THE CELESTIAL LAND.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 809, 8 July 1933, Page 24 (Supplement)

THE CELESTIAL LAND.

A WAR LORD TO LUNCH. It is not often £hat one has the chance of entertaining Chinese aristocracy (writes an English woman in China), so when the “Little Marshal,” as we called him. accepted our invitation to luncheon w e felt that it was an occasion worthy of our best effort. To-day he is one of the best-known War Lords of China. Then he was only the understudy of his father, who was in his day the most famous and feared of them all. Our Chinese servants were naturally excited at the honour done to our household, and when the great day arrived everything was in perfect readiness. The dining table certainly look attractive. The Bai-tai-di, or house-boy, had polished up the silver to perfection. Two vases filled with our own sweet peas—the triumphant culmination of much experimenting in a difficult climate — showed up on a line grass-cloth runner, Chinese embroidered. The ten table napkins, shaped like Tudor roses, with a roll in the heart of each, would be appreciated by the foreign guests avc had invited. There was certainly nothing

to worry about in the table and its appointments. That was one point where we foreigners could always score over the Chinese. Dine even with a Chinese princess, and your eye would be tempted by nothing more than a white sheet on a round table and a pair of chopsticks, a small bowl, and saucer for each guest. To the Chinese, both high and low, the food is the thing. The menu, therefore, had to be most carefully planned well beforehand in consultation with the Ta-shih-fu, or cook. Had all the guests been Chinese it would have been simpler, us all the dishes must needs be piping hot in spite of the warm June weather. To the Chinese cold food is anathema. But our foreign guests—the British Consul, a French bishop, an American business man—would appreciate a summer menu, so the meal would have to bo a compromise based on the resources of our storeroom, a well cultivated compound and. the market of our inland Chinese city. We aimed at having something to please everyone, and this was the result. First, asparagus soup, the asparagus grown in tlfe back compound. This would be sure of pleasing, for asparagus w as coming into favour with the wealthy Chinese, and the tinned variety was often served at a Chinese meal in compliment to foreign guests. Next a Chinese dish of prawns, served on large, flat shells, which would provide the note of novelty. Then chicken in jelly with mayonnaise sauce—a doubtful dish for the Chinese element, though the sauce might redeem the unpalatable chill of the slithery mouthfuls. Meat cakes on fried bread with vegetables and gravy we from experience would be appreciated, and so would our own proudly grown strawberries, which followed with whipped tinned cream from the storeroom. Cherry ice-cream, made from the small but delectable Chinese cherry, and coffee completed the menu. The. “Little Marshal” proved a charming and appreciative guest. He came in full military dress with a retinue of soldiers. Over the table he talked billiards with tl»e British Consul. Over the coffee in the drawing room he talked in turn to each of the guests with something of a hint of royalty in his manner. When he left he bowed low and then shook hands. i