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Updated: June 18, 2025
The floor was scrubbed; the cabin had taken to itself cupboards made of packing-boxes; it had clothes-presses and shelves; curtains at the windows; boxes for all sort of necessaries, from flour to tobacco; and a cook-book on the wall, with an inscription within which was more appropriate than respectful.
It had evidently been written in a moment of what is called "confidence." "I tell you what, Ham," he wrote, "mother doesn't know what can be done with corn. Mrs. Myers does. She raised a heap of it, this year; and the things she turns it into would drive a cook-book crazy. I've been giving them Latin names; and Frank, he turns them into Hindustanee.
A good roasted potato is a delicacy worth a dozen compositions of the cook-book; yet when we ask for it, what burnt, shriveled abortions are presented to us! Biddy rushes to her potato-basket and pours out two dozen of different sizes, some having in them three times the amount of matter of others.
No secretion is provided beforehand either for allurement or detention; but after the captive is secured, microscopic glands within the surface of the leaf pour out an abundant gastric juice to digest it. Mrs. Glass's classical directions in the cook-book, "first catch your hare," are implicitly followed.
We have no fear in saying that Mrs. Lincoln's work is the best and most practical cook-book of its kind that has ever appeared. It does not emanate from the chef of some queen's or nobleman's cuisine, but it tells in the most simple and practical and exact way those little things which women ought to know, but have generally to learn by sad experience.
And he can order any two dishes in the cook-book that can be prepared in an hour, and I'll make them; that is, of course, if the materials are in the house." "Then I choose doughnuts," was the ready answer.
"I've seen Dinah do it lots of times. She just mixes up her milk and eggs and butter, and sifts in the flour, and there you are." "Much you know about it!" declared Nan. "If it isn't just put together right, it will be as heavy as lead." "We might take the recipe out of mamma's cook-book," went on Bert; and then the cry went up with which I have opened this chapter.
When Clifford Vaux arrived at a certain huge building now mostly devoted to Government work connected with the war, he found upon his desk a dictionary camouflaged to represent a cook-book; and also Miss Erith's complete report. And he lost no time in opening and reading the latter document: "CLIFFORD VAUX, ESQ., "D. C. of the E. C. D., "P. I. Service.
We started fair by laying in a stock of everything there was in the cook-book and in the grocery, from "mace," which neither of us knew what was, to the prunes which we never got a chance to cook because we ate them all up together before we could find a place where they fitted in. The deep councils we held over the disposal of those things, and the strange results which followed sometimes!
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