Gourmets interested in menus may like to know what were the first déjeuners partaken of by the Tsar on his arrival in Paris in October 1869.
On the first day he had huîtres, consommé, œufs à la Parisienne, filet de bœuf, pommes de terre, Nesselrode sauce, chocolat.
Next day he ate huîtres, consommé, œufs Dauphine, rougets, noisettes d’agneau maréchal, pommes de terre, cailles à la Bohémienne, poires Bar-le-Duc.
The writer can recall some colossal luncheons partaken of at dear, naughty Simla, in the long ago, when a hill station in India was, if anything, livelier than at the present day, and furnished plenty of food for both mind and body. Our host was the genial proprietor of a weekly journal, to which most of his guests contributed, after their lights; “sport and the drama” falling to the present writer’s share. Most of the food at those luncheons had been specially imported from Europe; and although the whitebait tasted more of the hermetical sealing than of the Thames mud, most of the other items were succulent enough. There were turtle soup, and turtle fins; highly seasoned pâtés of sorts; and the native khansamah had added several dishes of his own providing and invention. A young florican (bustard) is by no means a bad bird, well roasted and basted; and though the eternal vilolif (veal olives) were usually sent away untasted, his snipe puddings were excellent. What was called picheese (twenty-five years old) brandy, from the atelier of Messrs. Justerini and Brooks, was served after the coffee; and those luncheon parties seldom broke up until it was time to dress for dinner. In fact, our memories were not often keen as to anything which occurred after the coffee, and many “strange things happened” in consequence; although as they have no particular connection with high-class cookery, they need not be alluded to in this chapter.
But, as observed before, I am of opinion that luncheon, except under certain circumstances, is a mistake.