Goodbye and Good Luck

I just finished reading three “food books”. I won’t name-drop, but I will tell you that instead of inspiring me to cook up a storm or visit restaurants, they left my mouth quite dry. After learning the insider secrets of chefs and restaurant reviewers, I no longer want to eat out. Ever again. Well, unless you’re paying. Wanna go out?


Anywho. Now, I’m onto something much meatier. Reading Grace Paley. Gracie, you da best, woman! May you rest in peace, as my grandma says. You don’t believe me, people? Here is a little taste of just how great this writer is. Enjoy it – it’s worth every bite (or every penny, to be relevant to the blog’s theme. Like how I did that there? Takes talent.)



Where did a Jewish boy grow up so big? “Just outside Kiev,” he told me.
How? “My mama nursed me till I was six. I was the only boy in the village to have such health.”
“My goodness, Vlashkin, six years old! She must have had shredded wheat there, not breasts, poor woman.”
“My mother was beautiful,” he said. “She had eyes like stars.” ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves