Those From Whom Nature Has Withheld Taste

At The Time I Write, The Glory Of The Truffle Has Now Reached Its Culmination. Who Would Dare To Say That He Has Been At A Dinner Where There Was Not A Pièce Truffée? Who Has Not Felt His Mouth Water In Hearing Truffles A La Provencale Spoken Of? In Fine, The Truffle Is The Very Diamond Of Gastronomy.

The Limits Of Pleasure Are As Yet Neither Known Nor Fixed, And That We Have No Idea What Degree Of Bodily Bliss We Are Capable Of Attaining.

In The Centre Of A Spacious Table Rose A Pastry As Large As A Church, Flanked On The North By A Quarter Of Cold Veal, On The South By An Enormous Ham, On The East By A Monumental Pile Of Butter, And On The West By An Enormous Dish Of Artichokes, With A Hot Sauce.

It Is The Duty Of All Papas And Mammas To Forbid Their Children To Drink Coffee, Unless They Wish To Have Little Dried-up Machines, Stunted And Old At The Age Of Twenty... Once Saw A Man In London, In Leicester Square, Who Had Been Crippled By Immoderate Indulgence In Coffee; He Was No Longer In Any Pain, Having Grown Accustomed To His Condition, And Had Cut Himself Down To Five Or Six Cups A Day.

The Truffle Is Not A Positive Aphrodisiac, But It Can Upon Occasion Make Women Tenderer And Men More Apt To Love.