Hearing the name of one of my chief tormentors brought a momentary blush to my face. “Really?” I asked. “Dickon claims that pirates eat salmagundi? Is not salad rather too girlish a dish for them? I always picture them gnawing on joints of beef. Maybe even bloody joints of beef.”
“I think Mrs. Weeks—or perhaps Richard Weeks himself—is confusing two different dishes, Joseph,” Prissy said. “Perhaps she is mistaking salmagundi for Solomon Gundy, a kind of pickled fish paste from Jamaica.”
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