My grandmother disliked this recipe so much she took a fountain pen and made sure she’d never make the same mistake twice.
I’ve always been amused by this one-and-only note in a cookbook I inherited from her. Is it really all THAT bad? I mean, this is a published cookbook and all…
Once upon a time, I was not a very good baker.
In fact, I used to think that my baking was a lot like lingerie—fine for home, but certainly not to be taken out in public.
I’m a better baker now. Partly because I finally have a decent oven that doesn’t try to self-immolate in a blaze of overheated glory. I’m no longer on an embarrassing first-name basis with the guys at the fire station. Read the rest of this entry »
“Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without” was how the 99% lived during the Great Depression. That’s why my favorite cooking spoon was shaped from a scrap of stainless steel. My grandfather, who was fortunate to have work as a machinist for USSteel, cut it out, hammered it into shape and ground the edges smooth.