Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1875 — UNCLE SETH’S COOKING-MATCH. [ARTICLE]

UNCLE SETH’S COOKING-MATCH.

BY MARY MORRISON.

Uncle Seth was—why, Uncle Seth. He was a character by himself. There never was anybody like him, and he was not like anybody. He was an old bachelor; but he took care of so many poor widows and fatherless children that he seemed more fatherly and husbandly than my papa, who had only mamma, Rob and me. He was very rich, but he lived in such a plain house and wore such simple clothes, all out of fashion, that nobody would ever have known how his gold was piled up in the bank. Uncle Seth was always thiliking; but he never told his plans until he surprised us all by something splendid none of us had ever dreamed of. But he never wanted any thanks, only he liked to sit and look at us and rub his hands as he saw how we enjoyed it. “They said” Uncle Seth was “disappointed” when he was young. That he loved a pretty, gay young girl, but before he asked her to marry him he thought he would go to sea a second time, and “ make his crown a pound.” But she, with all her love and romance, without a thought for the practical part of life—what a bother that is, anyway—thought he did not care for hefc; and, that she might get rid of her disappointment the quicker, married his friend, who stayed at home. “They said” that the Widow Nelson, who had lately come to Riverbanks to live with her daughter, was the very one; but Uncle Seth said nothing about it. He did not know they were poor and took in sewing. But we did not dare ask any questions, and I don’t think he liad heard of it. We had just been having a spellingmatch and were discussing it when Uncle Seth came in. “Hurrah! Bob,” he said. “So you beat all the boys in the High School and Academy in spelling. I congratulate you.” “Yes,” said Bob, complacently; “but I had to fall at last.” “What was the word that brought you down?” t “ Zinziberaceous,” he answered, smiling. “Enough to bring anybody down, I should think,” said Uncle Seth, sympathizingly. “Does itmean the condition of things in the ark?” “ No;<jt means pertaining to ginger. So Smart says, in * Webster.’” : “ The man must be smart who Invents such words as that,’! said Uncle Seth. “ But, Pollie,” he said, turning to me, “why don’t you girls. get up some kind of match? I thought girls were fond of making matches?” “Do you suppose we could eVer have courage to spell in the Town-Hall, Uncle Seth? I know I should forget how to spell dog!” “ What is the use of having a spellingmatch? We have had a spell of spelling, until everybody is sick of the sound of the word. * Excuse me, Bob; I mean all but the heroes of the oAasion. But, Pollie, now- seriously, listen! I propose a cook-ing-match.” “Good,” said papa. And “ Capital!” cried Bob. “ I’ll be onl the tasting committee!” “ We’ll give you the zinziberaceous articles to try," said Uncle Seth, laughing. “ What is the rest or. your plan, Seth?” asked mother. “ I propose to give a prize of five dollars for the best cake, twenty fdf the best bread and five for the best fancy tea-dish.*

I propose that we give this notice publicly and that the articles for competition be all sent in to the Town-Hall two weeks from to-day, by eight o’clock; and also that a;committee of three ladies— ‘ there’s luck in odd numbers,’ you know—be appointed as judges. I propose that we have music and readings, and at the end announce the prizes and pass round the cake. Lemonade I will provide.” “But,” said Bob, “you have pijide no provision for tickets. Is it to be free?” “No. We will have a limited number of tickets at a dollar apiece, and the surplus money shall buy flour for the poor widows of the town.” I clapped my hands and danced about Uncle Seth, and kissed him, and told him he was the most splendid uncle that ever was made,- but that two weeks was too short a time for me to practice. Rob laughed at this, and expressed the desire that I would not give the family the benefit of my experiments in the meantime, as he had too fresh recollection of asking for bread and receiving a stone, once upcfh a time. That was only too true; but he played base-ball with the biscuit and won the game for the first time, so he had no. right to complain. Then mamma—dear, practical mamma —reminded Uncle Seth that he had not limited the age, and asked if she was to be permitted to try for the prizes. “ There! I did forget that,” he said. “It shall be open to girls under twenty. I think it would be rather discouraging to the younger ones to see proofs of skill like yours placed in comparison with theirs.” And this was the way that our cookingmatch was planned. The long-wislied-for evening came at last, as all wislied-for evenings come, if we only wait; and only one addition had been made to Uncle Seth’s plan, and that was that those who sent in contributions should be admitted free.

The hall was beautifully trimmed with evergreens and Mayflowers; the tables ■were covered with snowy white cloths, and each had a pretty centerpiece of flowers; the place for the band was among the green cedars and flags in the gallery; and the platform was ranged with red, w'hite and blue drapery, evergreens and candles. There were seats in the center for the judge and committee of award, and the steps where the successful young aspirants were to go up for their prizes were carpeted with blue and bordered with pots of white geraniums. The girls themselves, all with white aprons and jaunty muslin caps, w-ere to wait upon the people and pass the lemonade and cake after the prizes had been given. The committee had their room back of the hall; and after the commencement of the entertainment, when every dish had been seen first by the audience, they were carried to the committee to be inspected. There were seats in the hall, but the people promenaded aiTthe band played ; and when the readings were- given they sat down and listened. By the way, Bob wasn’t put on the tasting committee, and lie says he shall not forgive Uncle Beth as. long as he lives. I know he will before Christmas, though. Bob never keeps up a quarrel with us through the month of December.

Just here I must tell you a little bit of a conversation I heard between Uncle Seth and mother the night before the cook-ing-match : “I think you have planned a capital thing, Seth, to interest the girls in cooking. There has not been such an excitement jn Riverbanks for months; and that is a branch of housewifery that they all neglect—at least, nearly all. I heard a young lady say the other day that she was to go to housekeeping in a week and do her own work, but she never had cooked anything in her life but chocolate caramels.” “Yes,” said Uncle Seth, “and the worst feature of the thing is that they boast of their ignorance.” “They won’t do that in Riverbanks now. You have made it the fashion to cook. But why did you add fancy teadishes ?” “Because so few women understand making them, and a savory bit for tea is always appreciated. Something besides pies and cake, or instead of them —something with a character to it! Brains can be of use in cooking as well as anything else.” “Calf’s brains and pluck?” asked mamma, laughing. “No; New England brains and New England pluck, which all our girls have if they would only use them. By the way, Maria, do you remember that Turkish pillaw [pronounced Pelahf— a decoction of rice boiled in rich mutton-broth and tomato-water, and a great favorite in Turkey] Helen used to make from the recipe I brought- from Constantinople? No one else could ever do it so well as the people in the East except Helen —my Helen, you remember, Maria?” I had been wondering who this Helen could be, whom I had never before heard of; but when he spoke in a low-er tone and said my Helen, then I knew. While the people were listening to the music the evening of our match, 1 slipped into the hack-room to seeUncie Beth. The committee were buzzing like three great bumble-bees, and Uncle Seth was locking on quietly, rubbing his hands and smiling, when, suddenly, the three woman all stopped chattering and held up their hands in wonder and horror. At last one of them spoke: “ Whatever in the world is this mess?” And then the second spoke: “It is salmon-colored.” As if that in itself were sufficient to brand it Then the third, as if a new idea had occurred to her, proposed: “Let us taste it.” “You may,” said the first. “Idon’t want to. It’s something from the shanties, I know.” Then Uncle Seth came forward and looked. You ought to have seen his face. First he turned red, and then white, and then went back to his chair. What could it be? Whatever it was, only one woman dared to taste it, and by universal consent it was put aside. Then I went round by Uncle Seth and said, softly: “ What do you suppose it is? A kind of Witch compound— «, Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and owlet’s wing. Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips ?”

“ It would take the nose of Turk to know it, or else mine,” said he. “ Bring it here, Pollie. Let me try it. I don’t want any of the girls to be disappointed.” And I brought it, and he tasted. “Yes, it is pill aw,” he said. “ J ust what I thought. It deserves a prize and shall have it.” I was so chrious—so different from girls generally, you know—that I could not resist the temptation of asking: “ Who do you suppose made it?” I had gone a step too far. I always am doing that. Uncle Seth looked sober and turned away without answeririg me. But just then the band began to play “The Watch on the Rhine,” and I forgot all about the pitlaw and went back into the hall The time of triumph for some of us had come. The judge had taken his seat in the large chair on the platform. How I did hope my bread would get a prize, just to stop Bob’s tongue! But boys are so aggravating, and bread is so contrary." I knew it wouldn’t get the prize, for I was sure that it did not rise quite enough. Mother says her spirits always rise and fall with the bread. I was pondering on the trials of life in this misanthropic way when suddenly I was called back to what was going on about me by the announcement of the first prize: Miss Mary Lawton: Twenty dollars for the best bread. Oh! what a thrill she must have felt as she went up through the flowers with her eyes sparkling and her blue ribbons waving. How glad I was that she had got it. To be sure, I —but never mind • Miss Hettie Smith and Miss Pollie Webster ; Five dollars each for the best cake; both equally good. And now I was to go up among the flowers! I was to have a prize! It was lovely to see the others, but—to have a prize one’s own self! It is rather nicer, isn’t it? Especially when one hasn’t become altogether sanctified—and I can’t be that before Bob goes away to college, I know. Miss Martha Felstone: Five dollars for best fancy dish for tea. Then Uncle Seth said: “There is another prize I should like to give for the best fancy dish, but I am tolu that it was left without a name. It is the Turkish pillaw, which is made to perfection, and as good as I have ever seen m Constantinople. If the young girl who has made this is in the hall I shall be glad to give the last prize to her.” But no one moved. The committee looked at each other and at Uncle Seth in a most bewildered way. I should have been convinced that it was the “witches' work” but for Uncle Seth’s conversation with mamma. “I do believe,” I whispered to Bob, “ that we are on the edge of a love-story. Don’t you tell.” Rob looked at me as if I were an idiot; so I “didn’t tell” him what I guessed. But no one claimed the prize, and, after refreshments, the cooking-match was ove??’ Such a gay evening we had never had before in Riverbanks. But what I told Rob, or what I was intending to tell him, was true; and we were soon not only on the edge of a love-story, but right in the midst of it —an unexpected second volume. Uncle Seth found the girl who made the pillaw at last, but instead of giving her $5 he gave her mother—“ my Helen” —his own splendid self and all he had. And now the plain house will bloom all over with roses and Uncle Seth will buy a new hat—people always do when they get married, don’t they? And he will have a chance to eat pillaw to his heart’s content, or with his heart’s content. By the way, Uncle Seth laughed so the other night, just after the wedding, when I asked him, soberly, if he didn’t believe in cooking-matches. He looked at u my Helen,” sitting by his side, and said, rubbing his hands: “Yes, Pollie; ’twas a very good * match ,’ wasn’t it?”— N. Y. Independent.