Reed Myrtle

The Myrtle Reed Cook Book


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       CRABS

       LOBSTER

       OYSTERS

       SCALLOPS

       SHRIMPS

       SIXTY WAYS TO COOK FISH

       ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY WAYS TO COOK MEAT AND POULTRY

       BEEF

       MUTTON AND LAMB

       PORK

       VEAL

       CHICKEN

       DUCK

       GOOSE

       TURKEY

       PIGEON

       TWENTY WAYS TO COOK POTATOES

       ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY WAYS TO COOK OTHER VEGETABLES

       THIRTY SIMPLE SAUCES

       SALADS

       SALADS AND DRESSINGS

       FISH SALADS

       VEGETABLE SALADS

       FRUIT SALADS

       EGG SALADS

       CHEESE AND NUT SALADS

       SIMPLE DESSERTS

       FROZEN DAINTIES

       JELLIED DESSERTS

       PIES

       PUDDING SAUCES

       SHORTCAKES

       TARTS

       INDEX

       Table of Contents

      The breakfast habit is of antique origin. Presumably the primeval man arose from troubled dreams, in the first gray light of dawn, and set forth upon devious forest trails, seeking that which he might devour, while the primeval woman still slumbered in her cave. Nowadays, it is the lady herself who rises while the day is yet young, slips into a kimono, and patters out into the kitchen to light the gas flame under the breakfast food.

      In this matter of breaking the fast, each house is law unto itself. There are some who demand a dinner at seven or eight in the morning, and others who consider breakfast utterly useless. The Englishman, who is still mighty on the face of the earth, eats a breakfast which would seriously tax the digestive apparatus of an ostrich or a goat, and goes on his way rejoicing.

      In an English cook-book only seven years old, menus for “ideal” breakfasts are given, which run as follows:

      “Devilled Drum-sticks and Eggs on the dish, Pigs Feet, Buttered Toast, Dry Toast, Brown and White Bread and Butter, Marmalade and Porridge.”

      “Bloaters on Toast, Collared Tongue, Hot Buttered Toast, Dry Toast, Marmalade, Brown and White Bread and Butter, Bread and Milk.”

      “Pigeon Pie, Stewed Kidney, Milk Rolls, Dry Toast, Brown and White Bread and Butter, Mustard and Cress, Milk Porridge.”

      And for a “simple breakfast,”—in August, mind you!—this is especially recommended:

      “Bloaters on Toast, Corned Beef, Muffins, Brown and White Bread and Butter, Marmalade, and Boiled Hominy.”

      An American who ate a breakfast like that in August probably would not send his collars to the laundry more than once or twice more, but it takes all kinds of people to make up a world.

      Across the Channel from the brawny Briton is the Frenchman, who, with infinitely more wisdom, begins his day with a cup of coffee and a roll. So far, so good, but his déjeuner à la fourchette at eleven or twelve is not always unobjectionable from a hygienic standpoint. The “uniform breakfast,” which is cheerfully advocated by some, may be hygienic but it is not exciting. Before the weary mental vision stretches an endless procession of breakfasts, all exactly alike, year in and year out. It is quite possible that the “no-breakfast” theory was first formulated by some one who had been, was, or was about to be a victim of this system.

      The “no-breakfast” plan has much to recommend it, however. In the first place, it saves a deal of trouble. The family rises, bathes itself, puts on its spotless raiment in leisurely and untroubled fashion, and proceeds to the particular business of the day. There are no burnt toast, soggy waffles, muddy coffee, heavy muffins, or pasty breakfast food to be reckoned with. Theoretically, the energy supplied by last night’s dinner is “on tap,” waiting to be called upon. And, moreover, one is seldom hungry in the morning, and what is the use of feeding a person who is not hungry?

      It has been often said, and justly, that Americans eat too much. Considering the English breakfast, however, we may metaphorically pat ourselves upon the back, for there is no one of us, surely, who taxes the Department of the Interior thus.

      “What is one man’s meat is another man’s poison” has been held pointedly to refer to breakfast, for here, as nowhere else, is the individual a law unto himself. Fruit is the satisfaction of one and the distress of another; cereal is a life-giving food to one