"Lady this. Powdered bosom pearls. The Elite. Crème de la crème. They want special dishes to pretend they're. Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Know me come eat with me. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the butcher, right to venisons of the forest from his ex. Send him back the half of a cow." (U8.877)
"Spread I saw down in the Master of the Rolls' kitchen area. Whitehatted chef like a rabbi." (U8.881)
"Combustible duck. Curly cabbage a la duchesse de Parme. Just as well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know what you've eaten." (U8.883)
The menu of a dinner meal served by the Shelbourne Hotel on July 20th 1908. French words indeed are an ingredient. I would love to taste the Crème Diplomate!
The menu of a dinner meal served by the Shelbourne Hotel on July 20th 1908. French words indeed are an ingredient. I would love to taste the Crème Diplomate!
"Too many drugs spoil the broth. I know it myself."(U8.884)
"Dosing it with" (U8.885)
"Edwards' desiccated soup." (U8.885)
"Geese stuffed silly for them. Lobsters boiled alive." (U8.886)
"Do ptake some ptarmigan. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. May I tempt you to a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad. And she did bedad." (U8.886)
Singer Marie Dubedat, known as 'Ireland's Nightingale', in a photo from 1897. Courtesy of
Digital Museums Canada.
Thank You Áine Ninuallain for bringing it to my attention
Singer Marie Dubedat, known as 'Ireland's Nightingale', in a photo from 1897. Courtesy of
Digital Museums Canada.
Thank You Áine Ninuallain for bringing it to my attention
"Huguenot name I expect that. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I remember. Du, de la, French." (U8.889)
"Still it's the same fish, perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of making money, hand over fist, finger in fishes' gills," (U8.891)
"can't write his name on a cheque, think he was painting the landscape with his mouth twisted. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha. Ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds." (U8.893)
A period ad for Michael & P. Hanlon (Fish, Oyster and Ice Merchants) at 20 & 21 Moore street, the very Micky who can't write his name on a cheque.
A period ad for Michael & P. Hanlon (Fish, Oyster and Ice Merchants) at 20 & 21 Moore street, the very Micky who can't write his name on a cheque.
"Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck." (U8.896)
"Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered." (U8.897)
"Hidden under wild ferns on Howth. Below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities." (U8.899)
"Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all." (U8.903)
'O wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away." (U8.904)