Monday, December 24, 2012
The restaurant where you pay a certain amount for lunch and then get all you want to eat of enchilada, goulash, spaghetti, stuffed tomatoes, pate de foie gras, glazed tongue, glazed lamb, glazed beef, salads (hot red Spanish sauces and purple ripe olives), rolls and cornbread fingers, eggs with chopped up chicken a la king, like all entrees, in a chafing dish — ravioli — pickle sauce, eggs stuffed with anchovies, coffee in glasses, French pastry, strawberry cake with glazed, deadly-looking strawberries rather like the decorations of the restaurant itself (the Victor Hugo), where a long carpeted staircase led to a luxuriously curtained interior — mirrors, Empire ornaments, birds of paradise behind white looped window curtains — we commanded the room from a raised and carpeted dais which ran along the walls. Edmund Wilson, The 1920s
Friday, August 10, 2012
Here were huge joints of beef, marbled with broad veins of fat, pork with splendid crackling, shining moulds of brawn, and great tongues lolling back on themselves, golden-crusted pies, jewel-bright jellies, foamy syllabubs, pitchers of solid cream, cheeses big as millstones, of sorts not known today. Rebecca West, The Fountain Overflows
Monday, May 21, 2012
(in the latest NY’er, HT Steph B.)

(in the latest NY’er, HT Steph B.)

Saturday, May 5, 2012 Monday, April 23, 2012

Swelling unctuous paps (again)

And he wanted to see them living in palaces of alabaster columns, eating in vast halls upon an immense creamy table from vessels of old silver—eating strange fabulous foods — swelling unctuous paps of a fat pregnant sow, oiled mushrooms, calvered salmon, jugged hare, the beards of barbels dressed with an exquisite and poignant sauce, carps’ tongues, dormice and camels’ heels, with spoons of amber headed with diamond and carbuncle, and cups of agate, studded with emeralds, hyacinths, and rubies — everything, in fact, for which Epicure Mammon wished.

Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward Angel
(previously)

Sunday, March 25, 2012

And a huge tomb of a pie




— Dickens, All the Year Round. (This excerpt will also appear in Aspics of the Novel, and see also: squab pie.)

Sunday, March 18, 2012
They began with a soup square, which Leonard had just dissolved in some hot water. It was followed by the tongue—a freckled cylinder of meat, with a little jelly at the top, and a great deal of yellow fat at the bottom—ending with another square dissolved in water (jelly: pineapple), which Leonard had prepared earlier in the day. Jacky ate contentedly enough, occasionally looking at her man with those anxious eyes, to which nothing else in her appearance corresponded, and which yet seemed to mirror her soul. And Leonard managed to convince his stomach that it was having a nourishing meal. E M Forster, Howards End