Henry James and Chocolate Peppermint Cake

Henry James has remarked that there are two different types of intellectual pleasure‚ the pleasure of recognition and the pleasure of discovery. Of course he took five pages to say it, but that was the idea. Chocolate-peppermint cake embodies both pleasures: the surprise of finding that something lurks in the chocolate ambush and the pleasure of recognizing that it is actually a peppermint.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen

I love both Mrs. Appleyard's Year and Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen so much. They have the homey quality that makes good comfort reading along with the clever humor that surprises you with its intelligence.

How and why to cook

'Now, just one more question, Mrs. Appleyard,' the Editor said, hoping she would break another cookie. 'I've heard it said that a well-known painter when asked what he mixed his paints with, said "With brains." Now do you feel that--to sum up what you've told me--people should cook with brains? May I quote you?'

Mrs. Appleyard put another batch of cookies into the oven.

'Brains are not enough,' she said. 'You have to like things: the dishes you cook with, the people you buy the butter from, the field where the crows fly over the corn and the wind that blows through their wings. You have to like the table you put the food on, and the people who sit around it. Yes, even when they tip back in your Hitchcock chairs, you have to like them. You don't just like how the food tastes--you like how it looks and smells and how the egg beater sounds. You like the rhythm of chopping and the throb of the teakettle lid. You like to test the frying pan with water and see it run around like quicksilver. You like the shadow in pewter and the soft gleam of silver and the sharp flash of glass. You like the feel of damask napkins and the shadows of flowers on a white cloth. You like people eating in their best clothes in candlelight, and in their dungarees on a beach in the broiling sun, or under a pine tree in the rain.

'You like the last moment before a meal is served when the hollandaise thickens, the steak comes sputtering out of the broiler, the cream is cooked into the potatoes and the last drop of water is cooked out of the peas.' Here she was silent long enough to take the correctly lacy and golden cookies off the pan. 'Not with brains,' she repeated, putting down the spatula. 'With love.'

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Cookbook

Exiles and fresh fish

Noone who has ever lived by the sea feels quite at home when fish comes out of a can. The first thing these exiles ask for on coming home is fish. When Hugh came in from the West the other day, Mrs. and Mrs. Appleyard did not even with until they got him out of the South Station, but rushed hi into the oyster bar and revived him with a dozen freshly opened raw oysters. It was pleasant to see the color flow back into the boy's pale cheeks and the sparkle return to his lustreless eyes.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen

Eating the food of the country where you happen to be

For people who never live somewhere near the sea, Mrs. Appleyard has a profound pity. Fortunately most of the inland dwellers do not need the pity because they do not know what they are missing. fish that has to travel on ice for days is satisfactory to them, and that is quite all right with Mrs. Appleyard so long as she doesn't have to have an of it.

Eastern lobster pursues the traveller across the continent and is even offered as a great delicacy on the Pacific coast, Mrs. Appleyard discovered recently. She had to use considerable ingenuity to avoid it and to get chili con carne instead. She believes in eating the food of the country where she happens to be. The food of Kansas, for instance, is definitely not lobster, but Mrs. Appleyard had a steak in Kansas once that was a pattern by which all steaks, past and future, will not be judged.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen

Cookies and hurly-burly

Cake-baking is an undertaking needing a certain amount of quiet and concentration. Cookies can be made in the middle of any hurly-burly that is going on. There is a game played on the lawn outside the kitchen at Appleyard Centre that is like deck tennis except that it is played with the lid of a tin biscuit can. This pastime, with its accompanying shrieks from the gentler sex and the occasional crash of broken glass, has often been the background for cooky-baking. So have the voices of croquet battlers and of those turning cartwheels, the crack of rifles aimed at tin cans, and the grunts that go with a form of wrestling known as pig-piling. Or, if the weather is rainy those who look forward to dividends of broken cookies crowd into the kitchen, joggle the elbow of the cook and keep her mind active with a peculiarly searching form of Twenty questions. Is is under these circumstances that Mrs. Appleyard turns out a batch of Oatmeal Lace Cookies.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen

Some of the best reading in the world is found in cookbooks

Some of the best reading in the world, Mrs Appleyard says, is found in cookbooks. She ought to know because she began to read them as literature long before she took to wielding the egg beater. There have been frequent periods in Mrs. Appleyard's life when she was on short rations. Her doctor has told her to lose three hundred pounds and she has. No, she has not vanished in the process She is still moderately substantial. She has merely lost thirty pounds ten times. During those periods when her too, too solid flesh was melting, she has learned to sublimate her yearnings for chocolate cake and lobster Newburg by reading cookbooks. She has fortunately discovered that she can get a pleasantly stuffed feeling by moving her eyes rapidly from left to right over menus that begin with twenty assorted appetizers and end with Baked Alaska.

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen

Rereading: Mrs. Appleyard's Year (and Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen) by Louise Andrews Kent

My current bedtime reading - again. Gentle, funny, and perfect for nodding off. Here's my original review from years ago:

I know, I know. This looks like the lamest old book ever. Yet after enjoying the clever, gentle humor of the commentary in Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen (see below) I was intrigued enough to find a cheap copy of this book. Truth to tell, I was thinking it might be good to read to my mother-in-law (she suffers from slight dementia and so far Cheaper By the Dozen is our favorite to share together on my visits).

At any rate, as I was looking through this I found myself continually pulled into the story and laughing. Louise Andrews Kent pays us the compliment of not underestimating our intelligence. The imagined life of the Italian family living in the hedges (prompted by a gardener's unpleasant joke) or Mrs. Appleyard's defense of her family to a British aunt allow us to enter a world long gone but to realize that people were still the same then as now.

I have been waiting for at least a month to read this on Forgotten Classics and am excited that Mrs. Appleyard's time to shine has finally come. Pull up your rocking chair on the porch, have a glass of lemonade and rock in the cool breeze as we follow Mrs. Appleyard through her year.

Note: I read Mrs. Appleyard's Year over a year at my Forgotten Classics podcast. Pull up your rocking chair on the porch, have a glass of lemonade and rock in the breeze as we follow Mrs. Appleyard through her year. Listen here.

This is the book that led me to Mrs. Appleyard's Year. It is an absolutely delightful "forgotten classic" that I discovered in my parent's basement. Hilarious and intentionally so ... Mom and I kept picking it up and reading each other snippets all day ... and laughing our heads off. It is a cookbook but each recipe deserves reading because they are larded with small stories, humorous comments, and personality ... somewhat in the same way as the recipes in The Best Cook in the World. It often winds up on my bedstand for nighttime reading.

The Dark Meat of the Angel

Not that she is not enjoying the holiday [Spring Break] — as it is sometimes called. She really likes to see three helpings of mashed potato, thick slices of steak, and mountains of toasted angel cake with chocolate sauce systematically stoked into young furnaces. There was chocolate angel cake once: an innovation, a departure from tradition. Mrs. Appleyard had a read a rule in the paper. Even she is not proof against all human frailty.

It was Sally who summed it up politely.

"Thank you," she said. "I don't think I care for any more of the dark meat of the angel."

Louise Andrews Kent, Mrs. Appleyard's Year

This is such a charming and gently humorous book. I recently reread it as my pre-lights-out book. It was perfect for powering down before sleep.