Another cold dish which is looked upon as being a sort of commonplace
stand-by is of boiled tongue, but I have found that it is easily
raised to a level bordering on the ideal if prepared in this way: Boil
the beef tongue till tender in water which has been highly seasoned
with vegetables, herbs, and spice; remove the skin, brush the tongue
with beaten egg, strew it thickly with bread-crumbs, and bake for half
an hour in a hot oven, basting frequently with port wine. Let it get
perfectly cold before slicing and have the slices as thin as possible.
Near to the tongue, as a relish for it, and indeed for all of the
foregoing dishes, one's sense of the fitness of things approves the
idea of having crisp, thin slices of toast, sprinkled with the finest
little bits of green peppers imaginable, and masked with a thin layer
of mayonnaise.
In fact, one, if not the best, way to serve salads at an outdoor
festivity, is upon thin slices of toast of white or graham bread, as
one chooses. For instance, a lettuce and anchovy salad made by
shredding the lettuce and cutting the anchovies in two and dressing
with lemon juice and a dash of cayenne, with the yolks of hard-boiled
eggs finely minced, seems to call for just such a tiny bit of toast as
one gets in this way of serving, to carry out one's idea of perfection
in little things.