I've been wondering for a long time where all the chicken a la king went.
There must be billions of gallons of chicken a la king somewhere.
'Cause we can go and eat us Some chicken a la king. So I'd rather be a Kiwanian than in any other club.
In those days, rich people of the sort who were listed in the Social Register ate a lot of chicken a la king, doled out of silver serving bowls at wedding receptions and coming out parties by waiters who looked snottier than the guests.
There was a time, in fact, when I thought that it might be chicken a la king consumption that was causing rich society people to talk without opening their mouths.
In those days, I would sometimes say to my college roommate, "Tush, you rich people eat chicken a la king like it was going out of style." And that's what happened.
The real reason was that the Indians thought chicken a la king tasted like the sort of thing WASPs eat in their clubs; during the Raj, the British ate a dish very much like chicken a la king in their clubs, in order to keep the Indians from applying, although they called it Aunt Nigel's Boots.
When the current fashion for American cooking began, some people thought it was a conspiracy by the government to get rid of all that chicken a la king. It wasn't.