Puddings and Spice
And All Things Nice
Make Xmas Merry
Traditional holiday rookies and
paddings ran still appear in this
year's celebrations. Make them sim
pler by using recipes in today's col
umn.
Eyes bright and shining, hearts
full of the Christmas spirit and won
■ drous expectation
—you re nui su
ing to disappoint
these even this
holiday season!
There are many
foods to please
during holiday
' time and in for
mer years our on
ly worry was to
have Uie time to
make all the puddings and cakes
we wanted. Now. we have not only
the time element to consider, but
•Iso the problem of rationed goods,
prices, and time, too. For these
reasons, today’s recipes have been
designed to fit all these require
ments. Look them over, homemak
ers, and you’ll Aid they quite fill the
bill:
Christmas I’udding.
(Serves 12)
94 cup sugar
94 cup butler or margarine
1 egg
1 cup molasses
1 cup sour milk
1 teaspoon soda, dissolved in
sour milk
S cups flour
94 teaspoon cinnamon
94 teaspoon cloves
94 teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup chopped raisins
94 cup currants or seedless
raisins
94 cup ground cltroa
94 cup candled cherries
1 teaspoon vanilla
Cream sugar and butter or mar
garine. Add egg, slightly beaten.
Add spices to flour. Add molasses,
milk and flour alternately, a Uttle
at a time, blending well. Add fruit
and vanilla. Pour Into two greased
l-quart pudding molds. Cover and
■team for 3 hours. Serve with hard
or foamy sauce.
If you want to splurge a bit and
can afford it, here is an old-fash
loncd. real English plum pudding:
English Plum Pudding.
(Serves 12)
94 cup sifted cake flour
i teaspoon salt
94 teaspoon baking soda
l teaspoon cinnamon
54 teaspoon nutmeg
54 teaspoon mace
94 pound raisins, chopped
94 pound dried currants, chopped
94 pound citrou, chopped
94 pound lemon peel, chopped
94 pound orange peel, chopped
94 pound blanched almonds, chopped
94 oop One bread crumbs
94 cup hot milk
94 pound brown sugar
I eggs, separated
94 pound suet, chopped
94 cup fruit Juice (any kind)
94 glass currant Jelly
Lynn Say*
The Score Card: Crop esti
mates jumped on white potatoes
making more available for civil
ian use. You are urged to buy
them by bushel instead of by the
pound.
Watch for changes in point and
price values. They are an indi
cation of how you can guide your
food budget. Figs have gone up
in price, grapes down. Prunes
and raisins are back on the ration
list because there are no longer
large stocks of these available,
Crabmeat is up in price as are
some of the cheeses.
Guide your use of milk care
fully a* your dealer Is now ra
tioned. This is being tried be
cause it would be difficult to ra
tion milk to the consumer by
points.
Save every bit of fat that you
can and turn it In to your butch
er. A tablespoon a day will help
to bring your boy back sooner.
Lynn Chambers’ Point-Saving
Menu
Creamed Chicken In Mashed
Potato Nests
Parsleyed Carrots
Crusty Rolls Lettuce Salad
Cranberry Pudding
Sift flour, salt, soda and spices to
gether; stir in fruit and almonds.
Soften crumbs in
milk 10 minutes.
Beat sugar into ,
beaten egg yolks;
add the suet and
crumbs; stir into
fruit-flour mix- I
ture. Add fruit
juice and jelly
and mix well. Fold In stifny beaten
egg whites. Pour Into greased mold;
cover tightly and steam for 3Vi
hours.
Steamed Cranberry Pudding.
(Serves 6)
1 cup sifted flour
1 Vi teaspoons baking powder
Vi teaspoon salt
Vi cup brown sugar
Vi cup bread crumbs
Vi cup finely chopped suet
I cup chopped cranberries
1 egg
Vi cup milk or water
Mix ingredients In order given.
Turn into a greased mold, cover
with waxed paper and steam for 2
hours.
Foamy Cranberry Sauce.
(Makes 1 Vi cups)
4 tablespoons butter
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 egg, separated
Vi cup sweetened cranberry Juice
Grated rind of 1 orange
Cream butter and sugar together.
Add beaten egg yolk, cranberry
juice and orange rind. Fold In stiff
ly beaten egg white just before serv
ing.
Hard Sauce.
(Makes Vi cup)
Vi cup butter
1 cup confectioners' sugar
Vi teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon cream
Cream butter, add sugar, gradu
ally, beating until light and fluffy.
When thoroughly
combined, add fla
voring and cream.
Chill until cold
but not hard.
Coffee, ginger,
nutmeg, f r e a h
fruit or jam may
be substituted for
vanilla and
cream.
To those of you
to whom home-made candy is a
real Xmas treat, you will find this
recipe has the real holiday touch.
It will be a gay Christmas If you
give out candies full of fruits and
nuts. Home-wrapped packages bring
cheery greetings to friends and
neighbors.
Christmas Rutter Fudge.
(Makes \ft pounds)
2 cups sugar
1 cup milk
M cup butter
% teaspoon salt
Va cup candied cherries, cut small
Mi cup blanched pistachios
Put milk, butter and salt into a
large saucepan and bring to boiling
point, stirring constantly until sugar
Is dissolved. Cook at moderate rate
(236 to 237 degrees F.), stirring only
occasionally, until candy will form a
soft ball when dropped in cold wa
ter. Remove from heat immediately
and set pan in cold water; do not
stir or beat until cooled to luke
warm. Add vanilla and beat until
candy becomes thick and creamy
and loses its shine. When on point
of “setting” add cherries and nuts
and fold in quickly. Pour candy in
buttered square pan and let stand at
room temperature until firm. Cut in
squares.
Baked Orange Garnish.
8 oranges or tangerines
1 cup fruit juice
Cut peeling of fruit into 6 sections,
cutting down about ltfc inches. Turn
petal-like sections of peeling under,
removing part of white membrane.
Place on a baking dish. Pour juice
over fruit and bake in a hot < 400
degree) oven for about 10 minutes.
Use with watercress or parsley as
a garnish for ham or turkey.
If you uunt sugar-saving suggestions,
write to Lynn Chambers, U estern News
paper Union, 210 South Desplaines
Street, Chicago, Illinois. Don’t forget
to enclose a stamped, self addressed
envelope for your reply.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
Elia Chatfleld, Hollywood artist, li dis
inherited by her Aunt Kitty, who died
from an overdose of morphine. Hunt
Rogers and Barry Madison go to Mazat
lan. Mexico, to solve what they believe
to be Kitty Chatfleld’s murder. On ar
rival they And that Elsa’s party had pre
ceded them by plane. During a fiesta at
the ranch of Sam Chatfleld (Elsa’s fa
ther) James Chesebro Is murdered. Lom
bardo, chief of Mexican police, arrests
Reed Barton. Chatfleld promises to use
his Influence to get Barton out. The
party goes on a fishing trip for marlin,
and on their return decide to visit Reed
Barton. He has already been freed.
They decide to go swordfisblng next day
In the Pacific rollers.
CHAPTER XIII
“Did you hear that Reed Barton
has been released?” he asked.
“Yes. He’3 now dancing with Elsa
at the hotel here.”
“It was too early to arrest him—
or anybody else, for that matter,”
he said.
A friendly hand struck me lightly
on the shoulder and I turned about
to discover Dwight Nichols. Sam
Chatfleld was with him.
“Still sleuthing, you two?" Dwight
asked, and when Rogers repeated
the observation he had Just made
to me, Dwight laughed. “Why not
have a table? The night’s young,
and the beer’s good.”
So we moved to a table and or
dered a round of beer. As the mozo
set the order on the table, a stocky
figure in a huge black sombrero
shoved in and sat down in the re
maining vacant seat.
“Hello, fellows.” rasped the husky
voice of George Rumble. “Mind if
I set down with you white guys?
I get fed up with these Mexicans.
Maybe all this around me is glam
our, but I think it’s the bunk.”
“Every fellow to his own taste,”
remarked Sam Chatfleld. ”1 love
Mexico."
“I don’t. I wish I was heading
home tomorrow.”
“What’s keeping you?” I asked,
striving for a humorous Jibe.
There was a hurt expression In
Rumble’s eyes as if I had struck
him an unexpected blow, and I apol
ogized for the remark.
“Oh, I know you mean it all right,
Barry,” he replied. “Maybe I have
hollered too much about this town.
I guess it’s true what they say;
when you leave the good old U.S.A.
you can’t expect the same service.
We’re tops in everything. But since
you ask me, there’s only one thing
that's keeping me. That’s Elsa.”
"Elsa?” echoed Sam Chatfleld,
turning to Rumble questioningly.
“Yes. You know, Chatfleld, if I
had a Chinaman’s chance with her,
I’d soon be calling you Poppa.”
An extraordinary expression nick
ered briefly in Sam Chatfield’s
round, tanned face. Dwight laughed.
“I mean it,” insisted Rumble.
“Elsa is the swellest little person
I’ve ever met, and I’ve been around
quite a bit.” He turned abruptly
and glared at Dwight. "What are
you laughing at?” he demanded. "I
never was a guy to hide what I
think and feel. If I love Elsa I’m
going to say so. But I know I
haven't got a chance. If Elsa was
my wife, though, I wouldn't be a
cheater, like some fellows.” He
plunged a hand into the pocket of
his brown slacks and drew forth a
billfold, opened it, took out a hun
dred dollar bank note and dropped
it in front of Dwight. "I don’t want
it,” he said.
Dwight Nichols half rose in his
chair; his face had drained of its
color underneath his tan. His fists
were clenched and his lips set tight.
An angry light was in his eyes and
the next moment he would have
launched himself upon Rumble, who
continued to sit, a scornful look on
his face, glaring at Dwight.
“Gentlemen!” warned Sam Chat
field sharply. “Don't forget your
selves.”
“I haven’t," Rumble reminded
him. Dwight sank down into his
seat; his hands dropped trembling
upon the table. “And I suppose,’’
Rumble continued, preparing to
leave, "that you’d rather I got out.”
He glared about the table as if we
all were his enemies. “Well, I'U
go.” He stood up. His eyes caught
the gaze of Rogers. “Hunt,” he
said, “I ain't got anything against
you. I’m wise to some things
you’d like to know. You want to
know who killed the Chatfleld wom
an, and who killed Chesebro. I’ll
see you later; it’ll interest you to
hear what I can tell you.”
Rumble pushed away from our
table, pulled his enormous black
sombrero down upon his forehead,
and walked through the crowded
tar and out into the night No one
spoke until the door had closed be
hind him. Then Sam Chatfleld said,
“Extraordinary person.”
“Yes. isn't he’’” Dwight agreed
nervously. He picked up the bank
note, folded it precisely and slipped
it into his pocket His gaze swept
about to include all of us. He bit
his lips slightly, then said, “Well,
Rumble has made it necessary for
me to explain something ”
“Not if you don't feel like doing it,
Dwight.” I counseled. He brushed
my remark aside with an impatient
gesture
“I'll be brief His voice was j
crisp “1 was the man who ran ■
from Kitty Chatfleld's house the eve
ning she died—the pan cky man
and not Reed Barton Rumble lied
the other night, damn him, when he
■aid it was Reed. I knew that he
knew it was I, but I couldn’t fathom
why he lied about it. I thought,
though, that it was for blackmail
Anyway, I gave him the hundred
yesterday, and he asked, 'What’s
that for?’ and I said. Think it
over.’ I thought everything was all
right, and that he’d be quiet, or
else raise the ante on me if he
thought it was worth more than
that.”
But blackmail—” began Rogers.
"Yes, I know. Hunt. I’m the last
person in the world to submit to
that, but—you don’t know Margaret.
I’d rather cut my own throat than
have her suspect me of any wrong
doing; I wouldn t deceive her for
worlds. I never have. There was
never anything between me and Kit
ty Chatfleld, except a friendship.
But I never could explain to Mar
garet why I was at Kitty’s that eve
ning. She thought I was at the Ex
plorer's Club meeting. As a mat
ter of fact I did go to the meeting.
Kitty telephoned me there and
asked me to come over at once; she
said she needed my advice about
something. It was urgent, but she
wouldn’t tell me what it was on
the telephone. And I never did
find out, because—she was dead
when I got there. I’d entered with
out knocking, stumbled over the
body on the floor. I heard some
His fists were clenched and his
lips set tight.
body moving around upstairs. Some
one came in at the front door—
Margaret has since said that it was
she—and I did get panicky. I ran
out. I didn't stop running until I
was up the street a way. Perhaps
I passed Rumble; he says I did.
I don’t know."
He ended his confession, plunged
his hand into his pocket for his
cigarettes, and lighted one before
any of us could speak.
The rhythmical beat of the ship’s
engines filled my waking conscious
ness. For some minutes in the faint
light of dawn I lay looking at the
humped figure of Huntoon Rogers in
the opposite bunk, not realizing what
it was or why there was the sound
of the engines. Finally I roused
completely, got up and looked out of
the porthole, and there before my
eyes, fading in the morning mists,
was the sleeping town of Mazatlan.
"Oh, yes," I muttered to myself,
returning to my bunk, “we’re going
fishing.”
And so we were. At last Dwight
Nichols was to indulge in the sport
that had brought him so far from
home, and which had suffered Inter
ruption and delay by what had hap
pened on shore at Mazatlan. Not
until after breakfast, however, did
Mazatlan and all it stood for fall
away from me like a cloak dropped
from the shoulders, and I became a
part of the Orizaba and a member of
a fishing party. Margaret looked
up from her plate as breakfast drew
to a close, and exclaimed, “Why,
where’s George Rumble?"
For a moment no one replied,
and then Arturo, the flat-faced Fili
pino who served, spoke apologetical
ly
"I’m so sorry, Mrs. Nichols. The
gentleman in question do not come
aboard las’ night, as you say for
him to do.”
Sam Chatfield was talkative, more
so than at any time yet in my brief
acquaintance with him.
"You and Elsa are quite good
friends, aren't you?’’ he observed
sociably, as he watched Dwight pay
iug out the teaser, a cunningly
carved and pivoted piece of wood
which began to leap and wriggle
and twist like a crazy flsh in the
choppy water
"Look to starboard, gentlemen,”
sang out Reed Barton, pointing in
the direction "A collection of fins,
or I’m mistaken."
"Where?" demanded Sam Chat
field eagerly, swinging about in his
swivel chair.
"About two hundred yards,”
Dwight estimated, motioning to the
man at the wheel to change our
course slightly to cross in front of
our quarry.
Suddenly the three dorsal fins cut
ting the water near by disappeared.
We crossed and re-crossed what we
deemed to be the area where they
might be found, but there was no
sign. We stood in closer to the larg
er of the rocky islets. Something
struck on Dwight’s tackle, and was
gone again. He reeled in and found
part of his bait bitten off and he
set to work to sew on another. Be
fore he had finished Rogers called
out as he had done in the bay at
Mazatlan, "Thar she blows!”
A great silvery fish a quarter of a
mile or so nearer the shore line
leaped clear of the water, seemed to
walk on its tail and fell back with a
splash visible from our small
launch.
"They’re here, gentlemen,” de
clared Sam Chatfield with satisfac
tion. "It wouldn’t be according to
best tradition, however, to catch our
fill the first half hour we’re out
That isn’t fishing. Although the last
time I was here we took three In a
short afternoon. That’s—” He
gripped his rod as his reel whined;
something had struck hard.
“That’s it, Sam!” shouted Dwight
“That’s a marlin."
“Yes, I think so, Dwight."
He let the line run out, then his
body suddenly stiffened. He checked
his reel and pulled hard to sink his
hook. A veritable submarine ex
plosion followed at the end of his
line, and away the line went for a
long run. while Sam Chatfield set
tled down in his seat, the muscles
about his mouth set hard, his eyes
intent upon the area of blue water
in which his marlin must be.
"Oh—oh, fellows,” shouted Reed
Barton. “I’ve got something. ’Tisn’t
a marlin, though.
“So have I,” echoed Rogers.
They each had hooked a mackerel
of five or six pounds, and were pro
ceeding to reel them in when sud
denly Sam Chatfleld’s marlin came
to life. The swivel chair under him
groaned and creaked as he braced
himself to hold the giant fish in its
desperate threshings below the sur
face. Little by little he had reeled
it in close, but it was not yet ready
for the gaff. Suddenly the dorsal
fln of a marlin appeared close by
the launch, drawn, as we were soon
to realize, by the rushes of the two
mackerel.
“Look, fellows.” Reed Barton
shouted. “He’s after my fish!”
Indeed it was; the long sharp
sword was pointed in the direction
of Reed’s fish, now fighting at the
surface. With an incredible rush
the marlin was upon it, striking it
with his sword.
It was Rogers who first realized
the danger we were in; he called a
warning. “I don’t like that thing
too near, Dwight.” He started vig
orously to reel in his own catch.
The next moment I saw two wicked
little turquoise blue eyes rising
through the water, gleaming like
sparkling gems as they caught the
rays of the sun. And then some
thing happened.
We were a long time piecing to
gether exactly what occurred in the
next few seconds of time. We went
over and over it to make sure that
we were correct in the sequence of
events, and to the best of our belief
this is what occurred: Sam Chat
fleld’s marlin put on the brakes only
a few feet, perhaps, below the sur
face and not far from the launch.
Sam, thereupon, sat back hard in
his chair, and the swivel mecha
nism beneath him gave way and he
fell suddenly to the deck. The mar
lin must then have executed a turn
and headed back toward his enemy
in the launch.
This accident at the height of the
excitement which gripped us, with
two marlin being played, and Rog
ers and Reed Barton both reeling
in smaller catches, which of a sud
den were being pursued by a hungry
marlin, was bewildering. Sam Chat
field appeared to scramble to his
feet; he had thought only for his
fish. But the breaking chair un
derneath him and his abrupt fall
dislodged the butt of his rod from
its leather socket, which struck him
a hard blow in the pit of the stom
ach, for he grunted sharply as if
his breath had been knocked partly
from him. He had sufficient strength
to get to his feet and presence of j
mind to keep a firm grip on his |
rod with a single hand, but as he
rose to his feet he was off balance.
The launch was pitching in the
small chop of the waves, and of a
sudden, before we could lift a hand,
he toppled over the stern into the
water.
So startling was this, and so quick
ly did it happen, that no one even so
much as cried out. At the same
time Rogers had risen to his feet in
a desperate effort to swing his small
fish from the water out of the reach
| of the pursuing marlin. There was
| a final short rush of a huge torpedo
like body rising from below, a
; mighty splashing as Sam Chatfield
, came gasping to the surface of the
water, and the huge marlin he had
been playing was upon him Before
our horrified gaze the long rapier
like bony sword drove directly
through Sam Chatfield's chest from
front to back.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
ffe&TTERNS
SEWING CORCILE ~
8501
2-10 yr*.
Quickly Put On
'This dress is designed so it is
-*■ easy for little girls to put it on
—and button it in a jiffy! It is just
like the smart new grown-up
styles in its tailored simplicity.
• • •
Pattern No. 8501 Is designed for sizes
2. 4. 6, 8. 10 years. Size 4, short sleeves,
requires 2*,ii yards 35-inc-h material.
Due to an unusually large demand and
current war conditions, slightly more time
is required in filling orders for a few of
the most popular pattern numbers.
Send your order to:
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPT.
530 South Wells St. Chicago
Enclose 20 cents In coins for each
pattern desired.
Pattern No.Size.
Name ....
Address .
8514
36-52
Soft Drapery
V'OU'LL never know how much
1 your appearance may be im
proved until you try a dress like
this one. It has long, slenderizing
panels which make you look taller
and less wide, and pretty drapery
which narrows your waist.
• • •
Pattern No. 8514 Is designed for sizes
36 , 38, 40. 42, 44. 46, 48. 50 and 52. Size 38.
short sleeves, requires 4'/4 yards 39-inch
material, =)« yard contrast for trimming.
White and Black Swans
All the native swans of Europe
and North America have white
feathers. The only swans with
dark feathers are those which have
their native homes south of the
equator. Australia has black swans
and the southern end of South
America has black-necked swans
in great numbers.
AT FIRST
c9h«
666 TABLETS. SALVE. NOSE DROPS
British Food Rationing
Food rationing in Britain has
been in force since January, 1940.
Now the only unrestricted foods
are bread, potatoes, seasonable
vegetables and fruits.
Complaint of Socrates
Appears Quite Up-to-Date
Here is a complaint about eti
quette that should interest every
parent:
“The children now love luxury,
they have bad manners, contempt
for authority, they show disrespect
for elders, and love chatter in
place of exercise. Children are
now tyrants, not the servants of
their households. They no longer
rise when elders enter the room.
They contradict their parents,
chatter before company, gobble up
dainties at the table, cross their
legs, and tyrannize over their
teachers.
The Greek philosopher Socrates
registered the complaint over
2,000 years ago. We parents might
as well resign ourselves.
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