THE NATION : THE JAUNDICED EYE : The Real Dish Behind First July 4 Cook-Out

Reprinted from recently discovered pages of Benjamin Franklin’s long-lost personal journal, July, 1776.

Near Philadelphia, July 4, 1776:

My invention of the Franklin Collapsible Three-Legged Cookery Stove, as portable as any Canoe or the heaviest of Portmanteaus, can this day be pronounced a Success, earned by way of its ideal Utility, as demonstrated before an appreciative gathering at the house of Thos. Jefferson in the late Post-Meridian, who did fairly “wolf down” the German meat pies (I call them “Hamburgs”) and German meat tubes (in my Patent, called “Frankfurts”) as fast as the Collapsible Cookery Stove could fry same.

Alas, this was mayhap the only Success of the Party, the events I must scribble down of a hurry, so as to maintain the remembrance of this Novel means of social dining--so Novel, that I think to Patent it as the “Cook-Out Meal & Party.”

High Noon: Unpacking the Collapsible Three-Legged Cookery Stove and dilating upon its workings, I am fair “kibitzed” to madness by Thos. J., with his own singular ideas--viz. a Retractable chimney, a Lens Heated by the Sun for Combustion, ad nauseam. He draws a plan for a better cookery stove, then another, then another.

All the while, as the arrival of the guests is awaited, his Swarthy companion Miss H. is filing the nails of her fingers and chewing rubber balls that maketh for popping sounds. “This gazette is fairly the most boring of all trials,” she next laments--referring to my own Saturday Evening Post “Independence Day Special Number!!!”

Betimes arrive Madison, Hamilton and George and Martha, she all in Muslin knickers of pink and a British Red Coat, thinking to be waggish but all unbecoming for a woman of her Age and Figure.

Madison lyeth down on a chaise lounge and promptly yields himself up to Morpheus; he hath been quaffing copiously before debouching from the carriage.

Hamilton, for His part, begins another of his long and tendentious Perorations on Gov’t and Agriculture, or some such discourse that numbeth the Brain and quite clasheth with a Party humor. Jefferson, running in and out from his Study with new plans for a cookery Stove, hath all manner of gewgaws and gimcrackery, but none of Meat Sauce or Salt. Martha W. insists on another ale and a dance and, ignored, throws her tankard at her Husband, who returneth it, with accuracy.

Martha’s wailing is short-lived, for now of a sudden clatters into view a Barouche, disgorging T. Paine, the celebrated “party crasher of two Continents.” Paine immediately readeth yet another Pamphlet of his own composition and, of course, falleth into heavy argument with Thos. J. and Hamilton. The ale keg by now is all but drained, and fisticuffs are threatened between J. and P. until Miss H. interveneth with a Fashion Question for Thos. J., anent her pumps.

News of Sport now revives a sullen calm, after Thos. P. is accused of flirting with Miss H. by Thos. J. Hamilton doth fulminate at length on rounders and lacrosse, yet no man is so uncivil as to brook his ravings. All agree that the Parade at Philadelphia should be an annual custom, but none are bestirred to leave and attend. A new keg is rolled in. Washington, in leather Apron and Chef’s toque, attends to the cooking. “Verily,” exclaims Hamilton, all should see the Father of His Country with his Teeth out. He cannot even say “Washington!” Washington, alack, is too deaf to hear.

Now Madison awakes, and, none too steady, ambulates directly into my Collapsible, sending sparks a-flying and Miss H. to her room. Happily, no damage is done, save to Madison’s Posterior, scorched. Martha W. is meanwhile sitting on Madison’s lap, which by his Facial Gestures, Madison prefers equally to dandling a Buffalo on his knee.

Paine is caught by this Scrivener, stealing Hamburgs and Frankfurts from the stove top and eating them with his hands, behind a pretty bush. The stove goes out. Miss H. returns with paper for the burning, and Thos. J. is berserked again, for she has incinerated an important Scientific Treatise.

Now it is almost dark, and only the undersigned and Hamilton are left standing. (Martha has disappeared into the pretty bushes with Paine.) We join in evensong, the old songs of our boyhood. Jefferson, abed, doth bellow from the window that we should repair homeward post haste. I pack up the Collapsible and, more in sorrow than in anger, comply.

And so to bed, warmed by the certain knowledge that there shall be no more July 4 Cook-Outs!*