One must be on guard, then, lest one's desire for flavor be satisfied without the body's real needs being met.
The wise cook saves her best flavors for the foods which would be least acceptable without them and does not add them to foods which are good enough by themselves.

The latter course marks the insidious beginning of luxury.

"Once give your family luxuries and you are lost as far as satisfying them economically is concerned," remarked a clever housewife.
"Even a rat will not taste bread when bacon is nigh," observed a sage physiologist.

The demand for flavor grows and grows with pampering, till nothing but humming-birds' tongues and miniature geese floating in a sea of aspic jelly will satisfy the palate of him who eats solely for flavor--who never knows the sauce of hunger, or the deliciousness of a plain crust of bread.

We must be on guard, saying, like the little daughter of a classical professor, "If Scylla doesn't get me Charybdis will." Flavor we must have, but not too much, not too many kinds at once, and not applied indiscriminately to foods which need them and foods which do not.