Saturday, February 20, 2016

Amuse Bouche

For the evening they were sliding down the hill into the village, on those little sleds which serve the same purpose as gondolas do in Venice. Their destination was a hotel with an old-fashioned Swiss tap-room, wooden and resounding, a room of clocks, kegs, steins, and antlers. Many parties at long tables blurred into one great party and ate fondue - a peculiarly indigestible form of Welsh rarebit, mitigated by hot spiced wine.

from Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1934)

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