THE TROCADERO (SHAFTESBURY AVENUE)
I dined one day early last week at the Trocadero, a little
specially-ordered _tête-à-tête_ dinner over which the chef had taken
much trouble--his _Suprêmes de sole Trocadéro_, and _Poulet de
printemps Rodisi_ are well worth remembering--and while I drank the
Moët '84, cuvée 1714, and luxuriated in some brandy dating back to
1815, the solution of a problem that had puzzled me mildly came to me.
An old friend was sending his son, a boy at Harrow, up to London to
see a dentist before going back to school, and asked me if I would
mind giving him something to eat, and taking him to a performance of
some kind. I said "Yes," of course; but I felt it was something of
an undertaking. When I was at Harrow my ideas of luxury consisted of
ices at Fuller's and sausages and mashed potatoes carried home in a
paper bag. I had no idea as to what Jones minor's tastes might be;
but if he was anything like what I was then he would prefer plenty
of good food combined with music and gorgeousness and excitement to
the most delicate _mousse_ ever made, eaten in philosophic calm. The
Trocadero was the place; if he was not impressed by the dinner, by the
magnificence of the rooms, by the beautiful staircase, by the music,
then I did not know my Harrow boy.
Jones minor arrived at my club at five minutes to the half-past seven,
and I saw at once that he was not a young gentleman to be easily
impressed. He had on a faultless black short jacket and trousers, a
white waistcoat, and a tuberose in his buttonhole. I asked him if he
knew the Trocadero, and he said that he had not dined there; but plenty
of boys in his house had, and had said that it was jolly good.
When we came to the entrance of the Trocadero, an entrance that always
impresses me by its palatial splendour, I pointed out to him the veined
marble of the walls and the magnificent frieze in which Messrs. Moira
and Jenkins, two of the cleverest of our young artists, have struck
out a new line of decoration; and when I had paused a while to let him
take it in I told him that the _chef de réception_ had been a gallant
Australian Lancer. Then I asked him what he thought of it, and he said
he thought it was jolly good.
Mr Alfred Salmon, in chief command, and the good-looking _maître
d'hôtel_, both saw us to our table, and a plump waiter whom I remember
of old at the Savoy was there with the various menu cards in his hand.
The table had been heaped with roses in our honour, and I felt that all
this attention must impress Jones minor; but he unfolded his napkin
with the calm of unconcern, and I regretted that I had not arranged
to have the band play "See the Conquering Hero Comes," and have a
triumphal arch erected in his honour.
I had intended to give him the five-shilling _table-d'hôte_ meal; but
in face of this calm superiority I abandoned that, skipped the 7s. 6d.
_table d'hôte_ as well, and ordered the half-guinea one. I had thought
that three-and-sixpennyworth of wine should be ample for a growing boy,
but having rushed into reckless extravagance over the food I thought I
would let him try seven-and-sixpennyworth of wine. I personally ordered
a pint of 277, which is an excellent wine. I told Jones minor that the
doctor told me not to mix my wines, and he said something about having
to be careful when one got old that I did not think sounded at all nice.
While we paused, waiting for the _hors-d'œuvre_, I drew his attention
to all the gorgeousness of the grand restaurant, the cream and gold,
the hand-painted ceiling-panels, on which the Cupids sport, the
brocades and silks of the wall panels, the broad band of gold of the
gallery running round the room, the crimson and gold draperies, the
glimpse of the blue and white and gold of the _salon_ seen through the
dark framing of the portières; I bade him note the morocco leather
chairs with gold initials on the back, and the same initials on the
collars of the servants. It is a blaze of gorgeousness that recalls
to me some dream of the Arabian Nights; but Jones minor said somewhat
coldly that he thought it jolly good.
We drank our _potage vert-pré_ out of silver plates, but this had no
more effect on Jones minor than if they had been earthenware. I drew
his attention to the excellent band up above, in their gilded cage. I
pointed out to him amidst the crowd of diners two ex-Lord Mayors, an
A.D.C. to Royalty, the most popular low comedian of the day, a member
of the last Cabinet, our foremost dramatic critic and his wife, and one
of our leading lawyers. Jones minor had no objection to their presence,
but nothing more. The only interest he showed was in a table at which
an Irish M.P. was entertaining his family, among them two Eton boys,
and towards them his attitude was haughty but hostile.
So I tried to thaw him while we ate our whitebait, which was capitally
cooked, by telling him tales of the criminal existence I led when I
was a boy at Harrow. I told him how I put my foot in the door of Mr.
Bull's class-room when it was being closed at early morning school
time. I told him how I took up alternate halves of one exercise of
rule of three through one whole term to "Old Teek." I told him how I
and another bad boy lay for two hours in a bed of nettles on Kingsbury
racecourse, because we thought a man watching the races with his back
to us was Mr. Middlemist. And I asked him if Dr. Welldon had habitually
worn a piece of light blue ribbon at Lord's.
This for a moment thawed Jones minor into humanity. The story about Dr.
Welldon was jolly rot, and before the boy froze up again I learned
that Bowen's had licked some other house in the final of the Torpid
football matches, and that Eaton Faning had composed a jolly good song
about the Queen.
The _filets mignons_, from his face, Jones minor seemed to like; but
he restrained all his emotions with Spartan severity. He did not
contradict me when I said that the _petites bouchées à la St-Hubert_
were good; but he ate three _sorbets_, and looked as if he could tackle
three more, which showed me that the real spirit of the Harrow boy was
there somewhere under the glacial surface, if I could only get at it.
Mr. Lyons, piercing of eye, his head-covering worn a little through by
the worries of the magnitude of his many undertakings, with little side
whiskers and a little moustache, passed by, and I introduced the boy
to him, and afterwards explained the number of strings pulled by this
Napoleon of supply, and at the mention of a "grub shop in every other
street" Jones minor's eyes brightened.
When Jones minor had made a clean sweep of the plate of _petits fours_,
and had drained the last drops of his glass of Chartreuse, I thought I
might venture to ask him how he liked his dinner, as a whole. This was
what he had conscientiously eaten through:--
Hors-d'œuvre variés.
Consommé Monte Carlo. Potage vert-pré.
Petites Soles à la Florentine. Blanchailles au citron.
Filets mignons à la Rachel.
Petites bouchées à la St-Hubert.
Sorbet.
Poularde de Surrey à la broche.
Salade saison.
Asperges nouvelles. Sauce mousseux.
Charlotte Russe.
Soufflé glacé Pompadour.
Petits fours. Dessert.
He had drunk a glass of Amontillado, a glass of '89 Liebfraumilch,
two glasses of Deutz and Gelderman, a glass of dessert claret, and a
glass of liqueur, and when pressed for a critical opinion, said that he
thought that it was jolly good.
Impressed into using a new adjective Jones minor should be somehow. So,
with Mr. Isidore Salmon as escort, I took him over the big house from
top to bottom. He shook the chef's hand with the serenity of a prince
in the kitchen at the top of the house, and showed some interest in the
wonderful roasting arrangements worked by electricity and the clever
method of registering orders. He gazed at the mighty stores of meat and
vegetables, peeped into the cosy private dining-rooms, had the beauties
of the noble Empire ball-room explained to him, and finally, in the
grill-room, amid the surroundings of Cippolini marble and old copper,
the excellent string band played a gavotte, at my request, as being
likely to take his fancy.
Then I asked Jones minor what he thought of it all, and he said that he
thought it jolly good.
I paid my bill: Two dinners, £1: 1s.; table-d'hôte wine, 7s. 6d.; half
277, 7s.; liqueur, 2s. 6d.; total, £1: 18s.; and asked Jones minor
where he would like to go and be amused. He said he had heard that the
Empire was jolly good.
10_th May_.
* * * * *
I bearded Mr. J. Lyons in his den one fine spring day and told him that
"Dinners and Diners" was going to appear in book form. He showed no
visible sign of emotion. Next I asked him if he would tell me what the
_plats_ were that the Trocadero kitchen prided itself on, and if he
would give me the _recette_ of _suprême de sole Trocadéro_ of which I
had a pleasant memory. He kindly said that I should have a list of the
dishes, and not one but two _recettes_ if I wanted them. My remark was
"Thank you."
_Caviar glacé, huîtres à la Orientale, potage Rodisi, soles à la
Glover, côtelettes de saumon à la Nantua, chapon de Bresse à la
Trocadéro, poularde à la Montique, selle d'agneau à la Lyon d'or,
salade d'Orsay, asperges nouvelles Milanaises_ form a little list from
which an admirable dinner could be designed.
These are the _recettes_ of _suprême de sole Trocadéro_ and Saddle of
Lamb _à la Pera_--
_Suprêmes de Sole Trocadéro_
Take two fillets of soles and stuff them with fish forced meat, put one
slice of smoked salmon on the top of each, roll them together, then
take a small sauté pan well buttered, and place the fillets in it,
with salt, pepper, half a wineglassful of white wine, and the juice of
half a lemon, cover it and let it simmer for from eighteen to twenty
minutes. Dress them on a silver dish, and cover one fillet with real
Dutch sauce mixed with some of the fish gravy, the second fillet you
cover with real lobster sauce. Place one slice of truffles on each
fillet and serve very hot.
_Saddle of Lamb à la Pera_
Take one saddle of lamb, and place it in an earthenware roasting-dish
and cook for about three-quarters of an hour. Prepare carrots, turnips,
and potatoes in fancy shape, and half cook them, place them in bouquets
round the saddle and put it back in the oven for twenty minutes.
Prepare some stuffed aubergines in rows on the top of the saddle, the
peas and French beans between each. To be served with a strong sherry
sauce.