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Strona 82 - This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup, or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo ; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffern, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace ; All these you eat at Terra's tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Strona 345 - See him in the dish, his second cradle, how meek he lieth ! — wouldst thou have had this innocent grow up to the grossness and indocility which too often accompany maturer swinehood ? Ten to one he would have proved a glutton, a sloven, an obstinate, disagreeable animal — wallowing in all manner of filthy conversation — from these sins he is happily snatched away — Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade, Death came with timely care...
Strona 346 - ... she would feel that I had never had a bit of it in my mouth at last — and I blamed my impertinent spirit of alms-giving, and out-of-place hypocrisy of goodness; and above all I wished never to see the face again of that insidious, good-for-nothing, old grey impostor.
Strona 345 - He must be roasted. I am not ignorant that our ancestors ate them seethed or boiled, but what a sacrifice of the exterior tegument ! There is no flavour comparable, I will contend, to that of the crisp, tawny, well-watched, not over-roasted crackling...
Strona 347 - Whether, supposing that the flavour of a pig who obtained his death by whipping (per flagellationem extrema/ni) superadded a pleasure upon the palate of a man more intense than any possible suffering we can conceive in the animal, is man justified in using that method of putting the animal to death ? " I forget the decision. His sauce should be considered. Decidedly, a few bread crumbs, done up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild sage. But, banish, dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole...
Strona 345 - ... the hereditary failing of the first parent, yet manifest — his voice as yet not broken, but something between a childish treble, and a grumble — the mild forerunner, or prceludium, of a grunt.
Strona 400 - Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat; Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl! Serenely full, the epicure would say, Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day!
Strona 350 - ... in the pan, you are to add a fit quantity of the best Butter, and to squeeze the...
Strona 399 - Distrust the condiment that bites so soon; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault To add a double quantity of salt; Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, And twice with vinegar procured from town; And lastly o'er the flavoured compound toss A magic soupcon of anchovy sauce.
Strona 346 - Pig - let me speak his praise - is no less provocative of the appetite than he is satisfactory to the criticalness of the censorious palate. The strong man may batten on him, and the weakling refuseth not his mild juices. Unlike to mankind's mixed characters, a bundle of virtues and vices inexplicably intertwisted, and not to be unravelled without hazard, he is good throughout.