Pleasant Thought for Pic-Hungry Families!
(See Recipes Below)
i
Pies Aplenty
Pie* are good eating, even in the
warmest weather. And better still,
there are pies tor every season and
•very mood.
For summer you may like juicy,
luscious berry pies, their gay color*
ful fillings peek
ing out of a lat
^ tice crust. Or you
l] may take the easy
f way and prepare
chiffon pies, light
, and airy as a
feather, with
easy • to - make
crumb crusts that require no bak
ing. Whatever the type, you're cer
tain to enjoy them.
Full of the goodness of golden
peaches is this fruity pie:
Fresh Peach Pie.
4 cups sliced fresh peaches
1 cup sugar
4 tablespoons flour
ft teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon butter
Fill pastry-lined pan with fruit
mixture, sffrinkling the peaches with
sugar and flour mixed. Sprinkle
with cinnamon and dot with butter.
Cover with a top crust and bake 10
minutes in a 450-degree oven and 30
minutes in a moderate (350-degree)
oven. Serve warm.
Any of the berries may be used in
this pie as the basic recipe is the
same. Try it several times with
blueberries, raspberries, blackber
ries or loganberries:
Fresh Berry Pie.
1 quart fresh berries
ft to 1 cup sugar
4 tablespoons flour
t teaspoons quick-cooking tapioca
ft teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon butter
Pill pastry-lined pan with berries.
Sprinkle with sugar and flour With
half of the ber
ries In the pan,
cover with tapi
oca, then with re
maining berries,
cinnamon and'
butter If the ber- 1/
rles are dry. H
sprinkle with 1 or r
1 tablespoons wa- —
ter. Cover with
top crust and bake in a hot oven 10
minutes and in a moderate oven 30
minutes.
Blueberry Pie: Substitute 1% ta
blespoons lemon Juice for cinnamon.
Citrus Chiffon Pies are as cool as
ocean spray. They are made so
quickly, require no baking, and are
made-to-order summer desserts;
•Lemon Chiffon Pie.
3 egg yolks
44 cnp sugar
44 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon grated lemon rind
44 cap lemon juice, strained
4 tablespoons lemon-flavored gelatin
44 cup boiling water
3 egg whites
44 teaspoon cream of tartar
Cornflake Crust
Beat egg yolks with a spoon In top
of the double boiler. Stir in one
bait the sugar, then salt, rind and
fruit Juice Cook over boiling water
10 minutes until mixture thickens
and coats the spoon.
Stir hot fruit Juice or boiling wa
ter into flavored gelatin. Beat with
the hot custard. Cool thoroughly un
Lynn Says
Bit of All Right: Baking pow
der biscuits are extra special
when sprinkled with orange or
lemon or cinnamon sugar before
baking. Biscuits dressed up like
this go well with main dish sal
ads.
Don't waste leftover biscuits
by making them into crumbs.
They're pleasing escorts when
served toasted with peanut but
ter or citrus marmalade.
Fruit cups are best when chilled
thoroughly Try this combination:
Cooked prunes, canned yellow
cling peaches, orange segments,
peach syrup, honey and lemon
juice.
!
Lynn Chambers' Point-Saving
Menu
Sliced salami and Bologna
Cottage Cheese - Chive Salad
Green Onions Radishes Celery
Muffins with Raspberry Jam
•Lemon Chiffon Pie
•Recipe Given
til mixture begins to set, then break
up while making meringue. To make
meringue, beat egg whites until
fluffy and gradually add remainder
of sugar. Carefully fold meringue
into Ailing and pile into crumb crust
Place in refrigerator until well set,
about 2 hours. Serve cold.
Lime Chiffon Pie: Use lime in
above recipe in place of lemnn.
Green coloring may be added to !?-»•
tensify the color.
Cornflake Crust
4 cups rolled cornflakes
Mi cup butter
% cup sugar
Roll cornflakes line. Melt buttei
in pie pan, add sugar and crumlt
and mix thoroughly. Press evenlj
and firmly around sides and bo*
tom of pie pan.
Like custards? Then you will en
joy grandmother's old-fashioned cus
tard baked right into the flaky crust:
Grandmother's Custard Pie.
3 eggs lor, 6 yolks)
W cup sugar
M teaspoon salt
K teaspoon nutmeg
cups milk
Beat eggs slightly, add sugar, salt,
nutmeg and milk. Pour into a chilled
pastry-lined pie pan. Bake in a hot
oven 15 minutes, then in a moderate
oven to finish. Bake until a silver
knife inserted into the custard comes
out clean.
French Apple Pie.
Muke pastry for one-erust pie. Fit
into pan and flute
edges. Chill, fill
with apples (for
r9-lnch pie, use 4
cups sliced ap
ples. 1 cup sugar,
1 teaspoon cinna
mon and 1 table
spoon butter).
Then sprinkle
with crumb top
ping:
¥i cup butter
H cup brown sugar
1 cup flour
Bake 45 minutes to one hour until
apples are done and topping is deli
cately browned. Serve warm.
Want Good Pastry?
An old saying goes that “A pie
is as good as its crust.” No truer
words were ever spoken. Unless the
crust is short, tender and flaky, the
juiciest berries or most luscious fruit
can do nothing for the pie. Here are
the rules:
1. Keep all ingredient* and bowls
well chilled.
2. Don't work over the piecrust.
The lazier you are, the better the
crust.
3. Use a minimum of water for
moistening.
Two-Crust Pie Pastry.
(Nine-Inch)
2 cups sifted dour
I teaspoon salt
% cup shortening
4 to 6 tablespoons ice water
To make pastry, sift flour once,
add salt and then sift again. Mix
one-half of shortening into flour and
cut into mixture finely. Add re
mainder of shortening and cut into
flour until mixture has the ap
pearance of coarse meaL
Blend lightly, using just enough
water to hold mixture together. Roll
on floured cloth and fit to pastry tin.
One-Crust Pies.
The method for making one-crust
pies is similar to the two-crust type,
but the ingredients are as follows:
; 1 cup flour, Vi teaspoon salt, Vi cup
shortening and 2 to 3 tablespoons
ice water.
1/ you wish additional instruction for
canning fruit or berries, write to Miss
l.ynn Chambers, 210 South Desplnines
Street, Chicago 6. Illinois. 1‘lease en
close stamped, self-addressed envelope
j /or your reply.
i Released by Western Newspaper Union,
GOD IS MY
^ CO-PILOT
*Col. Boberf L.Scoff WN.y. RELEASE
The story thus far: Young Robert Scott,
whose great ambition is to fly, makes
his own glider at Macon Ga., pulls off
from a roof, and crashes 67 feet to the
ground. A Cherokee rose bush probably
saved his life. He now goes in for build
ing scale model planes and wins a Boy
Scout aviation merit badge. At an auc
tion sale he buys his first plane for $75.
He goes to Ft. McPherson and enlists In
the regular army as a private. Winning
a West Point competitive exam he Is
admitted, and in the summer of 1932 after
being graduated and commissioned as a
second lieutenant of infantry he goes to
Europe, which he tours on a motorcycle.
He finally arrives at Randolph Field,
Texas. This is it.
CHAPTER III
Though I had flown before in the
prehistoric crates of the past, this
fact had nothing to do with wheth
er or not I would get through the
course. On the side against me
was the fact that during my un
supervised flying I had doubtless de
veloped many faults that were not
for the Army pilot to be proud of.
In a case like mine, some pilots
think they know it all; therefore
there is nothing to learn. Others
make such an effort to please their
instructors that this very eagerness
works against them as their own
worst enemy—the result of tense
ness.
My case was more of this last
order. I knew I could fly the ship
but I tried to carry out my instruc
tor’s orders even before he gave
them. I listened almost spellbound
through our oral communications
system in that primary trainer—that
speaking-tube which we called a
"gosport” and which at best was
hard to understand over the rattle
of that Wright Whirlwind engine.
I used to try to read his mind, exe
cute his every little whim. I even
tried to outguess Lieutenant Lan
don and have the stick and rudder
moving in the right direction be
fore he could get the orders out of
his mouth.
Now thereby hangs a tale. I was
not only trying to look in his rear
view mirror and actually read his
lips when I couldn’t hear through
the gosport, but was diligently look
ing about the sky for other hare
brained student pilots. He must have
realized my eagerness, for he gave
me every break—and for the many
boners I pulled I needed lots of
breaks.
One day, at a bare four-hundred
feet altitude, I thought I heard the
instructor say, "Okay, Scott, put it
in a dive.” I peered around first and
then at the nearby ground, for it
looked very low to be going into a
dive. Then like a flash I thought I
understood: Why, he’s trying to see
if I’m ground-shy—I'll show him I'm
not.
With my teeth clenched and prob
ably with my eyes closed, I pushed
that PT-3 into a vertical dive at
point-blank altitude. Just as the
cotton fields down below seemed
about to come right into my lap I
felt Ted Landon grab the controls
and saw him hastily point to his
head with the sign that he was "tak
ing over.” We came out just over
the mesquite trees, and he roughly
slipped the ship into a bumpy land
ing in a cotton field. Then, while
I was trying to add things up and
realizing already that I had tied it
up again, I saw Ted y methodi
cally raise his gof. and with
great deliberation climb out of the
front cockpit. He glared at me but
said sweetly enough:
“Scott, what in the g— d— hell
are you trying to do—what was that
maneuver? I said glide—G-L-I-D-E.
Don’t you at least know what a
normal glide is in all this time?
Weakly 1 said, “Sir, I thought you
said a dive.” I could see Ted fight
for control; then he told me the
next time I had him at an altitude
so low, not to attempt to think but
just try to keep the ship straight
and level.
On another day, after about two
weeks of instruction, we had been
making only take-offs and landings,
and I knew the time was approach
ing when I would solo. As usual,
that realization made me more and
more tense as the end of the period
neared. On the take-offs I’d tense
up and forget all about holding the
nose straight, and on the landings
I’d jerk back on the stick instead of
easing it slowly back into the ap
proach to landing stall. All I could
do was day-dream about: Here we
are, Scott, just about to take over
and prove to the world that we can
do all of this by ourselves.
Around the field in traffic I couldn't
hold the correct altitude, and my in
structor was cussing a blue streak.
I He’d yell about my having graduat
ed from West Point and say that he
| knew I was supposed to have some
! brains but he hadn’t been able to
find them. After each bumpy land
ing he’d look around at me and hold
his nose—that was symbolic enough
for me. I finally bounced into an
other landing that nearly jarred his
teeth out. Then, as usual, he
showed what a prince of a fellow he
was, and showed me that an instruc
tor had to become accustomed to
students' making mistakes—knowl
edge which stood me in good stead
years later when I became an in
structor.
Lieutenant Landon got out of the
I front seat, taking his parachute with
him, and I knew the moment of mo
ments had come. As he leaned over
my cockpit and reached inside the
ship for the Form One, the time
book always carried in Army ships,
I saw only his hand and thought he
was offering to shake hands with
me. So I grabbed the hand and
shook it. He just grinned and
growled:
“With landings like those I can
do you very little good, and I’ll be
damned if I’m going to let you kill
me. Do you think you can take this
thing around the field all by your
self and get it back down?"
“Yes, Sir," I yelled.
“Then take it around and make
a landing as close to me as you
can."
I had never felt so good. Taxying
out I could see the world only in a
rosy light. My head was really
whirling. Pointing the ship into the
wind, 1 over-controlled into a nor
mal student takeoff and was in
the air. Honestly, the living of this
life was wonderful—here I was an
actual Army Pilot with my own ship,
and up here free from the shackles
of the earth. I envied no one. Cir
cling in traffic I’d "get my head in
the clouds” and gain or lose altitude
but that didn’t matter. I was solo
ing.
Then, at the fourth leg of my
traffic pattern, I began my glide in
towards Lieutenant Landon. By the
gods he had said, “Land as close
to me as you can," and I was surely
going to make that ship stop right
by him—I wouldn’t have my in
structor being ashamed of his stu
dent. Even before I got to the mo
ment to level off, I could see that I
would land right on top of him. But
Gen. C. L. Chcnnault, who was
Colonel Scott’s superior In Burma
and China.
the Lieutenant was running, throw
ing his parachute away just to get
clear of a student who had really
taken him literally.
Anyway, I missed him and
plunked the ship into the ground aft
er levelling off too high. Well, I
held it straight and there was no
ground - loop. As it stopped I
breathed again, and I could feel
the smile that cracked my face. A
pilot! I had landed the ship and
it was actually in one piece!
Looking back over my shoulder I
saw Lieutenant Landon. He was
just standing there about half a
mile away. Then I made another
mistake. He raised his hands and
I thought he waved me in—I didn’t
know until the next day that he had
been shaking his flst at me for trying
to land right on him.
So 1 taxied in, never giving a
thought to how my instructor was
going to get in with his chute—you
see, Randolph is a big field and I
had left him more than a mile
from our hangar. I had parked the
plane and was in and beginning to
dress when I began to realize what
I had done. Looking out the win
dow I could see him trudging across
the hot soil of Texas, in the sun,
with ships landing all around him.
My Lord, I had tied it up again!
I tried to get my feet back into my
flying-suit, tripped and fell, got up
and ran out of the hangar door. I
guess I was going to take the ship
and taxy out and pick him up. But
I had lost again—the ship was being
taken from the line by the next stu
dent. 1 just stood there with sink
ing heart as he came up. But he
didn't even look my way, except to
say, ‘‘It’s kinda hot out there.” Then
he just glared and threw his chute
in his locker
Well, I nearly worried myself to
death that night. I knew he'd more
than likely tell me after the next
day’s ride that I was the damnedest
student he'd ever seen, and that I
didn’t have a prayer of making a
pilot. But next day he didn’t say
a word. All day I started to go
over and tell him how sorry I was,
but I guess I didn’t have the nerve.
During my flying training, I had
girl trouble, too. You would no
doubt call it “trouble,” but I knew it
was the real thing. I had a Chevro
let then, and every week-end I just
had to see my girl, even if she did
live over thirteen hundred miles
away in Georgia. To get to see her,
I would drive that thirteen-hundred
odd miles to her college or her
home in Fort Valley, spend any
where from ten minutes to two hours
with her, then jump back in the
car and drive madly for Texas and
the Monday morning flying period.
I always had to delay my start
until after Saturday morning inspec
tion. That meant that I had to av
erage just about fifty-four miles an
hour, even counting the time I saw
the girl, in the forty-seven hours
that I had from after inspection on
Saturday to flying time at eight
o’clock Monday mornings!
Week-end after week-end I drove
madly across the South from the
middle of Texas to the middle of
Georgia. On one of these cross-coun
try dashes, I weakened and was
fool enough to ask the Commandant
of Student Officers if I could go to
Atlanta. I can still see and hear
Capt Aubrey Strickland saying, “At
lanta what?" And me meekly re
plying, "Atlanta, Georgia, Sir.” He
just said, “Hell, no,” and I turned
and walked from his office with the
good intention of obeying the order.
But within the hour I had weak
ened. I filled my rumble-seat tank,
which held fifty-five gallons of fuel,
and was off to see t>r: for the short
time available. 'Yes, she was, and
still is some On the return
trip I burned out two bearings near
Patterson, Louisiana. Jimmy We
dell, one of the well-known speed
flyers, helped me to get it fixed after
I explained the predicament I was
in. But even with five of us work
ing on the number one and number
six bearings of the Chevy, I was
twelve hours late getting back to
Randolph Field.
As I walked into the bachelor offi
cers’ quarters that I shared with
Bob Terrill, I expected any minute
to hear the sad news. But I was
too afraid to ask for details, so I
just waited for Bob to say, “You are
to report to the General tomorrow
for court martial for A.W.O.L. in
violation of specific instructions.”
Finally he put down his letter writ
ing, looked at me almost in dis
gust, and broke out:
"Scott, you are the damned luck
iest man that ever lived! You didn't
get reported today. No! This is the
first time in the history of Randolph
Field that it’s been too cold to fly.
And it wasn’t only too cold to fly,
it was too cold to have ground
school, because the heating system
had failed. We haven’t flown today,
we haven’t been to ground school.
So they don’t even know that you’ve
been over there to see that girl.”
In all of these trips to see my
girl over in Georgia, I drove 84,000
miles. I wore out two cars—and
you’ll probably agree that her fa
ther had full right to say to her:
“Why don’t you go on and marry
him? It’ll be far cheaper than his
driving over here every week-end.”
When I had finished Primary and
Basic training at Randolph, I al
most let down my hair and wept,
though, on the day that Comman
dant of Student Officers called over
and said that now I could have
permission to go to Georgia, to see
my girl. I thanked him and went.
• • •
Well, when graduation came at
Kelly and I had those wings pinned
on my chest, I had the wonderful
feeling that I had gone a little way
towards the goal I wanted. I was
at last an Army pilot. Never did
the world seem so good. And then
out of a clear sky came orders for
me to go to duty in Hawaii. That
was pretty bad because I wanted to
get married before I went out of the
country, and as yet the girl hadn’t
gotten her degree from college.
Probably if I had gone to Hawaii,
I would have figured out some way
to have flown a P-12 back over ev
ery week—but I didn’t have to do it
after all.
The Chief of the Air Corps came
down a few days later and I waited
until he had had lunch in the Offi
cers’ Mess. Then I walked over
and said. "General, can I ask you
a question?’’ “Sure, sit down,” he
said, and I told him the whole story
—and I made it like this: "General,
I know that I’m supposed to go
where I'm sent because I’m in the
Army, but I’ve got a girl over in
Georgia, and I think I can do a
lot better job wherever you send me
if you can give me time to talk her
into marrying me.” He didn’t ap
pear to be very impressed at first,
but he took my name and serial
number, and two or three days lat
er, when he got back to Washington,
I was ordered to Mitchel Field, N. Y.
As I drove my car towards my
first tactical assignment I kept
reaching up to feel my silver wings
on my chest—I wanted to prove that
it wasn’t a dream. This was what
I had been working for since 1920.
Now I was actually riding towards
the glory of tactical Army aviation.
I recall that I had just about
completed the trip to Long Island,
when something happened that will [
keep me remembering the fall of
1933.
Just before I reached the Holland j
Tunnel, I was suddenly forced to the
curb by three cars all bristling with
sawed-off shotguns and Tommy
guns. I jumped out pretty mad, but
saw that many guns were covering
me and that it was the police.
They looked at my papers, but said
anyone could have mimeographed
orders. They searched the car and
me, took down the Texas license
number, and even copied the engine
number. All the time I tried to talk
with the flashlights in my eye*.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
[patterns
) SEWDNG> CORCILE ~
.
1987
12-42
j
Town Cottons
AS SOPHISTICATED as can be
** and yet pleasingly simple and
charming—a cool midsummer aft
ernoon frock with the new, loose
over-the-shoulder short sleeve, a
long and lovely neckline ending in
a big bow of the dress material.
• • •
Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1987 is de
signed for sizes 12. 14. 16, 18, 20; 40 and 42.
Size 14, kimono sleeve, requires 3% yards
ot 39-inch material.
Mrs. Jones Found That
%
She Spoke Out of Turn
Mrs. Jones went shopping. When
she returned, she saw that men
from the telegraph company had
arrived with their van outside her
house. There they were, to her
disgust, with a pole and a hole in
the ground. She proceeded to tell
them all about it.
How dared they put up a pole
right in front of her house. The
property would lessen in value.
She was going to complain.
The foreman let her have her
head for about five minutes. Then:
“I’m very sorry, madam,” he
said, politely, “but we’re not put
ting the pole up. We are taking it
away. It’s been standing in front
of your house for two years!”
Nets of Spider Silk
Giant spiders spin the silk which
natives of the Coral Sea islands in
the Southwest Pacific use to make
nets to catch fish.
Sports Costume
'T'RY this costume in shocking
pink, fuschia or a violet-toned
cotton—all colors which are high
style this summer. The smartly
fitted jumper dress becomes a per
fect midsummer street costume
when the jacket is added.
• • •
Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1955 Is de
signed for sizes 11. 13. 15, 17 and 19. Size
13, dress, requires 2V3 yards of 39-inch ma
terial; bolero, 1 yard.
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.
Bend your order to:
SEWING CIRCI.E PATTERN DEPT.
530 South Wells St. Chicago
Enclose 20 cents in coins for each
pattern desired.
Pattern No.Size.
Name ...
Address .
Shanghai Kelly
Few persons ever shanghaied
more sailors than Shanghai Kelly,
who kept a notorious saloon on the
San Francisco water front in the
1870s, says Collier’s. Yet no one
ever saw a drugged seaman car
ried out of the place.
All Kelly’s victims were thrown
down chutes that landed them in
waiting boats beneath the building.
Buy War Savings Bonds
_ , _ . — I I I ^
“80.6% of sufferers showed
" ■' - " t
CLINICAL IMPROVEMENT
after only 10-day treatment
with I ~~
Foster D. Snell, Inc, well known consult
ing chemists, have just completed a test
with a group of men and women suffering
from Athlete’s Foot. These people were
told to use Soretone. At the end of only a
ten-day test period, their feet were exam
ined by a physician. We quote from the
report:
| “After the use of Soretone according to
[ the directions on the label for a period ;
of only ten days, 80.6% of the cases ,
showed clinical improvement of an infec- \
tion which is most stubborn to control."
[ Improvements were shown in the symp
toms of Athlete's Foot —the itching, burn
ing, redness, etc The report says:
“In our opinion Soretone is of very def
inite benefit in the treatment of this
disease, which is commonly known as
‘Athlete's Foot’.’’
So if Athlete’s Foot troubles you, don’t tem
porize! Get SOFETONE! McKesson & Rob
bins, Inc, Bridgeport, Connecticut.
