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And thou, most beautiful of all thou evening star of entremets thou that delightest in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud of sauces exquisite foie-gras! Have I forgotten thee? Do I not, on the contrary, see thee smell thee taste thee and almost die with rapture of thy possession?
Then, while a terrine of foie-gras, purchased in Belgium, was being served, the conversation took another turn; dwelling for an instant on the quantities of fish that were dying of poison in the Meuse, and finally coming around to the subject of the pestilence that menaced Sedan when there should be a thaw.
And thou, most beautiful of all thou evening star of entremets thou that delightest in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud of sauces exquisite foie-gras! Have I forgotten thee? Do I not, on the contrary, see thee smell thee taste thee and almost die with rapture of thy possession?
It was only natural that such young barbarians should fail to appreciate the cookery of so celebrated a cordon-bleu, which term, I may add, is only applicable to a woman-cook, and can never be used of a man. This truly admirable woman made us terrines of truffled foie-gras such as even Strasburg could not surpass, and gave them to us for breakfast.
Anyone so kind-hearted as Edith would be sure to try and cheer up the convalescence of a wounded friend. Have a foie-gras sandwich, Edith? Edith felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh at something in the hospitable, almost patronising tone of her guest. 'Oh, Edith likes going to see him, said Bruce to Madame Frabelle. 'So do I, if it comes to that. We're all fond of old Aylmer, you know.
Lobster, crab flakes and cold roasted game may be used according to this recipe. This will serve eight persons at a reception. At a luncheon only six persons. 1 box of granulated gelatin 1 teaspoonful of beef extract 1 small onion 1 bay leaf 1 blade of mace 1 truffle 1 carrot 1 green pepper 1 red pepper 1 lemon 1 tureen of foie-gras
"Do you think it likely the girl would have him then?" "Don't you?" he said, still laughing, and tucking away the last of a foie-gras sandwich. She turned away, frowning, "I don't see how you can call me cynical!" He raised his eyebrows, "That's not cynical," he protested. "You have to take folks the way they are, and not the way you think it would be pretty to have them.
Who are you, pray, that I, Duc De L'Omelette, Prince de Foie-Gras, just come of age, author of the 'Mazurkiad, and Member of the Academy, should divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest pantaloons ever made by Bourdon, the daintiest robe-de-chambre ever put together by Rombert to say nothing of the taking my hair out of paper not to mention the trouble I should have in drawing off my gloves?"
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