Mary Poppins in the Kitchen Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  MARY POPPINS IN THE KITCHEN

  Sunday

  Monday

  Tuesday

  Wednesday

  Thursday

  Friday

  Saturday

  Sunday

  MARY POPPINS’ COOKERY BOOK FROM A TO Z

  Apple Charlotte or Apple Brown Betty

  Beef Patties or Small Hamburgers

  Bread-and-Butter Pudding

  Cherry Pie

  Date Bread

  Dressing for Salads

  Easter Cake

  Fruit Salad

  Gingerbread Stars

  Honey and Bananas

  Irish Stew

  Jam Tarts

  Kale (Cabbage)

  Kings’ or Twelfth Night Cake

  Lancashire Hot Pot

  Lemon Soufflé

  Meringues

  Nut Loaf

  Oatmeal Cookies

  Potatoes

  Queen of Puddings

  Roast Chicken and Bread Sauce

  Shepherd’s Pie

  Trout

  Upside-down Cake

  Very Plain Cake

  Walnut Cake

  XXX Candy kisses

  Yorkshire Pudding

  Zodiac Cake

  Index

  About the Author

  Text copyright © 1975 by P. L. Travers

  Illustrations copyright © 1975 by Mary Shepard Knox

  Hand-tinted illustrations copyright © 2006 by Harcourt, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

  www.hmhbooks.com

  Culinary Consultant: Maurice Moore-Betty

  First published 1975

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Travers, P. L. (Pamela Lyndon), 1899–1996.

  Mary Poppins in the kitchen: a cookery book with a story/P. L. Travers:

  with drawings by Mary Shepard.

  p. cm.

  1. Cookery—Juvenile literature. 2. Literary cookbooks—Juvenile literature. 3. Poppins, Mary (Fictitious character)—Juvenile literature.

  I. Shepard, Mary, 1909–2000 II. Title.

  TX652.5.T72 2006

  641.5'123—dc22 2005031504

  ISBN-13: 978-0-15-206080-0 ISBN-10: 0-15-206080-4

  eISBN 978-0-547-54198-3

  v1.0813

  It was Sunday.

  All the houses in Cherry-Tree Lane were dozing in the afternoon sun—all except Number Seventeen, which was wide awake with noise and laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Banks were having tea in the nursery with Jane, Michael, John, Barbara, and Annabel.

  Suddenly the door opened and in came Mrs. Brill, the cook, with a fresh pot of tea in her hands.

  “If you please, ma’am,” she said as she set it down. “I have a piece of news.” And she pulled a telegram out of her pocket.

  “Nothing bad, I hope!” said Mrs. Banks. The very word news had an ominous sound, and she eyed the telegram with distrust.

  “It’s my niece, you see,” said Mrs. Brill. “Her four children have all got measles. So I must go and help her.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Mrs. Banks with a shriek. “Why must everything happen at once? Ellen’s away nursing a cold, and Mr. Banks and I are on the verge of going to Brighton for a week. George, did you hear?” She turned to her husband. “Mrs. Brill has to go away. What on Earth are we going to do? Who will do the cooking?”

  Mr. Banks, down on all fours, pretending to be an elephant with John and Barbara on his back, rose, panting, to his feet.

  “Ask Mary Poppins,” he replied. “She will manage something.”

  “But can she cook?” wailed Mrs. Banks. “Breakfasts and suppers would not be hard, but what about the dinners?”

  “Humph!” said the well-known voice from the doorway. And the humph was followed by a sniff.

  “Of course she can cook,” said Mr. Banks. “Mary Poppins can do everything, can’t you, Mary Poppins?” Mr. Banks was a tactful man.

  Mary Poppins tossed her head. “I have only one pair of hands,” she said. “And those are occupied.” She had lifted Annabel from the floor, and John and Barbara, one on either side of her, were each hugging a leg.

  “I’ll lend you mine, Mary Poppins,” said Jane. “Then you can have two pairs.”

  “And mine,” said Michael. “I will help you. I’d like to learn to cook.”

  “Me, too,” said John.

  “Me, too,” said Barbara.

  “Could you possibly manage, Mary Poppins? The cab will be here any minute. Perhaps we should cancel it—dear, oh, dear!”

  “And when,” said Mary Poppins grandly, “have I failed to give satisfaction?”

  “Oh, never, never!” cried Mrs. Banks. “I only thought—so much to do—and Robertson Ay so often asleep—and nobody to help you.”

  Mary Poppins smiled a superior smile. “I have friends and relatives,” she said. “And also a cookery book.”

  “Oh, well, if you really think you can—” Mrs. Banks, relieved and flustered, pushed back her chair and rose. “I’ll go and lock my suitcase.”

  “So that’s all right,” said Mr. Banks. “We can leave it to Mary Poppins.” He poured out another cup of tea, drank it hastily, and went downstairs.

  In no time the cab had come to the door, waited while the good-byes were said, and then had rolled away down the lane and disappeared from view.

  Mrs. Brill, bag in hand, paused at the front door on her way out.

  “I’ve left you sandwiches for supper and very plain cake.”

  “Thank you kindly,” said Mary Poppins.

  “But I thought we were going to do the cooking!” said Michael, disappointed.

  “There’s no cooking in sandwiches, Michael. Tomorrow we will start.”

  “But you’re always telling us, Mary Poppins, that tomorrow never comes.”

  “Well, call it Monday,” said Mary Poppins. “For Monday never fails to come. Now, spit-spot and up the stairs and no more argument.”

  Jane looked at Michael.

  Michael looked at Jane.

  “Tomorrow!” they whispered to each other, both feeling that they were on the brink of a new kind of adventure....

  Monday

  “And a bottle of vanilla essence.” Mary Poppins folded her list and put it into her handbag.

  The Grocer and his assistants parceled up the great pile of groceries and put them into the perambulator.

  “Now, home!” said Mary Poppins briskly as she pushed the perambulator before her and sped along Cherry-Tree Lane and up the garden path. The four children straggled after her, laden with provisions. It had been a busy morning, and they all felt that it was a long time since they had had breakfast.

  “What are we cooking today, Mary Poppins?” Jane wanted to know.

  “Roast beef,” said Mary Poppins. “And Yorkshire pudding to go with it and just a suspicion of cabbage.”

  “What! No other pudding?” demanded Michael. “I need to end with something sweet.”

  “Why not gingerbread stars?” said a voice behind them.

  They all turned. And there, at the gate of Number Seventeen, were Mrs. Corry, tiny and neat, and her two large daughters, Fannie and Annie.r />
  “We’ve come to give you a helping hand,” said Mrs. Corry gaily.

  “But we’re helping her!” said Michael stoutly.

  “Then we will help you,” said Mrs. Corry as she quickly broke off one of her fingers and gave him a barley-sugar stick.

  Fannie and Annie shook hands with all and took the parcels from them.

  And in no time they were in the kitchen, eating barley-sugar broken from Mrs. Corry’s fingers and getting ready to cook the dinner.

  “Where shall we begin?” said Jane.

  “At the beginning,” said Mary Poppins. “First of all you wash your hands, and then you remember three useful things. Always let me switch on the stove, keep away from steaming kettles, and never use the sharper knives unless I am standing by.”

  “Yes, Mary Poppins,” they said gravely. And then they were set to work.

  Jane floured and salted the beef, which was put into a hot oven. Michael helped Fannie mix the batter for the Yorkshire pudding, and Annie chopped the cabbage. John and Barbara picked up the scraps and put them into the garbage pail. Annabel, safe in her high chair, sucked at her barley-sugar.

  Mary Poppins and Mrs. Corry, each with a cup of tea before her, watched over the whole proceeding.

  “And now,” said Mrs. Corry, rising, “the first course is safely on its way, so let us get on with the second. Jane and Michael, I have often made gingerbread for you. Now you can make it for me.” And she rolled up the sleeves of her little black coat, turned back her skirt till it looked like an apron, and set them both to work.

  Michael mixed the flour with the soda and spice and added the ginger and raisins. Jane melted the butter with the sugar and added the egg and the treacle.

  “Now put both mixtures into a large bowl and together you can stir.”

  Mrs. Corry stood over them, carefully watching every movement with her little beady eyes. “It’s an excellent recipe,” she said. “I had it from King Alfred the Great. He burnt his other cakes, you know, but never his gingerbread.”

  Jane and Michael scooped the mixture into greased star-shaped tins, and Mrs. Corry put the tins on a tray and popped it into the baking oven.

  “There!” she said. “Now, all we need is some golden stars, and I happen to have some with me.” And she proceeded to fish from an inner pocket a handful of paper stars.

  “You’ll save them, won’t you?” she asked the children, with an eager look in her eyes.

  “Of course we will,” said Jane and Michael, for they knew from old experience that Mrs. Corry’s golden stars had a special kind of magic. Some night, if they looked from the nursery window, they would see her perched on a tall ladder, pasting the stars on the sky, with the help of Mary Poppins.

  Now there was nothing to do but wait, to baste the roast from time to time, to put the Yorkshire pudding into the oven for the last half hour, and to add sugar and salt to the cabbage to help it to keep its flavour.

  “Ten minutes at the most in boiling water. Cabbage needs to be crisp,” said Mary Poppins.

  And then, at last, she called out, “Ready!” and they all sat round the kitchen table, eating a meal fit for a prince, keeping a plateful for Robertson Ay, who was sleeping in the china cupboard.

  “What a beautiful cook I am!” said Michael as he helped himself to a gingerbread star.

  Mary Poppins gave a sniff. “Handsome is as handsome does,” she said with an uppish smile as she led the Corrys to the front door and said a polite good-bye.

  Tuesday

  “What is the plan for today, Mary Poppins?” asked Jane as she and Michael dried the breakfast dishes.

  “She’s planning to go to sea, of course!” said a voice outside the open kitchen window. And there in the garden stood Admiral Boom, with his Admiral’s hat on the back of his head and his telescope under his arm.

  Jane and Michael threw down their cloths and ran to open the kitchen door.

  “Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!” they cried, pulling the Admiral into the kitchen and hugging him round the waist.

  “Ahoy there, my hearties! Hoist the mainsail! Well, Mary Poppins, all alone? What are you having for dinner today?”

  “Well, yesterday it was roast beef. So today it has to be shepherd’s pie.”

  “Of course it does,” said Admiral Boom. “Shepherd’s pie always comes after roast beef. It uses up the remains. Well, pipe the Admiral aboard and he’ll help you in the galley. What about vegetables?” he said as he plucked Mrs. Brill’s apron from behind the door and tied it round his waist.

  “Carrots,” said Mary Poppins briskly. “And mashed potatoes for the top of the pie and apple charlotte to follow.”

  “Good!” said the Admiral. “Now, all hands on deck. Ship’s company, quick march!”

  The children rushed to do his bidding. Michael brought him the mincing machine. Jane brought the cold roast beef from the icebox. John and Barbara gave him the chopping board.

  “There we are, that’s all shipshape. We’ll screw the machine to the edge of the table and chop up the meat and put it in.

  ‘Follow the fleet and fly with me,

  Far away to the foaming sea,’”

  sang Admiral Boom as he turned the handle.

  Then Jane and Michael took a hand at the turning, and very soon the cold roast beef became a plateful of minced meat. Jane spooned it into a baking dish while Michael, watched over by the Admiral, sprinkled it with pepper and salt.

  “Ropes and rigging, cockles and shrimps! Now, all we need is a chopped onion—” The Admiral darted to the vegetable basket. “And a spoonful or two of chopped parsley and some leftover gravy.” He opened the door of the kitchen cupboard. “And once we’ve cooked and mashed the potatoes, we’ll spread them all over the top, and in with it to the oven. Belay there! Now for the apple charlotte! Blast my gizzard, Mary Poppins, you’re doing all the work yourself!”

  “A stitch in time saves nine,” said Mary Poppins primly as she finished the scraping of the carrots and turned to peel the apples. “Now, one of you can butter a pie dish and put in the apples in layers. Another can sprinkle them with sugar, and a third can cover them with bread crumbs. Apple charlotte,” she warned them all, “should be soft and sticky and moist and rich.”

  “Ay, ay, it’s just the dish for a sailor. Heave to and let down the anchor, messmates. If Mary Poppins says, ‘Stay to dinner,’ I won’t go to sea after all.”

  Of course Mary Poppins could not refuse, and the Admiral delighted them all by having two helpings of shepherd’s pie and three of apple charlotte.

  And nobody noticed, least of all Admiral Boom, that when at last he took his leave, he still had Mrs. Brill’s apron tied firmly round his waist.

  Wednesday

  “There now!” said Mary Poppins as she settled Annabel into the perambulator and wheeled it into the garden.

  “And now to work,” she ordered the children as she led them all into the kitchen.

  At that moment the doorbell rang, and presently Robertson Ay came in, yawning and looking sleepy.

  “You’ve got visitors,” he said wearily. “By the name of Mr. and Mrs. Turvy.”

  He ushered two people into the room and collapsed upon a chair in the doorway.

  “Why, Cousin Arthur, what a surprise! And you, too, Topsy!” cried Mary Poppins.

  Jane and Michael ran to greet the curious-looking guests, both of whom were wearing their clothes back to front.

  “But this is Wednesday,” said Michael. “I thought that only happened on Tuesdays.” He gazed at Mr. Turvy’s jacket, which was buttoned down the back, and at Mrs. Turvy’s straw hat with its feather facing forward.

  “It’s all altered,” said Mr. Turvy. “It happens every day now. We’re topsy-turvier than ever. But still we thought we’d come and help.”

  “A very kind thought,” said Mary Poppins. “We’re having Irish stew today and then honey and bananas.”

  “Better have upside-down cake. More suitable,” said Mr.
Turvy.

  So everybody set to work. And though the guests behaved in a topsy-turvy manner—Mrs. Turvy repeatedly stood on her head and Mr. Turvy insisted on looking for the lamb chops in the broom cupboard—the cooking got under way.

  Under Mary Poppins’ watchful eye the children peeled potatoes and onions and put them in the casserole. Michael added the lamb chops. Jane covered it all with water, and Mr. Turvy was politely prevented from adding a touch of sugar.

  “Irish stew cooks itself,” said Mary Poppins as she put the casserole into the oven. “So we can concentrate on the cake. Michael, you may slice the peaches, and Jane can make the batter. No, Topsy, the egg must be beaten to a froth; it does not have to be fried!”

  Jane stirred and stirred with a wooden spoon till the butter was creamed and the sugar added. And, gradually, in spite of Mr. Turvy’s efforts to add some unnecessary salt and Mrs. Turvy’s powdering her nose with sifted flour, the ingredients were mixed together, the batter poured over the sliced peaches, and the cake put in the oven.

  “Now, all we have to do is wait,” said Mary Poppins calmly. “Won’t you sit down?” she asked the Turvys.

  “I’d like to sit down,” said Mr. Turvy, “but, of course, as everything’s back to front, I cannot help standing up.”

  “Why don’t we dance?” said Mrs. Turvy. “That’s better than sitting down.” And she began to turn, feet over head, round and round the kitchen table. Mr. Turvy sighed but followed, and their topsy-turvy behaviour was so infectious that presently everyone was dancing, or turning head over heels. Jane and Michael pranced and polkaed, John and Barbara skipped and spun. Even Mary Poppins, holding out the strings of her apron, waltzed primly round the table. The only people not dancing were Annabel, who was scraping out the batter bowl, and Robertson Ay, who was sound asleep.

  “Enough!” said Mary Poppins at last. “Everything must be cooked by now.”