You Learn To Cook So That You

In The 1960s, You Could Eat Anything You Wanted, And Of Course, People Were Smoking Cigarettes And All Kinds Of Things, And There Was No Talk About Fat And Anything Like That, And Butter And Cream Were Rife. Those Were Lovely Days For Gastronomy, I Must Say.

Cooking May Be A Creative Art, But It's Also A Wonderful Full-time Hobby.

The American Poultry Industry Had Made It Possible To Grow A Fine-looking Fryer In Record Time And Sell It At A Reasonable Price, But No One Mentioned That The Result Usually Tasted Like The Stuffing Inside Of A Teddy Bear.

I Admired The English Immensely For All That They Had Endured, And They Were Certainly Honorable, And Stopped Their Cars For Pedestrians, And Called You “sir” And “madam,” And So On. But After A Week There, I Began To Feel Wild. It Was Those Ruddy English Faces, So Held In By Duty, The Sense Of “what Is Done” And “what Is Not Done,” And Always Swigging Tea And Chirping, That Made Me Want To Scream Like A Hyena

We Hit It Off Immediately, Especially Helene, Who Was A 'swallow-life-in-big-gulps' Kind Of Person.