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Blanch, toast and grind the almonds, putting them through an ordinary meat grinder; rub them with the almond paste, adding the extract and about two tablespoonfuls of water or sherry. Sprinkle the sugar over the whipped cream, and then fold in the nut mixture.
"Nothing nothing nothing whatever," she replied. "Well, tell us the truth," we bade her. "The truth? But isn't it wonderful," she broke off "Mr. Chitter has written a weekly article for the past thirty years upon love or hot buttered toast and has sent all his sons to Eton " "The truth!" we demanded.
On this particular bottle was a fly, and I threw the bottle to the wall with such force that it broke into shivers, and the foaming contents went splashing into the faces of the company. The reverend Father had just risen, glass in hand, to drink a toast to the happy couple, and Siegfried said, reproachfully
I think I have a photo somewhere, not a very good one, but enough to show how homely he was.... Amy, aren't you going to eat any breakfast this morning?" Aunt Amy, who had been following her niece's unusual flow of talk with fascinated attention, returned with a start to her untasted egg. Esther tried to eat some toast and choked. In spite of all her resolutions she felt coldly and bitterly angry.
But Lafayette missed one name from the list of toasts; at the end of the dinner he arose and, calling attention to the omission, he proposed the name of the commander in chief. In silence the men drank the toast; they had learned by this time that the young French noble was made of unmanageable material.
By this touch of politeness, Mr. Toast, who knew as much of the art of reading as a monkey commonly knows of mathematics, got rid of the awkwardness of acknowledging the careless manner in which he had trifled with his early opportunities. Luckily, Mr.
In truth, Tom is a great institution. He opens the day along with tea and hot toast and the Daree-nai-hona Chronicle, but we throw aside the Chronicle.
There is a poem in stretched legs after hard digging but I can't write it, though I can feel it! I got my bag and took out a half loaf of Harriet's bread. Breaking off big crude pieces, I ate it there in the shade. How rarely we taste the real taste of bread! We disguise it with butter, we toast it, we eat it with milk or fruit.
Pausing for a fresh relay of toast, Aunt Pen glanced toward her niece with the comfortable conviction that her appearance was highly creditable; and her dismay can be imagined, when she beheld that young lady placidly devouring a great cup of brown-bread and milk before the eyes of the assembled multitude.
Distant, indifferent, and speculative as the eyes were, a ray of fire shot into them occasionally, which made her gaze powerful and concentrated. I was within a month of sixteen, and Veronica was in her thirteenth year; but she looked as old as I did. She carefully prepared her toast with milk and butter, and ate it in silence.
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