to draw the juices to the surface and allow the seasoning to penetrate the steak.

Potatoes à la Lyonnaise.

Parboil a dozen potatoes at breakfast-time, and set aside, when you have peeled them, as they should get perfectly cold. When you are ready to cook them, heat some butter, or good dripping, in a frying-pan; fry in it one small onion, chopped fine, until it begins to change color—say about one minute. Then put in the potatoes, cut into dice, not too thick or broad. Stir well and cook five minutes, taking care the potatoes do not break to pieces. They must not brown. Put in some minced parsley just before taking them up. Drain dry by shaking in a heated colander. Serve very hot.

Macaroni with Cheese.

Cook half a pound of pipe macaroni, broken into inch lengths, in boiling water until tender. Drain this off, and substitute a cupful of cold milk. When the macaroni has again come to a boil, season with pepper and salt and stir in a great spoonful of butter; lastly, two tablespoonfuls of dry, grated cheese. Turn into a deep dish, strew more cheese thickly over it, and it is ready for use.

Susie’s Bread Pudding.

Rub butter and sugar together. Beat the yolks of the four eggs and the white of one very light; mix the butter and sugar with these. Soak the crumbs in the milk, and beat in with the other ingredients, hard and fast. Add the lemon last. Bake in a buttered dish. When nearly done and fully “set,” even in the middle, spread with a méringue made of the reserved whites, beaten stiff with a little sugar. It is good eaten warm—not really hot—or cold, especially if a little cream be poured over each saucerful.

Second Week. Wednesday.

Bean Soup.

Soak a quart of dried beans all night in soft water. Throw this off next morning, and cover the beans for two hours in water a little more than lukewarm. Put over the fire with five quarts of cold water, and one pound of salt pork. A bone of veal or beef may be added, if you have it. Boil slowly for at least four hours; shred into it a small onion, four stalks of celery, pepper—the pork may salt it sufficiently—simmer half an hour longer, rub through a colander until only husks and fibres remain, and send to table. Pass sliced lemon with it.

Fillet of Veal—Stuffed.

Make ready a force-meat of bread-crumbs, chopped thyme and parsley; pepper, salt, and a pinch of nutmeg; a little dripping for shortening; moisten with warm water and bind with a raw egg.

If your butcher has not “put up” the fillet, remove the bone, pin the meat into a round with skewers; then bind firmly with a strip of muslin passed two or three times about it. Fill the cavity left by the bone with dressing, and thrust the same between the folds of the meat, besides making cuts with a sharp knife to receive more. Tuck in a strip of fat pork here and there. Baste three times with salt and water while roasting, afterwards with its own gravy. At last, dredge once with flour and baste with butter. Cut the bands, draw out the skewers carefully, and serve.

Baked Corn.

To one can of corn allow a pint of milk (more if the corn be dry), three eggs, two tablespoonfuls of melted butter, one of white sugar, pepper and salt to taste. Beat the eggs very light, rub butter and sugar together and stir in hard; next, the corn and seasoning; finally, the milk. Beat hard, and bake in a buttered dish for half an hour, covered. Then brown by lifting the top. Send up in the bake-dish.

Potato Cakes.

Boil and mash the potatoes, working in salt and butter and an egg or two—beaten light. Let them get cold; make into cakes of size and shape to suit yourself; roll in raw egg, then in flour, or cracker-dust, and fry quickly in hot dripping. Take each up as soon as it is done, and drain with a wire spoon, before laying upon a hot dish.

Canned String-Beans.

Cook in their own liquor half an hour, or until very tender. First, however, cut them into neat lengths. The comeliness of the dish depends upon this. When almost done, stir in a tablespoonful of butter, with salt and pepper. Simmer ten minutes longer, and serve by draining off the liquid and heaping the beans upon a hot dish, with a bit of butter on the top. If the can does not contain liquor enough to cover the beans, add a little cold water in cooking them.

Baked Apple Dumplings.

Chop the shortening into the flour when you have sifted and salted the latter. Wet up with milk and roll out quickly in a sheet less than half an inch thick. Cut into squares; lay in the centre of each a tart, juicy apple, pared and cored. Bring the corners of the square together and pinch to join them neatly. Lay in a baking-pan, the joined edges downward, and bake to a fine brown. When done, brush over with butter and shut the oven door for a minute more to glaze them. Sift powdered sugar over them, and eat hot.

These are more wholesome and more easily prepared than boiled dumplings. Eat with sweet sauce.

Brandy Sauce.

Warm the butter slightly, work in the sugar until they form a rich cream, when add brandy and spice. Beat hard; shape by putting into a mould made very wet with cold water, and set in a cool place to harden. Should it not turn out readily by shaking gently, dip for a second in hot water.

Second Week. Thursday.

Veal and Sago Soup.