Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 22, 2025
Remove the bones, gristle, &c., from a nice piece of veal, the breast is the best part for the purpose; season the meat well with chopped herbs, mace, pepper, and salt, then lay between the veal slices of smoked tongue variegated with beetroot, chopped parsley, and hard yolks of eggs, roll it up tightly in a cloth, simmer for some hours till tender; when done, it should have a weight laid on it to press out the liquor.
Such apathy on the part of the poor fellows can only be understood by those who remember tramping across those vast deserts of snow, with nothing to quench their thirst but snow, snow for their bed, snow as far as the horizon on every side, and no food but snow, a little frozen beetroot, horseflesh, or a handful of meal.
She caught Mary coming downstairs and whispered that there was cold boiled chicken and trifle for supper, because of Aunt Lavvy. Through the door Mary could see her father standing at the table, and the calm breasts of the cold chicken smoothed with white sauce and decorated with beetroot stars. There was a book beside Papa's plate, the book Aunt Lavvy had been reading.
A few slices of beetroot improves the color. This recipe recommends itself as of a delightful flavor yet easily made, and a convenient substitute for the old-fashioned, tedious method of pickling the same vegetable.
If to be eaten hot, cut them into thin slices, arrange them on a hot vegetable dish and pour over white sauce or melted butter, or hand these separately. Boil large beetroot about two hours, being careful not to pierce it. When cold mash very smooth, add a little drippings, pepper, salt and stock. Place in a greased pan and bake one hour.
Away on the left went the green fields of colza, and beetroot, and trefoil, with big forest trees here and there in their midst, and, against the blue low line of the far horizon, red mill-sails, and gray church spires; dreamy plaintive bells far away somewhere were ringing the sad Flemish carillon. He paused and looked at her. "I must bid you good night, Bébée; you are near your home now."
The luncheon, too, is rarely inspired: they eat cold joint of beef with pickled beetroot, or mutton and boiled potatoes, with unfailing regularity, finishing off at most hotels with semolina pudding, a concoction intended for, and appealing solely to, the taste of the toothless infant, who, having just graduated from rubber rings, has not a jaded palate.
While I think of it, I can do without pepper; we have some native pepper. I can make several teas which have a very nice taste, and I can produce very fair coffee from the root of the dandelion. If I was in Canada, I could manufacture excellent sugar from the maple-tree. Here I could make it out of beetroot, but it would be troublesome.
"Therefore, my dear chap," resumed Peter, sipping his whisky and water, "to return to our lambs, I bow to your patrician prejudices in favour of forks. But your patriotic prejudices are on a different level. There, I am on the same ground as you, and I vow I see nothing inherently superior in the British combination of beef and beetroot, to the German amalgam of lamb and jam."
In the dining-room she found supper laid out upon the table, cold beef, potatoes in their jackets, cold beetroot, jelly, and cheese, and her uncle playing cards on the unoccupied end of the table in a melancholy manner by himself.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking