At last the house-keeper brought forward a little round table, such as once was called a gueridon, on which was a cup of strong mocha, the perfume of which filled the room.
Having sipped it, the cure said grace, and arose, adding "I never take spirits, though I offer them to my guests. I reserve them as a succor for extreme old age."
While all this was progressing, time had passed, and as it was six o'clock, Madame R—— was anxious to get into her carriage, for she had several friends to dine with her. She came late, and told her guests, of whom I was one, what she had seen.
The conversation passed from subject to subject, but I, as a philosopher, thought the secret of the preparation of such a dish must be valuable. I ordered my cook to obtain the recipe in its most minute details. I publish it the more willingly now, because I never saw it in any book.
OMELETTE AU THON.
Take for six persons the roe of four cash [Footnote: the translator has followed this recipe with shad, pike, pickerel, etc., and can recommend it with a quiet conscience. Any fish is a substitute for tunny] and steep them for a few minutes in salt water just below boiling point.
Put in also a fresh tunny about as large as an egg, to which you must add a charlotte minced.
Mix the tunny and the roes together, and put the whole in a kettle with a portion of good butter, and keep it on the fire until the butter has melted. This is the peculiarity of the omelette.
Take then another piece of butter and mix it with parsely and sage. Put it in the dish intended to receive the omelette, cover it with lemon juice and put it on hot coals.
Then beat twelve eggs, (fresh as possible), pour in the fish and roe so that all may be perfectly mixed.