THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.

REDUCTIONS IN THE MENU.

As English people we allow ourselves to be illogical at times. We have heard and highly approved all the exhortations in recent weeks to exercise the sternest economy over all expenditure that can be avoided, and we realise to the full that no shipping space can be spared for anything not absolutely essential. Yet we are all going to keep Christmas and have as complete a dinner as we can get together. Of course, we all salve out consciences and promise to make up for this little bout of self-indulgence by the most Spartan self-denial in the New Year. But at the back of the mind of all of us is a feeling that even if the way to victory be long and tedious, still we are not a beaten and humiliated people. And somehow a penetential Christmas, with a dinner of herbs, seems to suggest that we have no right to enjoy the good things which, after all, are available at the moment, and would not help the situation greatly three months hence if we left them in the shops.

It is, however, Christmas with a difference, as every woman who has been out shopping this week for herself has fully understood. In past years, hospitality demanded that there should be something available for the enjoyment of friends as well as the household itself at any meal, and the Christmas dinner by no means exhausted the special requirements to be met. But the cakes that would enhance the attractions of the afternoon tea have presented a very restricted choice this week, while the potted meats for dainty little sandwiches, and the delicious preserves that appealed to youthful tastes are no longer to be found. Crystallised fruits, Elvas plums, almonds, and raisins cannot this year grace the dessert table, or be enjoyed as delectable refreshments between meals.

The depleted provision counters will have their affects upon the accessories of the season’s meals. Already there is a kind of rationing in respect of the sausage-meat for the stuffing of the turkey, and at some shops the individual customer’s allowance is not to exceed one pound. Nor will it be easy to substitute chestnuts for it, as these are scarce and dear. Ham, as the accompaniment of the turkey, will certainly be ruled out, unless the shopkeeper is willing, as many now are, to cut it into small piece of a pound or two. Some shrewd people have secured fairly good bargains in pickled ox tongues, which have been retailed at 11d to 1s 1d a pound, though at the close of the week the supplies did not appear to be extensive. Even the “Bath chap,” or pig’s cheek, takes its place with the luxuries of the table at 1s 8d to 1s 10d a pound, while bacon is hardly to be had at all. Stilton cheese has been in good demand, for at the “controlled” price it is little if at all dearer than it usually is, and prudent buyers have realised the fact. In the big stores there would still appear to be a fair amount of cheese available, but the humbler retailer has little if any to offer. The scarcity of butter, margarine, and eggs will, of course, be reflected in a drastic curtailment of sauces to accompany fish, vegetables, or puddings, to the despair of the professional cook priding herself upon her skill in these adjuncts.

As a result, the family dinner this year will generally be a shorter and simpler affair than it had come to be. Only the extravagant will try to include an entrée as well as fish; to offer jelly in addition to the plum-pudding, if by good management or a discreet purchase this can hold its honoured and traditional place. It can certainly be crowned with its sprig of gaily berried holly, for this at least is abundant, and can give its own message of cheer and brightness. In most houses, too, the domestic staff is reduced, and the service of a lengthy meal, with several courses, could not be satisfactorily under taken. But many homes will be cheered by the presence of the men enjoying leave from the trenches and elsewhere the claims will be paramount of the children to their part in the joy associated with the festival. Only the grimmest of hard Gradgrinds would urge that either the splendid fellows who are, in the course of duty, facing cold, wet, mud, every thing that is cheerless, everything that is dangerous, or the little folks to whom the knowledge of pain and suffering has not yet come, should be offered a dour and forbidding substitute for the fair traditions of the centuries. Therefore, we shall make this the fourth Christmas under the shadow of the war cloud – as happy and as festal as we can to those of our own households and to the poor who, even in these days of bettered wages, are ever at the gate.