Word: rhum
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...flour, cooked in skillet with water and served with mushroom sauce. Squab chicken on spit before open fire. Two green vegetables, potatoes or rice. Sweet pie or homemade pudding, such as apple betty, bread pudding, rice pudding, custard; cookies or homemade cakes or gingerbread, canned fruit; canned babas au rhum, etc. Salad with French dressing in warm weather. Cheese-black diamond, Canadian cheddar, with pie or, usually, with cognac after dinner...
...painful weeks between painting, Hopper's self-enforced, involuntary leisure consists largely of reading, movies (he liked Marty), wandering the streets on foot, alone and lonely as a cloud, or touring the highways with his wife. Their entertaining is confined largely to an occasional tea with baba au rhum. But one recent visitor was asked to lunch, and given hamburgers cooked over the flames of the coal stove. "I suppose I should have used the gas range," Mrs. Hopper chirped, "but it just makes a lot of grease for Eddie to clean up." For a cookbook giving the favorite...
...Vagabond sips his rhum at case. From an office in Time magazine he hears a voice. "Tutrinsically worthless," the voice says, "But you have to have it. It's like a necktie. Just a convention, a caste mark...
...toils through the day's matter in much the same monotonous drone. There is roast beef in all the Houses for breakfast and for lunch and for dinner, and for a demitasse. There is a very poor movie in all the theatres in town; there is very poor rhum in every bottle in Cambridge; there is a most strident and complaining voice through every fire door in the college. There is the same bland look of innocence on every Freshman's face and the same suave cynicism on every Sophomore's. The bell in Sever rings louder and more frequently...
...wine of the country that used to be made from Russets, but now is ground from Baldwins. Boys at college distil it and call it applejack, but the farmers of New Hampshire keep it in a 50-gallon keg and call it cider. It does not burn like Rhum, it does not bite like Gin, it does not scrape like Scotch. It softens the rough edges, it burnishes the afterglow, and it catches a wind tossed echo of the music of the spheres. And above all it flows from a pitcher the mate to which Hawthorne has called miraculous...