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Sidney Smith's Winter Salad

Two large potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve, Unwonted softness to the salad give; Of mordant mustard add a single spoon- Distrust the condiment which bites too soon; But deem it not, though made of herbs, a fault To add a double quantity of salt; Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, And once with vinegar procured from town.

True flavor needs it, and your poet begs The pounded yellow of two well-boiled eggs.

Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, And, half-suspected, animate the whole; And lastly, on the favored compound toss A magic tea-spoon of anchovy sauce.

Then, though green turtle fail, though venison 's tough, Though ham and turkey are not boiled enough, Serenely full, the epicure shall say, "Fate can not harm me--I have dined to day."