*Credit to my dear friend Aster (name changed per usual) for the title of this post – it was a line from her most recent letter.
Please excuse my hyperbole, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
So, it has been a busy fortnight. My kitchen resembles a kitchen yet again (including the pumpkin sploshes which will tell anyone who walks in that I’ve been making pumpkin soup), I’ve had mail from New Jersey, I’ve sent mail to New Jersey. I have been fairly domestic – bearing in mind that I’m about as domestic as a man’s left thumb. I have a bunch of foods (mostly out of Choosing Charleston) to share with you, but I’m a touch on the broke side and half of them are meat dishes; so I’m afraid that you’ll just have to wait. But that does mean that Literary Food is back on the menu. Though if anyone wants to send me file powder (ground sassafras leaves – as I understand it), this would be much appreciated as I can’t seem to buy less than a kilogram (approx. 2lb).
At my mother’s over the weekend we had homemade Mallowpuffs, and there was, fortuitously, exactly the right number of egg yolks left over for me to bring home for making pumpkin custard… for pumpkin pie. Watch this space.
As the pumpkin pie reference may have given away, I have an American cookbook – though most of my recipes come from online…
But it’s not just any cookbook, it’s a First Edition (fifth printing) hardcover Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book. It’s not worth much as a vintage book, and is in fairly poor condition (I wouldn’t open a cook book this old if it wasn’t in poor condition – it means that it is well used, and loved), and shows definite signs of having lived on a kitchen counter.
I’m even well aware that Betty Crocker is a fictional construct, that became the face of a business. That’s okay, I don’t judge… I write under a pen name.
I’m thinking of working my way through the Betty Crocker book, mainly because I have been jealously hoarding it away on my shelf for a while now – the poor thing even spent the three years I lived with my mother in a box (with the other cook books who didn’t make the cut) at the back of a 20foot storage crate (aka shipping container). I have no desire to become the next Julie and Julia, so if I do you’ll have to promise to keep it a secret just between us. Plus there is no way I could cook every recipe it holds in a year! I just couldn’t afford that. It would be an ongoing book review plus, a selection of recipes – there are certain sections that would receive more attention than is their due, the yeast bread section for example. And there are simply some things that I will not eat. I’m thinking about it, I make no promises about whether or not it will come to pass.
Now, I really should be going as I have a book review with a deadline (I know) of Friday, I want to have it in on Thursday afternoon.