The Stag Cook Book

The Stag Cook Book
C. MAC SHERIDAN

THE STAG COOK BOOK

WRITTEN FOR MEN BY MEN
COLLECTED AND EDITED
by
C. MAC SHERIDAN
With an Introduction by
ROBERT H. DAVIS

NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
THE STAG COOK BOOK, II
———
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Dedicated To—
THAT GREAT HOST
OF BACHELORS AND BENEDICTS ALIKE

who have at one time or another tried to “cook something”; and who, in the attempt, have weakened under a fire of feminine raillery and sarcasm, only to spoil what, under more favorable circumstances, would have proved a chef-d’œuvre.

“They may live without houses and live without books,”

So the saying has gone through the ages,

“But a civilized man cannot live without cooks—”

It’s a libel, as proved by these pages!

For when left by himself in a small kitchenette,

With a saucepan, a spoon and a kettle,

A man can make things that you’ll never forget—

That will put any cook on her mettle.

Where camp fires glow through the still of the night,

Where grills are electric and shiny,

Where kitchens are huge, done in tiling of white,

Where stoves are exceedingly tiny,

Where people are hungry—no matter the place—

A man can produce in a minute

A dish to bring smiles to each skeptical face,

With art—and real food value—in it!

At range and at oven, at (whisper it!) still,

A man is undoubtedly master;

His cooking is done with an air and a skill,

He’s sure as a woman—and faster!

He may break the dishes and clutter the floor,

And if he is praised—he deserves it—

He may flaunt his prowess until he’s a bore. . . .

But, Boy, what he serves—when he serves it!

INTRODUCTION
By Robert H. Davis

Cooking is a gift, not an art. Eating is an art, not a gift. In combination a grace is developed. No great culinary triumph was ever perfected by accident.

Charles Lamb’s essay on roast pig was responsible for a tidal wave of burnt pork that swept over England in the nineteenth century. Mr. Lamb led a hungry empire to the belief that only through an act of incendiarism could a suckling porker be converted into a delicacy; whereas, as a matter of fact, the perfection of roast pork, golden-brown and unseared by fire, were possible only in the oven.

Lucullus, the good Roman gourmet, had his meals cooked in a mint. He required that his masterpieces be served on gold and silver and crystal, and spread on a table of lapis lazuli. The sauces compiled for him were worth more than the food upon which they were poured. He was the high priest of extravagance and luxury. A single meal stood him a fortune. He had more regard for the cost than for the cooking. It is said that his death was hastened by dyspepsia.

In the early seventies a French nobleman, living in the neighborhood of Barbizon, was found seated at the table with his face in a plate of soup. Because of the fact that a butcher knife had been inserted via the back between his fourth and fifth rib on the left side, he was quite dead. Clues led nowhere. It became one of the mysteries.

Long afterward an old man tottered into the office of the Prefect and announced that he wished to make a confession.

“Proceed,” said the official.

“’Twas I,” responded the ancient, “who delivered the death stroke to the Duke de la —— thirty-five years ago.”

“What inspired you to make this confession?”

“Pride.”

“I do not comprehend. The details, if you please.”

“By profession I was a chef,” said the self-accused. “The Duke, at a fabulous price, enticed me into his service. His first request was that I make for him a perfect consomme. Voilà! For three days I prepared this perfection. With my own hand I placed before him the soup tureen. With my own hand I ladled it out. He inhaled its divine essence; and then, Your Honor, he reached for the salt. Mon Dieu! I destroy him!”

The Prefect embraced the artist and took him out to lunch. Thus art was vindicated and the incident closed. In the chemistry of cooking, “enough is too much.”

The immortals who have contributed recipes to this volume were born with a silver spoon not in their mouths, but in their hands. The cap and apron, not the cap and bells, is the garb in which they perform. Secrets handed down through generations are thrown with a wanton hand on the pages that comprise this volume. Sauces from the south, chowders from New England, barbecued masterpieces from the west, grilled classics from field and stream, ragouts, stews, desserts, dressings are hung within reach of all, like garlic clusters from the rafters of opportunity. Reach up and help yourself.

Be not disturbed by occasional jocund phrases in this symposium. Behind them is probably concealed a savory or a flavor. A long paragraph may conclude with full particulars concerning the architecture of a gastronomic dream. Turn the pages slowly lest you be overwhelmed by the richness of the menu.

The late King Edward, upon bidding the later Carlos of Portugal God-speed back to his native shores, inquired: “By what were you most impressed during your visit to the British Isles?”

“Roast beef,” said Carlos, expanding in ecstasy.

“And what else?” inquired Edward.

“Well,” said Carlos, “the boiled beef wasn’t so damned bad.”

It is one thing to cook food, and another to consume it. This inspired tome is the product of cooks who are not afraid to take their own medicine. The names of many of the dishes catalogued herein lies on the tongues of the mob, but the delicacies themselves do not. This book brings within the reach of all opportunities that up to now have been denied them. Given a first class stove, a few simple ingredients and a copy of this book, hunger can be abolished wherever English is read.

Rossini, the musician, also a chef, after writing the score of The Barber of Seville, was informed by the director that a prelude was required immediately. Rossini repaired to his kitchen, cooked himself a perfect dinner, consumed it alone, and went to bed where in a reclining position with score sheets all about him, he wrote a brilliant introduction to his brilliant opera. Suddenly a gust of wind entered unbidden at the window and scattered the precious sheets about the room. Several disappeared through the lattice. Rossini, heavy with the consequences of his culinary genius, re-wrote a fresher and better prelude, tucked it under his corpulent person and rolled over for a final nap, after which he hastened to the opera house with his masterpiece. His best work was done on a full stomach.

Brillat-Savarin, author of “Gastronomy as a Fine Art,” rather whimsically names “Gasteria” the tenth and fairest of the Muses. The writers of this book name her as the first.

R. H. D.

CONTENTS

THE STAG COOK BOOK

“This dish of meat is too good for
any but anglers, or very honest men.”

Izaak Walton.

I
Meredith Nicholson

WABASH VALLEY STEAK

No man can be a hero in his own kitchen. No man with the slightest regard for domestic peace will ever permit his wife to see him cook without having outsiders present. The psychology of this is obvious. Impatient though a woman may be of her husband’s attempts to show that he is a real sport and skilled in all the arts of social entertaining, before guests she is likely to manifest a modest degree of pride in his performances. Or even if slightly contemptuous she is moved to assume a chaffing attitude that adds to the general good feeling. I beg not to be confused with the type of bachelor club man who is a perfect wizard with the chafing dish. I have always viewed those birds with suspicion. Their tricks are few and easy of accomplishment—stunts with mushrooms, or chicken à la king done nonchalantly in a dinner coat. I sing my fiercest hymn of hate of those persons.

My own method is to assume full charge of an orderly kitchen, removing coat and waistcoat, donning an apron and attacking the job without apology or simper or the silly pretense that I’m not sure of the result. Not sure! Except in the case of colored women cooks, who trust to inspiration and achieve miracles without, seemingly, knowing how they do ’em—except, I say, in such instances, cookery is an exact science. If you follow a good rule and know how to regulate the range and have a true eye and acute nose, failure is obliterated from the lexicon.

And now for my scenario, which I stole from a lady, who in turn stole it, I dare say, from some cook book. I might pretend that I invented it, but I didn’t. All I claim is that it offers an Olympian feast—particularly if you can accompany it with hot biscuits, which I admit are beyond my powers.

The Recipe

Take a round steak cut two inches thick; and beat a cup of flour into it. Heat a large skillet till it is piping hot with lard covering the bottom about one inch. Put in the steak, cover immediately, and allow it to cook about five minutes, turning once.

Then cover it with a sauce composed in this wise:

• Four large tomatoes
• Four onions
• Four green mango peppers
• Four ripe pimentoes

Put through a grinder or better still chop thoroughly with a chopper in a wooden bowl. Don’t skimp on this labor; the chopping must be done conscientiously. Season with salt and pour over the steak; cook slowly for two hours. When done turn into a large platter and serve piping hot.

II
Rex Beach

ONION CLAM CHOWDER

To each 10 oz. can of Pioneer Brand Minced Clams use 1 pound of sliced Spanish or white onion.

For a good sized chowder take six large onions (white), and cut in lengths one inch long. Pour the juice from the clams into saucepan, add onions and a little water and boil thoroughly until onions are well cooked and soft. Then add clams which have been taken out of the can and put into a dish, and stew five minutes before onions are done. Next place in a stew pan about a pint of cream or half cream and half milk and let come to a boil. After the clams have been in with the onions for about three minutes pour on the hot milk and season to taste with salt and pepper. If serving in a soup plate, a little chopped parsley adds to the attractiveness of the dish. Then EAT it.

(You can substitute for fresh milk or cream—Carnation Canned Milk diluted—⅔ milk to ⅓ water. The soup should be thick and not too watery. This can be regulated by amount of milk added.)

III
Hudson Maxim

SPAGHETTI

Take one package of vermicelli or spaghetti, and put it into a saucepan, crushing it in the hand, then put in hot water, and salt a little more than will suit the taste, and boil for an hour.

While the vermicelli or spaghetti is cooking, take a quart of milk and heat three-quarters—or 24 ounces—of it until it boils. Then stir into the eight ounces of cold milk a level cupful of flour, or two tablespoonfuls of flour, pretty well heaped, and then stir the thickened milk into the boiling milk and cook slowly for ten minutes.

Then add three-quarters of a pound of good, ripe, old American cheese, and about half a pound of butter. Then drain the water off the vermicelli or spaghetti and put in from one and one half pints to a quart of canned tomatoes. Heat the vermicelli or spaghetti to the boiling point; and while the mixture of cheese, butter, milk and flour is still hot, stir the two together, then keep hot and serve hot. Do not boil any more, because further boiling would tend to cause the tomatoes to coagulate the milk in the mixture. I prefer to use a mixture of spaghetti and vermicelli instead of all spaghetti or all vermicelli.

IV
Warren G. Harding

WAFFLES

• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 pint milk
• flour to make thin batter
• 2 large teaspoons of baking powder

Beat yolks of eggs, add sugar and salt, melt butter, add milk and flour; last just before ready to bake add beaten whites of eggs and baking powder.

Bake on hot waffle iron.

Editor’s Note:—There is a great deal of argument about the proper dressing for waffles. Various gravies are used by one school of waffle eaters; while honey, maple syrup, and various specially flavored sugar powders are preferred by another.

President Harding is a staunch upholder of the gravy school and likes his in the form of creamed chipped beef.

V
Ellis Parker Butler

BOUILLABAISSE JOE TILDEN

In a soup kettle put four tablespoonsful of genuine olive oil. When hot enough fry in it two large onions, sliced, and two cloves of garlic chopped. Cut two pounds of any sort of firm white-textured fish into small pieces and put in the kettle, just covering the mixture with warm water.

Now have the Eighteenth Amendment repealed and add to the mixture one cup of White Wine, the juice of half a lemon, two large tomatoes (peeled and cut up), pepper, salt and one or two bay leaves.

Cook this briskly for twelve minutes, by which time the liquor should be one third evaporated. Now add a tablespoonful of chopped parsley. Joe Tilden added a pinch of saffron, but I don’t care for it. Cook two minutes longer and serve ladled on slices of French bread.

Editor’s Note:—Moquin’s have made a luncheon specialty of Bouillabaisse for many years. They add lobster and eel. Here is a wonderful dish to experiment with—great fun and delicious results if you try it once or twice. It’s a habit-forming dish, so beware!

VI
Jules J. Jusserand
(Ambassador to the United States from France)

RADISH SALAD

The French ambassador presents his compliments and begs to state that he does not believe that any dish, or food, is more palatable than a salad of radishes, the radishes to be cut in very thin slices and to be seasoned with the usual salad dressing.

Editor’s Note:—This salad will be at its best if the foundation, upon which the thin slices of radish are placed, is made of small crisp leaves of romaine. The usual dressing—french, of course—is prepared in this way:

To one tablespoonful of lemon or vinegar add three tablespoonsful of the best olive oil, a dash of black pepper, and a half teaspoonful of salt. Beat well with a silver fork, and add enough paprika to give it a ruddy color, and a rich flavor. If the salad dish is rubbed with garlic it will do no great harm to the mixture!

VII
Bruce Barton

RICE PUDDING

I am president of the S. R. R. R. P.—the Society for Restoration of Raisins to Rice Pudding.

I have made a list of New York hotels and clubs and rated them according to the number of raisins they put in a portion of rice pudding as follows:

• Class D—no raisins
• Class C—1 raisin
• Class B—3 or more raisins
• Class A—plenty of raisins

To my mind, rice pudding without raisins is like Hamlet without the eggs.

• 1 cup rice
• 4 cups milk
• 3 eggs
• ½ cup sugar
• 1 teaspoonful salt
• 1 package seedless raisins
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla

Bake one hour in a hot oven. Set the pan inside of another containing hot water.

Serve with whipped cream and garnish with Dromedary dates.

Editor’s Note:—Cook the rice twenty-three minutes.

VIII
Richard Bennett

LIEDERKRANZ Á LA HOOSIER

Run around and find a real nice Liederkranz cheese and treat it as follows to get a serving for four people:

Mix the cheese with about a quarter of a pound of butter and work into a fine paste, adding salt, pepper, French mustard, paprika and Worcestershire sauce as you go along. Just add them to taste.

When the paste is smooth put in one finely chopped small green pepper; one small onion, or chives.

Mix well!

And serve on rye bread—spread thick. To be thoroughly technical, I suppose I should have said: spread to taste!

Editor’s Note:—You can have a wonderful time and make quite a reputation for yourself by inventing cheese combinations. Ordinary cream cheese makes a splendid base for original mixtures. Try combinations of finely minced pimento, celery, olives, chives and peppers (green and red). And anything else that promises well.

IX
Walt Louderback

CORN CHOWDER

I believe my favorite recipe is Corn Chowder.

The appetite for this dish must be approached from the windy side of a promontory in early spring with a sixty pound pack between the shoulder blades, aforementioned pack to contain for a couple of congenial souls a pound of bacon, a pound of dry onions, two cans of corn and one large tin of condensed milk.

Cut the bacon up into small half inch squares and start it frying. Simultaneously slice the onions and give them the heat. If, after the aroma from these two begins to permeate the air, you feel like risking their falling into the fire, start boiling the corn and milk. Before the onions are too thoroughly cooked stir them into the bacon, at which time the battle for the supremacy of the appetizing odors is occupying most of your attention.

Now throw the bacon and onions into the corn pot and wait as long as you are able so that the ingredients become thoroughly familiar with one another.

Write me as soon as you get home if you don’t remember that day until you are an old man.

To make this sound extremely professional I suppose I should add, “Season to taste,” but do not mind if a few ashes get mixed in by mistake.

X
Captain Robert A. Bartlett, U.S.A.

COD FISH

Here is my favorite dish. Viz.:—Fresh Labrador Codfish caught during the Caplin school. The fish is at this time in splendid condition.

Here is the recipe:

Place a small bake pot upon a wood fire; then take a few strips of fat pork, cut up into small pieces and put into the bake pot. When the pork fat has melted you cut the fish into several small pieces and place in the pot. In about twenty minutes the fish is cooked. The fish must be eaten from the pot with a wooden spoon.

XI
George F. Worts

SWEET POTATO PONE

There are two sure ways of identifying a true southerner. One of them is to play “Dixie.” Unlike your northerner, or counterfeit southerner who springs to his feet and looks exalted and proud when the band strikes up that swinging anthem, your true, or southern southerner rarely springs. Generally he just sets and waggles one boot, and looks happy or sentimental, according to his nature. That is one way of detecting your true southerner. The second and surer way is to announce in a tremulous voice: “Gemmen, dat potato pone am done set.”

The sweet potato pone is strictly a southern dish. It is served south of the Mason and Dixon line hot and smoking. You don’t need much experience as a cook, although the old rule which also places “perfect” after “practice” of course holds good. Your ninth potato pone will be better than your third. Here is the how:

Grind up raw sweet potatoes in a meat chopper until you have one quart. Mix the grindings thoroughly in a bowl with molasses—enough molasses so the mass is soft and sticky, or spongy.

Mix in a heaping tablespoonful of lard.

Add a teaspoonful of allspice.

Put the mixture in a cake tin and place in a slow oven. Stir constantly until a rich brown hue is attained, then smooth over with a knife or spoon and allow to bake slowly until a mellow brown crust is formed.

Remove from oven, allow to cool slightly, cut in slices and serve. General Robert E. Lee would walk ten miles for a slice of it.

XII
Gelett Burgess

PANDOWDY

In a quart pudding dish arrange alternate layers of sliced apples and bits of bread; place on each layer dots of butter, a little sugar, and a pinch each of ground cinnamon, cloves and allspice.

When the dish is filled, pour over it half a cupful each of molasses and water, mixed well; cover the top with bread crumbs.

Place the dish in a pan containing hot water, and bake for three-quarters of an hour, or until the apples are soft.

Serve hot, with cream or any light pudding sauce.

Raisins or chopped almonds are sometimes added.

XIII
William Allen White

VEGETABLE SALAD

My idea of good food is a vegetable salad. Any kind of a vegetable salad is good; some are better than others. Here is a recipe for a French dressing on a lettuce salad which you should try on your meat grinder, or your potato masher, or your rolling pin or whatever kitchen utensil you can play.

Get a crisp head of lettuce, discard the outer green leaves, using the inner yellow and white. Wash it thoroughly, and after pulling it apart dry each leaf with a tea towel. Put it in a big bowl—a big mixing bowl, six inches deep anyway. Then set that to one side, and get about as much onion as the end of your first finger would make, if it was chopped off at the second joint. Mince that. Put it in the bottom of a bowl. Take a large tablespoon; put in salt and paprika to taste, and don’t be afraid of making it salty, then add oil and vinegar, about three or four to one, mixing them in the spoon until it slops over into the onion, and then stir the salt and paprika and oil and vinegar down into the bowl of minced onion, taking a salad fork and jabbing it around in the mixture until the onion has been fairly well crushed and the onion flavor permeates the mixed oil and vinegar, and the salt and paprika have become for the moment a part of the mass. Don’t let it stand a second, but pour it quickly into the bowl of dry lettuce, and then stir like the devil. Keep on stirring; stir some more, and serve as quickly as possible.

Cheese may be mashed into the onion before putting on the oil and vinegar and paprika and salt. If one wants to add tomatoes, wait until the last three jabs of the stirring fork into the lettuce, and then quarter the tomatoes and turn them in just before you turn the lettuce over the last two or three times. This is done so that the watery juice of the tomatoes won’t get smeared over the oil on the lettuce leaves. If you stir the tomatoes in early, you get a runny, watery, gooey mess. Cucumbers may be added, and they should be stirred in rather earlier than the tomatoes in the business of mixing the lettuce leaves and the dressing. Green peppers may be added if they are cut into strings, but too much outside fixings spoils the salad for me. The tomatoes are about as far as one can go wisely.

XIV
Irvin S. Cobb

HOG JOWL AND TURNIP GREENS

Paducah Style

For a person who has written so copiously about food and the pleasures of eating it, I probably know less of the art of preparing it than any living creature. I cannot give my favorite recipe because I have none; but I am glad to give the names of my two favorite dishes, to wit, as follows:

• 1st—Hog jowl and turnip greens—Paducah style
• 2nd—Another helping of the same.

Editor’s Note:—Hog Jowl, Paducah Style, may be prepared like this:

Get the jowl. Some prefer it cooked and served with the bone; others remove the bone before serving. Boil it in well salted water for thirty minutes, then add the turnip greens and boil at least thirty minutes longer. Serve with plenty of butter for dressing; a dash of vinegar and a semi-colon of mustard are used by some folks who are hard to please.

Beet greens could be used but they are not considered au fait, and to use spinach is an absolute faux pas.

XV
Richard Walton Tully

HAWAIIAN CROQUETTES Á LA “THE BIRD OF PARADISE”

It was about fifteen years ago that I first visited the Hawaiian Islands in search of material for my play, “The Bird of Paradise,” and during the course of my sojourn I made many friends among the natives, often living weeks at a time with them in out-of-the-way villages. Although their food was radically different from ours in many of its contents and modes of making, it was always palatable, and often strikingly delicious. However, most of the native dishes contained ingredients which we cannot obtain here, but I did learn how to make what some of my friends have nick-named Hawaiian Croquettes à la “Bird of Paradise,” the materials for which are easily procured. And it is a dish so wonderfully appetizing that I constantly prepare it for guests of epicurean tastes.

First grate the meat of half a cocoanut, and add to it a cup of (cow’s) milk, mixing thoroughly, and straining through cloth. Melt two tablespoonsful of butter over a low flame, rubbing into it with the back of a spoon five tablespoonsful of flour, stirring until very smooth. Then add slowly the strained cocoanut and milk liquid, stirring constantly until very thick. Season meanwhile with one and a half teaspoonsful of salt; one of paprika, and one of grated onion. Finally add two cups of cold, boiled, shredded mullet, or any other firm white fish, and two cups of cold, boiled, chopped lobster, and after stirring allow to cool.

Shape into croquettes, or balls, allowing a rounded tablespoonful to each ball; roll in fine cracker crumbs; dip into an egg which has been slightly beaten and to which one-quarter of a cup of water has been added; again roll in cracker crumbs.

Have a deep pan of fat, hot enough to fry a piece of bread a golden brown while you count forty, and cook the croquettes therein for about a minute; then drain on paper, and serve with olives.

XVI
William Johnston

OYSTERS PECHEUR

One keg of freshly dredged oysters put on the deck of the schooner not later than eight p. m.

One hundred pounds of ice put on top of the oysters.

Shell and eat at 5 a. m. on the way to the fishing grounds with salt to taste, and occasional draughts of hot coffee.

XVII
Dr. Charles M. Sheldon

LIKES BREAD AND MILK

A recipe of my favorite dish is very simple—bread and milk with American cheese broken into it. I eat this dish once a day every day and find it wholesome and nourishing. It does not require any skillful putting together, simply a good appetite and a taste for that sort of provender. If there is an apple pie anywhere around to top it off with, I do not despise that.

I find as a rule that the simpler and more elementary the food, the better so far as the body is concerned. And take it the year around a bowl of milk with fresh bread and rich American cheese, finishing up with “good apple pie like mother used to make,” is all the midday meal I need. I can work on that all the afternoon and feel better than if I had had a seven course dinner.

XVIII
James Montgomery Flagg

“JAMES MONTGOMERY SUDS”

This is a dessert. When a Swedish cook is put on her mettle to suggest a dessert—something different—she stands a while in uffish thought, then breaks out into a smile of satisfaction and says “Snow Pudding”! It’s Swede law. The Swedes must suggest Snow Pudding when asked for an original thought in the dessert line.

So this dessert of mine was a protest.

There is one very difficult ingredient—wine jelly! The jelly is easy enough, but where in Jell do you get the wine?

If you don’t have wine jelly—it’s all off—no use beginning. If you can get the wine then you put some cut-up oranges in wine jelly with an inch layer of beaten whites of eggs on top and lightly brown this. A loose custard is poured on each helping. It sounds rather punk and ladieshomejournalish but is a perfectly good dessert.

XIX
Roy L. McCardell

“EGGS MUSHROOMETTE”

This is the queen of breakfast dishes and should be served, of course, with broiled ham, the king of breakfast dishes, hot buttered toast, and several cups of fresh-made, fragrant and just-strong-enough-to-bring-out-full-flavor, percolated coffee!

Recipe

Peel and slice a half pound of fresh mushrooms and cook in butter in old-fashioned frying pan till nearly done. The pan is now good and hot. Moderate the heat and put in three fresh eggs and fry them very slowly, constantly basting top of eggs with the hot butter the mushrooms have been cooking in. Cook well, slowly and thoroughly till all the mushrooms that attach are nestling in the white of the eggs like plums in a pudding. Serve, when thoroughly cooked, with the broiled ham, fresh coffee, and hot buttered toast.

This dish, as here described, is for one person only—as it is too good to be shared with anybody else.

P. S.—Eggs should never be fried so quickly that the whites are cooked to isinglass. Cook them slowly, surely, thoroughly and baste with hot mushroom butter as directed, and you will have Eggs Mushroomette and have eaten a poem!

XX
Judge Ben B. Lindsey

BRAN MUFFINS

Judge Lindsey’s favorite recipe is one for Bran Muffins, as follows:

• 1 pint milk
• 1 egg
• ½ pound wheat flour
• ¾ pound bran flour
• 2 tablespoonsful molasses
• 2 ounces pecan meats (½s or ¼s)
• 2 ounces sugar
• 2 ounces butter
• ¼ ounce salt
• 2 ounces Sultana raisins
• 1 ounce baking powder

Sufficient for 18 muffins.

Bake 30 minutes in well-heated oven.

Editor’s Note:—The addition of Pecan meats with the raisins produces a muffin that—well, the line might better have ended thus: produces a muffin!

XXI
Otis Skinner

ARTICHOKES, MISTER ANTONIO

Force a small opening in the head of the artichoke by giving it a blow upon the table. Then, into the center pour a dessertspoonful of olive oil in which a little salt and pepper have been mixed. To this add a quarter of a clove of garlic.

Place the artichokes in such position that they may not be overturned. Surround them with cold water, and allow them to boil, covered and undisturbed, for half an hour.

This is an Italian method, and by following it one may understand why an artichoke need not taste as flat as boiled hay.

XXII
Dan Beard

A BURGOO

Clean and dress the meat of a soft-shelled turtle, a painted turtle, a poker-dot turtle, or almost any other kind of turtle. Clean and dress a rabbit, a ruffled grouse, moose meat, elk meat, deer meat, sheep meat, in fact any sort of game. Cut your meat into pieces about the size of inch cubes. Save the bones, especially the marrow bones, to put in with the meat. Add some salt pork cut into cubes, if you have it.

If you have been thoughtful enough to supply your outfit with some ill-smelling, but palatable dry vegetables, they will add flavor to your burgoo, put all the material in a kettle, and fill the kettle half full of water. If you have beans and potatoes do not put them in with the meat because they will go to the bottom and scorch. While the stuff you have already put in the kettle is boiling, or simmering, peel your onions and quarter them, scrape your carrots and slice them, peel your potatoes, cut them up into pieces—about inch cubes. After your caldron has commenced to boil dump in the fresh vegetables, they will cool off the water and kill the boil. Do not let it come to a boil again, but put it over a slow fire and allow it to simmer. There should always be enough water to cover the vegetables. A can of tomatoes will add greatly to the flavor. Use no sweet vegetables like beets or sweet potatoes. Put the salt and pepper in just before you take it off the fire. When the burgoo is done, strain it into tin cups. The liquid out of an olive bottle adds greatly to the flavor if you pour it in while the stew is cooking. If you have such luxuries in camp as olives and lemons, a slice of lemon with an olive in each cup over which the liquid is poured makes a dish too good for any old king that ever lived.

The excellence of a burgoo depends upon two things, the materials you have of which to make it and the care you take in cooking it. No two burgoos are alike, and every one I ever tasted was mighty good. Civilized material such as can be purchased at the butcher shop and the vegetable store makes a good soup, but the “goo” isn’t there. Consequently you cannot call it a burgoo.

XXIII
De Wolf Hopper

RASPBERRY SHORTCAKE

RASPBERRY SHORTCAKE, with the assistance of a rich and kindly disposed cow, meaning lacteal fluid on same—that is my chief debauch!

Recipe (for two people)

Sift a level teaspoonful of baking powder and a scant half teaspoonful of salt through a cupful of flour. See that the mixture is thorough. Take lard or butter (butter is best) and work it well into the flour until it crumbles under the fingers. Use plenty of finger work. Now add a very small quantity of milk and work into a dough that is easily rolled and flattened on a floured board. Roll out and cut in round cakes to fit cake tins. Have cakes about a half inch thick. Bake in a moderate oven until light golden in color. In serving have lots of berries—half of them—crushed. Split the shortcakes and butter them, if desired. Above all use thick, rich cream in generous doses. The dish is really best when the cakes are just from the oven—instead of cold.

The same goes for strawberry shortcake and makes the only real genuine old-fashioned shortcake.

XXIV
Chick Evans

TOMATO SOUP

I have a fondness for tomato soup and steak without grizzles. Since almost any one can broil a steak I’ll pass that up and tell you how to play cream of tomato right around the kitchen course in par.

You can take ripe tomatoes, cut them up, stew them and put them through a strainer. You can add a bit of soup stock and seasoning and all that, but the easy way is to take some of Mr. Campbell’s tomato soup and add milk instead of water—only use more soup, per person, than the can label calls for.

Don’t boil it—but when the soup is good and hot give it a bit of informal seasoning and then stir in a lot of stiff whipped cream. Keep back enough of the whipped cream to put a big spoonful of it in the center of each plate.

Use the can opener at the first tee and with luck you’ll be on the dinner table in an easy three. Play out of the soup plate with a good sized spoon for a par four—and there you are!

You’ll be able to whip the cream without detailed directions. The important thing is choosing the right egg beater or cream whipper or whatever you use. The next important thing in whipping cream is stance. You’ll gradually acquire that, after you’ve spattered the front of your vest a time or two, and hooked a few long ones to the wall paper. I believe that there are some safety devices for whipping cream, but they take all the sport and excitement out of the thing.

XXV
Joshua A. Hatfield

EGGPLANT SAUTÉ À L’ALEXANDER

For About 12 People

Take two large eggplants, have them peeled and cut into large flakes of about 1¼ inches in size, season with pepper and salt, pass through flour and fry in hot fat pan to brown color; chop finely and sauté to yellow color, six French shallots and two beans of garlic, and add to the eggplant. Keep stirring on moderate fire for about three minutes, serve in vegetable dish and spray with chopped parsley.

POTATO STICKS ALEXANDER

Take six nice boiled potatoes, let them drain and pass through sieve, put in stewing pan on the fire, add four yolks of eggs, one spoonful of fresh butter, one spoonful of puff paste; one green pepper, one sweet pepper, two slices of boiled ham and parsley all finely chopped, and pepper and salt to taste.