an old box of wedding cake.. with a burning brandy sauce

It was she who suddenly remembered that it was Christmas day. "And this is our Christmas dinner," observed McVay regretfully. "Oh, no," returned the girl, "this is luncheon. I'll cook your dinner. You'll see."

... 

She proved herself infinitely more capable than the two men had been, discovering tins of butter and soup and sardines, a package of hominy, apples and potatoes in the cellar, and an old box of wedding cake, which, with a burning brandy sauce, she declared would serve very well for plum-pudding.

...they presently sat down to their Christmas dinner, of which they all expressed themselves as inordinately proud. There was canned soup, and sardines and toasted biscuits, canned corned beef, potatoes and fried hominy, bacon and a potato salad, a bottle of champagne, and finally the wedding cake.

Alice Duer Miller

The Burglar and the Blizzard (?1914)

I really enjoyed her Come Out of the Kitchen (1916) which I described last year as: "Another lost classic (rediscovered by fleur in her world): a rich young man rents a house from an impoverished family, only to discover a host of servant problems - such as the world's prettiest cook."

diluting the milk

He didn't know – he couldn't possibly have known – that in spite of all her economies, in spite of stinting and scraping, of eschewing meat, and eating margarine instead of butter, and diluting the milk, and buying the very cheapest tea that floated like dust on the top of your cup, Miss Buncle's account at the bank was overdrawn by seven pounds fifteen shillings and would soon have been overdrawn by more; for the dividends, which had been steadily decreasing, had now practically ceased. There were tears in Miss Buncle's eyes as she signed the receipt and folded up the amazing note. Fancy that tiny piece of paper representing so much! It really was rather astonishing (when you come to think of it) what that tiny piece of paper represented – far more than a hundred sovereigns (although in modern finance less). It represented food and drink to Barbara Buncle, and, perhaps, a new winter coat and hat; but, above all, freedom from that awful nightmare of worry, and sleep, and a quiet mind.

D. E. Stevenson

Miss Buncle's Book (1934)

Some thoughts here.