具體描述
THERE were six of us to dinner that night at Mike Scho,
field s house in London: Mike and his wife and daughter,
my wife and I, and a man called Richard Pratt.
Richard Pratt was a famous gourmet. He was president
of a small society known as the Epicures, and each month
he circulated privately to its members a pamphlet on food
and wines. He organized dinners where sumptuous dishes
and rare wines were served. He refused to smoke for fear
of harming his palate, and when discussing a wine, he had
a curious, rather droll habit of referring to it as though
it were a living being. "A prudent wine," he would say,
"rather diffident and evasive, but quite prudent." Or, "a
good-humored wine, benevolent and cheerful-slightly
obscene, perhaps, but nonetheless good-humored."
I had been to dinner at Mike s twice before when Rich-
ard Pratt was there, and on each occasion Mike and his
wife had gone out of their way to produce a special meal
for the famous gourmet. And this one, clearly, was to be
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评分恐懼 明知深陷其中卻難以自拔的睏境
评分barnes & noble
评分一本結構類似的小說 但細細品讀都很有味道
评分barnes & noble
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