Cao Yong MY BALCONY

Cao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY PONDCao Yong KOI POND
the question. If kings went round putting their own food on their own plate, the whole system of monarchy would come crashing down.
Unfortunately, thisof vegetarianism.
The traditional palace cuisine was heavy in artery-clogging
dishes so full of saturated fats that they oozed out in great
wobbly globules. Vegetables existed as things to soak up
spare gravy, and were generally boiled to a uniform shade of
yellow in any case. Magrat had tried explaining things to
Mrs. Scorbic the cook, but the woman’s three chins wobbled meant that service had to be by means of Mr. Spriggins the butler, who had a bad memory, a nervous twitch and a rubber knee, and a sort of medieval elevator system that connected with the kitchen and sounded like the rattle of a tumbril. The elevator shaft was a kind of heat sink. Hot food was cold by the time it arrived. Cold food got colder. No one knew what would happen to ice cream, but it would probably involve some rewriting of the laws of thermodynamics.Also, the cook couldn’t get the hang