Breakfast Is The Meal At Which The Englishman Rather Excels; In
Fact England Is The Only Country In Europe Where The Natives Have
The Faintest Conception Of What A Regular Breakfast Is, Or Should
Be.
Moreover, it is now possible in certain London hotels for an
American to get hot bread and ice-water
At breakfast, though the
English round about look on with undisguised horror as he consumes
them, and the manager only hopes that he will have the good taste
not to die on the premises.
It is true that, in lieu of the fresh fruit an American prefers,
the waiter brings at least three kinds of particularly sticky
marmalade and, in accordance with a custom that dates back to the
time of the Druids, spangles the breakfast cloth over with a large
number of empty saucers and plates, which fulfill no earthly purpose
except to keep getting in the way. The English breakfast bacon,
however, is a most worthy article, and the broiled kipper is juicy
and plump, and does not resemble a dried autumn leaf, as our kipper
often does. And the fried sole, on which the Englishman banks his
breakfast hopes, invariably repays one for one's undivided attention.
The English boast of their fish; but, excusing the kipper, they
have but three of note - the turbot, the plaice and the sole. And
the turbot tastes like turbot, and the plaice tastes like fish;
but the sole, when fried, is most appetizing.
I have been present when the English gooseberry and the English
strawberry were very highly spoken of, too, but with me this is
merely hearsay evidence; we reached England too late for berries.
Happily, though, we came in good season for the green filbert,
which is gathered in the fall of the year, being known then as the
Kentish cobnut. The Kentish cob beats any nut we have except the
paper-shell pecan. The English postage stamp is also much tastier
than ours. The space for licking is no larger, if as large - but
the flavor lasts.
As I said before, the Englishman has no great variety of things
to eat, but he is always eating them; and when he is not eating
them he is swigging tea. Yet in these regards the German excels
him. The Englishman gains a lap at breakfast; but after that first
hour the German leaves him, hopelessly distanced, far in the rear.
It is due to his talents in this respect that the average Berliner
has a double chin running all the way round, and four rolls of fat
on the back of his neck, all closely clipped and shaved, so as to
bring out their full beauty and symmetry, and a figure that makes
him look as though an earthquake had shaken loose everything on
the top floor and it all fell through into his dining room.
Your true Berliner eats his regular daily meals - four in number
and all large ones; and in between times he now and then gathers
a bite.
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