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Updated: June 22, 2025
To say that I ordered my dinner of this archaic type would be altogether to misrepresent the process owing to which, having dreamed of lamb and spinach and a salade de saison, I sat down in penitence to a mutton-chop and a rice pudding.
Flowers, smilax, etc., may be pinned on this, which produce a very pretty effect. In ancient times the fairest and youngest lady at table was expected to prepare and mix the salad with her fingers. "Retourner la salade les doigts," is the French way of describing a lady to be still young and beautiful. Change the water twice, next day drain and wipe dry.
Among these observe the fine painted archers' salade, with vizor; two fine Venetian salades, like the ancient Greek helmets, and bearing armourers' stamps; sixteenth-century tilting helmets, with side doors for air; spider helmets, &c. Those on the upper shelves are either false or imitations of real examples.
He was a man of great size, clad in black armor without blazonry or ornament of any kind, for all worldly display was forbidden by the rules of the military brotherhood to which he belonged. No plume or nobloy fluttered from his plain tilting salade, and even his lance was devoid of the customary banderole.
They dined alone at the Htel des Rois, Monsieur Duchanel himself doing them the honor of serving the repast, which Hermia soon discovered had none of the characteristics of the vagabond fare promised her a velvety soup petits pois la crme, an entre, then poulet rti, salade endive, cheese and coffee a meal for the gods, which these mortals partook of with unusual enjoyment.
Bread and Beer. Potage de Tortue. Calipash. Calipees. Un Paté de Jambon de Bayone. Potage Julien Verd. Two Turbots to remove the Soops. Haunch of Venison. Palaits de Mouton. Selle de Mouton. Salade. Saucisses au Ecrevisses. Boudin Blanc
Ralph looked hard at the big man, who now had his salade thrown back from his face, to see if he gave any token of jeering or malice, but could see nought such: nay, his face was grave and serious, not ill-fashioned, though it were both long and broad like his body: his cheek-bones somewhat high, his eyes grey and middling great, and looking, as it were, far away.
"What is it?" he said. "Why did you write them?" she said. "I had to write something. You made me." "Vere suggested it first." He looked again at Vere, but only for a moment. She was laughing at something the Marchesino was saying. "Did she? Oh! Take some of that salade a la Russe. I gave the chef the recipe for it. Did she?" "Don't you remember?" "Those words were in my head. I put them down."
"Ha! ha! ha!" said Madame de Cornuel, laughing; "one is never at a loss for jokes upon a woman who eats salade au lard, and declares that, whenever she is unhappy, her only consolation is ham and sausages!
I haven't been to a party in a century. If Miss Gray will be the 'chefess, I'll be assistant potato peeler. I can make the best salad. It's called 'Salade de la Marquise de Chateaubriand'; but it won't hurt you. It is only peanuts and cabbage. Daddy and I used to feast on it once a week." After all there was nothing I could label a reason why he and Zura should not meet.
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