Word: custards
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...desserts were no more successful. The fresh fruit in kirsh ($.95) wasn't really; the fruit was canned, topped with a lone fresh strawberry, and what may have been a fresh banana. The custard of the creme caromel ($.60) was rich but the caramel was sugary and not browned sufficiently. The Babas au Rhum ($.95) tasted like a sponge soaked in other
...Aslett is the ultimate in Victorian self-effacement. She never speaks above a whisper, and to call us to dinner--at one O'clock promptly--she rings a tiny bell. She spends much of the morning in the kitchen, making roly-poly puddings and custard, toads-in-the-hole, and blancmange. If I go through the kitchen about lunchtime the greed walls are sweating fiercely, little runnels of steam trickling down near the stove, and Mrs. Aslett shuffles around in her pink apron, flushed and almost cheerful in her work...
Baker can be bitter: "The sinister nature of the American soil is apparent in places like Gettysburg. Fertilize it with the blood of heroes and it brings forth a frozen-custard stand." Baker can be elegiac, as when he raises the tragic ghost of Abe Lincoln, who says, "A man eventually likes to see the record on himself completed and know that everything is fixed and that his life is in order. I groan every time an archivist discovers another hitherto lost Brady portrait...
...Asians. Today 1,850,000 nonwhites live in Britain; they constitute only 2.1% of the total population, but in the slums of London and the cities of the Midlands, whole streets have become immigrant ghettos. Shops are stocked with curries and spices; street vendors hawk mangoes and yams and custard apples. In Leeds, cinemas show Punjabi films on Sundays. In Coventry, Indians can occasionally be seen on their porches playing pipes to pet cobras in wicker baskets...
...comedian-if he can break out-crayons mustaches on them to save the prig from his own miscasting. What makes the '70s no laughing matter is this: without comedians to deter them, little prigs tend to grow into big fanatics. Bombs being what they are nowadays, a custard pie in the face of a few prigs is a cheap price for civilization to pay. Bombs and bomb throwers we've got. But where are the pies? Where are those pie throwers? They'll come in their own time and their own guise. Not even Herman Kahn would...