I Believe That If Ever I Had

If I Had To Narrow My Choice Of Meats Down To One For The Rest Of My Life, I Am Quite Certain That Meat Would Be Pork.

In A House Without A Genuine Kitchen, One Of The Delights Of Growing Up Is Lost.

The Kitchen, Reasonably Enough, Was The Scene Of My First Gastronomic Adventure. I Was On All Fours. I Crawled Into The Vegetable Bin, Settled On A Giant Onion And Ate It, Skin And All. It Must Have Marked Me For Life, For I Have Never Ceased To Love The Hearty Flavor Of Raw Onions.

What Comforted Me? That Is Easy. It Was A Strong Cold Chicken Jelly So Very, Very Thick. My Mother's Chinese Cook Would Fix It. He Would Cook It Down, Condense It-this Broth With All Sorts Of Feet In It, Then It Would Gell Into Sheer Bliss. It Kept Me Alive Once For Three Weeks When I Was Ill As A Child. And I've Always Craved It Since.

The Secret Of Good Cooking Is, First, Having A Love Of It.