This is about my daughter Madeleine deciding at age 24 that she wanted to learn to cook. The phone would ring, usually on a Sunday afternoon just after my nap, and I was expected to recall a century of recipes or simply come up with a recipe to match whatever Madeleine had either purchased or found in her cabinet.
Somehow or another it was decided that I should “blog” about my kitchen, my dining room and what I do there. Madeleine set up the blog right in front of my eyes at which point I had to elect to spend $2.99 a month to spare the unlikely reader of this blog some inappropriate smutmongers advertisement. I elected to suffer my readers this risk.
I’m not quite sure what the idea here is, but I think it goes something like this: I recount a tale and then I hook the story, fact or fiction, to something that has something to do with food. For the moment, the next thing is that I’m supposed to give these stories and recipes to Madeleine who will in her spare time be my copy editor and blog mistress. At such time as my musings are cleaned up, they will be posted and/or “blogged”.
There is apparently a place in this whole process where the reader can comment. I’m not sure on how all that works, or why in God’s name you’d be reading this blog but there it is.