The Fun of Cooking: A Story for Girls and Boys

"Lovely!" exclaimed his mother, and then added, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, "you'll be a great cook yet, Jack!"

This was the receipt Jack had used to make them:

CHEESE DREAMS(Six large sandwiches)

12 slices of bread, cut half an inch thick.

12 thin slices of cheese.

1 pinch of soda, cayenne pepper, and salt for each slice.

Put together like sandwiches, and then cut into rounds. Heat a frying-pan very hot, melt a teaspoonful of butter in it, and lay in two or three sandwiches; when one side is brown, turn it over and cook the other; take from the pan and lay in the oven in a pan on a paper till all are ready.

Of course Jack had made more than six sandwiches, for he knew everybody would want two apiece; so he had a great boxful, and it took him quite a little time to fry them all; but it was just as well, for Mildred and her mother had to make the oyster stew, which was to be eaten first.

OYSTER STEW

1 pint of oysters.

½ pint of water.

1 quart of rich milk.

½ teaspoonful of salt.

Drain the juice off the oysters and examine each to remove any pieces of shell that may still adhere to it; add the water to the oyster juice, and boil one minute; skim this well. Heat the milk and add to this, and when it steams, drop in the oysters and simmer just one minute, or till the edges of the oysters begin to curl; add the salt and take up at once; if you choose, add a cup of sifted cracker crumbs.

"What is 'simmer?" asked Mildred, as she read the rule over.

"Just letting it boil a tiny little bit," said her mother, "around the edges of the saucepan, but not all over. And here is the receipt for:"

SCRAMBLED EGGS

1 egg for each person.

2 tablespoonfuls of milk to each egg.

2 shakes of salt.

1 shake of pepper.

Break the eggs in a bowl, beat them twelve times, then add the milk, salt, and pepper; heat a pan, put in a piece of butter the size of a hickory-nut, and when it is melted, pour in the eggs; stir them as they cook, and scrape them off the bottom of the pan; when they are all thick and creamy, they are done.

"I have taken the rule for the stew three times over for twelve people, and I don't think it will be a bit too much; but as almost everyone will want the cheese dreams, suppose we scramble only five eggs.

"You'd better do that right away, for supper is almost ready. Brownie's potatoes are just done, and she can be filling the glasses with water, and putting on the butter and bread, and these two big dishes of honey to eat with the biscuits for the last course."

While Mildred was cooking the eggs, Mother Blair put the oysters on the table, with the hot soup-plates and a generous supply of crisp oyster-crackers; the cheese dreams were done and in the oven, and Mildred covered the eggs and set the dish in the warming oven, and put the cocoa on the table in a chocolate pot. Then everybody sat down and began to eat.

After the oyster stew was all gone, they had the hot cheese dreams and scrambled eggs and the stuffed potatoes and cocoa all at once; and when those too had vanished, there were the little biscuits and the beautiful golden clover-honey in the comb, and perhaps that was the very best of all.

"Never, never, did I eat anything so good as this supper!" Father Blair said solemnly, as he ate his fourth biscuit. "That oyster stew – those potatoes – the cheese dreams – "

"What a greedy father!" said Mildred. "And you never said a word about the cocoa – "

"Nor about the scrambled eggs – " said Brownie, eagerly.

"But I ate them all," said her father. "I ate everything I was given, and I should like to eat them all again! Next time we come, have twice as much of everything, won't you?"

But everybody else said that they couldn't have eaten one single crumb more. And they knew perfectly well that Father Blair couldn't, either.

Then everybody helped wash the dishes and put things away, and Farmer Dunn came over to put out the fires and shut the doors; and presently it was all dark in the House in the Woods, and so still that, far, far off, you could hear the sound of the singing of the boys and girls as they rode home across the snow.

CHAPTER III

JACK'S SCHOOL-LUNCHEONS

"Mother," said Jack, one evening, "I'd like to take my lunch to school for the next few weeks; all the fellows are going to, so we can have more time for class elections and so on. Do you suppose Norah could put up one for me every morning?"

"Why not let Mildred put it up? Her school is so near that she does not have to start till long after you do; and then, Jack, you could easily pay her for her trouble by helping her with her Latin; you know she is bothered with that just now."

Mildred was overjoyed at the suggestion of the bargain. "Oh, Jack! I'll do you up the most beautiful luncheons in the world if you will only help me with that horrid Cæsar. I'm just as stupid as I can be about it. What do you like best to eat in all the world?"

Jack said he wasn't very particular as long as he had plenty of pie and cake and pickles and pudding and ice-cream; Mildred laughed, and said she guessed she could manage to think up a few other things beside.

So the very next morning she put up the first luncheon. But, alas, Norah had no cold meat to slice – only bits of beefsteak left from dinner; and not a single piece of cake. All she could find for lunch was some plain bread and butter, which she cut rather thick, a hard-boiled egg, and an apple. "Pretty poor," she sighed, as she saw him trudge off with the box under his arm.

That afternoon, when she came home from school, she went to Mother Blair for help. "I must give him nice luncheons," she explained. "Now what can I have for to-morrow? I can't think of anything at all, except bread and cake, and stupid things like those."

"Oh, there are lots and lots of things," said her mother. "Putting up lunches is just fun! I only wish you would do up some for me, too! And first, dear, you had better see that there is plenty of bread, because it takes a good deal for sandwiches, and it must not be too fresh to slice nicely, nor too stale; day-old bread is best. And if you can find some brown bread as well as white, that will be ever so nice. You will want cake, too, and fruit; you might ask Norah what she has on hand."

In a moment, Mildred came back with the news that, as there was to be fish for dinner, there would be no left-over meat at all in the morning; the bits of steak were still there. "But imagine beefsteak sandwiches!" said she, scornfully. And though there was no cake now, Norah was going to make some.

"I think we had better learn first how to make all kinds of sandwiches, because that will help you more than anything else in putting up lunches," her mother said, getting out her cook-book. "You will need some paraffin paper for them, too, and paper napkins; suppose you look on the top shelf of the kitchen closet and see if we had any left over from summer picnics."

By the time Mildred had found these, as well as a box to pack the lunch in, these receipts were all ready for her to copy in her own book:

SANDWICHES

Use bread that is at least a day old. Spread the butter smoothly on the loaf; if it is too cold to spread well, warm it a little; slice thin, with a sharp knife; spread one slice with the filling, lay on another, press together, and trim off the heavy part of the crust; cut in two pieces, or, if the slices are very large, in three. Put two or three sandwiches of the same kind together, and wrap in paraffin paper.

MEAT SANDWICHES

Take any cold meat, cut off the gristle and fat, and put it through the meat chopper. Add a pinch of salt, a pinch of dry mustard, a shake of pepper, and, last, a teaspoonful of melted butter; press into a cup, and put away to grow firm.

"Now you see the nice thing about this rule is, that any sort of cold meat will do to use, and if you have bits of two or more kinds, you can use them together. There are those beefsteak ends; all you have to do is to follow your rule, and they will make as good sandwiches as anything else."

"But, Mother, if you had nice roast-beef slices, you would not chop those up, would you?"

"No, indeed! I would make sandwiches of plain bread and butter and put the slices of meat in by themselves. But chopped meat makes better sandwiches than slices of meat between bread."

"But what do you make sandwiches out of if you don't use meat? I think plain bread and butter is horrid for lunches."

"Oh, there are plenty of other things to use; see, here are your next rules:"

EGG SANDWICHES

1 hard-boiled egg, chopped fine.

1 teaspoonful of oil.

3 drops of vinegar.

1 pinch of salt.

1 shake of pepper.

Mix well and spread on buttered bread.

"And then sometimes you can have:"

CHEESE SANDWICHES

Spread thin buttered brown bread with cream cheese; sprinkle with a very little salt and pepper. Sometimes add chopped nuts for a change.

"Or, here are these:"

LETTUCE SANDWICHES

Spread some very thin white bread; lay on a leaf of lettuce; sprinkle with a very little oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper, as in the egg sandwiches.

SARDINE SANDWICHES

Drain off all the oil from a little tin of sardines; skin each fish, take out the bones, and mash smoothly, adding a teaspoonful of lemon juice; spread on white buttered bread.

"And then, when you have no cake or cookies for lunch, you can have two or three sandwiches with meat and two more like these:"

SWEET SANDWICHES

Spread buttered bread with a very little jam or jelly; or with chopped dates or figs; or with scraped maple sugar; or with chopped raisins and nuts; or with a thick layer of brown sugar.

"Those are just as good as cake, and better, I think," said Mother Blair, as Mildred finished copying them all down. "And now, what comes next in a lunch, after sandwiches?"

"Cake," said Mildred, promptly.

"Yes, sometimes, but not always. What else can you think of that would be nice?"

Mildred said she thought gingerbread might be good, or perhaps doughnuts; but she could not think of anything else.

"Oh, I can think of ever so many things," said her mother. "But we will put down the gingerbread first; and, by the way, what do you think Betty calls it? This:"

"PERFECTLY LOVELY" GINGERBREAD

1 cup of molasses.

1 cup of shortening (butter and lard mixed).

3 cups of flour.

1 teaspoonful each of cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and soda.

1 cup of sugar.

2 eggs.

1 cup of milk.

Cream the butter and sugar, add the eggs, well beaten without separating, then the molasses mixed with the spices and soda, then the flour, then the milk. Stir and beat well. Put in a shallow tin and bake slowly.

"Things don't sound as good as they taste, do they?" said Mildred, as she read the receipt over. "I just love gingerbread, but butter and lard and soda don't sound appetizing."

"Well, then, try this," laughed Mother Blair; "every bit of this sounds good:"

PEANUT WAFERS

1 cup of sugar.

½ cup of milk.

½ teaspoonful of soda.

½ cup of butter.

2 cups of flour.

1 cup of chopped peanuts.

Cream the butter and sugar; put the soda in the milk, stir thoroughly, and put in next; then the flour. Beat well. Grease a shallow pan and spread the mixture evenly over the bottom, and scatter the nuts on top. Bake till light brown, and cut in squares while warm.

"Oh, those do sound good!" Mildred exclaimed, as she wrote the last words down.

"What sounds good?" asked Miss Betty's voice, as her pretty head popped in the door. So they told her all about the luncheons, and she said she knew some good things, too, and the first one was:

CHOCOLATE CRACKERS

2 squares of chocolate.

1 teaspoonful of sugar.

Butter, the size of the tip of your thumb.

3 drops of vanilla.

Cut the chocolate up into bits and put it in a saucer over the tea-kettle; when it melts, add the sugar and butter and vanilla; stir, and drop in some small crackers, only one at a time, and lay them on a greased paper to dry.

"Oh, Mother, I've just got to stop writing and make some of those this very minute!" Mildred exclaimed. Miss Betty said she had lots of things she wanted to talk over with Mother Blair while Mildred was busy. Brownie came running in just then, and the two girls worked so fast they had a whole plateful of crackers done in no time; and after everybody had had one apiece to eat, Mildred said: "Now, I will learn to make some more things."

"Let me see," said her mother, slowly. "Sandwiches and cake – what else can you think of for luncheons, Betty?"

"Deviled eggs," said Miss Betty, as quick as a flash. "Please let me tell how!"

DEVILED EGGS

Boil three eggs for ten minutes; peel them, cut them in halves, and put the yolks in a bowl; add

¼ teaspoonful of salt.

¼ teaspoonful of dry mustard.

1 pinch of pepper.

1 teaspoonful of oil.

½ teaspoonful of vinegar.

Mix well, fill the whites, press smooth with a knife, and put two halves together.

"But three eggs are too many for Jack," complained Brownie. "He won't need three; can't I have one for my lunch here?"

Miss Betty laughed, and said it would be easy for Mildred to make enough for everybody instead of making three, as the rule said.

"If I just made one, I suppose I'd take pinches instead of teaspoonfuls," said Mildred, thoughtfully. "I mean, I'd take just a little of everything, enough to make the egg taste good?"

"Exactly!" said Miss Betty; "that is just the way a real grown-up cook does. And, Mildred, when I had to take my lunch to school, I used to have the best thing – salad. I had it when there were no real sandwiches, only bread and butter; it was put in a little round china jar with a tin top that screwed on, so it never spilled. But perhaps Jack doesn't like salad."

"He just loves it," said Brownie; "he loves every single thing to eat that there is!"

"Then he will surely 'just love' these things! Write them down, Mildred."

CHICKEN SALAD

½ cup of cold chicken, cut in small bits.

½ a hard boiled egg, cut up.

Or use celery in place of the egg, or use both.

FRENCH DRESSING

2 teaspoonfuls of oil.

¼ teaspoonful vinegar.

1 pinch of salt

2 shakes of pepper (paprika is best).

Beat the dressing well and mix with the chicken and egg.

Make more dressing if the salad is too dry.

LUNCHEON FRUIT SALAD

Cut a seedless orange in halves; take out the pulp with a spoon; use alone, or mix with bits of banana or other fruit; or use chopped celery and apple together. Add the dressing.

"There!" said Miss Betty, triumphantly, as Mildred read the receipts aloud when she had copied them. "If Jack doesn't like those, he isn't the boy I take him for. And you see, Mildred, when you have no salad for him, you can sometimes put in a nice stalk of celery; and when you have had the same fruit over and over, you can just give him a fruit salad. I do believe I'll start on a long journey and take a whole week's supply of lunches along. All these receipts make me feel just like it!"

"Oh, do let me go too," begged Mildred.

"So you shall," laughed Miss Betty. "But before we start, I must tell you one thing more: if you want an ab-so-lute-ly perfect lunch, you must always have a surprise for the very last thing of all."

"How do you make one?" asked Brownie, curiously.

"Oh, you don't make them at all, or at least not usually; a surprise is something which has to be eaten last of all, after all the sandwiches and other things are gone, for a sort of dessert; sometimes I had a piece of maple-sugar, or a bit of sweet chocolate, or a couple of marshmallows; sometimes it was a fig or two, or a few dates. But it was always hidden down in the very bottom of the box, and everything had to be finished up before I opened the little paper it was in. Honestly, I don't think boys need surprises at all, because they will eat everything up any way, but often girls will skip a sandwich or two, unless they know about the surprise."

"When I take my lunch, I shall have one every time," said Brownie.

"So shall I," laughed Mother Blair.

"I shall certainly give Jack one every day, because of Cæsar," said Mildred.

The next morning bright and early, Mildred hurried to get Jack's luncheon all ready before breakfast, and her mother said she would help her, just for once. First they made three beautiful thin sandwiches out of bread and butter spread with the nice beefsteak filling, and wrapped these up by themselves and put them in one corner of the box; then in the opposite corner went the surprise, this time four little chocolate crackers, all wrapped up carefully; on top of them, to hide them, went three more sandwiches, made of brown bread and butter and cheese; then the deviled egg filled the corner on top of the other pile, and one of Norah's cakes was put opposite.

"Now for the fruit," said Mother Blair. "What is there?"

Mildred said there was an orange, but it would not go in the box.

"Oh, you don't give anybody an orange whole for luncheon! Peel it first, then break it carefully in halves, wrap each half up in paper by itself, and you will see how well it fits in and how easy it will be to eat when you have no fruit-knife or orange-spoon to use with it. Now that is all, and it's what I call a perfectly delicious luncheon, don't you?"

"Perfectly!" said Mildred, rapturously, as she tied up the box. "I guess the other boys will wish they had lunches just exactly like it; and I think it's very interesting to do them up, too."

That afternoon, when Jack came home from school, he shouted up the stairs:

"Say, Mildred, what will you take to do up lunches for the crowd? They told me to ask you. They said they had never seen anything so good. Where is that Cæsar? I'll do about ten pages for you if you want me to."

When the lesson was over, Mildred hugged Jack gratefully. "I can do it alone in no time now, because you're such a good teacher," she said, as Jack squirmed away. "And, when summer comes, just think of all the picnic lunches I can do up for everybody!"

"We won't wait till summer for a picnic," said Mother Blair. "I've got such a bright idea!"

CHAPTER IV

THE BIRTHDAY PICNIC

Just as Mother Blair declared that she had "such a bright idea!" a caller came in, and it was dinner-time before Mildred had a chance to ask her what it was. And then her mother put her finger on her lip and shook her head; so Mildred knew, of course, that it was a secret, and waited till later on to hear what it was.

"Now I will tell you all about it," Mother Blair said, after she had read Brownie a fairy story and tucked her up for the night. "Jack, you can hear, too, and Father, if he wants to." So they all drew up around the fire to listen.

"You remember how much Brownie loved the picnics we had last summer," she began. "She used to say that she would rather eat plain bread and butter out of doors than ice-cream in the dining-room; and whenever we took our supper and went off for the afternoon, she was so happy!"

"So she was," said Father Blair. "Brownie is her father's own daughter; I love picnics too."

"But, Mother, we can't have a picnic at this time of year!" exclaimed Mildred. "Just listen to the rain and snow coming down together this minute; and the slush on the sidewalk is so deep you have to wade to school."

"But this is just where my bright idea comes in! You see, next week will be Brownie's birthday, and every year since she was two, she has had some sort of a party; now this year, for a real change, I think it would be fun to have a picnic for her, a lovely in-door picnic, for ten boys and girls; and we'll have it up in the attic!"

"Isn't that just like Mother!" Jack exclaimed, laughing. "Who else in the world would ever have thought of such a thing!"

"But think what fun it will be!" Mother Blair went on, her cheeks growing pink as she explained all about it. "The attic is nice and large, and empty except for the trunks and old furniture which are tucked away around the eaves. The children will all come in their every-day clothes, and wear their coats and hats, so they won't take cold up there. And we can spread down in the middle of the open space the two old green parlor carpets, for grass; they are all worn out, but nobody will notice that. And then, Jack, you can carry up the two palms and the rubber plant, and put them on the edge of the 'grass,' and Farmer Brown can bring us in some little cedar-and spruce-trees from the woods the next time he drives to town, and we will plant them in sand in big earthen flower-pots, and stand those around, too. Can't you see how lovely it will be? Just like a little grassy grove!"

Everybody laughed, but everybody thought it was going to be great fun to make a picnic-place in the attic.

"And we will tie a hammock to the rafters," said Father Blair; "and there is the old ping-pong set to play with, and the ring-toss; and the boys can play ball, if they choose; there's nothing they can hurt."

And so it was all arranged; and Brownie was told she was going to have a beautiful surprise for her birthday, and she must not ask a single question about it. Mother Blair asked ten boys and girls to come at twelve on Saturday and spend the rest of the day, and, after the notes were sent, she and Mildred began to plan the luncheon.

"Of course all the things must be packed in baskets," said Mildred, "exactly like a regular picnic."

"Of course!" said her mother. "And in one basket we will put a lunch cloth to lay on the 'grass,' and wooden plates, and paper napkins, and glasses, and forks. And they can spread the cloth and arrange everything themselves."

"And what will they have to eat? They are sure to be dreadfully hungry."

"Well, there must be one substantial dish to begin with. We might have cold sliced ham, of course, but I think perhaps they would like something else better. Suppose we have veal loaf?"

"Just the very thing," said Mildred. "May I make it?"

"Of course you may, and everything else as well, if you want to. If you will get your book, you can write down the receipts this minute. Here is the first:"

VEAL LOAF

2 pounds of veal, chopped fine.

¼ pound of salt pork, chopped with it.

½ cup of bread crumbs, soaked in milk.

1 egg.

1 teaspoonful of chopped onion.

½ teaspoonful each of pepper and paprika.

1 level teaspoonful of salt.

Have the meats chopped together at the market; put the crumbs in a bowl and cover them with milk, and let them stand for fifteen minutes; then squeeze them dry and add to the meat. Beat the egg without separating it, and mix that in next, and then the seasoning. Stir all together, and put in a bread tin and bake one hour. Have on the stove a cup half full of hot water mixed with two tablespoonfuls of butter, and every fifteen minutes open the oven door and pour a quarter of this over the meat. When done, put in a cold place over night. Slice thin, and put parsley around it.

"You see, this is very easy to make, and it is always good for luncheon for ourselves, and for Sunday night supper as well. You can make it Friday afternoon, and then, by the time for the picnic, it will be ready to slice."

"And what are they to eat with it?"

"I think it would be nice to have some sandwiches – hot ones."

"Hot sandwiches, Mother Blair! I never heard of them. How do you make them?"

"I invented them myself," laughed her mother. "I really did, this very morning, when I was thinking about the picnic. Here is the rule."

TOASTED SARDINE SANDWICHES

1 tin sardines.

8 slices of toast.

½ a lemon.

Large pinch of salt, and as much dry mustard.

Open a can of sardines, drain off the oil, and spread them on brown paper. Scrape off the skin carefully, and open each one on the side and take out the back bone. Sprinkle over them all the salt and mustard, and squeeze the lemon on. Then make the toast, large brown slices, and butter them a little; lay two together, trim off the crust, and cut them in strips. Open the strips, and between each two put one sardine and press together. Put them in the oven between two hot plates till needed.

"Oh, those do sound so good! Can't I make some for lunch to-day, Mother?" Mildred begged.

"But they belong to the surprise! Let's wait till after the picnic, and then you may make lots of them."