The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-03-07
n PIE.
He Confides to Mrs. s. Some of His Mothers
Ideas on the Subject.

MY dear" said Mr.. Spoopendyke, folding his
napkin and pushing his chair back from the ia
BILE, ''my dear, you are a pretty good housekeep-
er, and once in a while you ~contrive to cook up
a fair meal, but you have no business fooling
around a mince pie. There never was but one
woman who could make a mince pie, and that
was my mother"
Il thought this was NICE" returned Mrs.
Spoopendyke, with just a little culver resting on
her lip. Il got it out of the cook book"
"And you'd better put 1T right back in the book
as a warning to other amateurs" continued Mr..
Spoopendyke. 81 don't say that this is especially
bad, only it doesn't meet with all the require
ments of pie as they were instilled into my
young mind. You might work it on founding
hospitals that never hsd any mother, but it
hasn't the soul used to get out of pie when
lived at home.n
How did your mother make the mince pies"
used perhaps l could get up one of which you
would eat six slices instead of four" And with
this purely feminine dig, Mrs. Spoopendyke
looked modestly downward, and began folding
knife-pleatings in the table-cloth.
Gomez exclaimed Mr.. Spoopendyke, Jump
ing impetuously from his chair. IF you've got
the ingredients I'll show you how to make a pie
that will draw bowls of envy from the neigh
bors, and Mr.. Spoopendyke led the way to the
kitchen. "Where's your chopping tray and the
apples9 Fetch me the hand guillotine and the
beef! Look alive now. my dear, and we'll startle
the world with some revelations on the abstruse
subject of mince pie"
Let me put this big towel around your neck,
SO you won't grease your clothes, suggested Mrs.
Spoopendyke, dragging out a huge crash towel.
What's that forl" demanded her husband,
contemplating it with no amount Of favor.
(Which end of the pie is that thing supposed to
have influence with2 If | make up my mind
when l get through that this pie wants to be
shaved, III put on this skirt, but in the mean
time l want room for all my limbs. Now, he
continued as he dumped the beef and apples into
tine tray and went at them vigorously with the
chopping knife; now you watch the proceed
ings and note how this pie begins to assume pro-
portions"
Didn't your mother peel the apples before
she chopped them" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke
quietly.
up a little and looking into the tray distrust-
fully. "Of course not" and he resumed his
labors with still more energy. "If you did,
there's where you made your mistake. | sup
pose you peeled the beef, too, didn't ye9 Though
l don't know" and he stopped short and re-
garded his work attentively. ut strikes me
this meat would chop finer if some one had
dropped a pile driver on it once or twice. Any
way, you don't want your meat too fine, and l
guess this will do" and Mr.. Spoopendyke set
the tray full of Jumps on the table and rolled up
his sleeves.
What will you have now, dearg' inquired his
wife, tenderly.
"Some -four and water replied Mr.. Spoop-
enqyk6, CNe6rlly. IbS tu9 crust OIL Il PIC Cndb
is its genius, and | m going to turn out a slab of
pastry that will be a monument to the artist who
is weaving this job. Gimme the flour and water.
while | feel as one upon whom the spirit Of a sue
cessful pie rests visibly!"
Mrs. Spoopendike brought out the material,
and once more resumed the relation of pupil to
the exercises.
Anything else. dear" she asked, as Mr..
Spoopendyke wet Town his -four and damned his
fists in the paste.
sCNo%bino Int nrofo,,pd c;lopoo y rofnrfad bnr
husband. 1.-The chief trouble with the crust to
your pie is that you allow your attention to be
distracted from it at the critical moment. !, on
the contrary, will stop boxing this overcoat for
that mince meat just at the second it reaches
f~akiness," and he slammed in more -four and
plunged again into his ambitious effort in the
way of crust. ''There!' said he when he
had fought it to the consistency of sand and
mucilage and rolled it out into two thick chunks.
There is the triumph of pie over puttering.
Lead out the pan whom the gods would honor,
and let's see how this combination of hereditary
intelligence and acquired brains will go when it's
cooked!'
Mrs. Spoopendyke handed him a pie-p pan, into
which he dropped his bottom crust and then
poured i'll the mice meat.
Got to lift your teeth pretty high to get
around some of that meat, he observed, as he
tried to poke the Jumps into position with q stick.
I'm not sure whether mother used to CRATE the
meat Or crack it with the hammer, but it don't
make so much difference. It's the crust that
talks, when you come to conversation on pie.
Now, you do this" and he marked out q sprig
ON the top crust with his thumb; ''and when you
get it on, thus, you pinch it around the edges, so.
See! My mother used to have an old wheel out
of a wooden clock, and she printed landscapes
in holes all over the pie. But that isn't neces-
sary. 1t adds lusrre, but no dignity to the per-
formance. Now, we put it in the oven, this
wise, and in a short time we will have accom-
plished results in the immediate line of pie"
1T is really wonderful how we'll you remember
how your mother made Them smiled Mrs.
Spoopendyke.
You won't feel badly because it beats yours?''
said Mr.. Spoopendyke, kindly. You won't
cry?" and he chucked her under the chin, and
opened the stove door cautiously to see how af-
fairs were progressing.
I'll try not to" replied Mrs. Spoopendyke,
casting her eyes down and suppressing some
thing that sounded like a sob.
Lets see. You stick in a broom splint, don't
you, when you want to know if the pie is done?
Where's your broom! Show me the happy
broom that is to be immortalized by testing this
grand apotheosis of pie"
Mrs. Spoopendyke produced the broom, and
her husband. carefully selecting one of the
splints. jabbed away at the upper crust.
1T won't 60 in" he remarked, rather doleful-
ly, selecting another with similar results. 1.-The
trouble is with the broom. Haven't you got a
broom that knows something about it's business,
or is this one of the pious brooms that won't
work on Sundays" and he broke UP several more
splintS in a vain endeavor to penetrate the pie.
Hadn't you better try the handle, dear!"
suggested Mrs. Sroopendyke.
mo, l hadn't better try the handle, dear!7
mimicked Mr.. Spoopendyke. Come out here,
and let's see what's the occasion of this uncalled-
for resistance and Mr.. Spoopendyke hauled his
pie out of the oven and fred it down on the table.
"Got an idea you're going to be assassinated
with a broom-splint, haven't We? Think you're a
sort of a bulwark of American liberties and
bound to resent foreign intervention, don't we!
Well, you amt, you're only a measly pie, and
you're going to have something stuck in We, if it
takes a cold chisel AID a cannon" and Mr..
Spoopendyke stabbed at it with a chopping-knife,
You're up in pie. what dye s'pose is the mat
ter with the thingl' he asked turning on his wife,
IF I'd been your mother l should have put
some lard in the crust" returned Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke, complacently.
81 don't know how you're poinp To ret lard