Showing posts with label Myrtle Reed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Myrtle Reed. Show all posts

Friday, August 19, 2022

On Meals and Dining of 1905

At noon the family sits down to a simple breakfast—fruit, broiled chicken, creamed potatoes, hot bread and coffee, for example. The maid has few dishes to wash, is not too tired to enjoy her afternoon off, and gets away two or three hours earlier than her less fortunate sisters. Also she remains where she is hired—which has its advantages. Only a light lunch is needed in the evening which the mistress may serve, leaving the dishes to be washed in the morning.

There is an old saying to the effect that “all may eat, but ladies and gentlemen dine.” The difference lies more in the preparation and manner of serving than in the food itself, and whether her evening meal is a banquet or a repast of the lunch-counter sort rests wholly with the housewife.

We pause long enough to pay our disrespects to that barbarous institution known in America as the Sunday Dinner. On six days in the week, the average business man eats a light luncheon or none at all. On the seventh day, at an unaccustomed hour, he eats a heavy meal, goes to sleep shortly afterward, and wonders why Monday is a “blue day.”

Our uncivilized Sundays are responsible for our Monday morning headaches and for the gloom which, in many a household, does not wear off until Tuesday morning. If Sunday were a day of fasting instead of a day of feasting, Monday might be radiant occasionally instead of riotous or revolutionary.

We make Sunday a hard day for the women of the household, especially the servants, and the imperial liver appertaining to the Head of the Establishment balks sometimes at the strain. The American Sunday Dinner is one cause of the American Servant Problem—and everybody knows what that is.

In more than one household, a twelve or one o’clock breakfast has proved both hygienic and satisfactory. Coffee and rolls are served to those who want them at eight or nine o’clock, if they come into the dining-room. At noon the family sits down to a simple breakfast—fruit, broiled chicken, creamed potatoes, hot bread and coffee, for example. The maid has few dishes to wash, is not too tired to enjoy her afternoon off, and gets away two or three hours earlier than her less fortunate sisters. Also she remains where she is hired—which has its advantages. Only a light lunch is needed in the evening which the mistress may serve, leaving the dishes to be washed in the morning.

Owing to the aforesaid American Servant Problem an increasing number of women do their own housework—not from choice, but from stern necessity. This book is intended for the woman in a small house or apartment, who is her own cook, who earnestly desires to do her duty by her family, yet be something more than a wearied and soul-sickened drudge; who has to look after her dimes and nickels, if not her pennies, and who wants more than the weekly “afternoon off” accorded to the stronger women who undertake domestic tasks.

Simplicity—and, as a general rule, economy—has been the standard by which each recipe has been judged. All are within the capabilities of the most inexperienced cook, who is willing to follow directions, and, in the case of such variable materials as flour and eggs, trust, now and then, to her own judgment.
 — From, “The Myrtle Reed Cook Book,” 1905



🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Thursday, August 18, 2022

Setting a Breakfast Table, 1905

Blue and white is a good combination, and is, perhaps, more suitable for the morning meal than anything else. As a certain philosopher says: “The blue and white look so pretty with the eggs!”

Having said so much, we proceed, not to our mutton, as the French have it, but to our breakfast, in which the table plays no small nor unimportant part.

There are rumors that the pretty and sensible fashion of doilies on the bare table is on the wane, but let us hope these are untrue, or, if not, that some of us may have the courage of our convictions and continue to adhere to a custom which has everything in its favor and nothing against it.

In the absence of handsome top of oak or mahogany, the breakfast cloths, fringed or not, as one likes, which are about a yard and a quarter square, are the next best thing. Asbestos mats, under the cloth, protect the table from the hot dishes. Failing these, fairly satisfactory substitutes are made from thin white oil-cloth, between two layers of canton flannel, “fur side outside,” and quilted on the machine. Grass table-mats are also used, but always under cloth or doily. Canton flannel, quilted, three layers to a mat, is easily washed, and furnishes a great deal of protection.

Breakfast, most assuredly, is not dinner, and there should be a distinct difference in the laying of the table. The small doilies are easily washed, and fresh ones are possible every morning—an assured gain in the way of daintiness.

Let us suppose that we have a handsome table-top, and an unlimited supply of doilies, tray-cloths and centrepieces. First the centrepiece goes on, exactly in the centre, by the way, and not with a prejudiced leaning to one side or the other. On this belongs the pot of growing fern, the low jar containing a few simple flowers, or a bowl of fruit, decorated with green leaves, if green leaves are to be had.

At each place the breakfast doily, nine or twelve inches square, a small doily for the coffee cup, and another for the glass of water. At the right of the plate, the small silver knife, sharp edge toward the plate, the spoons for fruit and cereal; at the left, one fork, or two, as needed, and the coffee spoon.

In front of the master of the house the small platter containing the pièce de résistance will eventually be placed; in front of the mistress of the mansion, the silver tray bearing the coffee service—coffee-pot, hot-water pitcher, cream jug, milk pitcher, and sugar bowl.

Breakfast napkins are smaller than dinner napkins, and the small fringed napkins are not out of place. “Costly thy habit as thy purse [11]will buy” might well refer to linen, for it is the one thing in which price is a direct guarantee of quality.

Satisfactory breakfast cloths and napkins are made of linen sheeting, fringed, hemstitched, or carefully hemmed by hand, and in this way a pretty cloth can be had for less money than in any other. The linen wears well, washes beautifully, and acquires a finer sheen with every tubbing. Insertions and borders of torchon or other heavy lace make a breakfast cloth suitable for the most elaborate occasion, and separate doilies may easily be made to match. The heavy white embroidery which has recently come into favor is unusually attractive here.

Finger-bowls wait on the sideboard, to be placed after the fruit course, or after breakfast. The rose-water, slice of lemon, geranium leaves, and other finger-bowl refinements in favor for dinners are out of place at breakfast. Clear, cool water is in better taste.

The china used at the breakfast table should be different from that used at dinner. Heavier ware is permissible, and more latitude in the way of decoration is given. Much of the breakfast china one sees in the shops is distinctly cheerful in tone, and one must take care to select the more quiet patterns. It is not pleasant to go to breakfast with a fickle appetite, and be greeted by a trumpet-toned “Good Morning” from the china.

Endless difference is allowed, however, and all the quaint, pretty jugs, pitchers, and plates may properly be used at breakfast. One is wise, however, to have a particular color scheme in mind and to buy all china to blend with it. Blue and white is a good combination, and is, perhaps, more suitable for the morning meal than anything else. As a certain philosopher says: “The blue and white look so pretty with the eggs!”

The carafe, muffin plate, platter, and all other bowls, platters, plates, and pitchers not on the individual cover have each a separate doily, with the protecting mat always under hot dishes. A well-set table is governed by a simple law—that of precision. Dishes arranged in an order little less than military, all angles either right or acute, will, for some occult reason, always look well. Informality may be given by the arrangement of the flowers, or by a flower or two laid carelessly on the table. But one must be careful not to trifle too much with this law of precision. Knives, forks, and spoons must all be laid straight, but not near enough together to touch, and napkins and dishes must be precisely placed, else confusion and riot will result.

The breakfast selected as a type consists of fruit, a cereal, salt fish, or salt meat, or eggs, or omelets, hot bread of some kind, and pancakes or waffles, or coffee cake, one dish from each group, and coffee. Six dishes in all, which may be less if desired, but never more. All six form a breakfast sufficiently hearty for a stone mason or a piano mover; one or two give a breakfast light enough to tempt those who eat no breakfast at all. For serving it are required small and medium-sized plates, knives, forks, spoons, egg cups, platters, service plates, cups and saucers, glasses, coffee-pot, pitchers, sugar bowl, and cream jug, syrup pitcher, and fruit bowl.

Fruit is said to be “gold in the morning,” and it is a poor breakfast, indeed, from which it is omitted. Even in winter it is not hard to secure variety, if time and thought be taken, for the dried fruits are always in the market and by careful cooking may be made acceptable to the most uncertain appetite.

Medical authorities recommend a glass of water taken the first thing upon rising, either hot or cold as suits one best. A little lemon-juice takes the “flat” taste from plain hot water, and clear, cool water, not iced, needs nothing at all. This simple observance of a very obvious hygienic rule will temper the tempestuous morning for any one. One washes his face, his hands, his body—then why not his stomach, which has worked hard a large part of the night, and is earnestly desirous of the soothing refreshment of a bath?

To those carping critics who cavil at the appearance of the stomach in a chapter entitled “How to Set the Table,” we need only say that the table is set for the stomach, and the stomach should be set for the table, and anyway, it comes very near being a table of contents, n’est-ce pas? — From, “The Myrtle Reed Cook Book,” 1905



🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia