Sago Soup.
Cut all the meat from your cold leg of lamb; crack the bone to splinters; put on, with gristly bits of meat, skin, etc., in three quarts of water, with an onion, and boil slowly, at the back of the range, down to one quart. Strain, cool, and skim. Add to what has been saved from the mock-turtle stock made on Saturday. Heat, and stir in half a cup of pearl sago, previously soaked three hours in a very little water. Season, and simmer half an hour.
Lamb Pudding.
The cold meat from yesterday’s joint; bread-crumbs; 1 tablespoonful of butter; 2 eggs; a little gravy; pepper, salt, and a pinch of nutmeg.
Chop the cold lamb fine, season, and wet up with a little good gravy. Mix in one-fourth as much crumbs as you have meat; beat in the melted butter, the eggs, and pour into a buttered mould. Set in a pan of hot water, and cook, covered, in a good oven for one hour. Turn out, and pour a little gravy over it.
Stewed Corn.
Green corn, even in city markets, is both indifferent and dear at this season. We do better, therefore, to fall back upon the invaluable canned vegetables that have made American housewives almost independent of changing seasons. Open a can of corn one hour before it is to be cooked. When ready for it turn into a farina-kettle; pour on just enough hot water to cover it, and cook half an hour. Then, add a little milk, a good lump of butter cut up in flour, pepper and salt to taste, and cook fifteen minutes longer.
Potatoes au Naturel.
Put over the fire in cold water; bring to a boil, and, fifteen minutes thereafter, pour in a cup of cold water to arrest the boil suddenly. After the beginning of the second bubble, cook quite fast until a fork will enter the largest potato without forcing. Turn off the water, set the uncovered pot upon the fire for a minute; strip off the skins quickly, and serve.
Cabbage Salad.
Shred a white cabbage fine; and pour over it a dressing such as you made on Thursday, Second Week in October, but without the chopped onion.
Grapes, Pears, and Bananas.
Heap the grapes in one salver or basket, with a spray of some climbing or clinging vine thrown around it. Group pears and bananas together, and garnish with autumn leaves.
Tea à la Russe.
Slice a fresh lemon; take off all the skin; lay the slices, with powdered sugar strewed over them, in a plate, pour out the tea, hot and strong, with plenty of sugar, and pass the lemon with it. Serve without cream. I shall never forget a surprise that was startling as well as a disappointment, that came to me one day, when, sinking under the depression of an incipient headache, brought on by miles of picture galleries, I called for a cup of hot tea in a foreign restaurant, and was served with what I instantly pronounced to be “poison!” “Molto buono,” protested the waiter, opening the tea-urn to show me a whole lemon, skin and all, swimming upon the steaming decoction of leaves. The combination of rind and the cream with which I had “trimmed” my share of the too-fragrant beverage, was indescribable. Still, I—rather—like tea à la Russe without lemon-peel and cream.