OCTOBER 67 



I have always considered salads a strong point with 

 me, and was much amused the other day, when reading 

 Sydney Smith's ' Memoirs ' by his daughter, at the follow- 

 ing description of his experiences with salads. I think his 

 receipt so clever that I have extracted it, with the feeling it 

 was better to have it in two books than in only one, so that 

 it may give pleasure to more people. He says : ' Our forte 

 in the culinary line is our salad. I pique myself on our 

 salads. Saba always dresses them after my recipe. I 

 have put it into verse. Taste it, and if you like it I will 

 give it to you. I was not aware how much it had con- 

 tributed to my reputation till I met Lady at Bowood, 



who begged to be introduced to me, saying she had so 

 long wished to know me. I was of course highly 

 flattered till she added : " For, Mr. Smith, I have heard 

 so much of your recipe for salads that I was most anxious 

 to obtain it from you." Such and so various are the 

 sources of fame ! 



To make this condiment your poet begs 

 The pounded yellow of two hard-boil'd eggs ; 

 Two boil'd potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve, 

 Smoothness and softness to the salad give. 

 Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl 

 And, half-suspected, animate the whole. 

 Of mordant mustard add a single spoon, 

 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 from Lucca brown, 

 And twice with vinegar procured from town ; 

 And lastly o'er the flavour'd compound toss 

 A magic soupgon of anchovy sauce. 

 Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat ! 

 '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.' 



