THE JOURNALISTIC CUISINE

The London Daily Herald radical labor organ, set London society on its dignity the other day and narrowly defined the limits of human impartiality. The Herald, in its humanitarian righteousness, applied the title, "an, orgy of wasteful spending", to a reception given on Monday by Lady Londonderry. This would seem to be a gross exaggeration in as much as Lady Londonderry's guests, politely or no, insist that "there was scarcely anything to be had except lemonade and sandwiches" and that "you were extremely fortunate if you got anywhere near the buffet". These laments incontrovertibly reveal the bitter truth that there was not even enough to eat.

So, intent on waging class war over cups, and saucers, the Evening Standard made reply to its contemporary. It uncarthed a dinner given two weeks ago by the Soviet delegation in London: and labelled it a feast of Lucullus. With watering mouth and rising temperature, the author of the reply listed the vintages arrayed before the Russians: Sauterne, claret, champagne port, brandy, and vodka. It drew the moral that a society tea is but a quick lunch beside a good, luscious, Bolsheviki spread.

One could hardly imagine a teapot small enough for this tempest. Mutual understanding seems to be circumscribed by a menu card. Be it admitted that great and holy causes are at stake on both sides and that "all is fair in love and war"; yet Mars would hardly stoop to wield a bill of fare.