oven, well heated, for one hour, basting frequently to prevent the
cocoanut's burning.

A bare recital of the terms of the recipe cannot bring to the
uninitiated even a suspicion of the delightful aroma that comes from the
cocoanut when its top is lifted, nor can it give the slightest idea of
the delicacy of the savor arising from the combination of the cocoanut
with young chicken. It is not a difficult dish to prepare, and if you
cannot get it at any of the restaurants, and we are sure you cannot, try
it at home some time and surprise your friends with a dish to be found
in only one restaurant in the world. If you desire it at Coppa's on your
visit to San Francisco you will have to telephone out to him in advance
(unless he has succeeded in getting back to the city, which he
contemplates) so that he can prepare it for you, and, take our word for
it, you will never regret doing so.

Coppa has many wonderful dishes to serve, and he delights so much in
your appreciation that he is always fearful something is wrong if you
fail to do full justice to his meal. He showed this one evening when he
had filled a little party of us to repletion by his lavish provision for
our entertainment, and nature rebelled against anything more. To us came
Coppa in tears.

"What is the matter with the chicken, Doctor? Is it not cooked just
right?"

It was with difficulty that we made him understand that there was a
limit to capacity, and that he had fed us with such bountiful hand we
could eat no more. Even now when we go to Coppa's we have a little
feeling of fear lest we offend him by not eating enough to convince him