STOCK-POTS AND POTATO-PIES.

THE cook has become a person of national importance, for the problem of the kitchen has become the nation's problem. Solve the one and you solve the other. In the widest sense the nation is " fighting this great war on its stomach." If it is important to know how to provide sufficient food for the people, it is still more important to know how to cook what is provided, and how to eliminate waste. In pre-war times the average woman associated the word " economy " with " meanness " and " stinginess," and the practice of the art was counted more a vice than a virtue. We are waking up to the fact that we are throwing away tons of valuable fats and other by-products every day, but we are less concerned with the value of the fat than with the fear lest it should stop up the drains ! We read that Germany was utilizing her kitchen waste and fat with a feeling of contemptuous pity that she should be reduced to such straits ; but it occurred to the writer that we too might need the fat in the near future. She tried to find a market for surplus dripping, meat scraps, bones, &c., but found there was no demand for them. The ragman would give a copper or two for the week's accumulation, and did not seem particularly anxious to obtain the goods. Inquiry showed that almost every house produced more dripping than it needed for home consumption, and the only way to dispose of it seemed to be to give it to needy families. It was suggested that good soap might be made of the surplus fat, but caustic soda could not be obtained, and so that scheme fell through.

Early in 1917 a Heaven-sent opportunity came to the writer. A Y.M.C.A. canteen was opened near by, and she pleaded for the privilege of being " cook." " What do you know of cooking for soldiers ? " she was asked. She stoutly declared her theory that it was possible to take home method into canteen work. If one could cook a tasty dinner for six, why not for sixty ? She was told she would not care to scrub pots and pans or clean the gas-stoves, and although she professed willingness to do anything and every- thing, she was not taken seriously. A professional cook was engaged, and the ambitious amateur was allowed to be " kitchen- maid," with the prospect of frying eggs and rashers when the cook was otherwise engaged. However, the fates ordained that she should have her heart's desire. The " cook " proved utterly incompetent and the " kitchenmaid " found the reins in her own hands. She could hardly believe her luck. She was the happiest and proudest woman in London, for at last she was " doing her bit."

She had the inestimable advantage of being quite ignorant of all accepted methods of cooking on a large scale, so she had everything to learn, and was able to bring a fresh mind to the problem. The canteen is the schoolroom underneath a church, and the accommo- dation and conveniences are strictly limited. It soon became crowded with a big family of overseas men mainly engaged upon work in the headquarters near by. The rationing of six hundred men per day became a problem. How could they have good dinners and teas, and yet keep within the meat allowance ? It was noticed that most men left all the fat on their plates, and this was scraped into the " chicken bowl " with the remnants of crust, &c. The cook decided, in the interests of national economy, not to serve fat, bone, or anything else that was likely to be left on the plates. This meant that only the best cuts could be served, and many protests were made that it could not be done at the price. There seemed to be a dead loss of twopence per plate, and she was reminded of the formula : " 5 oz. meat, including fat and bone." Wait a moment. There is the later meal to be provided. What shall we give them for " tea " ? Many of the men are on late duty, and this is the chief meal of the day. " What dq they ask for ? " Eggs, always eggs—" Eggs on toast," " Rasher and eggs," " Sausage and eggs." But eggs are scarce and very dear. The egg habit must be broken and a popular substitute provided. Why not try potato- pie ? The pie-maker prowled round in search of materials. What shall we give her ? The mutton-bones : yes, there is meat on them. The ends of the salt beef, the ham-bone—they will make it tasty. What else is left from dinner ? Butter-beans, peas—put them in. Lentils, carrots, turnips, onions—all go the same way. The Bovril bottle is nearly empty—let her drain it. H.P. sauce—give her the last drop. The " lJniversal mincer " takes it all. The stock-pot, the gravy-bowl, the soup-tureen, all give contributions, and a savoury mixture is made and well seasoned. Sometimes sage and onion predominate, or a tin of juicy tomatoes makes a new dish of it. " It's the seasoning as does it, Samivel," as our old friend Weller would say. When the dish is covered with mashed potato and baked to a delicious golden brown, it is a dish for a soldier, and what more can one say ?

So we solve the problem of the waste ends of the joint, and here begins the stock-pot. Oh the fascination of that stock-pot !

In go the bones, the fat, the trimmings of the joint. No vegetables are put in, for the fat has to be considered. Every morning the pot is let off the boil, and several pounds of clear dripping are skimmed off the top. This is clarified, and the dripping from the joint is added to it.

Soup is made every day. Would you have the recipe ? Soak 6 lb. split peas and 4 lb. lentils overnight ; grate 4 lb. carrots, 2 lb.

swede turnips, and 3 lb. onions finely ; boil all together two hours and use to thicken the stock, and you will have twenty gallons of delicious soup which can be sold at twopence per half-pint

portion, and is almost a meal in itself. The stock-pot provides six

to seven gallons of gravy per day, and anything from ten to twenty gallons of soup. The water in which the potatoes, butter-beans, and peas are boiled is also utilized in making (and improving) the soup. The stock-pot is emptied three times a week, and the bones and scraps are sold to the nearest rag-and-bone merchant.

Now we come to the question of the by-products. Owing to the scarcity of butter, lard, and margarine, dripping has become an important item. During the week ending Saturday, December 1st, our stock-pot produced 44l lb. of dripping, which sold at Is. per pound. Together with the dripping from the meat, we obtained nearly 100 lb. of excellent dripping. The bones and scraps realized 8s. 4d. We sold seventy-eight gallons of soup at 2s. 8d. per gallon, and used for gravy forty-two gallons of stock.

The contents of the stock-pot bring in a clear profit of £12 per week. This may be said to reduce the butcher's bill by 25 per cent, and it may be fairly claimed that this is true economy, and it is more satisfactory than many of the new experiments in " substitu- tion." People do not take kindly to a drastic alteration of diet. If it is possible to give them cheap and tasty meals of the kind they are used to, they will thrive better and have more energy.

It is necessary to face the problem of feeding the whole people wisely and economically. If we are to have many communal kitchens, are they to be run on common-sense lines, or will the working-class families often be at the mercy of food faddists ? Do we realize the value of good thick soups, nourishing gravies, and a " meaty " flavour to whatever dishes we may concoct ? With

common-sense methods our by-products ought to help to pay the running expenses of canteen or kitchen, and it is high time that

the women of the nation learned the value of the things usually consigned to the dustbin. Only necessity will drive the lesson home, and we are learning in a hard schooL Practice and precept will do wonders in this direction. The writer caused great amuse- ment in the kitchen when she was carrying out the experiments. Every housewife knows that one of the deep-seated " virtues " of working women is the utter contempt they have for what they call " meanness." They have the Irishwoman's love for " lashin's and lavin's," and every attempt to impress need for economy on their minds is stigmatized as stinginess. " She's that ` near,' she even saves the scraps of bacon-rind," they say. " Yes, and she says bones make good soup. Good soup ! My old man likes a lump of beef in his soup. I'd like to see 'im eating dripping orf a stock-pot. 'E was brought up pertickler, 'e was ; and 'e likes the best of everythink "—this with a glow of conscious pride in superior virtue. But show a good reason for economy, and it is possible to arouse enthusiasm. " What ! them scrape helps to make munitions ! Well, I never ! Then p'r'eps I'm helping to make the shells my old man is heaving at them Germans. If that ain't a good notion ! I'd like to 'aye a go at them—nasty, wicked wretches that they are, and see them 'ousel down — way, and them pore innocent little children buried in one grave." (This after an air raid.) It is a new idea. She is engaged on " work of national importance," and is no longer too proud to be seen carrying bones to the rag-shop. She is " doing her bit " and is helping to " win the war."

The fact that there is money in it makes a great impression. The first visit to the rag-shop had a humorous side to it. Beho'd the chief cook heading a procession of very hilarious " kitchen

ladies," each carrying a precious load. The rubbish was offered for sale. The ragman weighed the kitchen fat and chalked mystic signs on the counter. Laughter ceased and wonder gazed out

of their eyes. More scraps were weighed, and more signs were added. They gasped with astonishment, and hastily poured the bones into the scale—and breathlessly awaited the results. " Well ! if that ain't money," they gasped. " And we should a-throwed it away ! " Three shillings and elevenpence for the " rubbish " from the stock-pot. The result is most amusing. They hunt for every scrap of fat or stray bones. The craze goes to extreme lengths, for one enthusiast scraped the frying-pans several times a day, and exhibited with pride nearly two pounds of fat. She was crestfallen when told that it meant two pounds of best dripping wasted to " save " fourpence. She was forgiven, and her energy was directed into better channels.

The minor economies may be quickly summed up. Crusts, stale cake, &o., are saved for bread puddings. Scraps of meat from the plates are kept for dogs' meat. Crusts from the same source help to feed the cook's rabbits, while the bits of potato, &c., are given to the caretaker's chickens. Nothing is wasted ; even torn envelopes, cigarette-boxes, and wrappings realize a good price.

It is comparatively easy to deal with waste products in the large kitchen, but the small householder has very little to dispose of, and it seems waste of time and energy ; yet the sum-total of the waste in ordinary kitchens would provide material to produce large quantities of glycerine for the making of munitions. Men of science could tell us the ultimate destination of our fat and bones, dried tea-leaves, &c. We only know that they are wanted, and it is our duty to save all we can. The housewife should find the nearest rag-shop, and ask the price given for bones, fat, rags, paper, bottles, scrap, metal, ere., and she will be pleasantly surprised with the result of her first transaction. Or a Red Cross Society might arrange for a weekly collection and use the local Boy Scouts or Girl Guides as amateur rag-and-bone merchants. Better methods may suggest themselves when it is realized that this economy is a matter of national importance.

The most appalling feature of this great business of war is the terrible waste—waste of human life, waste of talent, of material, waste of public money and of time, waste of ships and of produce, waste in drink and of the barley that should be bread. As a whole it is a problem so gigantic that the individual feels helpless to cope with it ; but the individual has his own personal responsibility, and it is the obvious duty of each one of us to reduce expenditure, to eat less, and to make the most of what he buys. W.