The Fun of Cooking: A Story for Girls and Boys

This sounded very easy indeed, and Mildred began to mash and measure at once, and soon the jam was over the fire. But it took a long time to cook. Norah brought a dishpan full of jelly-glasses and put them in the sink, and Mildred washed these and dried them and arranged them on two trays, all ready for the jam; but every moment or two she stirred the jam well. By and by, after more than an hour, the peaches looked transparent, and then Norah said they were done; and, sure enough, when she hurriedly put some on a saucer and stood this on the ice in the refrigerator to get it cold quickly, it grew a little stiff and the edges were like jelly.

Mildred carefully lifted the hot saucepan from the fire and began to dip out the jam with a cup and put it in the glasses; when she finished, there were eight of them, all filled with clear golden-pinky-brownish jam, beautiful to look at, and, oh, so good to taste! Mildred ran for her mother and Brownie to look at it. "I wish Father and Jack were here," she sighed, "and Miss Betty, too. I am so proud, I want everybody to see it."

"It really is lovely," said her mother. "I never saw any that was nicer. Next winter we will eat it on hot buttered toast, and put it in layer cake, and have it ready for school sandwiches."

"But only eight little, little glasses," mourned Mildred. "Why didn't I make eight dozen of them?"

"Well, eight dozen is a good many," laughed her mother. "Perhaps—just perhaps, you know, you might find you got tired even of peach jam before you had eaten all those up. But the beauty of making jams in fruit time is that you can make a few glasses of it any time you want to. Peaches are just in season now, and we have them nearly every day, so you can put up more at any time."

"Of course!" said Mildred, delightedly. "I never thought of that. I'll make the rest of my eight dozen yet, Mother Blair; I'm sure it won't be a bit too much."

"Why not make some other things that are just as good? Grapes are in season too, and plums, and pears—"

"I'll make them all! I'll make every single kind of jam that there is!"

"You can make jelly too, and compotes, and spiced things; I'll be so glad to have you learn, and they are all as easy as can be."

"But, Mother, what can I make?" Brownie looked very sober. "Is Mildred going to make everything all alone? I like to make things, too."

"Of course you do, and you shall certainly help; jams are so easy anybody in the world can make them."

"Even Jack?" laughed Mildred.

"Yes, even Jack, if he wanted to. Why don't you and Brownie together make some nice grape jam to-morrow?"

The girls said they would love to; then their mother had them write down a special receipt, because grape jam is the one kind that is different from every other.

GRAPE JAM

This seemed like a queer receipt; grape skins in jam! It sounded rather horrid. But they made it, anyway, and when they had finished, though it was a clear, reddish black, it was really delicious.

It happened that the grapes grew in their own garden, and so many of them were ripe that, when they had used up quite a large basketful, there were plenty left. Norah had been planning to use them in jelly, but she said she could wait a day longer for that, and the girls might have them if they wanted to, and she would show them how to make something very good indeed and very easy. This was:

SPICED FRUIT

Their mother did not know they were making this new kind of preserve, and she was delighted when she was shown all the little glasses of it.

"All spiced fruits are especially nice with meat," she said, "and with this rule you can spice almost any kind of fruit; pears, or peaches, or apples, or plums—"

"Or strawberries, or pineapple, or raspberries," said Brownie.

"Oh, no! I ought to have said any kind of autumn fruit—that is a good way to remember which ones to use. And, Mildred, Norah divided this rule for you, to make it easier, but when I put up spiced fruit, I take twice as much of everything."

"What a pity I'm so stupid about arithmetic!" sighed Mildred. "Think of having to take twice one and three quarter pints of sugar, and twice one and a half cups of vinegar! I'll never get them right."

"Mildred, you remind me of a story some one told me the other day, about a girl who had just come home from college; it's a true story too, and the girl lives right in this town. She thought she would like to learn to cook, so she found a rule for cake in the cook-book and read it to herself; it began something like this: Three cups of flour, two cups of sugar, three teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, and so on. Presently her mother went into the kitchen and found on the table three cups, all filled with flour, two more cups filled with sugar, one cup of milk, another cup of raisins, three teaspoons in a row, all filled with baking-powder, and so on. Think of that!"

"I s'pose they didn't teach multiplying in that college," said Brownie, sympathetically.

Mildred and her mother laughed. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to learn to do fractions in my head!" said Mildred.

"There isn't any other way, if you are going to be a good cook," her mother replied. "You can't guess at things, or you will spoil them; you have to measure exactly. Now that you have finished these grapes, I'll give you some more receipts, if you want them."

The girls hastened to bring out their pretty red-covered books. "Just see, Mother Blair," said Mildred, turning over the leaves, "how many pages are filled up—with such good things, too!" And she gave a sigh of such complete satisfaction, that her mother laughed. Then they settled themselves at the table to write the new receipts.

APPLE CONSERVE

CRANBERRY CONSERVE

"These two conserves are so very nice that we do not put them on the table and eat them up any day in the week, but save them for Sunday night supper and other times like that," said Mother Blair; "and sometimes they can go into sandwiches for afternoon tea. Now would you like just a very easy jelly? Here is a nice one."

APPLE JELLY

"There! When you can make that kind of jelly, you will almost have learned how to make any other kind. And this is lovely, so pink and delicate, and it always gets just firm enough and not too stiff to be nice. Now, Mildred, you may try this to-morrow if you like, and, if it's perfect, you shall have a prize."

The next day the jam was firm on top, and Norah said it ought to be covered and put away at once or it would get too hard.

"How shall I cover it, Mother?" Mildred asked anxiously. "Paste on papers or something?"

"Oh, no, indeed! nobody does that way any more. Ask Norah if she has any paraffin left over."

But no, she had used every bit she had to cover her grape jelly; so Brownie had to go to the drug-store and get ten cents' worth. It came in a large cake, so clear and white it looked good enough to eat, but it wasn't, as the little girl found out by tasting. It was just like candles, and only mice like to eat candles. Norah said she would show the girls how to cover jams and jellies and spiced things, and everything you put in jelly-glasses.

"You take this little saucepan that I keep on purpose for paraffin," she said, "and put the whole cake in it after you cut it in two, and melt it; only be careful and don't let it splash on my clean stove and make it greasy. And while it is melting you can wipe off the jam glasses with a warm, wet dish-cloth and make them all clean and dry."

While Brownie was washing off the glasses Mildred cut some little slips of paper and printed on these the names for the different things they had made; peach on some, and spiced grapes on others, and grape jam or apple jelly on the rest. Then she got the pot of paste from the library; by this time the paraffin was melted and all ready to use. Norah showed them how to pour a little on top of each glass, right on the jam, and then tip the glasses a little so it would run up the sides toward the top. In a moment it hardened, and was ready for the tin covers to go on so the mice could not get at it, and then they pasted the labels on, and it was done.

Norah helped carry the trays to the preserve closet and put them away in rows, being very careful not to tip them and slide the paraffin up the sides of the glasses. Then they stood and looked at them, and, oh, how proud the girls felt!

"I'll make some more to-morrow," said Mildred, "and some more after that, and some more after that, and some more after that!"

CHAPTER XI

"And not one where you bob for apples and walk around the house backward. I've done both those till I never want to do them again. I mean some new kind of a party."

But they could not think of anything new that seemed exactly what they wanted; so the next day they went in to see Miss Betty after school and asked her about it.

"Why, a chafing-dish party, of course," she said. "That's exactly the thing to have. You make a lot of indigestible things to eat and then you go to sleep and dream of ghosts and goblins, and hear shivery noises and groans and such things—just what you want, on Hallowe'en! I can think of a lot of awfully good things to have, things warranted to give you nightmares."

Jack said that suited him exactly, but Mildred was not so sure.

"Don't you think we might have two or three different kinds of things," she suggested doubtfully. "Some of them, for the boys, might be pretty bad; and some others for the girls a lot better. I don't want to dream of ghosts!"

Miss Betty was willing to do this, but Jack objected. "Be a sport, Mildred!" he said. "Remember it's Hallowe'en."

"Well, we'll see," she said at last. "Perhaps I'll eat a few dreadful things just to see what will happen. Now what can we have? I can't use a chafing dish at all."

"Jack can," Miss Betty said, laughing. Jack's cooking never ceased to be a joke.

"I? I never cooked in one in my life, except cheese dreams, at the Dwights'," Jack assured her.

"A chafing dish and a frying-pan are just the same sort of thing, and you know you learned all about frying-pans in the summer, so now, of course, you must show what you can do. I'll give you the receipts and tell you just how to make the things, but you must use a chafing-dish; if you won't—then, of course, I won't be able to help with the party at all."

So Jack reluctantly promised to do his part. "Probably I'll spoil things and make a mess," he grumbled.

But Miss Betty refused to let him off. "Of course you can cook in a chafing dish," she assured him. "All men can, especially those who can do camp cooking, and you know you're an expert there, Jack! Now let's see what we can have."

"Do let's have oysters for one thing; they are just in season now," begged Mildred.

"Of course—they are just the thing; suppose we have pigs in blankets, and Jack shall make them, for they are easy and oh, so good! And, Mildred, you shall have a chafing dish, too, and make something else; and we can make things to go with them, so there will be plenty of supper for everybody. How many are you going to have?"

"Oh, we haven't thought about it yet, and we must talk it over with Mother and see what she thinks; but I know she will love the party, because she always does."

And so, sure enough, their mother did love the plan. A chafing-dish supper was such a bright idea, she said, and so like Miss Betty.

They decided to ask only eight guests, four boys and four girls. In case the food did not turn out to be what they hoped, it was better not to have too many to eat it, Jack thought.

Hallowe'en obligingly came on a Saturday, just as though it knew how convenient that day would be for everybody. Mildred and Brownie and Miss Betty and Mother Blair and Norah all helped in getting things ready, laying the table, filling the alcohol lamps of the two chafing-dishes,—one borrowed from Miss Betty,—and preparing the good things for the supper. They decided to have first, the dish of oysters made by Jack at one end of the table, and some eggs to go with them, made by Mildred at the other. With these were to be some potatoes—a new kind Mildred had never heard of—and Brownie thought she could make these and send them in nice and hot; she was going to make cocoa, too, to go with the other hot dishes, and she and Mildred together were going to make sandwiches in the afternoon. And after these, Miss Betty said, there was to be something perfectly wonderful—something so good and so new.

"Oh, what?" they all begged.

Miss Betty's eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and she shook her pretty head. "Wait and see," she said solemnly. "I'll bring in the things this afternoon and we will all make it together." And they had to be content with this promise.

The table was laid just as they had it at breakfast and luncheon and Sunday night supper, with pretty doilies, one for each person and several over for chafing-dishes and piles of plates and sandwiches. In the middle was a big bowl of bright colored autumn leaves mixed with chrysanthemums; and at each place was a dainty card with a picture of a witch riding a broomstick, and the name of the boy or girl who was to sit there. The table looked very pretty when it was all finished, with the glasses and silver and small napkins. Brownie did it almost all alone; she loved to get ready for company.

Then they got out their receipt books and began to put down the different things they were to make for supper. Even Jack, smiling sheepishly, consented to write down the chafing-dish rules. They might come in handy when he went to college, he said.

PIGS IN BLANKETS

The oysters were all made up into "pigs" in the afternoon, and put in the refrigerator; they looked so funny when they were done—just like tiny pigs, all asleep. But as Jack thought twenty oysters for ten people were not enough, they made fifty. Then Mildred was given her rule:

SPANISH EGGS

Miss Betty said if Mildred would stir this often she did not need to use the hot-water pan of the chafing-dish. "It takes so much longer to cook with it that I never use it if I can help it," she explained. "And now for the potatoes, Brownie."

SCALLOPED POTATOES

Like the oysters this dish was made ready in the afternoon, all but putting on the milk and crumbs.

"You don't need a receipt for cocoa, do you?" Miss Betty stopped to ask.

"No, indeed; we can make that with our eyes shut," laughed Mildred.

"Then we will go on to the sandwiches. Here are two kinds which are very good with oysters, and perhaps they may possibly give you ghost-dreams; I hope they will!"

TOMATO AND CHEESE SANDWICHES

"I just happened to see the remains of that cold boiled ham you evidently had left over from yesterday, sitting in the refrigerator and looking lonely, so I planned these, which are much better than the common kind:"

DEVILED HAM SANDWICHES

"My, those sound good," murmured Jack to himself, "and they sound like Hallowe'en, too."

"So they do," laughed Mother Blair, beginning to slice the bread and spread it. "Let's make them now and put them on ice, all rolled up in a wet napkin."

She and Brownie went to work, but Mildred said she was not quite ready yet. "I want another chafing-dish rule," she said. "Two are not enough, and they are all we have for our books."

"Well, just one or two more, and then I must fly," said Miss Betty; "you see I have to get the things for my own special receipt for the party. Here is a good one:"

PANNED OYSTERS, CREAMED

"I know you will like that; now here is another:"

CREAMED EGGS

"Now that is positively all I can stop to give you now; I must begin on my own dish," said Miss Betty, putting on her hat. "But I'll be back again in just two minutes."

When she came she was carrying a huge pineapple, the largest the children had ever seen, and in a bag three large oranges and three bananas. "Now," she exclaimed as she put them on the kitchen table, "you shall see me make something very nice." This was the way she made it:

STUFFED PINEAPPLE

It took quite a time to prepare this, but they all liked to do it, and enjoyed the surprise it was going to be when it was first passed. Mother Blair said she did so hope she might take off the pineapple's cover, and when they came to think of it, as she was always served first, of course she would!

Well, the Hallowe'en supper was a perfect success. Jack, though nervous, proved that his camping lessons were not wasted, and Mildred's chafing-dish was as easy to manage as could be. But the next day when they all talked it over, not one of the family and not one of the guests had had a single ghost-dream after all!

CHAPTER XII

Miss Betty said she would be perfectly delighted to have a visit from Brownie, and Mother Blair said in a very croaky voice that it was a bright idea. So that very morning Brownie packed a bag and Jack carried it over for her, and she went visiting.

Mildred found she could be excused from school for a day or two, so she became nurse; and Norah said she guessed she could run the house alone after all the years she'd been learning how; so everything was just as smooth as could be.

When her mother's room was made all tidy and she had settled down to take a nap, Mildred ran across to Miss Betty's house to ask her what to give her mother to eat.

"The doctor said soft things, because her poor throat is so sore. What do you think I'd better give her for lunch, Miss Betty?"

"Invalids have to have nourishing things, Mildred, strong soups and eggs and cereals with cream, and custards. Suppose you plan to have a cream soup for to-day and start a meat soup for to-morrow; it takes two days to make that kind, you know. And—let me see—with cream soup you might have an egg, I think, and perhaps junket; that is the very softest thing in the world. Then by night perhaps she can have cream toast; that is perfectly delicious; if my throat feels sore toward night, Mildred, will you please make enough for two? I just love it."

Mildred laughed and promised that she would.

"And soft boiled custard in a pretty glass cup; and tea, I suppose. By to-morrow she will be so much better that I think she can have ever so many other things. Shall I write out the receipts for you now? Here is a good one for the soup."

CREAM SOUP

(This makes one cupful.)

"This is one of the rules you have to learn by heart, Mildred. It is very easy, you see, almost like a very thin white sauce with vegetable in it. You can use mashed potato, or peas, or corn or celery or carrots, or whatever you happen to have in the house to make it with, and if you multiply it four times you will have enough for a dinner soup."

"Multiply two-thirds by four—" Mildred began.

"Never mind now, my dear! It makes my head go round to hear you. Copy this instead:"

CHICKEN BROTH

"Then Mildred, you see you will have all the chicken meat left; you can take out a bit of the best white meat and put it away for creamed chicken for your mother's lunch the next day, and have the rest on toast for the family dinner. Norah can make a little cream gravy to take the place of the broth you have poured off, and it will be ever so nice."

"So it will; Father just loves that kind of chicken. Now the junket, Miss Betty."

JUNKET CUSTARD

"You can change the flavoring of this, Mildred, when you get tired of vanilla. Try almond sometimes; or, melt half a chocolate square and mix with the hot milk; or put in the vanilla and serve scraped maple sugar with it, with thick cream; they are all good. Now for the egg; can you poach that, do you think?"

"I suppose I can, really, Miss Betty, because I've seen Norah poach eggs about a hundred times; but I think I'd like a rule for my book."

"Good idea. Here is one, then:"

POACHED EGGS

"Now, Mildred, I think you had better run home and get out the things for your tray, and I'll come over just before lunch and help you lay it prettily, if you want me to. See if you can find a pretty, thin cup for the soup, and a plate that looks well with it, and something perfectly dear for the junket. And a little napkin, not a large one. I'll bring a flower; you know you always have to have a flower for a sick-tray."

"You do?" Mildred's eyes were round. "What for, Miss Betty? You don't eat a flower!" she giggled.

"No, but you can't eat so well without it, if you are sick. Just wait till you are, and you'll see."

So Mildred went home and got out all the things she could think of for her mother's lunch and laid them on one end of the kitchen table. Then she tip-toed into the sick room, gave her mother her medicine and a cool drink of water, and turned her pillow over. After that she went out to begin the lunch.

She found Norah had plenty of junket tablets, so first of all she followed the rule for that. It was very easy indeed, and in just a moment she poured half the junket into a little glass for her mother, and the other half into an egg cup-mold for Jack's lunch. She put both of these right on ice so they would be firm, and used half the tablet instead of a quarter as her rule suggested, to be perfectly certain the junket would be firm enough by noon.

"You must be sure not to let them stand one minute, Miss Mildred," said Norah as she watched her. "If you do, they'll never set at all."

"Why not, Norah? Couldn't I just set the dish on the table for two minutes before I put it away?"

Norah assured her that it was quite impossible. "Junket isn't like gelatine; it won't wait," she said. So Mildred hurried just as fast as she could.

Next she made the soup; she found a cup of spinach in the refrigerator, and used that exactly as the receipt said, and the soup was a lovely pale green color. She put this where it would keep hot, and then boiled the water to poach the egg.

Before this bubbled Miss Betty came in with a pink geranium in her hand, and two green leaves. These she put in a very slender clear glass vase she found in the sitting-room, just large enough for them. Then she began to help Mildred with the tray.

"First you cover it with a clean napkin or tray cloth; that's a nice napkin, Norah, thank you. Then you put on a glass of cold water, only half full so it will not spill. Then the plate for the soup cup; and the soup spoon at the side, with the fork for the egg, and the little folded napkin and a cunning little salt and pepper. Next you get the egg and toast ready, put them on a hot plate—hot, Mildred, not just a little warm,—and cover it up with a hot cereal dish turned over it, unless you happen to have a covered china dish that comes on purpose. Stand this at the back of the tray. Get the little junket ready, too, and put the glass on a small plate; but you need not put this on the tray. Let your mother eat the hot things first, and take off the dishes and put the dessert on the tray all by itself. You can get it while she is eating, you know. Then, last of all, you put on the vase of flowers. There—doesn't that look sweet?"

Mildred said it certainly did; then she began to poach the egg, and Miss Betty went into Mother Blair's room and put an extra pillow behind her shoulders and a scarf over her and opened the blinds. She drew a little table close beside the bed and laid a fresh white cover over it, and when the door opened and Mildred came in carefully carrying the white tray with the good things to eat on it and the pretty geraniums, her mother was delighted.

"Oh, how good it looks," she exclaimed. "Mildred, did you really make that soup? And poach that beautiful egg? And actually make that junket? Well, I never did see anything so perfectly lovely. I'm proud to have such a daughter!" Then she ate everything, and declared her throat was almost well already.

In spite of that, however, the doctor made Mrs. Blair stay in bed several days, so that Mildred learned to make quite a number of new dishes for sick people. For one breakfast she gave her cereal with cream and bits of dates; for one luncheon she had the chicken broth, and for one supper cream toast and baked custard; she had goldenrod eggs, too, when her mother's throat was better, and baked apple. All of these things she wrote down in her book so she would not forget how to make any of them.

CEREAL WITH DATES