Sunday, May 03, 2020
Lunch
Stella Bowen (1893-1947), Drawn from Life (1941; rpt. London: Virago, 1984), pp. 237-238:
Newer› ‹Older
At one-thirty someone would say, "what about lunch," and one of us would go down to Mme. Nickolai for a long loaf, some butter, black olives, garlic, sausage and a slice of ripe fromage de brie. A litre of vin rouge turned this into a feast and the lunch would prolong itself as a convivial occasion, fitting reward for a good morning's work.This reminds Mrs. Laudator of Kenneth Grahame (1859-1932), The Wind in the Willows (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1908), p. 206:
'That is indeed an excellent suggestion,' said the Water Rat, and hurried off home. There he got out the luncheon-basket and packed a simple meal, in which, remembering the stranger's origin and preferences, he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask wherein lay bottled sunshine shed and garnered on far Southern slopes.
