Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-01-29


politely. but enormously. call its taste or
flavor?
This query is not original with me- 1t
belongs 10. because it came from, O.
Henry. o. Henry was. during all the
years of his life in New York. a great
table d'hoter. Not, please to remember.
because of the table d'hote food: it is as
unimaginable it is perfectly true that
there isn't. or wasn't. any kind OF table
d'hote food that possibly could have ap-
pealed to so trained and cosmopolitan
palate as that possessed by y. Henry;
for, while never exactly a gourmet, that
lamented genius certainly had a discrim-
mating understanding ands depreciation
of food; regular human-being food. YOU
know
No. o. Henry didn't visit table dhotcs
with such frequency for the sake of the
queer near-eatables that are thrust he
fore table dhoters 1.-THE middle name OF
which Is MYRIAD - see what H.. could
see.
lie liked 10 seem 10 be part Of TINS
far from uCcuous revelly. re enioyed
watching the lnrocentS in the act OF mag
lining themselves TO b. participants il
the dissipated divvIetry OF table d'hote
life. lie knew, better than most people
that table dhoters really are the most
gulleleSs people III the world and that
the cochineal red-wine gayetv which they
put on, as garment. by the time they've
reached the Roquefort. in reality is the
very depth and final sounding OF their
ba-adness. 1t was therefore a whim with
him TO watch 'em the while they were
engaged in thinking they were leading
dreadful life
1t was the rare. almost, l should say,
the memorable. privilege OF the under
signed 10 accompany o. Henry on a great
many OF his pi'Srimages TO the table
d'hotes OF New York. In particular We
went very often 70 a little Italian place
on 9Th avenue, where spa ghetti was the
piece de resistance. That restaurant, now.
has attained so inexplicablc a degree OF
popularity that every evening witnesses
positive jam OF folks, men and women
VINO otherwise seem quite normal and
sensible. literally struggling and all but
hghting 10 get seats ut the crowded lii
lie tables. There is no reason for this
whatever. The dinner they give YOU
there is just one Of those table d'hote
dinners, than which nothing whatever
D more need be said. The Vegetable soup
which, after the mysterious reIishes
leads OF the feast, is of the usual dish
watery table d'hote quality; the entree
and the roast inevitably suggest that gar
Hcky smell that you never can avoid IL
your sad destiny sends you through the
Italian quarter of New York; the wine is
as rich in corkish or other sediment as
the last cup OF coffee out OF drip coffee
pot that isn't behaving up to the mark
and the spaghetti is just spaghetti-as
indeed. how could spaghetti ever be any
thing else?
So o. Henry. never for a moment try
ING TO seem as other than one of the
table 81 hote mob, was accustomed To leaa
back in his chair and break his habituai
taciturnity with occasional little flashes
or comment as to these dissipated roues
male and female who, thus sraghetti-
izing, positively imagined they were liv-
ing under the rare, elusive. almost will
o'-the-wisp glow OF genuine Bohemia
IL was on one of these occasions that
he emitted that wonder question as to
j how many folks actually did care for
spaghetti: For spaghetti. you see. is the