The Making of a Cook
My mother’s mother was a wondrous cook. Or perhaps I should say she became a wondrous cook. When she and my grandfather were first married in 1928 my grandmother knew next to nothing about the subject of cookery. An attractive, bookish type, she was far more interested in the law than in roasts or pies (she had the distinction of being the first female graduate of Loyola University’s law school). Those interests were to change once my grandfather realized that her kitchen repertoire consisted of little more than light salads, vegetables and other insubstantial, womanly fare. So he sent her to cooking school.
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