One other feature of the Rumanian Royal visit may also be noted, namely the lightness of the menus at both the banquets I have mentioned. Even at the Guildhall luncheon given by the Lord Mayor, although the traditional baron of beef was served, the only other really solid dish was a preparation of pheasants, At Buckingham Palace there were chicken and partridges as well as roast lamb, but the dinner only ran to seven courses. At the Rumanian Legation there was caviar specially brought by aeroplane from Bucharest, but the heaviest courses were only ham and quails. The disappearance of the colossal stoking of bygone days is a common place. But now a new tendency is visible among the young, namely to prefer simple things to made and many-sauced dishes. A helping from a generous cold sirloin with a tankard of ale and a bit of cheese to follow brings that glistening look in the eye which betokens real enjoyment far more readily than timbales and chaudfroids. It sounds very Dickensian: one thinks of the Cheery-bie Brothers and old Fezziwig. But the explanation is more prosaic than that. In our pillbox flats and kit-chouettes, large joints are simply impossible; kickshaws are the only things for which there is room; the plain food of the ample kitchen range order becomes the real treat.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.