I wonder if you will say a recipe for lobster _à la_ Newberg is
altogether too stale if I undertake to tell it to you. I know its age
just as well as you do, and I also know that I could weep bitterly, if
it would do any good, at some of the concoctions called by that name
that I have had put before me, and which, worse than all, I have been
expected to eat. So right here I shall put on record my way of
preparing that delicious dish, and if you don't care to read it, why
skip it, of course. Into the chafing dish put two ounces of butter and
let it melt; then put in the meat of a two-pound lobster cut into
dice-shaped pieces and let them cook till they are really fried a
bit. Then turn low the flame of the lamp while you pour in a little
less than a pint of cream in which has been beaten three eggs,
seasoned with salt and red pepper. Just as this is hot add a scant
wineglass of sherry and let it heat once more, regulating the flame
all the time so that it cannot boil. For if it does the jig is up, the
eggs will be sure to curdle, and you will wish to goodness you hadn't
undertaken it. Have little triangles of toasted bread on which to
serve the lobster, and if it turns out the success it should, your
reputation among your guests will be for all time established as a
hostess who knows her business from A to Z.