Toast and Scrambled Eggs

When Aunt Eleanor first moved into the White House, she tried in vain to find a cozy space where she could enjoy breakfast with her guests in the morning and a companionable cup of tea in the afternoon.
    The Roosevelts were an informal family.  Aunt Eleanor didn't want to have breakfast in the formal dining room, and the other rooms in the White house also seemed to be formal as well as designed for specific purposes.  The space she sought would be hers alone.  Uncle Franklin didn't come down to breakfast; it was served to him in bed as he read an impressive number of government reports.  
    Her solution was to convert the end of the hall nearest her bedroom into her tearoom.  She set up three tall screens, a folding table that could be set aside after breakfast, several comfortable upholstered chairs, two or three occasional chairs, and potted plants.  It was an intimate but spacious "room," pleasantly lit by tall windows.
    Women of my aunt's generation and social standing didn't do any household work, including cooking.  Their responsibility lay in hiring and firing servants and dictating the daily routine.  A butler would stand quietly by Aunt Eleanor's chair at breakfast time and take everyone's order.  Eggs or cereal and fruit arrived in fairly good shape from the distant kitchen, but toast did not.; it would be cold and dry.  Aunt Eleanor solved the problem by keeping the toaster on a silver tray beside her and making the toast herself at the table.
    Her guests may have been surprised to be sitting in easy chairs so low that their scrambled eggs were not far below their chins, but Roosevelts were always full of surprises, and Aunt Eleanor was no exception.  She seemed never to understand why she was considered eccentric when she was, merely being practical.  It was the conversation at breakfast and tea that mattered.  Who cared what you were sitting on?
    During the Second World War, certain consumer goods were scarce, so we all held ration cards.  It was the fair way to apportion an inadequate supply.  Gas was high on the list.  I remember being allotted three gallons a week.  The next most-rationed commodities were meat and sugar.  I lived in Canada during the war years, and meat was not rationed there.  On my infrequent trips to "lower forty-eight," I often carried in my bag a large sirloin steak as a gift for my hosts.
    In the United States, there was a campaign to persuade people to establish one meatless day a week.  Aunt Eleanor was acutely aware of the privileged position of the White House and felt that she and Uncle Franklin must join in as well.  So every Thursday night for dinner, she served scrambled eggs, which was one of the few things she knew how to cook.  I think the custom dated from her young married years when Thursday was the cook's night out.
    At the White House, scrambled eggs became a ceremony.  A big, copper chafing dish with an alcohol lamp under it was placed in front of my aunt's seat at the table.  Surrounding it were bowls containing cheese and parsley and a pitcher of creamy milk.  After my aunt was seated, a butler placed a large bowl of slightly beaten eggs beside the other ingredients.  My aunt then scrambled the eggs, adding a little cheese, salt, and pepper.  Since she was occupied, the butler made the toast, the cut each piece into four points and decorated each plate.  When everyone was served, the shining chafing dish was removed, and we set about eating our scrambled eggs.  Fruit or salad followed the eggs, and then coffee, of course.
    In general, people are delighted to receive an invitation to dine at the White House, but I suspect that during the war years, candidates hoped it would not be for a Thursday night dinner.