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By rahoward, on October 29th, 2015
“They had colcannon, and the funniest things were found in it — tiny dolls, mice, a pig made of china, silver sixpences, a thimble, a ring, and lots of other things. After supper was over all went into the big play-room, and dived for apples in a tub of water, fished for prizes in . . . → Read More: Bread of the Month: Beckoning Halloween history with Irish barmbrack
By rahoward, on May 30th, 2015
“Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.” — Jennie Paddleford to her daughter, Clementine
How is it possible that, in the four years I attended Kansas State University, majoring in journalism, spending two years working on the school’s daily newspaper, The Collegian, and even planning and putting together a weekly . . . → Read More: Remembering a ‘forgotten’ food writer
By rahoward, on February 27th, 2014
Say what you will — or say nothing at all to remain nutritionally chaste — but fried dough is a thing unmatched. Looking beyond any wickedness, how can one say that a hot doughnut, a hushpuppy, a fritter — all warm from the fryer — is anything but a good thing? If you refuse . . . → Read More: Bread of the Month: Frying puffy beignets
By rahoward, on June 29th, 2012
I cannot begin to write about my mother’s bread making without mentioning her kneading. And I would have to begin any discussion of her kneading by describing her hands. My mother is not, nor has she ever been, a delicate doily of a damsel, and neither are her hands. Big, rough and muscular are not . . . → Read More: Bread of the Month: Handing down a roll recipe
By rahoward, on June 30th, 2011
I learned a number of things on a recent trip to Nashville (my first visit to what I consider the real South). Among them: Mentioning a fried baloney sandwich gets people moving nearly as well and as swiftly as yelling “Fire!”
The difference being people move away from a fire; people move toward the . . . → Read More: Field Trip: Noshing in Nashville
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Quotable: “People ask me: "Why do you write about food, and eating, and drinking? Why don't you write about the struggle for power and security, and about love, the way the others do?" . . . The easiest answer is to say that, like most other humans, I am hungry.”
--M.F.K. Fisher
"It was in a yellow limestone church in Stockdale, Kansas, a crossroads town, that I sat dreaming during summer Sunday sermons, not of heaven or hell, but of the good dinner to come."
--Clementine Paddleford
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