Menu -- Lunch
Tenerumi di Vitello. Breast of veal. Piccione alla minute. Pigeons, braized with liver, &c. Curry
Menu -- Dinner
Zuppa alla nazionale. Soup alla nazionale. Salmone alla Genovese. Salmon alla Genovese. Costolette alla Costanza. Mutton cutlets alla Costanza. Fritto misto alla Villeroy. Lamb's fry alla Villeroy. Lattughe al sugo. Stuffed Lettuce. Dindo arrosto alla Milanese. Roast turkey alla Milanese. Crema montata alle fragole. Strawberry cream. Tartufi alla Dino. Truffles alla Dino.
The Third Day
"I observe, dear Marchesa," said Mrs. Fothergill at breakfast on Thursday morning, "that we still follow the English fashion in our breakfast dishes. I have a notion that, in this particular especially, we gross English show our inferiority to the more spirituelles nations of the Continent, and I always feel a new being after the light meal of delicious coffee and crisp bread and delicate butter the first morning I awake in dear Paris."
"I wonder how it happens, then, that two goes of fish, a plateful of omelette, and a round and a half of toast and marmalade are necessary to repair the waste of tissue in dear England?" Van der Roet whispered to Miss Macdonnell.
"It must be the gross air of England or the gross nature of the--"
The rest of Miss Macdonnell's remark was lost, as the Marchesa cried out in answer to Mrs. Fothergill, "But why should we have anything but English breakfast dishes in England? The defects of English cookery are manifest enough, but breakfast fare is not amongst them. In these England stands supreme; there is nothing to compare with them, and they possess the crowning merit of being entirely compatible with English life. I cannot say whether it may be the effect of the crossing, or of the climate on this side, or that the air of England is charged with some subtle stimulating quality, given off in the rush and strain of strenuous national life, but the fact remains that as soon as I find myself across the Channel I want an English breakfast. It seems that I am more English than certain of the English themselves, and I am sorry that Mrs. Fothergill has been deprived of her French roll and butter. I will see that you have it to-morrow, Mrs. Fothergill, and to make the illusion complete, I will order it to be sent to your room."
"Oh no, Marchesa, that would be giving too much trouble, and I am sure you want all the help in the house to carry out the service as exquisitely as you do," said Mrs. Fothergill hurriedly, and blushing as well as her artistic complexion would allow.
"I fancy," said Mrs. Sinclair, "that foreigners are taking to English breakfasts as well as English clothes. I noticed when I was last in Milan that almost every German or Italian ate his two boiled eggs for breakfast, the sign whereby the Englishman used to be marked for a certainty."
"The German would probably call for boiled eggs when abroad on account of the impossibility of getting such things in his own country. No matter how often you send to the kitchen for properly boiled eggs in Germany, the result is always the same cold slush," said Mrs. Wilding; "and I regret to find that the same plague is creeping into the English hotels which are served by German waiters."
"That is quite true," said the Marchesa; "but in England we have no time to concern ourselves with mere boiled eggs, delicious as they are. The roll of delicacies is long enough, or even too long without them. When I am in England, I always lament that we have only seven days a week and one breakfast a day, and when I am in Italy I declare that the reason why the English have overrun the world is because they eat such mighty breakfasts. Considering how good the dishes are, I wonder the breakfasts are not mightier than they are."
"It always strikes me that our national barrenness of ideas appears as plainly in our breakfasts as anywhere," said Mrs. Gradinger. "There is a monotony about them which--"
"Monotony!" interrupted the Colonel.