Why I Failed as a Cook

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Aug 6, 1914

Why I Failed as a Cook

In the Country Gentleman, Marion Shenard tells how she failed as a cook. She was a college educated girl, who, after teaching a few years, married a cattle rancher and went to live in his home in a Montana valley fifty miles from the railroad. Their chief summer work was the putting up of fifteen hundred tons of hay. For help they obtained through employment agencies thirty “hay diggers,” “hobos,” who starved the rest of the year, but demanded plenty of “good grub” at haying time. Her cook demanding an extravagant raise in wages, she dismissed her in a fit of independence, determined to do her own cooking, since she had had three years of domestic science instruction and was considered by her husband the “best cook in the world.” So she exerted herself to please the hungry men; for they would leave if dissatisfied with the board. But in two weeks two men quit, complaining about the food. She redoubled her efforts, yet at the end of the month three more quit. And no more men could be obtained, for the ranch had gained the reputation of “putting up bad grub.” In consequence the year’s work was a failure. The board cost a thousand dollars more than on previous years, and for lack of help much of the hay was uncut, or was spoiled by the fall rains. The loss was so heavy that the ranch had to be mortgaged to meet it. Although her husband bore his loss nobly and treated her kindly, praising her efforts and telling her she was the best cook in the world, yet she knew she had failed, failed miserably. After the first passion of her grief had subsided, she resolved to find out the cause of her failure; and we shall let her tell the rest of the story in her own words:—

“The day after the hay diggers left, I started out on horseback, determined to find out why I had failed. My nearest woman neighbor lived five miles away. She was a German from the old country, and I venture to state that she knew absolutely nothing about the ‘chemistry of cooking,’ of that ‘dainty touch,’ or the ‘well-balanced diet.’ But she had cooked for hay diggers for years and never had a single ‘kick.’

“‘Laws!’ she exclaimed, as I entered her cheerful kitchen where she was making cookies, ‘you looks all tribbled out. You ain’t been sick?’”

“I sat down and went right to the heart of the matter, feeling sure that she would sympathize if not help.

“When I had finished reciting my troubles, she looked up from her rolling-pin. ‘Why, you poor little pride! vat did you feed dem?’”

“I enumerated, not forgetting the pies and salads, the roses on the table, and the other ‘dainty touches.’”

“‘Didn’t you cook potatoes every meal?’”

“‘Why, no, I gave them potatoes once a day; there were plenty of other fresh vegetables.’”

“‘Vell, no vonder dey kicked! Didn’t you ever gife dem beans?’”

“‘I gave them baked beans once or twice.’”

“‘No vonder dey kicked! Did you hafe boiled dinners real often?’”

“‘Why, no, but I gave them all kinds of nice green vegetables, and biscuit, and caramel cake every night for supper, and I certainly used the eggs and butter.’”

“‘My! I’d of tought you’d broke your ole man.’”

“‘Well, I did. But I had to give them good food and plenty of it.’”

“‘Yes, my dear, all dat looks good to you, but it don’t look like anything to a bunch of vorkin’ men. You’ve got to feed rough men rough feeds. Beans, potatoes, cabbage—dem’s my stand-bys, and I generally feeds puddin’ for dinner.’”

“A great light began to dawn on my dark failure. I realized that my idea of good food was very erroneous from the standpoint of the hay digger. I played my last defensive card:—

“‘I was careful to give them a well-balanced diet.’”

“The old woman looked puzzled for a moment.

“‘Vell-palanced, is it? Vell, mit all dey eats, it’s likely to get palanced inside of dem some vays; I’m always afraid it’ll overpalance dey stomicks, and ve’ll have to get de doctor.’”

“‘Well, I see now,’ I commented, and the great joy of knowing why came to me.

“‘Yes, you vas tinking you vas feeding de Ladies’ Aid or a bunch of invalids, instead of just hard-vorking men.’”

“So now I understand why I failed in the ranch kitchen. Next summer I shall try again, with the brightest chances for success; for I shall plan very differently, and shall add a goodly supply of potatoes, beans, and cabbage to my menu.”