Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-02-04
COL. CHOPTANK IN
HIS WINTER HOME

On certain small side street, connect
Ing two thoroughfares in the fashionable
section of the city, stands an old-fashioned
house. The domicile Is in keeping with
the aspect of the street. 1t is an unosten-
tatious little street, kind. of eddy in the
swirling tide of traffic that goes by it at
either end. No jingling harness, no putting
automobiles disturb the quiet Occasional
ly a measured and dignified clatter Of
hoofs, as a staid old fashioned carriage,
the property of some of the residents, IS
drawn along, arouse the echoes.
In the center of the block is this old, red
brick house, devoid of bay window, but
big and roomy and with an air of eminent
respectability. polished brass knocker
ornaments the door and the visitor grOpeS
in vain for an electric button. Electricity
would be clearly out of keeping. One i'm
AGNES Immediately that upon entering he
would see candles In sconces This is the
town residence of that gentleman of the old
school, Col. Choptank of the Eastern Shore.
One evening this week l called, as is my
frequent custom, at the house at the din
ner hour. note from the colonel received
in the morning had requested my attend
ance. The note said: Come at 6, and
come hungry L knew what that meant.
1t promised good things. So, when 1 clat-
tered at the door, which was opened by a
venerable colored man, it was no wonder
that l met a most inviting odor of cooking.
Something was doing below stairs evident
ly. The colonelS house has basement
kitchen.
The venerable darkey who ushered me
into the parlor was the soul of dignity.
No matter that the colonel still calls
him my black boy Jim he is as fine a
gentleman in department as you would
want to meet anywhere. He belonged to
the colonel once and still belongs to him
if a blind worship amounting to idolatry
counts for aught. 1t is beautiful to see
them together.
The colonel was standing before an open
fire in the big parlor when / entered. 1t
was spacious apartment, this parlor,
with high ceiling, white marble fire.
place and furniture of an ancient date.
There was mahogany there that would
make your mouth water to see; money
could not buy 1t now. The colonel in his
evening clothes of a cut almost as ancient
as the furniture welcomed me and we
pulled two chairs to the fire
In while Jim. the black boy" came in
with tray and glasses. He had prepared
the drink and heaven knows its COM
ponents, for 1t was certainly heavenly
The colonel will never tell you what's in
these drinks and IL you don't appreciate
the first one you'll never get another. ST.
lentl, almost reverenty, We drank the ap-
a sigh, then long swig and you lean back
and thank your lucky stars YOU are living
and in the colonels house.
Then for dinner. Jim pushes back the
sliding doors to the dining room, where a
table is spread under a magnificent chan
delier. Candles, however, grace the board,
though not needed. Now, here is what the
colonel meant by come at g. and come
hungry"
Cherrystone oysters.
Terrapin Soup, strained.
whitehall and Oyster Crabs.
Roast Turkey, oyster stuff1ng
.Hominy.
Hot Corn Pone Eastern Shore Butter.
Chateau Yquem.
Burgundy. 1872
Camembert Cheese. Aunt Mandy's Coffee
Now you can find the words Cherrystons
oysters on any restaurant menu, but you
don't in five years see real Cheerystone.
1t is medium sized, fat. dark colored oys-
ter. deliciously salty. If you should put
drop of continent on one, the colonel
would never ask you to dinner again. You
eat a Cherrystone for its favor and dwell
| lovingly and regretfully upon the last one.
| Everybody knows what roast turkey is,
as they understand it. But you have to eat
plateful of the colonefs to know what 1t
| really is. The honliny is smoking hot; the
| corn pone is a dream, the butter beyond
compare.
| all you want. 1t is liquid pearls. BY the
| time its fragrance has departed to join the
! heavenly elements from which 1t sprung
| enters Jim with two bottles of Burgundy.
| Now here is ceremony. Jim, reVerential
| in his handling of those bottles, the colonel
I anxious Notwithstanding that Jim never
| had an accident This is no time for idle
| speech Silence; the nectar is being pour
ed Against the light you hold the ruby
| glass revelirg in the sense of sight. a
| long Whit, with eyes closed, and you can
almost see the plains of sunny France.
! But after the first glass it We're as much
! sacrilege to keep silence as before it would
have been to chatter. The good rich wine
| warns the blood, bestirS the sluggish mind,
| unlimbers the tongue and as digestion
starts it's work, the evening has COM
menced
| Bad cess to him who cannot or will not
| drink his quart. The bottle stands at your
| elbow, with jim alert to see that your
! glass Is never empty L have known men
| to drain their last glass with visible re-
| greet, which being Eeenly noted by tho
| colonel, served as signal to Jim, who forth
| with brought two pints, which went the
| way of the quart but these men are few
! and yearly becoming scarcer. AS the
| colonel says with q regretfui shake of the
! head. tine times are growing worse and
| men are not what they used to be-
After the Burgundy, the cheese, the cof-
| fee-somethng to remember as long as you
| live; ON, SO good-and then back to the fire.
| place. with cigars. ''fis then that the good
colonel grows reminiscent, philosophical
| cynical, delightful A bachelor, with q
| good digestion, comfortable income, a
wide experience in life, promise of many
| years 10 come. What more would you
have? This is Col. Choptank in his winter
| home.
i