The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1943-04-22

II shortages seems to me un-
\ worthy of the people of the
greatest nation in the world.
That we ARE the greatest ma
ton in the world is more evident
every day. Our ideals are the
highest, our purposes in war and
peace the most fair, and our peo-
pie the most fortunate. There are
millions of men and women in
the world who would thank God
all their days for a chance to
get to America. And there are very
few other countries to which these
imprisoned, oppressed, starved, ex-
patriated folk would care to go.
That's why it seems to me be-
meath our dignity to keep up this
anxious talk about food. Well al
ways have plenty of food; nobody's
going to be hungry. But what we
have to remember is that we are
making the most colossal war eff
fort of our history, and for awhile
the questions of farm labor and farm
production, market labor and market
distribution, are going to get all
mixed up, be mis-managed, cause
infinite confusion and inconvenience.
Then everything will get straight
ened out and organized, and We'll
have plenty again. Someone made
the statement the other day that
more than four million Victory gar
dens, large and small, ara being
planted all over the country; that
means vegetables, anyway, for some
II to 20 million persons who depend
ed on markets last year.
Delicious Meat Substitutes.
1t wouldn't hurt us at all to cut
down to ONE real meat meal week
and piece out the others with cheese,
eggs, oysters, shell-fsh and real fish,
and the lesser meats; Clipped beef,
sausages, tongue, tripe, kidney,
CATS head, pigs feet, OK tails. All
making an endless and delicious va
riety. A fish chowder is a meal in
itself, and so is asparagus plentifully
pieced out with croutons and seal
loped IN a cheese sauce. Or caui-
flower so treated, or even the hum
bic cabbage.
Other nations merely season a
hearty starch or vegetable dish with
meat Half a pound of ham or
chopped giblets, poured over great
dish of spaghetti, is meal In South
ern Europe. Potatoes boiled In their
jackets with butter and salt and hot
milk have nourished many a strap
ping young colleen or gossoon In Ire
land. In France simmering "pot-
on-the-fre" gets little of every
thing; last weeks chicken bones, the
ham bone that was bought when
every bit of meat was gone from
It; beans, cabbage, carrots, turnip,
toasted odds and ends of bread, and
scallions galore, and the result is
the delicious, mellow, velvety, filling
"potage paysanne" that with sal
ad, and long cuts of sour bread,
makes 300 suppers year.
Years ago we used to save all the
stale bread until Friday. Then it
was toasted IN the oven, put in
a tureen, sailed, and covered with
several quarts of hot milk IN which
butter was melting. It was served
in soup-plates, and was by no means
an unpopular supper. The delightful
uncertainty as to whether ones
share would be mostly bran, rye,
graham or raisin bread was a part
of the charm. Bread was never
wasted, and nobody left the Friday
supper table hungry. II dessert
could be something extremely popu-
lar; say deep apple pie or choco-
late custard, all the better. But no
matter how plain this fare looked to
US when the realization came, Fri
day againl" it always left us salts
fed and happy. We used to call it
'crusts' and poor house chowder"
until a visiting child christened it
White Fried Soup Day"
Proper Welcome for Dad.
And that reminds me of a hint
an older housekeeper may well pass