Sunday, March 10, 2013

The guests finally arrived in a crowd at the police chief’s house. The police chief was indeed a wonder-worker: having only just heard what was going on, he sent that same moment for a policeman, a perky fellow in patent leather jackboots, and seemed to whisper just two words in his ear, adding only: “Understand!”—and there, in the other room, while the guests were hard at their whist, there appeared on the table beluga, sturgeon, salmon, pressed caviar, freshly salted caviar, herring, red sturgeon, cheeses, smoked tongues and balyks—all from the fish market side. Then there appeared additions from the host’s side, products of his own kitchen: a fish-head pie into which went the cheeks and cartilage of a three-hundred-pound sturgeon, another pie with mushrooms, fritters, dumplings, honey-stewed fruit.

Gogol, Dead Souls

Saturday, May 26, 2012

"Cheesy" liver cysts etc.

These are all from Patrick Manson’sTropical Diseases

Ondt:

Und:

Sunday, May 13, 2012
BUT, when at last usurping Jove
Old Saturn from his Empire drove;
Then Gluttony with greasy Paws,
Her Napkin pinn’d up to her Jaws,
With watry Chaps, and wagging Chin,
Brac’d like a Drum her oily Skin;
Wedg’d in a spacious Elbow-Chair,
And on her Plate a treble Share,
As if she ne’er could have enuff;
Taught harmless Man to cram and stuff.
She sent her Priests in Wooden Shoes
From haughty Gaul to make Ragous.
Instead of wholsome Bread and Cheese,
To dress their Soupes and Fricassyes;
And, for our home-bred British Chear,
Botargo, Catsup, and Caveer.
Swift, “A Panegyrick on the Dean” (mostly about crapping; see here for more)
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Stuffing caviar into cold lobsters in Amis, Girl, 20

Stuffing caviar into cold lobsters in Amis, Girl, 20

Saturday, January 21, 2012

modern garum

He loved introducing me to special tidbits, and by the age of nine I had developed a passionate taste for cold vichyssoise and caviar and anchovy paste… . I paved my plate with chicken slices. Then I covered the chicken slices with caviar thickly as if I were spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread. Then I picked up the chicken slices in my fingers one by one, rolled them so the caviar wouldn’t ooze off and ate them.

Sylvia Plath: The Bell Jar