The khaki kook book : $b a collection of a hundred cheap and practical recipes mostly from Hindustan

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                 THE
           KHAKI KOOK BOOK

 A COLLECTION OF A HUNDRED CHEAP AND
    PRACTICAL RECIPES MOSTLY FROM
             HINDUSTAN.

                _By_
          MARY KENNEDY CORE
          Bareilly, India.


       PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR
                 BY
         THE ABINGDON PRESS




 Copyright, 1917, by
 Mary Kennedy Core.




Preface.

WHY THIS LITTLE BOOK.


About ten years ago the idea of writing a little cook book had its
birth. We were in Almora that summer. Almora is a station far up in the
Himalayas, a clean little bazaar nestles at the foot of enclosing
mountains. Dotting the deodar-covered slopes of these mountains are the
picturesque bungalows of the European residents, while towering above
and over all are the glistening peaks of the eternal snows.

[Illustration]

We love to think of this particular summer, for Lilavate Singh was with
us. The thought of her always brings help and inspiration.

One day she prepared for the crowd of us a tiffin of delicious
Hindustani food. That afternoon while we were sitting under the shade
and fragrance of the deodar trees, we praised the tiffin. Before we knew
it we were planning a cook book. It was to be a joint affair of
Hindustani and English dishes, and Miss Singh was to be responsible for
the Hindustani part of it. Our enthusiasm grew. For three or four days
we talked of nothing else. We experimented, we planned; we dreamed, we
wrote. But alas! other things soon thrust themselves upon us, and our
unfinished cook book was pigeon-holed for years and years.

And it is not now what it would have been if finished then.

Many of the recipes, however, are those that Miss Singh gave us then.
Some of them she might not recognize, for they have become quite
Americanized, but they are hers nevertheless, and I hope that you will
not only try them and enjoy them, but that they will help you to solve
some of the problems of living and giving which are confronting us all
these days.

I have told this story before, but it fits in well here. A lady in India
once had an ayah, who from morning until night sang the same sad song as
she would wheel the baby in its little go-cart up and down the mandal or
driveway; as she would energetically jump it up and down; as she would
lazily pat it to sleep, always and ever she could be heard chanting
plaintively, "Ky a ke waste, Ky a ke waste, pet ke waste, pet ke waste."

The lady's curiosity was aroused. The words were simple enough, but
they had no sense: "For why? For why? For why? For stomach! For stomach!
For stomach!" wailed the ayah.

Desiring to know what was for why, and what was for stomach one day, the
lady called the ayah to her and sought the interpretation thereof.

"This is the meaning, Oh mem sahiba," said the ayah: "Why do we live?
What is the meaning of our existence? To fill our stomachs, to fill our
stomachs."

You may smile at this and feel sorry for the poor benighted Hindu, who
has such a low ideal of the meaning of life, but after all we cannot
ignore the fact that we must eat, and that much as we dislike to
acknowledge it, we are compelled to think a great deal about filling our
stomachs. This is especially true these days, when prices have soared
and soared and taken along with them, far out of the reach of many of
us, certain articles of food which we heretofore have always felt were
quite necessary to us.

The missionary on furlough is naturally regarded as a bureau of
information regarding the land where he has lived and worked. Many are
the questions asked. These questions are inclusive of life and
experience in general, but in particular they are regarding the food.
"What do you eat there? Do you get meat there? What kind of vegetables
grow there? What about the fruit of India? Why don't missionaries do
their own cooking? Do the cooks there cook well? Aren't you always glad
to get back to the food in America?" These and similar questions are
sure to be asked the missionary and others who have lived in foreign
countries.

Feeling sure that everybody wants to know these very things about India,
it might be well just here to answer some of these questions.

In regard to the meat in India: The Hindus are vegetarians, but the
Mohammedans are great meat eaters. So are the English. Meat can be had
almost every place. The kind of meat differs much in locality. Chickens
can be obtained anywhere. The Indian cock is small of head and long of
leg, shrill of voice and bold in spirit. The Indian hen is shy and wild,
but gives plenty of small, delicately-flavored eggs. On the whole, aside
from a few idiosyncrasies, the Indian fowl is very satisfactory.

In large cities like Bombay, Calcutta, Lucknow, Madras, etc., where
there is a large English population, any kind of meat may be obtained.
In other places only goat meat can be obtained.