A Connection of One's Own, or Tis Three Weeks Since

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well,” a noble woman once said.  But in addition to this Certitude, gentle readers, which, I believe amounts to veritable Law, there is, these Days, one additional Necessity.  Nay, this Authoress needs no Room (or Closet) of her own; but only a solid Wifi Connection, the persistent absence of which has hindered the Frequency of her Posts.  Therefore, wouldst thou, gentle reader, allow the Authoress of this Blog to offer her humble Apologies for her hiatus from the Pen, heretofore employed to educate the efficacious Publick upon the Tastes and Cookery enjoyed in these Modern Times.  But before she proceeds to her Accounts of Lunch enjoyed in the Archives, this Authoress thought it would interest her Readers to read of a True Account that occurred Three Weeks Ago. 

The Hero of this Tale

The Hero of this Following Post was an avid connoisseur of foods of all kinds.  He was particularly well acquainted with the Salted Meats of Parma, the Cheeses of Bethmale, and all of the Flemish Sours that have exercised themselves upon the refined Palate.  Yet as a youth, he had spent much time in examining the tree of his genealogy, which, emblazoned with many an emblematic mark of honour and heroic achievement of his Scotch Ancestors, hung upon the well-varnished wainscot of his hall.  And it came to pass, noble reader, that he came to be beckoned northwards in order to visit these ancient and noble Relations, and, by the bye, taste some of the local fare too. 

Alas, worthy Reader.  Lady Fortune did not favour our weary Traveler, as he arrived in the City of Edinburgh confront’d with a violent downpour of Rain.  Having difficulty finding suitable Lodgings –– all the Rooms being fill'd with Patrons of Bon Jovi –– and running low on Provisions, we (for the Authoress of this Blog happened to be there as well) stumbled upon The D------- Tavern on H----- Street.  And around One Of the Clock, we dined.   

Lunch

--Haggis with Turnip Hash with Fried Duck Egg – This dish was admirably good, upon spearing the Egg, it hath melted over all over the Dish, the Taste of which was well deserving of Mr Burns' Encomium.  

--Devilled Ox Liver, Bacon, Mushrooms on Toast – The Liver, cut in slices, was well stew'd with Vegetables and Spices, giving the dish a rich and delicate Flavour.

--Bedfordshire Clanger- This oddly shaped Pye was made from three quarters minc’d meat, and one quarter stewed Peaches.  Yet regardless of its Shape it hath pleased the need for sweet and savory at once, and was serv’d with a fresh and healthful Sallet of Arugala. 

Our meal was wash'd down with Tankards of Ale, but my learned Readers must know that it would be a grave misfortune to leave this wild and mysterious Country without treating oneself to the delights of their Spirituous Liquors.  

This one fit the bill.  Peaty and smoky, a Bumper of this fine Whisky soon seduc'd our Palates with the mysterious Allures of the Scotch Countryside.  The kind of thing that is perfect for Toasts of more aqueous intentions, confesses,

Your humble and and obedient Servant,

N.A.,

or

H.Q