The yolks of two _raw_ eggs, one tablespoonful anchovy sauce, one _small_ teaspoonful curry powder (raw), a sprinkling of cayenne, a little salt, and one green chili chopped fine. Each ingredient to be added separately, and the eggs and curry powder to be stirred into the rice with a fork. Fillets of sole to be served atop. How many cooks in this England of ours can cook rice properly? Without pausing for a reply, I append the recipe, which should be pasted on the wall of every kitchen. The many cookery books which I have read give elaborate directions for the performance, of what is a very simple duty. Here it is, in a few lines-- _To cook Rice for Curry, etc._ Soak a sufficiency of rice in cold water for two hours. Strain through a sieve, and pop the rice into _boiling_ water. Let it boil--"gallop" is, I believe, the word used in most kitchens--for not quite ten minutes (or until the rice is tender), then strain off the water through a sieve, and dash a little _cold_ water over the rice, to separate the grains. Here is another most appetising breakfast dish for the springtime-- _Asparagus with Eggs_. Cut up two dozen (or so) heads of cooked asparagus into small pieces, and mix in a stewpan with the well-beaten yolks of two raw eggs. Flavour with pepper and salt, and stir freely. Add a piece of butter the size of a walnut (one of these should be kept in every kitchen as a pattern), and keep on stirring for a couple of minutes or so. Serve on delicately-toasted bread. _An Hotel Breakfast._ What memories do these words conjure up of a snug coffee-room, hung with hunting prints, and portraits of Derby winners, and churches, and well-hung game; with its oak panellings, easy arm-chairs, blazing fire, snowy naperies, and bright silver. The cheery host, with well-lined paunch, and fat, wheezy voice, which wishes you good-morning, and hopes you have passed a comfortable night between the lavender-scented sheets. The fatherly interest which "William," the grey-headed waiter, takes in you--stranger or _habitué_--and the more than fatherly interest which you take in the good cheer, from home-made "sassingers" to new-laid eggs, and heather honey, not forgetting a slice out of the mammoth York ham, beneath whose weight the old sideboard absolutely grunts.