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Jean Weiner
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One of my vivid memories of Wilton was a corn party your mother had. Mim purchased bushels of it, and then called all her friends to come over. Corn was the star. We ate far more than three ears each that day. Sweet and delicious.
xxxooo Jeanie
Corn Rules
On my way home from Berkshire Wordfest today, I passed a farmstand selling corn. Since I’d just been talking about my mother, I couldn’t help stopping to buy a few ears. Corn was Mom’s great culinary triumph; nobody made it better. This was because Mom had a farmer who knew exactly what she liked...
Yes- it was usually cream cheese with thinly sliced cucumber. Whole grain sandwich bread was not on our menu in those days. But- rye bread was- fresh, warm, crusty, from the Village bakery - remember it? I used to finish off half the loaf before reaching home. They had that wonderful chocolate chip cake too. I remember you and I used to try to duplicate it, but could never figure out how to keep the chips from sinking to the bottom of the cake! The menu at your house was always much more interesting - always an adventure.....loved it ... so many years ago. xxxooo J.
Father's Day
My father disdained what he called “Hallmark Holidays,” but today, thirty years after his death, I’ve been thinking that he was wrong. On this damp, gray day there is a melancholy happiness in eating his favorite foods and thinking about how much I still miss him. Dad loathed American breakfasts...
Oh Ruth- I do remember those breakfasts at your house, mostly in Wilton, with your wonderful, elegant dad presiding at the head of the table. I remember his laugh and, yes, the Liederkrantz . I knew it was supposed to have a foul smell, but, oddly, I never found it objectionable. I always think about him whenever I come across a reference to that cheese, though of course that is not the only time I think about him, and your mom as well.
Fond memories. Cheerio- Jeanie
Father's Day
My father disdained what he called “Hallmark Holidays,” but today, thirty years after his death, I’ve been thinking that he was wrong. On this damp, gray day there is a melancholy happiness in eating his favorite foods and thinking about how much I still miss him. Dad loathed American breakfasts...
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Jun 20, 2010
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