The sun is slowly diving toward the line of trees that stand at the far western end of the grounds, and as it dips it deepens the green of the broad, immaculately manicured lawn and the other hues of the carefully tended arbors and flower beds that grace the estate. As its lower curve reaches the tops of the trees, the sun seems to hang there for an instant, gilding the drawing room in which you are standing with the last warmth of the day's light.
As if some instinct draws them all, your companions fall silent, and everyone watches the end of the day through the tall, spotless, paned windows that line the drawing room's far wall. The sun explodes behind the trees, silhouetting them with its last full glory, and then suddenly, with an astronomical precision, it is gone, and twilight reigns.
Everyone seems to draw a breath, and then slowly, their conversations resume, until the sound of people happily engaged in pleasant intercourse cascades around you, mellowing your own exchange with your attractive companion.
"Formal," Roth mentioned when he turned you over to the servant who conducted you to your room, and formal it is. Standing at the bar, Alexander Rokannen, in his elegant evening clothes looks, well, regal--as he should, for someday, he will be King. On the other side of the Georgian chairs and sitting table, Reginald Trask (some say that is not his name) and his fiancee stand close together, always touching in some way even as they share an animated conversation with Major Pelham and his wife. Pelham, like all of the Laird's men, is in full Montrose tonight, and his decorations glitter against the black wool of his doublet under the even light from the chandeliers.
The double doors at the far end of the drawing room open, and Roth enters. The estate's supervisor--"butler" is far too limited a word to describe all that your host's gentleman's gentleman does here--is very much like the Laird. He is a man who can command a room without ever raising his voice, if he desires, and tonight, he so desires. Roth simply stands there, yet some inexorable quality of his presence infuses the room and stills the many discussions once more.
"My lords, my ladies, welcome," he says formally, but with a hint of a smile behind that so-proper exterior. "The Laird of Black Lion bids you welcome, and invites you to dine with him. Dinner is served." Turning as precisely as if triple-lasered calibrations run his body, Roth leads you into the vast dining hall beyond the double doors. Even before you reach the room, your nose catches a thread of fresh-baked bread, of soups perfectly kettled and meats superbly spiced and roasted. Your mouth waters. The Laird of the Black Lions knows how to set a table, and you cannot wait to sample the fare he has ordered for this gathering. From the smell the chef, Constanzo, has outdone himself again.
Servants greet you and your fellow guests by name and lead you to your seats even as the wine stewards appear with the evening's first offerings. To your surprise and great pleasure, you find yourself being offered the seat nearest your host, and as you greet him and take your place near the head of the table, music threads its way into the dining hall and you surrender to the spotless crystal, the gleaming silver, the china awaiting the repast . . . .
On the pages in this section, I am happy to offer various items related to cooking and dining. From Tex-Mex to Tournedos, from Cajun to Calabrese, I hope you enjoy the suggestions to make your preparation and enjoyment of food all the more pleasant.
I welcome your suggestions for additions to this page.
"Eating is not merely a material pleasure. Eating well gives a spectacular joy to life and contributes immensely to goodwill and happy companionship. It is of great importance to the morale."
Elsa Schiaparelli, Shocking Life (1954)