"Lamb chops and brains breaded--sweetbreads--escallop of veal--fresh
mushrooms--Italian squash when in season--asparagus or cauliflower--
fried in fresh butter--dipped in beaten eggs--lime jus."

"Fritto Misto" means fried mixture, and the recipe as we finally
elucidated it is as follows:

Take a lamb chop, a piece of calf brain, one sweetbread, a slice of
veal, a fresh mushroom, sliced Italian squash, a piece of asparagus or
of cauliflower and dip these into a batter made of an egg well beaten
with a little flour. Sprinkle these with a little lime juice and fry to
a delicate brown in butter, adding salt and pepper to taste.

At the Gianduja, as at all other Italian restaurants not much affected
by Americans, you will find an atmosphere of unconventionality that is
delightful to the Bohemian. There is no irksome espionage on the part of
other patrons, all of whom are there for the purpose of attending
strictly to their own business, and the affairs of other diners are of
no consequence to them. There is freedom of expression and
unconsciousness, most pleasing after having experienced those other
restaurants where it seems to be the business of all the rest of the
guests to know just what you are eating and drinking. There is little of
the obnoxious posing that one finds in restaurants of the downtown
districts, for while Italians, in common with all other Latins, are
natural born poseurs, they are not offensive in it, but rather impress
you with the same feeling as the antics of a child.

One of the little, out-of-the way restaurants of the Italian quarter is
the Leon d'Oro, at 1525 Grant avenue, and it is one of the surprises of
that district. Lazzarini, he with the big voice, presides over the tiny