Mary Poppins in the Kitchen

by P. L. Travers

  Her word was enough. The whirling kitchen steadied itself. Everyone came to a halt. Michael carefully took the stew from the oven. Jane turned the cake out downside up and covered it with whipped cream.

  “It’s a great success!” said Mary Poppins. “We won’t call it upside-down cake ever again. Its name will be Topsy-Turvy!”

  Thursday

  “That’s one thing done!” said Mary Poppins as she swept the dust into a pan and put the broom away. She glanced round the spotless kitchen floor and seemed to be pleased with her handiwork.

  “Mary Poppins,” said Michael as he watched her tie on a fresh white apron. “Who do you think will come today?”

  “Why should anyone come, may I ask?”

  “To help us,” said Jane, “to cook the dinner.”

  “We don’t need help,” said Mary Poppins. “It’s a very simple meal today—beef patties with green peas and bread-and-butter pudding.”

  “That sounds delicious! May I come in?”

  At these words everybody turned. And there stood a small chubby old man in a frock coat and baggy trousers and a long white beard down to his waist.

  “Cousin Fred!” exclaimed Mary Poppins.

  “Mr. Twigley!” the children cried.

  “The front door was open, Mary, my dear, and a young man was sleeping on the doormat. So I just stepped over him and came in.”

  “Will you get any wishes today?” asked Michael.

  “Oh, dear me, no! They only happen on the first New Moon after the Second Wet Sunday after the Third of May. I can’t just wish the patties cooked. But I’ll help wherever I can.” Mr. Twigley took up a fork, ran his fingers lightly across it, and a stave of music sounded.

  “Now, Fred, we do need something more than music!”

  “Of course you do, Mary, my dear.” Mr. Twigley put a spoon to his lips and blew a flute-like phrase. “You must shape the meat into neat round cakes, press them lightly with the hands, and fry them in a dry pan or put them under the grill.” He sang the words in a shaky tenor voice.

  “I’ll do it,” sang Michael, imitating Mr. Twigley. “Give me the meat.”

  “Jane,” warbled Mary Poppins sweetly, “you must put the slices of buttered bread in layers into a buttered pie dish.”

  “And sprinkle raisins between the layers and cover it all with a simple custard,” trilled Jane in a high soprano.

  “Me, too! Me, too!” chanted John and Barbara in their shrill small voices.

  And there they all were, singing and cooking, with Mr. Twigley making music with everything he touched. He struck two saucepan lids together and made them sound like cymbals. He took the egg whisk and plucked the wire, and there was a small guitar. He thumped on the pie dish with his fists till it gave forth a roll of drums. He made knives sound like violins and soup spoons like xylophones. And when the beef patties were ready and the pudding came brown and crisp from the oven, they arrived together on the table with a lordly blare of a trumpet blown through a stalk of celery.

  “Splendid!” said Mr. Twigley proudly, as though he had cooked the whole meal himself. “And I find that I do have a wish after all!”

  “But will it come true?” demanded Jane.

  “It depends on her,” said Mr. Twigley, nodding at Mary Poppins. “I do so wish, Mary, my dear, that we could make a picnic of it and take our meal into the garden.”

  “Oh, please, Mary Poppins!” cried Jane and Michael.

  But Mary Poppins, as if by magic, was already out under the elm tree and spreading a tablecloth in its shade.

  “That was a wonderful wish,” said Jane as they all sat around the tablecloth eating beef patties and peas.

  Mr. Twigley plucked a blade of grass and ran it lightly over his lips till it sounded like an English horn.

  “Mr. Twigley,” demanded Michael. “Has everything got its own true music?”

  “Everything,” answered Mr. Twigley.

  “And everybody?” Jane inquired.

  “Everybody,” he said.

  Friday

  Jane was sitting by the kitchen window, waiting to hear the menu for the day.

  “There’s a pigeon,” she said, “staring in at me. What can it want? Oh, it’s flown away.”

  “Well, let it fly,” said Mary Poppins. “I’ve quite enough birds to think of, thank you, with roast chicken and bread sauce for dinner and green beans and fruit salad.”

  “Feed the birds, tuppence a bag!” A familiar voice sounded outside in the garden.

  “It’s the Bird Woman!” cried the children together as Michael ran to the kitchen door.

  And there, indeed, the Bird Woman stood, with a ring of pigeons about her. In one hand she carried her basket of bread crumbs and in the other a bunch of herbs.

  “My birdie told me you were at home, so I thought I’d drop in to have a little chat and to see how you were faring.”

  “Mustn’t grumble,” said Mary Poppins. “We’re doing nicely, thank you.”

  “And chicken for dinner, my dears, I see. So these will come in handy.”

  The Bird Woman waved her bunch of herbs and handed them to Michael.

  “Tuck them inside him, love,” she said. “They’ll make him sweet and tasty.”

  So the chicken was stuffed full of garden herbs, rubbed with salt and lemon juice, and popped inside the oven. The green beans were washed and stripped. And the Bird Woman’s pigeons flew round the kitchen, perching on shelves or the backs of chairs and sometimes on the children’s shoulders.

  “And now the bread sauce,” said Mary Poppins. “You take the bread, Jane, and crumble it—”

  “Wait a minute!” the Bird Woman cried. And she opened several bagfuls of crumbs and poured them into a saucepan.

  “That will save you some work, my chick. Now all we need is milk and butter and a small onion for flavour.”

  The Bird Woman stood by the kitchen stove, stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon. She salted it and peppered it. And her birds clustered close about her, one on her hat and another in her pocket.

  “Now we’ll set it aside and warm it when the chicken’s ready. It will be a sauce fit for a king. Well, I must be off.”

  “But you’ll stay to dinner, ma’am, surely?” Mary Poppins, her hands full of bananas, oranges, apples, and pears, made a gesture of invitation. “Jane and Michael are going to make a fruit salad.”

  “No, no. I must be on my way. My other birdies are waiting. You’ve got your birds to feed. I’ve got mine.”

  The Bird Woman, under a cloud of wings, straightened her hat and took up her basket.

  “I’ll take you to the gate,” said Michael. And he and Jane and John and Barbara followed her down the path.

  “Feed the birds!” the Bird Woman cried as she stepped out into the lane. “Tuppence a bag! Feed the birds!”

  “We’ll see you at St. Paul’s,” called the children as they watched her hurrying down the lane, looking like a mother hen amid a flock of chickens.

  Saturday

  Jane and Michael ran into the kitchen, with Andrew and Willoughby, Miss Lark’s dogs, yapping breathlessly at their heels.

  “We found them out in the lane,” said Michael, “so we brought them home with us. What are we cooking today, Mary Poppins?”

  “Lancashire hot pot and cherry pie. You can get the hot pot ready, and Jane can make the pastry.”

  There was an air of quiet busyness about the kitchen as they all prepared the dinner. Michael put alternate layers of meat, potatoes, and onion into a casserole. Jane worked shortening and flour together to make pastry for the pie. John and Barbara pulled the stems off the cherries and put the fruit into a pie dish. And the dogs looked on with interest.

  “Mary Poppins, where are you? Help, oh, help!” A wild cry shattered the peaceful scene. And there in the doorway stood Miss Lark with the Park Keeper behind her.

  “Oh, Mary Poppins. I’ve lost the dogs. They’re not in my garden, not in the lane, and the Park Keeper has search
ed all over the Park.”

  “They’re here,” said Mary Poppins calmly as the dogs rose lazily to their feet and sauntered toward Miss Lark.

  “Oh dear, oh dear, what a relief! I thought I should have to inform the police. Even, perhaps, the Prime Minister. Andrew and Willoughby, you ran away! How could you be so heartless?”

  “Observe the rules!” the Park Keeper cried from the door. “All litter to be placed in the baskets.”

  Mary Poppins eyed him sternly.

  “We are observing the rules, thank you. And we’ve got no litter here.”

  “I shall put you both on the lead,” said Miss Lark as she stooped toward the dogs’ collars. “And take you home at once. There now, you shan’t escape again. Thank you for keeping them, Mary Poppins. They might have been lost to me forever. Well, I must be going. Thank you, thank you! I see you are all extremely busy. What clever children—making pastry! When will Mrs. Banks be back? Tomorrow? Splendid! Come, dogs! Good-bye!”

  And away went Miss Lark, in her usual bustle, with the dogs behind her looking sheepish and glancing back longingly at the children.

  The Park Keeper sighed a wistful sigh as he eyed the laden table.

  “Cooking?” he inquired with interest.

  “What else does one do in a kitchen?” Mary Poppins gave him a mocking glance.

  “I could stay and give you a helping hand, supposing you wanted it,” he said.

  “And supposing I didn’t?” she said calmly as she edged him out of the kitchen.

  “It’s me dinner hour,” said the Park Keeper, eagerly sniffing the air.

  Mary Poppins was not to be cajoled.

  “Then you’d better go and get something to eat,” she told him scornfully.

  The Park Keeper made a last effort as she thrust him from the house.

  “I’m partial to hot pot and cherry pie.” He made a pleading gesture.

  “So am I,” said Mary Poppins. And she closed the door upon him.

  Sunday

  “I’m excited,” said Michael as he dried the last of the lettuce leaves, wrapped them in a fresh napkin, and put them into the icebox. “What time will they arrive, Mary Poppins?”

  “The letter said at one o’clock. And good cooks are never excited, Michael. It spoils what they are cooking.”

  Mary Poppins broke an egg in two, quickly divided the white from the yolk, and put each into a separate bowl. This she did four times. Then she turned the bowl of whites over to Jane and handed her the eggbeater. “Beat them until they’re stiff,” she said.

  Outside in the lane, the Policeman was walking up and down, hoping, perhaps, for a glimpse of Ellen. And the Ice Cream Man wheeled his tricycle past, ringing his bell to attract attention.

  But away in the kitchen nobody noticed. They were all of them far too busy.

  “Now, Michael,” said Mary Poppins briskly. “Lightly dip the chicken strips into two beaten eggs and then into the bread crumbs. And you, Jane, measure two ounces of butter and one and a half of flour. John and Barbara will set the table.”

  Mary Poppins was like a whirlwind, turning from one to another and helping each in turn. And in between times she stood at the stove stirring something in a saucepan, adding this and adding that and tasting the result with a smack of her lips.

  The morning wore on, and at last it seemed that all was prepared. It was time to put something under the grill and something else into the oven.

  And just at the moment this was done, the kitchen clock struck a single note and a latchkey turned in the front door.

  “They’re here! They’re here!” cried everyone.

  The four children streamed out of the kitchen, screaming cries of welcome. And presently they were back again with Mr. and Mrs. Banks, all of them wrapped in one big embrace and everybody laughing.

  “Still alive, Mary Poppins?” asked Mr. Banks as he plucked Annabel from her high chair and handed her to her mother.

  Mrs. Banks fluttered and cooed and kissed as the children clustered about her.

  “I do believe you’ve grown!” she told them.

  “Nonsense, my dear.” said Mr. Banks. “We’ve only been away a week. Mary Poppins, we’re hungry,” he said, turning. “Do you think you could manage a cheese sandwich or maybe a couple of boiled eggs?”

  Mary Poppins and Jane and Michael exchanged a glance full of meaning.

  “If you’ll take your places in the dining room,” said Mary Poppins, “the children will bring you something to eat.”

  “How good to be home,” said Mr. Banks as they settled into their chairs. “I’m looking forward to a little snack. But what is this?” he demanded, turning.

  There in the doorway stood the four children, each of them carrying a dish. And behind them, like a pillar of starch, was the figure of Mary Poppins.

  “It isn’t a snack,” said Michael, laughing. “We’ve cooked you a real dinner.” He put down his dish and took off the lid. “Chicken,” he said triumphantly, “with potatoes from John and salad from Barbara.”

  “And a lemon soufflé from me,” said Jane as she put her dish on the table.

  Mr. Banks stared at Mrs. Banks and Mrs. Banks stared back.

  “Salad! Potatoes! Chicken! Soufflé! Can we believe our eyes, my dear?” Mr. Banks was amazed.

  “We must be dreaming,” said Mrs. Banks as she gazed at the spreading feast. “Can the children have cooked all this? So all has gone well, after all, Mary Poppins?” She smiled her timid smile.

  Mary Poppins tossed her head and gave a familiar sniff.

  “Of course it has,” she said calmly. “What else did you expect?”

  “All that is or was or will be happens between A and Z,” says Mary Poppins. “And that includes this cookery book.”

  A CAUTION FROM MARY POPPINS

  First of all wash your hands, and then remember three useful things: Always let an adult switch on the stove, keep away from steaming kettles, and never use knives unless an adult is standing by.

  Apple Charlotte or Apple Brown Betty

  2 pounds apples—greenings or Cortlands

  ½ cup or 1 stick butter

  2 cups fresh white bread crumbs

  1½ cups dark brown sugar

  deep pie dish that will hold at least 1 quart—a soufflé dish will do

  Heat the oven to 350°.

  Choose apples that are hard and juicy. Peel and core them and slice as thin as you can. Butter the pie dish, using a little of the ½ cup. Sprinkle with bread crumbs. They will stick to the butter and make a comfortable bed for the apples. Lay a thick layer of sliced apples on the bread crumbs and scatter some brown sugar on top. Dot all over with little pieces of butter. Start all over again with a layer of apples, bread crumbs, sugar, and butter and continue the layers until the dish is full. Make the last layer of bread crumbs. Pile it high. The apples shrink as they cook. Cook for 1 hour. Mary Poppins serves this pudding lukewarm with whipped cream.

  Beef Patties or Small Hamburgers

  1½ pounds lean, minced (ground) sirloin of beef or top round

  4 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

  salt and pepper

  Divide the ground or minced beef into 6 equal portions. Shape, with your hands, into round patties 3 inches in diameter and 1 inch thick, pressing lightly. Heat a heavy frying pan or skillet over medium heat for 3–4 minutes. Cook patties for 3–4 minutes on one side. Turn over and cook for 3–4 minutes on the other. Three minutes on each side will be rare, and 5 minutes will be well-done patties.

  Remove to a serving platter. Pour the Worcestershire sauce into the hot pan. Stir quickly with a wooden spoon and pour over the patties. Season with salt and pepper.

  Makes 6 servings.

  Bread-and-Butter Pudding

  7–8 slices white bread

  ½ tablespoon butter

  2 large eggs

  3 tablespoons granulated sugar

  2 cups (1 pint) milk

  2 tablespoons currants

  2 ta
blespoons sultanas or golden raisins

  1-quart soufflé or pie dish

  Heat the oven to 350°.

  Remove the crusts from the bread and, with Mary Poppins at your side, cut each slice in half lengthwise, making 14–16 very thin slices. Butter them on one side.

  Beat the eggs and sugar together in a bowl. Add the milk and beat again. With a little butter, grease the inside of the dish. Lay two slices on the bottom, butter side up, and sprinkle with a quarter of the raisins and currants. Lay two more slices of buttered bread on top, buttered side up, and sprinkle with currants and raisins. Continue till there are only 4 slices left. Sprinkle remaining currants and raisins on top. Fit 2 slices into each side of the dish between the side and the layered bread. Fold them over so that they make a sort of lid. Pour the eggs and milk into the dish and wait for half an hour before baking in the middle of the preheated oven.

  Bake for 40 minutes, at which time the top will be brown and crisp.

  Cherry Pie

  2 pounds cherries

  sugar

  1 cup water

  1 egg yolk

  deep pie dish that holds 1 quart

  Pastry: Make the same amount as specified for jam tarts, on [>], and use the same recipe.

  Wash the cherries. Remove the stems and the stones (pits). Make a layer of cherries about 1 inch thick in the pie dish. Sprinkle lightly with sugar. The amount to use depends on whether the cherries are sweet or sour. Make a second layer and sprinkle with sugar. Continue in this way till the dish is full. Pile them up in the dish so that there is a nice dome of fruit. Add 1 cup of water.