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HARD HIT

ICECATS SERIES

TONI ALEO
Copyright © 2021 by Toni Aleo

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

Created with Vellum

For my husband, because he built me a badass SheShed and Hard
Hit is the first book I wrote in it!
 CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue

ALLY IS HERE!!!!
Also by Toni Aleo
Acknowledgments
About Toni Aleo
 INTRODUCTION

BEFORE YOU GET STARTED!

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 CHAPTER ONE

K irby

I sigh hard .
Harder than I normally would.
I notice I do that a lot more now that the Stanley Cup series is
over. I don’t lose well. Especially twice in a row, and to the same
team. The fucking Nashville Assassins. I hate them. They may have
some cool dudes on it, but together, they’re a mountain we couldn’t
conquer. Even when we had a three-game advantage over them,
they still came back and won. Four games straight. No one thought
they could do it. Everyone had us, the IceCats, as the winners of the
most coveted Cup, but the Assassins didn’t give up. It’s so fucking
annoying, though you can’t help but be impressed with them.
Still, I’m beyond unsatisfied and extremely frustrated with myself,
my team, and the hockey gods.
The IceCats have had two chances to win the Cup, and we
couldn’t do it. We couldn’t close, no matter how much we fought,
how many times we came from behind, and no matter that we have
the best goalie in the league. I mean, Nico Merryweather won the
best goalie trophy three years in a row, yet we can’t give him the
Cup. I don’t get it. I don’t know why we haven’t won. We have one
hell of a coach. A great team of strong players and, again, the best
goalie in the league. Why? Why can’t we win the ultimate prize?
It’s so frustrating. I’ve spent my whole life wanting that Cup. I
didn’t have the best home life. I got thrown back and forth between
my parents, and the only reason I played hockey was because they
guilted each other to make the other pay. When I was old enough to
work, I started working at my home rink just so my fees were paid
and the fighting could stop. I would get hand-me-down gear, and
most of the time, I slept at the rink. That way, I didn’t have to hear
my mom getting her ass beat by my stepdad, and on the weeks I
was supposed to be with my dad, I didn’t have to watch him be a
drunk.
It wasn’t easy, but I knew what I wanted. To be a Stanley Cup
winner. To get there, though, I couldn’t worry about my dumpster
fire of a family. My dad died in a drunk driving accident my freshmen
year in college, and my mom divorced her abusive husband and
married once more, starting a brand-new family. I was forgotten
very quickly, and I soon realized, if they weren’t worried about me
and my dreams, why should I worry about them?
Even with the emotional buttload of shit I was dealing with, I
worked my ass off on the ice and, most of all, at school. Being a
Michigan Wolverine, I had no choice but to grind. Not only did I have
my pride, but I wanted to make my coach and my school proud.
While I did have scholarships, I still had to work for food and
anything I wanted to do for fun. Though, I didn’t have much time for
anything else. It was hockey, school, work. Same thing, every day.
Some would get burned out, but for me, my goal was my driving
force. I never stopped grinding, even when my girlfriend—who is
now my ex-girlfriend and the mother of my daughter—wanted me to
quit, I didn’t. She wanted me to herself, but I had a goal that was
bigger than her. I should have known back then it wouldn’t work
out, but I ignored it.
Lilly Paige sat beside me when I was drafted. Not my mom or my
dad. My college coach was there and even my coach from when I
was growing up, but they weren’t beside me the way Lilly was. I’ll
never forget when they called me—first round, ninth pick for the
IceCats—how I felt. I was so proud. I was ready to kick some ass.
Lilly was over-the-moon excited for me, and that night, I proposed. I
was convinced she was it, but she wasn’t.
I just wanted the whole American dream.
Dream job.
Dream wife.
Dream family.
Which would mean my life would be ten times better than it was.
It was nice to have someone to love me. I wanted it so desperately.
Love. I craved it. My parents didn’t really step up to that blue line,
and when I found it, I wouldn’t let go. Even when I knew I should
have.
Lilly and I are toxic together. She never knew when to stop; she’d
push my buttons until I lost it and had to leave. She didn’t like that I
would leave, and she’d start another fight once I was back home.
She loved to spend my money, but most of all, she couldn’t handle
being alone. It usually led to her sleeping with the cable guy or pool
guy. I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. While I wish I would have
found anyone else other than her to love and be loved by, I know if I
hadn’t met Lilly, I wouldn’t have my daughter.
Oh, my gorgeous Celeste.
 I’ve done a lot of things in my life, some good and some bad, but
Celeste, she’s the best damn thing I have accomplished. I may want
the Cup, and it may suck that I don’t have it, but at the end of the
day, I get to be Celeste’s daddy, and nothing compares to that.
Which reminds me, Lilly should be on her way with her. I glance at
the clock above my stove as I put away the formula and baby food I
got in preparation for my week. Since it’s summer, the parenting
plan says we alternate weeks of care for Celeste. I wish I could have
her all the time, every single day, but that would mean I would have
to have Lilly. And I’d be damned before I let her in my life again.
I almost got away from her, but she came back pregnant with
Celeste. I gave it my best shot the second time, but nope, like
always, she couldn’t seem to keep her legs closed. It may make me
a dick, but I had a paternity test done to make sure Celeste was
mine. Thankfully, she is, because when she was born, I fell in love
with her. My sweet princess.
I move through the kitchen getting things ready, which was what
I was doing before I started daydreaming about not having the
Stanley Cup. I really need to stop doing that. It is what it is. I don’t
have it—move on, work harder. All I can do is stay in shape this
summer and soak up as much time with Celeste as I can get. When
the season starts, it’s going to be hard, but we’ll manage. We’ve
been doing it for six months, and I don’t doubt we’ll continue the
same. I may greatly dislike Lilly, but I force myself to outwardly
respect her for Celeste’s sake.
Lilly doesn’t do the same for me, though.
She treats me like crap, guilts me when Celeste isn’t with me and
I’m playing hockey. I asked her not to bring a man around my child
until she’s dated him more than a month, but she ignores that wish
at every opportunity. Could be because the average length of a
relationship for her is a week, but still. It drives me crazy she won’t
honor that one request. I guess I shouldn’t expect much since I
asked her not to cheat on me too, and she still did that. The guy
she’s with now, though, Marc, has been around for a month, so
here’s to hoping he locks her down. Not because I want Lilly happy,
but because I want stability for Celeste.
I don’t understand Lilly, to be honest. She doesn’t seem to care
about what is best for Celeste. Only herself. It makes no sense since
she comes from a solid upbringing, good parents, and a great family.
Meanwhile, I raised myself, and I’m out-parenting her, tenfold. Pretty
sure her parents feel sorry for me, for Celeste, but no one corrects
her behavior. Except me. I don’t give a shit. Treat my child right, or
I’m calling you out and fixing the situation. She could be a good
mom—if she wanted to. She doesn’t want to, and that annoys me.
Really, everything annoys me lately.
I move through my house, picking up and cleaning up so that the
house is ready for Celeste. I bought a nice home on the beach right
when we found out Lilly was pregnant. My teammate and buddy,
Chandler, and his family live on the other side of the beach in a
smaller neighborhood, but word is, his wife is pregnant again and
now he’s looking over here by me. It would be nice to have a friend
close since I live between two older couples. They’re wonderful
people, but they sure do love being in my business. They really don’t
like Lilly, but they love Celeste, which is good.
I never saw myself in a large home. Especially since I slept at the
rink for most of my life. Now though, I have a pretty decent four-
bedroom beach home that I love. Things may not be how I dreamed
them, but at least I have a career, a daughter, and a house I love.
One day, a wife will come, but for now, I want to focus on training
and Celeste. Maybe even upgrade the deck in the back. Something
kid-friendly for when Celeste starts walking. I look out the large
gallery windows to where my back deck is. It’s a nice deck, but the
wood planks are way too far apart. It’s more decorative than
practical. I want to replace them so I can take Celeste out there.
When the doorbell rings, I pull my gaze from the deck and the
beautiful view of the ocean and head for the front door. It should be
Lilly with Celeste, and when I open the door, I’m filled with joy at
the sight of my blue-eyed baby girl. I reach for her, taking her
chubby self in my arms and hugging her tightly.
“There’s my girl. How ya doing, CC?” She coos happily as I kiss
her fat cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I take a quick glance,
expecting to see irritation on Lilly’s face. She hates when I don’t
greet her and just take the baby, so I make sure to do it every time.
Petty? Yes. But to my surprise, she doesn’t look irritated. Instead,
concerned. Or worried. I kiss Celeste again before I turn my
attention to Lilly. She walks inside, setting a bunch of bags on the
floor. Way more than what I need for a week. I meet her gaze as
she looks up. “You didn’t need to bring so much. I have stuff too.”
She shrugs as she swallows noticeably. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says, and I wish I didn’t still find her beautiful.
Celeste takes after her with the bright blond hair and light-blue eyes.
Celeste looks like me, but she lacks my darker coloring. Instead,
she’s a beach babe like her mom. Lilly exhales heavily as she tucks
her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “Marc and I are going to
Italy.”
I shrug. “Okay. Just let me know what time you’ll be in on
Sunday, and I’ll have her ready.”
She shakes her head, and I eye her curiously. “I won’t be back.”
“Huh?”
 “Marc has a job offer, and I knew you wouldn’t let me take
Celeste, so I’m leaving her with you so I can go with him.”
“To Italy.”
“Yes.” She says it with no concern, no remorse.
“And you’re leaving Celeste here, with me?”
“Yes.”
I blink. “I don’t understand. So, when will you be back?”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
I want to say I’m surprised. I want to say I expected more from
her, but I’m not and I don’t. “So, because you want to go with your
boyfriend, you’re abandoning your daughter.”
That sparks something in her eyes as she glares at me. “I’m not
abandoning her. She’s with you.”
“So, you aren’t going with your boyfriend?” I ask dryly, and her
glare deepens.
“Kirby, don’t be a dick.”
“Don’t be a dick. My daughter’s mother is leaving her for a man—
please tell me how I am supposed to take this. Do you want me to
be happy for you?”
“That’d be nice. You don’t think I’m a good mom anyway! You
want her all to yourself.”
“That’s true, but she still needs you, Lilly. Grow the hell up.”
She rolls her eyes. “I never wanted to be a mom, and you know
that.”
“Sure, but here we are, and Celeste needs you. Think of her.”
The look on her face tells me she has absolutely no intention of
staying. Or even coming back. “I don’t want to, Kirb. I don’t want to
be a mother. You should have just let me abort her.”
It’s like she’s stabbed me in the stomach. “Lilly, you don’t mean
that.”
 “I do. I don’t want to be a mom. Not everyone is made for this
life, and I’m not. I don’t want this. I never did. I did it for you.”
I know this woman. I know how she thinks. There is no changing
her mind. “You’re making a mistake, Lilly. Honestly.”
“I’m doing what’s best for her. She’s better off with you.”
Before I can even stop her, she’s out the door without even a
goodbye to her daughter. Within seconds, every single emotion runs
through my body.
Anger—I really do hate that woman.
Sadness—Celeste deserves better than this.
Fear—How am I going to do this on my own?
But then Celeste leans her face on mine, moving her fingers
along my jaw, and I feel the ultimate feeling.
Love.
“We got this, CC,” I whisper, but I know she doesn’t understand
me or even know what I am saying. “Me and you, love bug.”
Really, I am telling myself more than I am telling her.
 CHAPTER TWO

J aylin

“T he cost of supplies from the Brinton Company is beyond

ridiculous, and no matter how much I tell Jonson we need to find
another supplier, he isn’t listening.”
I have no clue who Jonson is, or even the Brinton Company.
This is the third time I’ve been out to lunch with Malcolm
Franklin, and I really don’t understand why he talks about his job at
the hospital like I know anything about it. I may date a lot of doctors
—since my mother sets me up weekly with all her church friends’
sons—but that doesn’t mean I know a thing about the hospital.
Honestly, I don’t even care. I don’t even really care for Malcolm. He’s
a very handsome man. Dark-brown eyes, a nice fade in thick,
coarse, curly hair. He’s skinny, not much muscle to him, but he’s
smart. Very smart. I like that. He wears thin wire frames. And I
know we’re meeting during his lunch shift, but surely, he can leave
his lab coat in the car. I don’t know why it bugs me that he wears it,
but it does.
 I don’t understand why my mom wants me to be with a doctor.
She is hard-core setting me up with her friends’ brothers, sons,
cousins, dads—I mean, if he’s a doctor and he’s a black man, I’m on
a date with him. I could say no, but guilt eats me alive if I do. I
know why she does this. She was there to take care of me when I
had breast cancer, but she might not be there if it comes back, and
she wants me to be cared for. I get it. I do. But I don’t think I’m
meant to be with a doctor. Shit, in all reality, I may not be meant for
anyone. I’ve been on twenty dates in the last couple months and no
sparks. If I hadn’t felt that spark last year, I might not believe it’s
attainable, but I did. Though, that didn’t work out…
“How’s the Collins’ case—”
“Why don’t you leave your lab coat in the car?”
His brown eyes meet mine, confusion filling his features. He
draws in his thick brown brows, and he parts his lips a bit. He has
the perfect complexion; he must have not had acne growing up. I
did, which is why I wear makeup everywhere. He’s just too put
together. I’m not saying I want a shitshow as a partner, but when I
let my crazy out, I don’t want to be judged for it. “Sorry?”
“Your lab coat. You wear it every time we go out.”
“I’m coming from the hospital. It’s a part of me in a way,” he says
with a wry laugh. “Does it bother you?”
“A little,” I say, leaning on my hand. “It reminds me of all the
times I sat in chemo.”
Compassion fills his features as he nods slowly. “I’m sure it does,”
he says, and then he takes his coat off. “Want me to take it to the
car?”
Now I feel silly. “No, you didn’t even need to take it off.”
His lips move a bit at the side. Not a smirk but still a movement.
“I wanted to. For you. I really like you, Jaylin.”
 Fuck me. I smile kindly. “You’re great, Mal, and I enjoy our
lunches—”
“But?”
I smile, even though he looks so dejected. “But I’m not feeling
it.”
“It?” he asks, his eyes holding mine.
“The spark.”
“A spark, huh?” he says with a little bit of laughter. “There aren’t
sparks anymore at our age. Now, it’s about finding someone to live
life with. Have some kids before it’s too late. Be real, Jaylin.”
“At our age? What does that even mean?”
“It means we can’t be picky. It’s time to have kids.”
My jaw drops. “Malcolm, I’m only thirty-three.”
“And I’m almost forty.”
I blink. “Okay, well, for me, I want the spark.”
He nods before he gets up, grabbing his coat. “I won’t waste
either of our time, then. It was nice to get to know you. Have a
good life.”
And without another glance or even a word, he walks out with
that damn coat hanging over his arm. I watch as he leaves, going
over what just happened. Am I getting to the age where I have to
settle for someone who’s just okay? Or someone I can tolerate for
the rest of my life? I don’t want that. I want someone who gives me
the fucking spark. Someone I look at and feel safe. Someone I know
has my back, as I’ll have his. I don’t know why I want a man—I’m a
pretty independent chick, but I do want one. I want my forever.
And I blame this all on my best friend.
W hen I arrive at Willz Sub Shop, I park beside my best friend’s new
SUV and laugh at the sight of it. My best friend, Aviva, never wanted
an SUV, or a minivan, but I don’t think she was ever looking for
anyone like Nico Merryweather either. As I head to the door, I notice
that it’s not busy since the lunch rush just finished, but there are
some folks inside. Behind the counter, Aviva moves around, acting
like she isn’t six months pregnant. I shake my head as I sit at the
newly installed counter. I’m pretty sure they built this so Nico could
eat and stare at Aviva with only a sheet of glass between them.
When Aviva sees me, she grins before leaning on the counter.
“The usual? Oh, wait. You had lunch with Malcolm.”
“Yup. And paid for it too since he left.” Her eyes widen as I nod,
rolling my own. “That’s over.”
“Over? It just started.”
“I know, but he said we’re at the age where we need to settle
down and have kids with someone we like, not feel a spark with.”
She makes a face. “Jesus.”
“Exactly.”
She leans on her elbows, watching me, and I let out a long sigh.
“This is your fault,” I accuse, and she laughs as she stands up,
cupping her belly.
“There it is,” she chuckles as she shakes her head. “No one said
you had to want what I have.”
“Well, when you flaunt it all the time, it’s hard not to!”
“I don’t flaunt it.”
I shoot her a deadpan look. “Aviva, you legit are always happy.
Like, it’s sickening.”
She mocks, “Apparently not too sickening, because you want the
same.”
 Ah, she’s got me there, and she knows it. She giggles as Callie,
her baby sister, comes out from the back. She’s in a leotard and
shorts, ready to go to gymnastics, I assume, since that’s where she
always is. She was awarded a scholarship to the University of
Bellevue in Nashville for gymnastics and academics for the fall. It’s
pretty badass, and I cried like a baby during her graduation. Not
sure if I cried more then or when she had her double mastectomy
surgery this past spring. It’s a toss-up since I love that girl
something fierce.
Aviva and I both raised her. After Aviva’s mom died, it was Aviva,
Callie, and me against the world. Of course, my parents were
awesome and helpful, but Aviva’s dad was a piece of shit for sure. It
was okay, though, because we had each other. Unfortunately, it
wasn’t just the world we were against.
Breast cancer has always been the enemy.
A bastard of one too. Aviva and I went through a lot of it
together, and I think watching us terrified Callie. Add in the fact that
she carries the gene for the same cancer we both had, the same
cancer that killed her mom, and she was dead set on having the
double mastectomy. Now, she has small little implants that don’t get
in the way of her gymnastics but still give her that womanly feeling.
I promised her tattooed nipples when she finishes her first year of
college. We’re also waiting for Aviva to get her implants, which is
planned for after the baby is born.
She was supposed to get them with Callie, but a surprise
pregnancy stopped that.
Not that I think she cares about the implants at all. Never in my
life have I seen Aviva this happy. She has always put on a brave face
for Callie and me, but once she rear-ended Nico, even I knew things
were about to change for her. He worships her, and I don’t think she
could love him any more. He makes her love herself, and I love that
about him. I am so thankful for him, but it’s because he is so
wonderful that I want a Nico of my own. I want someone to look at
me the way he looks at Aviva and to love me the way he loves her. I
never craved that until now.
Until I saw what it was like to be loved by a man who completes
you.
Don’t get me wrong, I want the house, the husband, and the
kids, but I’ve been so career-driven for so long, I ignored that
yearning. I fought through school to get my degree and the respect
of my peers. I was the only black woman in my program, and my
pride wouldn’t allow me to settle for anything but perfection. Then I
joined a firm where I didn’t belong. It was a male-dominated firm,
and while they may have had some people of my race on staff, we
still weren’t treated the way we should have been.
I joined the firm I’m at now about four years ago. I knew the
moment I walked in that I’d found my home. Feliciana Montcrieff
graduated from the same program I did, just twenty years before
me. She is one badass chick and powerful as all get-out. I never
thought I would find a boss who gets me the way she does, and I
love working for her. There’s been talk of her making me partner, but
sometimes I’m unsure if I want that. If I want to have a family and a
life outside of the firm, I may have to settle for being an awesome
lawyer instead of the boss. I guess, in a way, I’ll be the boss of my
household.
While it does scare me to think that might not be enough, I feel,
deep in my soul, it will be. I want to be loved. I want to be
appreciated and worshiped. That person is out there for me. I just
have to find him. However, he has been very hard to find thus far.
“Off to the gym, sweet girl?”
 Callie beams at me as she comes around the counter. “Yup,
trying to get my training in with Amelia before I leave.”
Amelia is her coach, and she actually competed at Bellevue. She
was an incredible gymnast; I know this because I may have stalked
her online to make sure she was good enough for Callie. Thankfully,
now she’s an incredible coach and mom. We like her around here,
and she’s an IceCats’ wife, so Aviva sees a lot of her at Nico’s hockey
gatherings and events. I don’t even have a toe in the hockey world,
but since I represent Aviva, I have gotten some clients from the
IceCats.
“That’s cool. Ready to be a big girl off at college?”
She grins. “Yes and no,” she says shyly. “I don’t want to leave
everyone. I know I’ll come back for the birth, which is good, but I
still don’t want to leave. Then I remember I can’t date anyone with
Nico around, wanting to kill them.”
I snort when, as if on cue, Nico comes out of the back. He gives
her a look as he wraps his arms around both his girls before he
beams at me. “Hey, Jay.”
“Hey, Nico,” I sing to him, and he kisses Aviva’s cheek before
patting Callie on the head. He towers over both of them, and I guess
it’s good he’s bigger than a tree since he’s the goalie for the IceCats.
He’s a good dude; Nico is. A little weird and has absolutely no filter,
but he’s a great guy for Aviva and Callie. I hear he’s going to adopt
Callie once he and Aviva get married. Callie will be over eighteen,
but I still think it’s sweet. He loves them both so damn much. Callie
moves out of his arms, grabbing her bag from the side of the
counter.
“Gotta run. I’ll see you guys later.”
With that, Callie makes her exit as I lean forward on my hands.
Aviva watches as her sister leaves, crossing the parking lot to where
her gymnastics gym is. I know Aviva isn’t handling her sister going
away to college well. Can’t blame her. It’s always only been Aviva
and Callie, with me, of course, for a long time.
“It’s going to be fine. We’ll go visit whenever you want.”
She gives me a small smile before Nico kisses her cheek and then
grabs his keys. “What she said.”
I wink at him, and I know it makes me an asshole since I’m
aware it makes him uncomfortable, but I do it anyway. He doesn’t
like to look me, or anyone but Aviva and Callie, in the eye. It’s odd,
but he could ignore me forever as long as he is good to my girls.
With apprehension in her eyes, Aviva sighs heavily. She cups her
growing belly and glances back at Nico. She doesn’t talk much about
Callie leaving, but it’s all over her face that she doesn’t want her to
go. “Where are you going?”
“I gotta run to Kirby’s.”
I choke on my spit at the sound of his name.
The one that got away. Sigh. But really, is it getting away when
we never actually started anything? Just a lot of good conversations
and fun nights. Nothing sexual, nothing intimate. Just friendly and
fun. Still, my heart skips a beat, trips, and falls face first on itself. His
name, Kirby Litman… Ugh, it gets me. I wanted so bad for
something to happen between us, but the universe had other plans.
Le sigh.
“Everything okay?”
He grimaces. “Not really.”
“What?” she asks, concern in her voice.
His eyes cut to me and then back to her. “I’ll call you.”
I give him a dry look. “I’m in the inner circle, Nico. Love me!” He
laughs as he heads out. Quickly. Even Aviva is laughing, but when I
glance back at her, I ask, “You’ll tell me later?”
“Totally.”
And that’s why Aviva is my best friend.
 CHAPTER THREE

J aylin

“M s . R aventorn ? Your mother is on line one.”

I hold my groan since, apparently, I’m a professional. It’s hard,
but I also don’t want my assistant to know I don’t have the
willpower or patience to speak to my mother right now. I know for a
fact that Malcolm’s mom has already called my mom to complain
that I blew him off. This means I have now embarrassed my mother
and she will not be able to show her face at Sunday school. Doesn’t
matter that Malcolm only wants me because I’m convenient. Or that
he’s at his prime or whatever the hell he said. I’ve already forgotten.
My mind is full of thoughts of Kirby. I don’t even know why. I
haven’t spoken to him in over a year. When he got back with his
girlfriend, who may or may not have been an ex—I’m not sure what
that situation is—he cut off all contact with me out of respect for
both his girlfriend and me. He didn’t want to lead me on, and with
how gorgeous I am, I know his girlfriend would be jealous. I am
curious to know what’s up with him, though. I hope all is well. But I
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
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ARMY RECIPES lA^ 2 6 19^5 0^ r^/? DEPARTMENT • 13

AUGUST 1944
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 WAR DEPARTMENT TECHNICAL MANUAL T M 1 0 ■ 4 1 2
This manual supersedes Chapter 2, TMlO-405, 24 April 1942. ARMY
RECIPES A R DEPARTMENT • 13 AUGUST 1944 United States
Government Printing Office "Washington : J 944 Digilize
 WAR DEPARTMENT, Washington 25, D. C, 15 August 1944.
TM 10-412, Army Recipes, is published for the information and
guidance of all concerned. IA.G. 300.7 (22 May 44).] By order of the
Secretary of War: G. C. MARSHALL, aief of Staff. Official: J. A. ULIO,
Major General y The Adjutant General, Distribution: As prescribed in
paragraph 9a, FM 21-6; C and H (2); Sch for Bakers and Cooks
(lOO). For explanation of symbols see FM 21-6. II Google Original
from UNIVERSITYOF CALIFORNIA
 CONTENTS Paragraph ection 1. Introduction 1-4 2.
Beverages 5 3. Breads 6-7 4. Cakes and cookies 8-10 5. Breakfast
cereals 11 6. Desserts 12 7. Eggs 13 8. Fish 14 9. Fritters and
croquettes 15 10. Fruits 16-17 11. Macaroni, spaghetti, noodles, and
rice 18 12. Meat 19 13. Pies 20-21 14. Salads 22-23 15. Sandwiches
24 16. Sauces 25 17. Soups 26 18. Vegetables 27-28 19.
Miscellaneous 29-31 ndex 245 iii i-.- - ■ jr^i^ri}y> Original from
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 This manual supersedes Chapter 2, TM 70-405, 24 April
1942 SECTION I INTRODUCTION 1 . GENERAL, a. Recipes are
essential for both experienced and inexperienced cooks. Even after
long years of service, a cook cannot remember the exact cjuantities
of every recipe. He needs the stimulation of new recipes if the meals
he prepares are to be interesting and not monotonous. Recipes,
accurate as to amounts and procedure, are important for good
cooking. In this book directions for combining ingredients are given
in detail to aid the cook in obtaining desirable results. b. A cook
needs more thaa recipes. He needs practice, imagination and, above
all, a desire to please those who eat the food he prepares. The
soldier who develops these qualities and follows the recipes provided
for him soon becomes a skillful cook. He quickly learns to judge the
consistency of a batter by the way it feels under the spoon. He
knows when bread is light by the touch of his fingers. He knows
when extra seasoning will make a sauce more enjoyable and when a
garnish will make a dish more appetizing. 2. RECIPES, a. The recipes
in this manual represent the food habits of American families. They
utilize the foods which are most abundant in this country. Each
recipe as set up will yield food sufficient for 100 portions of the size
designated. b. The unit of 100 portions was selected because
requisitions for food issues are based on amounts for 100 men. It is
the responsibility of mess personnel to observe the actual number of
men who will eat a certain food. If only 50 out of 100 men like a
specific dish, amounts of ingredients for 50 rather than for 100
should be made the basis for requisitions. In this way waste through
overp reparation can be avoided. c. Many messes have more than
100 men assigned to them. However, some soldiers assigned to a
mess may be absent for one or more meals. The number of men
who will be present for each meal must be determined before
supplies are ordered. If 175 men are to be there the amount for 100
is multiplied by 1% to get the total quantity of food needed. After a
short time the cooks will be able to determine the average number
of men who will be present for every meal. Each recipe can be
increased or decreased accordingly and the amounts required can be
written with pencil in the blank column and can be changed from
time to time as necessary. (See model recipe.) d. A large number of
recipes in this book are followed by one or more variations. These
show only the ingredients or procedures which differ from the basic
recipe. In preparing a variation follow the basic recipe making the
substitutions as directed. 1 r.- - ■ Original from Digitized by ^:.OOglt
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 e. Model recipe. NO. BAKING POWDER BISCUITS Yield: 25
pounds mixtur^ 212 biscuits, each 21/2 inch diameter Ingredients
Flour, sifted Baking powder. . . . Salt Shortening Milk, evaporated . .
Water (for milk)*. . 100 servings 12 pounds (12 No. 56 dippers). 10
ounces (Vi mess kit cup) . . . . . 3 ounces (6 mess kit spoons) . . 3
pounds (IV2 No. 56 dippers) . 414 — 141/2 ounce cans 21/2 quarts
{2V2 No. 56 dippers) . . servings 1. Sift flour, baking powder, and
salt together. Add shortening; stir unti! mixture resembles coarse
crumbs. 2. Mix milk and water. Add to dry ingredients, mixing only
enough to combine dry and liquid ingredients. 3. Place dough on
floured bread board and knead lightly. Roll ^ inch thick; cut dough
into biscuits with floured biscuit cutter. 4. Place in baking pans. Bake
in hot oven (450^ F.) about 15 minutes. ♦The amount of water will
vary according to the type of flour used. 3. MEASUREMENTS, a.
Accuracy at all times is essential for success in cooking. Ingredients
either must be weighed accurately or measured accurately. It is
preferable to weigh ingredients if scales are available; otherwise it is
best to measure them in graduated measures and in standard cups
and spoons. If graduated measures are not available, No. 56
dippers, mess kit cups, and mess kit spoons can be used. A cook or
baker can obtain satisfactory results with Army equipment if he is
careful to follow the same procedure each time he prepares the
recipe. He can train his eye to judge the line on the utensil that
means 1/4 , 1/2, or % full when an unmarked measure is used. One
cupful of liquid comes approximately to the top of the date figures
on a No. 56 dipper; two cupfuls to the top of the letters designating
the manufacturer; three cupfuls to the top of the "U. S." letters. b.
Measure sugar, cornstarch, and other dry ingredients without
packing or shaking. Pack brown sugar and shortening firmly into the
measuring utensil. Sift flour before measuring; place lightly, without
packing, in measuring utensil until level full. If ingredients are
weighed, flour may be weighed before sifting but must be sifted
afterwards before combining with other ingredients. c. To measure
with a spoon, fill spoon to overflowing and level with the straight
edge of a knife. To measure a half spoonful, fill the spoon; level and
divide it lengthwise with a knife. The Quartermaster tablespoon is
slightly larger than the mess kit spoon but for practical purposes
may be used as an identical measure. Google Original from
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 4. TABLES OF INFORMATION, a. Table of equivalent
measures. 1 tablespoon 14 cup* 1/3 cup* 1/2 cup* 1 cup* 1 pint 1
quart 1 quart 1 gallon 1 peck 1 bushel b. Table of equivalent
weights. 1 pound 1 hundred weight 1 short ton 1 long ton c. Table
of mess equipment measures. 11/2 liquid pints 1 liquid quart ly^
liquid quarts d. Table of weights and mess measurements of
commonly used foods. ITEM M-4910 spoon ounces Mess kit cup {V/i
pints) No. 56 dipper (1 quart) No. 55 dipper (1 % quarts) Pounds
Ounces Pounds Ounces Pounds Ounces 7 9 1 1 5 2 5 8 2 3 8 Beans,
dry, kidney 3 1 9 2 12 Beans, dry, lima 4 1 10 2 14 Beans, dry, navy
5 1 12 3 1 Beef, ground, raw 8 2 3 8 Bread crumbs, dried 12 1 1 12
Bread crumbs, moist (loose pack) . 6 8 14 Butter (solid pack) 1 8 2 3
8 14 1 3 2 1 12 1 1 12 Cheese, American Cheddar, ground . 14 1 3 2
1 Cheese, American cheddar, 12 1 1 12 1 8 2 3 8 Va Qoves, ground
Va Va 10 13 1 7 Coconut, shredded (loose pack) . . 8 11 1 3 Coffee,
roasted and ground 12 1 1 12 1 1 2 5 1 1 5 2 5 Eggs, powdered,
whole Va 9 12 1 5 3 F.. - ■ f^r^f^\f> Original from Digitized by
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The text on this page is estimated to be only 22.43%
accurate

d. Table of weights and mess measurements of commonly

used foods. (Con*t) ITEM M-1910 spoon ounces Mess kic cup (U/i
pints) No. 56 dipper (I quart) No. 55 dipper (1% quarts) Pounds
Ounces Pounds Ounces Pounds Ounces 1 1 o O L 2 3 o O 1 8 2 3 8
Ho'O'C i7 Iz 1 i Iz ?8 1 L i o o z lU /4 /4 L i < z < J 1 1 < z 5 I o o 2.
2 3 o O Sage 78 /2 1 9 2 1 3 10 Seasoning, poultry 14 1/. 72 1 8 2 3
8 Sugar, brown (loose pack) y4 1 1 5 2 . 5 Sugar, powdered ^4 14 1
3 2 1 Sugar, granulated V2 1 8 2 3 8 Tapioca, granulated 1 3 1 9 2
12 Tapioca, pearl 1 1 5 2 5 Tea 8 11 1 3 Vinegar Vi 1 9 2 1 3 10
Water 1 8 2 3 8 Google Original from UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
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