The Cooks Decameron | Page 5

di patate (Potato salad).
179. Insalata alla Navarino (Salad).
180. Insalata di pomidoro (Tomato Salad).
181. Tartufi alla Dino (Truffles).

Macaroni, Rice, Polenta, All Other Italian Pastes
182. Macaroni with Tomatoes Macaroni alla Casalinga.
183. Macaroni al Sughillo.
184. Macaroni alla Livornese.
186. Tagliarelle and Lobster.
187. Polenta.
188. Polenta Pasticciata.
189. Battuffoli.
190. Risotto all'Italiana.
191. Risotto alla Genoxese.
192. Risotto alla Spagnuola.
193. Risotto alla Capuccina.
194. Risotto alla Parigina.
195. Ravioli.
196. Ravioli alla Fiorentina.
197. Gnoechi alla Romana.
198. Gnoechi alla Lombarda.
199. Frittata di Riso (Savoury Rice Pancake).

Omelettes and Other Egg Dishes
200. Uova ai Tartufi (Eggs with Truffles).
201. Uova al Pomidoro (Eggs and Tomatoes).
202. Uova ripiene (Canapes of Egg).
203. Uova alla Fiorentina (Eggs).
204. Uova in fili (Egg Canapes).
205. Frittata di funghi (Mushroom Omelette).
206. Frittata eon Pomidoro (Tomato Omelette).
207. Frittata con Asparagi (Asparagus Omelette).
208. Frittata eon erbe (Omelette with Herbs).
209. Frittata Montata (Omelette Souffle').
210. Frittata di Proseiutto (Ham Omelette).

Sweets and Cakes
211. Bodino off Semolina.
212. Crema rappresa (Coffee Cream).
213. Crema Montata alle Fragole (Strawberry Cream).
214. Croccante di Mandorle (Cream Nougat).
215. Crema tartara alla Caramella (Caramel Cream).
216. Cremona Cake.
217. Cake alla Tolentina.
218. Riso all'Imperatrice.
219. Amaretti leggier (Almond Cakes).
220. Cakes alla Livornese.
221. Genoese Pastry.
222. Zabajone.
223. Iced Zabajone.
224. Panforte di Siena (Sienese Hardbake).

New Century Sauce
225. Fish Sauce.
226. Sauce Piquante (for Meat, Fowl, Game, Rabbit, &c.).
227. Sauce for Venison, Hare, &c.
228. Tomato Sauce Piquante.
229. Sauce for Roast Pork, Ham, &c.
230. For masking Cutlets, &c.

Part I
The Cook's Decameron
Prologue
The Marchesa di Sant'Andrea finished her early morning cup of tea, and then took up the batch of correspondence which her maid had placed on the tray. The world had a way of treating her in kindly fashion, and hostile or troublesome letters rarely veiled their ugly faces under the envelopes addressed to her; wherefore the perfection of that pleasant half-hour lying between the last sip of tea and the first step to meet the new day was seldom marred by the perusal of her morning budget. The apartment which she graced with her seemly presence was a choice one in the Mayfair Hotel, one which she had occupied for the past four or five years during her spring visit to London; a visit undertaken to keep alive a number of pleasant English friendships which had begun in Rome or Malta. London had for her the peculiar attraction it has for so many Italians, and the weeks she spent upon its stones were commonly the happiest of the year.
The review she took of her letters before breaking the seals first puzzled her, and then roused certain misgivings in her heart. She recognised the handwriting of each of the nine addresses, and at the same time recalled the fact that she was engaged to dine with every one of the correspondents of this particular morning. Why should they all be writing to her? She had uneasy forebodings of postponement, and she hated to have her engagements disturbed; but it was useless to prolong suspense, so she began by opening the envelope addressed in the familiar handwriting of Sir John Oglethorpe, and this was what Sir John had to say--
"My Dear Marchesa, words, whether written or spoken, are powerless to express my present state of mind. In the first place, our dinner on Thursday is impossible, and in the second, I have lost Narcisse and forever. You commented favourably upon that supreme of lobster and the Ris de Veau a la Renaissance we tasted last week, but never again will you meet the handiwork of Narcisse. He came to me with admirable testimonials as to his artistic excellence; with regard to his moral past I was, I fear, culpably negligent, for I now learn that all the time he presided over my stewpans he was wanted by the French police on a charge of murdering his wife. A young lady seems to have helped him; so I fear Narcisse has broken more than one of the commandments in this final escapade. The truly great have ever been subject to these momentary aberrations, and Narcisse being now in the hands of justice--so called--our dinner must needs stand over, though not, I hope, for long. Meantime the only consolation I can perceive is the chance of a cup of tea with you this afternoon.
J. O."
Sir John Oglethorpe had been her husband's oldest and best friend. He and the Marchesa had first met in Sardinia, where they had both of them gone in pursuit of woodcock, and since the Marchesa had been a widow, she and Sir John had met either in Rome or in London every year. The dinner so tragically manque had been arranged to assemble a number of Anglo-Italian friends; and, as Sir John was as perfect as a host as Narcisse was as a cook, the disappointment was a heavy one. She threw aside the letter with a gesture of vexation, and opened the next.
"Sweetest Marchesa," it began, "how can I tell you my grief at having