toilets are necessary to the elegance of
a dinner, as a most exquisitely arranged
table is only a solemn affair surrounded
by black coats. I make it a rule never to
attend such dismal feasts, listening to
prepared witticisms and "twicetold tales."
So much for your guests.
The next step is an interview with your
chef, if you have one, or cordon bleu,
whom you must arouse to fever heat by
working on his ambition and vanity. You
must impress upon him that this particular
dinner will give him fame and lead to
fortune. My distinguished cousin, who
enjoyed the reputation of being one of the
most finished gourmets in this country,
when he reached this point, would bury
his head in his hands and (seemingly to
the chef) rack his brain seeking inspiration,
fearing lest the fatal mistake should occur
of letting two white or brown sauces
follow each other in succession; or
truffles appear twice in that dinner. The
distress that his countenance wore as
he repeatedly looked up at the chef, as if
for advice and assistance, would have its
intended effect on the culinary artist, and
his brain would at once act in sympathy.
HYLAND
