“Try some of the aguacate—it will improve the flavour of your soup.”
One of the waiters handed round a dark, olive-coloured fruit of an oblong shape, about the size of a large pear.
“Ask him how it is used, Captain,” said the major to me.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I had forgotten that some of our edibles may be strange to you. Simply pare off the rind, and slice it thus.”
We tried the experiment, but could not discover any peculiar improvement in the flavour of the soup. The pulp of the aguacate seemed singularly insipid to our northern palates.
Fish, as with us, and of the finest quality, formed the second course.
A variety of dishes were now brought upon the table; most of them new to us, but all piquant, pleasant to the taste, and peculiar.
The major tried them all, determined to find out which he might like best—a piece of knowledge that he said would serve him upon some future occasion.
The Don seemed to take a pleasure in helping the major, whom he honoured by the title of “Señor Coronel.”
“Puchero, Señor Coronel?”