Living on a Little

ncheon, Suppe

light as air after the heavy work we have put on dinners, and as the meals themselves are far

something from our garden, surely. But in cold weather we either do without or have something twice a week only. Often I find bananas costing only a trifle, perhaps even ten cents a dozen at times, and then I get half a dozen; not more, because probably they are rather too ripe to keep long or they would not sell for the price. Oranges, too, sometimes come into market in quantities, and then small ones are cheap for a few days. In the autum

not last any time because they are loose and light; those are what I call extravagant breakfast foods. You must use the plainer things; old-fashioned oatmeal and cracked wheat, bought in bulk, and rice and corn-meal. They go twice, no, three times as far as the things you buy in packages. If you cook the oatmeal and wheat all night they will be really ve

, plum porridge!" interrupted Doll

without raisins in it, for one morning, and another you can have it in little b

tra cream for

where I long to keep a cow. But as it is, I take off just a little of the

ffins and cakes and

t what we have, because you will understand

n egg apiece, milk toast, or creamed codfish, or some simple thing warmed over that I have in the house; of

anything hot and substantial, as when the first course was an orange, perhaps, so we have the coffee and muffins al

though they were to be bought for nothing. I thought

t use them in cooking, or only occasionally, so even at that price I can afford to

ely certain Fred will demand two eggs for h

parsley omelette of two with a little milk; or have them hard-boiled, chopped, and creamed, on toast or in individual dishes, with crumb

l. Now before you leave Breakfasts t

when Dick does not have to hurry away, we often have the

se with the lark to get a

e kettle and put the muffins in the oven. While they are getting themselves ready I lay the table and make the coffee and put on t

ns or toast; eggs or bacon or codfish, and c

hose will come later on. Many of them will be under luncheon dishes; that is, easy things to m

ve all sorts of good things creamed and in croque

he refrigerator. Still I agree with you in thinking this an interesting meal, but partly, I am afraid, because I enjoy the fun of getting something out o

ext night. But if you cannot have those and

de out of odds and ends. I am not going to try and make a full list fo

fruit fritters; creamed peas; croustades of bread filled with any sort of creamed meat, fish, or egg; green peppers filled with similar things; baked beans; fried eggplant; stuffed eggplant; all sorts of salads with mayonnaise; creamed celery, baked; cabbage and cheese baked; rice and tomatoes; rice croquettes; potato croquettes; eggs in every shape when they are cheap; all kinds of griddle-cakes and muffins. As a second cou

know what a way people in town have of dropping in at that time. Suppose you, for inst

a cream soup, and serve it in two half-filled cups instead of one full one. There will be enough that way without too much liquidating. If you were to have had a hot dish first, say a little baked corn, put in a beaten egg and a trifle of milk, and it will grow larger at once; or, if you planned to have one plate of string-bean salad, add a hard-boiled egg quartered to the quantity,

for you, my experienced sister, but

age, and you will enter into the spirit of the thing when o

did not belie

nners at night, and you must possibly conform; or, Fred's work may send him home at noon and again late in the evening;

d clams, or milk toast, or bread croustades, or baked beans; with them go potatoes, possibly, sometimes, or merely tea or coffee, with hot biscuits or muffins. Then comes a salad, if you choose. In summer I have the main dish for either luncheon or supper of salad, and you can serve mayonnaise or French dressing on them. Here a meat or fish salad comes in if you can afford it; chicken or cold salmon with mayonnaise, or lobster, or whatever you ca

with cake or cookies or gingerbread. Or, you can have hot gingerbread and American

cheese in your suppers and luncheons. I

ut it in a dish and cook it, always put in a tiny pinch of cayenne pepper and one of soda, that makes it perfectly wholesome. When once it is digested it is all solid nourishment, too, and for the money you get more than

ect of cake for supper; don't we

ke, and as few men care for it, it is largely wasted on them. Do not make much cake of any sort, and when you do, make up simple little things and have them fresh. Make cookies and gingerbread and drop-cak

ewhere in my book, 'Beware of in

gredients.' Stick to it, my dear. Now, if you

e or tea and preserves or shortcake or gingerbread and such things afterward, usually. When you have company, begin with s

olly; it is Scraps, or, Left-overs, if you like that better. And here you must study hard, for

admit it to be entirely true; but it is a fact that a good cook seldom has anything to put in her garbage pail, and it really is horrifying to see what p

mbs and sift them well; the half-slices make into bits of toast and use them at once, whenev

ter, cover tightly, and set in the oven and let it cook till the water is gone. Strain it through cheesecloth, put it in a covered pail, and you will always have enough for frying without buying lard. When you use

, such as an end of steak, but I have yet to find the bit of meat that is not good for something. The steak ends I pour boiling water over and scrape till the charred part disappe

ake slices of bread three inches thick and cut them into rounds with a biscuit-cutter; on top you mark a smaller circle. Dip each one in milk; drop it into hot fat and let it turn golden brown; fill it with creamed chicken or meat or fish or peas. A platter of croustades is a really attractive dish and as good to eat as it is to look at. If ever I have a round loaf of brea

alling for one white, perhaps a little cake; or, whip it, sweeten with powdered sugar, mix with currant jelly, make it very cold, and serve it in two small glasses as currant fluff. It does for dessert after a heavy dinne

beet in corned beef hash; a spoonful of peas goes into an omelette; a carrot can be diced and added to beef stew; celery tops go into soup; mixed vegetables are to be made up into vegetable croquettes; cooked potato makes potato soup

lt. If you feel you must not eat up such left-overs at luncheon, and of course you ought to feel so, and yet there is not r

starch; when it is all smooth, pour this into a baking-powder can to harden, then turn it out, slice it, dip each piece in crumbs, egg, and crumbs again, and fry in deep fat; they grow soft in the middle and are very good indeed; the French call them fried cream. Treat bread pudding in the same way, and serve with a nice sauce. When you ma

uice put with it; it can be cooked over again and this time served cold, perhaps in a mould. In fact nearly everything but a small bit of

lly, complacently. "All men love pie,

up some tartlets, anyway, when I make crust, and when they are filled with peach jam with perhaps a dot of cream on top, they make an excellent dessert. This remi

use left-overs of canned

uit and heat the whole together; it woul

pudding; I shall

e candying worth while. Then drain them and wash them well, and put them in cold water and bring to a boil; repeat this till the water is perfectly fresh. When the skins are transparent take them out, put two or three together and cut them in tiny little strips; cook these in thick sugar and water syrup, only e

ently in it and serve them without canning. They will be almost as good as the peaches were; and sometimes stew prunes a little, t

nd-don't you do so

t up into swee

down her pencil and s

coming around the corner. I kno

hem. Let me see." The refrigerator yielded up some outer pie

rlor and entertain the guests while her sister excused herself and transformed the cheese into a rarebit, and the c

ciously, as the footsteps sounded in the hall

are so interested as all that. Now I'll go to the door; be as pleasant as you know how