THE cook-book of the olden time gave its recipes with a generous disregard of cost. Such items as a ham boiled in wine were not unusual, and the quantities of costly materials demanded were on a Gargantuan scale. Even in the average French culinary manuals economy can hardly be said to be conspicuous, except by its absence, although Gallic cooks have a world-wide reputation for the wonderful results they can produce by a small expenditure. Even in this day, when economy is honored and studied, in the recipes that appear in print as written by women living in some parts of the South, there is a call for what to Northern ideas seems a reckless profusion of eggs, butter, and cream. The lavishness of these demands is often quite out of keeping with the common opinion of the straitened circumstances supposed to have prevailed of late years in that section of the country. The general impression these recipes give was voiced by a New England woman, who, after reading a collection of recipes from the pen of a well-known Southern writer, exclaimed, "Well, I can't afford to cook like that; but I presume she has always had plenty to do with."

In spite, however, of some instances of this kind which indicate extravagance, the general trend in culinary guide-books of the day is towards economy. Tracts, pamphlets, octavos, and quartos are published, giving directions for preparing a dinner for five persons at a cost of twenty-five cents, of fifty cents, of seventy-five cents, of a dollar. The Sunday and weekly newspapers have columns devoted to the same theme, and the countless household magazines with which the reading public is almost snowed under all spare a corner for the discussion of the same momentous topic. It may be noted, en passant, that this sudden interest in dietetics is responsible for many of the literary aspirations now current. Women who had never thought of meddling with pen and ink except in their private correspondence rush into print for the purpose of describing a dinner which will cost only twenty-seven and two-thirds cents, and, encouraged by success in one or two efforts of this kind, fondly imagine themselves possessed of talents which ought to bring them in a competency.

Far be it from the woman who has herself known housekeeping cares and struggles, who has mourned over small leaks and sought diligently the best methods of "making sixpence do the work of sevenpence half-penny," as an English writer puts it, to deride any endeavors to teach housekeepers how to best use slender means with happy results. But a word of warning may not be amiss concerning certain features of most of the directions thus given. Here it is: If an appetizing dish is to be made at small cost, care in preparation must supplement cheap materials.

There has been a great deal said and written about the folly of always purchasing the best cuts of meat. Hundreds of pages have been printed demonstrating satisfactorily —to their authors—that a piece of beef from the round can be so cooked as to make it equal to filet de boeuf; that lamb's or pig's liver is of as good a flavor as calf's liver, which costs twice as much; that old fowls properly treated cannot be distinguished by the taste from young broilers; and that a variety of other delightful things can be accomplished by the woman who chooses to attempt them. All this is, no doubt, true in part. The point that is seldom sufficiently emphasized is that it requires to achieve these wonders either a certain knack, which is as much a talent in its way as is a gift for music or drawing, or else a special training in this particular kind of cookery. It is easy enough for any one to be a good cook who knows how to follow a recipe, possesses a little deftness of hand, and is provided with the best materials for her work. Nowadays the cook-books seldom deal in the glittering generalities that once made their pages full of pitfalls for the unwary. Usually the directions are explicit, the quantities and proportions almost scientific in their accuracy, and the successive steps in compounding and cooking so clearly defined that the wayfaring woman, although a fool, can hardly go very far wrong; that is, if—and it is a very big if, too—she does not have to use imperfect ingredients to compass a perfect achievement. Bricks may doubtless be made with stubble instead of straw, but the children of Israel found it a rather difficult process.

If, then, to change the figure, the iron be dull, one must put to it the more strength. The housekeeper who is compelled by circumstances to practise rigid economy must resolutely set herself to the study of cheap cookery. She may know already how to roast a "rib cut" of beef, how to broil a porterhouse steak, how to broil and fry tender chickens, but all this knowledge is of comparatively little value to her just now. She must learn instead how to braise, how to treat a "pot roast"; she must study stews, perfect herself in the manufacture of minces, hashes, fricassees, croquettes, fritters; she must know what vegetables and meats may be put together in utilizing "left-overs"; she must acquire a thorough knowledge of soups of all sorts, and of soups maigre in particular; and she must work in this line until she is able to set as appetizing if not as elegant a table on her small means as her richer neighbor across the way can on a housekeeping allowance of a double amount.

Of course this involves a great deal of hard work and of competent vigilance. Even if a servant is kept, only in rare instances can she be trusted to undertake this kind of cookery. Simple cookery, like roasting and boiling, is seldom successful unless one has the best materials to work with. But usually the woman who must economize is wealthier in time than in anything else, and she must make it take the place of money. Above all, she must struggle against the temptation to yield to weariness or discouragement, and to satisfy herself with the custom into which so many of her sisters drift, of cooking tough, inferior pieces of meat in the easiest way, as though they were "prime cuts," and thus endangering the teeth, tempers, and digestions of her family.

A potent aid in making cheap cookery savory is the judicious use of seasoning. In some homes knowledge of these seems to be confined to an acquaintance with pepper, mustard, onion, and parsley. Little is known of the variety of even simple herbs, like thyme, sweet-marjoram, and summer-savory; and still less of Worcestershire, Harvey's, anchovy, and chilli sauces, of chutney, of curry powder, of tarragon vinegar, of bay leaves, of maÎtre d'hÔtel butter, of olives, of tomato and walnut catsups, or of the careful employment of spices in small quantities. The magical improvement wrought by the addition of a little lemon juice and a wine-glassful of California sherry (at fifty cents a quart bottle) is totally unknown.

Of course the first outlay for some of these commodities may savor of extravagance. But many of the articles are very cheap, and even the more costly ones are used in such small quantities that a supply of any one of them will last a long time. Moreover, if a woman's aim is to prepare dishes which her family will eat and enjoy, she will find that the purchase of condiments pays, and the variety their occasional use gives will make a change back to simple diet more agreeable.