The San Francisco call., 1906-04-10
OCCIDENTAL
ACCIDENTALS
By A. J. Waterhouse
FoLLo.sING A COOK BOOK.

LII
FUSED to have all the confidence IN the
world in the recipes contained in cook
books. but now 1 feel that they are
not explicit enough in their instructions.
They might be all right for chef, but
they leave a mere tyro cropping blindly In
the darkness. as it were.
Our cook Unexpectedly left the other
day, and contemplation of the fact left
Henrietta feeling far from well. So 1
said that, under the circumstances, /
would turn in and cook a little something
to add a finishing touch to bakers bread
and butter. Henrietta remarked that she
feared 1 could not do it. but I told her
that the observation showed how little
she appreciated what the all-conquering
intellect of man could accomplish II 1t set
itself resolutely about anything. Henriet-
ia said might do what liked If would
not insist that she taste the result unless
she liked, and I told her that she would
miss one of the opportunities OF her lie
if she didn't taste. l now think l was
right.
After studying the cook book for some
time decided that would make an apple
pudding, of which both of us are fond.
Accordingly I carefully followed the In
struetions. and then set the result IN the
oven When dinner time came 1 took my
chef d'oeuvre from the over and tri-
umphantly set it on the table. 1t looked
queer; admitted that even to myself. but
I was glad TO reflect that the taste or
thing is not always indicated by its looks
It's color in general was sort of melan-
choly green, like that of face that Is
"sicklied DER with the pale cast OF
thought" but this pervading tint was
happily relieved by streaks and daubs Of
a morose chocolate color.
owhat did you name it?" Henrietta
asked.
"It's an apple pudding I replied.
'I should never have guessed It," was
her answer. ''What made you put in so
much green paint?'
"That isn't green paint" urged. 81
know it looks somewhat emerald. but the
apples were green apples, and then. again.
perhaps the sage had something to do
with it?"
.'The-whieh?"
''The sage. you know. The recipe called
for one tablespoonful of sage TO each one
OF six apples. 1t seemed liberal to me.
but
Lets see that recipe"
After examining the book Henrietta in
sisted that it called for sago instead of
sage Perhaps 1t did. but the ''e'' was
blotted and anybody would have taken it
for an co."
'What gives it its chocolate-colored &C.
eentricities?" Henrietta continued
81 think-that is
I disliked to proceed. for a dark suspi-
cion was rapidly developing in my mind.
'eWhat do you think?" Henrietta insist
ed.
'T-I think-that is. 1 fear-welI. per-
haps it is the mold"
1.-The moldl"
Eyes. The recipe said. Sprinkle mold
with bread crumbs and pour in pudding.
I thought ii was rather strange, but there
is no better or cleaner mold in the world
than in our garden. and so GOT
Henrietta interrupted me by a sound
which some people would have taken for
a successful imitation of an expression of
disgust. She was about to leave the table
when she noticed something. and with her
spoon carefully exhumed some object
from her plate of pudding.
What is this?" she then asked.
/ examined ii closely, THAT" then
said. 'is my comb. 1t must have dropped
out of my pocket. and I am glad to get 1t
back again, for it is very useful little
implement. 1 do not believe that baking
will hurt it any, do you?"
But Henrietta did not answer. and. some
way, she seemed panied about something.
We gave the pudding to the hens.
and they refused to eat it, but do not
know whether it was because it did not
appeal to their taste or because they
wished to save their foolish lives.
My sweet, young confidence in cook
books has been rudely shattered. They
may be all right enough for chefs, but
the most of us are not chefs.
THE. coon OLD SPRING.