San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-12-27

uSeu 10
And took a sip of coffee and lazily pulled
at my cigarette without a suspicion of hav-
ing turned on the consequences, as it were.
An ominous sort of silence made me glance,
after a minute, across at my wife. Her face
was flushed, and she choked a little as she
began to speak:
"To begin with, john" she said, don't,
say punkin. The p should be distinctly
sounded, and in the next place, do you know
what have a mind to doF'
confessed that to prognosticate her mem
tai gyratIons was beyond me.
AN INDIGNANT WIFE.
swell, ;" she went ON, ignoring the inter
ruption, 81 have a strong mind to give, you
one of those same pumpkin pies such as your
mother used to make. hope l am superior
to any small jealousies concerning your
mothers virtues, but am thoroughly weary
about this talk of old fashioned cookery.
Why, do you know, John, that / have eaten
fried steak at your mothers table, and had
baked potatoes served in covered disha
What would you say to have either offered
you now! The actual fact is that the cook
ing of fifteen or twenty years ago is; not to
be compared in any way with that Of today.
We have advanced in that as in all the sci
ences." And she shook her fingers out of her
finger bowl with unnecessary vim, and rub
bed them with her napkin more vigorously
than the occupation demanded.
SAIL this may be true" allowed judici-
ously, "but spare me, pray you, that idol
of my boyhood-the Thanksgiving pumpkin
pie" And sounded the p broadly, hoping
to appease the iconoclastic indignation / had
unwittingly aroused.
81 can't" replied Mrs. John relentlessly.
Il can't really, and be honest.
Recall for yourself the actual pie of which
you speak, separated from all its surround
ings, and answer me truthfully if describe
it Alright. 1t was yellowish brown in color,
except in occasional spots, where the bis
tered top had broken under uneven heat; it
was very shallow, the filling barely twice ex-
ceeding the crust in thickness when it was
cut, and its flavor was strong of pumpkin,
with various spices more or less predominant
ing.
You were apt to find little pieces of the
vegetable in your mouthful, which had es-
capped the coarse holed colander through
which it had been strained, and you were
fortunate If the under crust was not 'soggy,'
as in those good old days it was the fashion
to bake patches of pies weekly to last
through the following seven days, custom
which did not add to the wholesorpeness of
such pies as survived the first day. And
this, my dear, is the 'punkin' pie of your boy
hood"
My silence attested the truth of this asser-
ton.
But what" she went on, sis the pumpkin
pie of today? A very different and much
more successful gaStronomic production. As
a friend said to me the other day, Il consider
pumpkin pie the excuse for all the good
things l have in my storeroom-sugar, cream,
eggs, dash of sherry, a little lemon, mace,
cinnamon, nutmeg-then repeat ad libi-
tum, she finished with laugh.
THE MODERN PIE.
"Tho modern pie" pursued my wife, sis
| tOlitaire, or at most two at a baking, and as
Le under crust is slightly baked first, before
:le filling is put in, the 'soggy' characteristic
| is entirely left out. You will miss, too, the
lumpy element from the properly made pie
Of today; we strain the pumpkin through
| sieve; we also use deep dishes, which takes
away from the slab appearance of the deli
| cacy. Finally, when this toothsome and
altogether delicious article of food is offered
| at dessert, grated cheese is served with it. and
| if you will once more turn a retrospective
| eye upon the past you will discover that the
cheese of the farm larder invariably appeared
at supper, while the pastry dessert of the
| monday dinner was unaccompanied by its
natural and wholesome relish.
"NO, john" she continued, rather sadly,
1T is not the pumpkin pie, pure and simple,
of your childhood, which you fondly recall;
it is the pumpkin pie seasoned with your
| boyish appetite, the pumpkin pie surrounded
by the accessories of your dear and familiar
home the pumpkin pie, in fact, set in the
glorious halo of your youth
"You say it was the event of the year to
bring in the Thanksgiving pumpkin. am
sure it was. Yet don't suppose it would
give you any especial pleasure to go down to
Fulton Market tomorrow and half carry,
half roll, home one of those great yellow veg
etables.
But out in the cornfield back of your
fathers house, the cornfield whose boundary
was the sparkling, dancing brook, and whose
background was the everlasting hills bathed
in the lovely haze of autumn, out in that
cornfeld in the mellow October afternoon,
every breath inspiring the delicious air
which had in it such an indescribable mixture
Of summer languor and crisp, frosty vim, and
every nerve tingling with the unconscious
but vivlfying essence of healthy, happy boy
| hood-that indeed was an event.
Here amid the city's turmoil that grows
at times SO tiresome and monotonous; with
| the responsibilities and anxieties which every
man of family feels, and with the weight Of
| years beginning, ever SO little, to press 1 do
not wonder that the happenings of those care
| free days stand out in bold relief, but in JUS
| tice, my DEAR to the science of gastronomy
and to the development and progress of tho