Old Cookbooks/Hidden Treasure
Studying what falls out
I believe in science, and when baking, I especially believe in Chemistry.
By nature, I am not a particularly defiant person, but during this Christmas season, I listened to Dr. Fauci, and with my wife in accord, the two of us nevertheless consented to have our daughters make the trip to spend two weeks with us over these holidays.
One of our daughters got the Moderna vaccine the day before she traveled; the other gets tested regularly before she visits us (she lives closer and can visit more often if she chooses). Our son-in-law tested positive for Covid just before Thanksgiving, cancelling that intended visit (He’s well and thriving now). Being flexible, safe, and chancy is the new American family dance.
Yesterday, they left us to go back to their homes, and, knock on the Orange Plague’s head, so far, our experiment has proved safe, our risk, rewarded.
And by rewarded, I mean this:
Much of our time together was spent cooking. Baking, to be exact.
Those who have read my older columns here know that I consider my late mother to be the greatest chef I’ve ever known. Not only did her meals look and taste like love, she taught me so many valuable tips about products and measuring and how not to get down on…
