Kathy Lynn Emerson's Blog, page 32

Weekend Update: September 30-October 1, 2017

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will be posts by Kate Flora (Monday), Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson (Tuesday), Bruce Coffin (Wednesday), Brenda Buchanan (Thursday), and Dick Cass (Friday).

In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:

[image error]

Kensington Books and Barnes and Noble have been running a promotion during September (Sept. 5 until October 5) featuring some of Kensington’s paperback cozies in an end cap display. If you buy three Kensington paperback cozies from B&N, you get another Kensington cozy paperback for free. And now there’s another neat wrinkle in the promotion. Everyone who buys a Kensington cozy paperback from B&N, in store or online, between those same dates and registers their purchase at http://sites.kensingtonbooks.com/kensingtoncozies/BN/ will receive a free Kensington Cozies recipe booklet plus a download code for the novel A Story to Kill by Lynn Cahoon on October 6 and be entered into Kensington’s Cozy Mystery Bonanza sweepstakes for a chance to win a $300 gift basket. One grand prize winner will be announced on October 6. Why are we promoting this here at Maine Crime Writers? Because one of Barb Ross’s cozies is on the B&N end cap and the rest of her Kensington books and all of the Kensington titles by Lea Wait and Kaitlyn Dunnett (in paperback) are part of this deal. And, if the response from the public is good enough, Kensington and B&N may continue the program. Win-win, right?

Scheduling next weekend? Saturday, October 7, will be the first annual Bath Literary Festival, co-sponsored by the Patten Free Library and The Mustard Seed Bookstore. Maine Crime Writers Brenda Buchanan. Bruce Coffin, Dick Cass, Gayle Lynds, Gerry Boyle, Jen Blood, Kate Flora, Lea Wait and Maureen Milliken — and others — will be at Waterfront Park in Bath between 9:30 and 12:30.

Do You LOVE Free Books? Until Oct. 2nd, Kate Flora’s publisher is offering a free download of her first Thea Kozak mystery, Chosen for Death, and seven other amateur sleuth mysteries. Here’s the link: http://mailchi.mp/ebookdiscovery/8-free-amateur-sleuth-mysteries-ends-oct-2

[image error]

An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.

And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE, COOK ON

Yes, I know Shakespeare didn’t write it that way in Twelfth Night. But I’m definitely not the first to make the connection between food and love. In crime fiction as well as in romance fiction, people’s relationships are at the core of the story. Many mystery novels contain love stories, and even cozy mysteries employ the heroine sleuth’s bakery or restaurant or cupcake business as the set-up for the mystery. The Maine Clambake series by our own Barbara Ross (Iced Under) is a prime example. And in a previous post this month, Lea Wait (Thread the Halls) announced her new series will be a food mystery series, the Maine Cafe. Both authors include recipes. I can’t wait! (No pun intended)

Eating is one of the most intimate activities people can share. Many family traditions (holidays, weddings, funerals, family reunions, etc.) include gathering for meals and sharing food. Even in a romantic suspense, the hero and heroine have to eat sometime. Preparing food can bring the hero and heroine closer, creating a vital connection between them. Sharing food brings people together and can build a relationship, but it also provides the opportunity for conflict and/or insight into character in any kind of fiction.

[image error]Sharing a meal can break down barriers. In my book Twice a Target, Holt tries to avoid Maddy, who’s serving as nanny for his orphaned nephew, but when she cooks Turkish Summer Vegetable Stew and offers him a taste, she penetrates his wall. Judi Phillips (Through All Time) stresses that food scenes provide an opportunity to add sensory levels of smells and tastes. Food feeds the mind and soul—and heart—with comfort, texture, flavor, and smell. Experiencing the cooking of a savory pot roast or an apple pie (my husband’s favorite) can associate that aroma in the man’s psyche as part of the woman who cooked it for him. Applying the five senses in a story scene creates context, building reality for the reader.

A woman preparing food for a man is the most primitive form of nurturing. Even more powerful emotionally is when the hero cooks for the heroine or feeds her by taking her to a restaurant or bringing her food. As a basic mating ritual, it’s part of providing for the mate, the male as provider, and not just with food. It demonstrates he pays attention to her needs and likes and will meet them. It’s a primordial yet binding aspect of the courting dance. Virginia Kantra (Home Before Midnight) tells me that in her books, the hero always feeds the heroine, partly because of what I’ve just said. She adds, “Sharing a meal provides a resting moment in the plot.”

[image error]

In my book Never Surrender, Rick prepares his Cuban family’s Arroz con Pollo, or rice with chicken, for Juliana, when they’re hiding out from the bad guys. Preparing the meal provides that resting moment, gives them a chance to share their lives and is, yes, seductive, especially with a bottle of wine.  In Cleo’s Necklace, a book in my just released Devlin Security Force boxed set, Thomas buys cheese and bread for Cleo to eat in the car as they’re fleeing the bad guys on a Greek island. She is totally touched by his concern and it warms her that he always seems to be feeding her.

[image error]In Once Burned, Jake brings Lani a blueberry pie from a local baker, which evokes shared childhood memories. Lani’s near orgasmic enjoyment of her slice leads to something more than pie.

If anyone is interested in my recipes, you can download them at http://www.susanvaughan.com. Rick’s Arroz con Pollo is at the bottom of the Never Surrender page, and Maddy’s Turkish Summer Vegetable Stew is at the bottom of Twice a Target. Sorry, you’re on your own for blueberry pie. I’d love to have people share ideas about food in novels, or, hey, why not your real-life examples.

Funny and Weird, the Police and Me

by Barb, in her first post as a fulltime resident of Maine! (Please, don’t ask me about all the boxes.)

The last few times I’ve posted I’ve written about my interactions with the Boothbay Harbor Police Department. (You can read those posts here and here.)

But the strangest interaction I ever had with the police wasn’t in Boothbay. It was in Newton, Massachusetts, where we lived for eighteen years and where we raised our family. Newton is a close-in suburb of Boston, and despite its location and size (population nearly 90,000) it’s usually a pretty mellow place.

It was a beautiful summer Sunday in the early 1990s. So beautiful Bill had cooked our dinner on the grill. There had been reports on the news that a murderer had escaped from Walpole prison and that he might return to Newton where he’d executed a man years before.

I wasn’t really worried about it. It seemed much more likely he’d go to the South Shore of Massachusetts where he had family and associates, or head out for the border.

After we got the kids to bed, Bill and I settled in to watch TV. WGBH had run a marathon of the first season of Prime Suspect in preparation for the second and we’d recorded it on our VCR. We were entirely enthralled with Jane Tennison. There was no word for binge watching in those days, but that’s what we were doing. We kept saying, “Just one more. Just one more.” It got quite late.

Finally, we had to face the reality that we both had work in the morning and kids to get off to day camp. While I turned off the TV, Bill went out to check to make sure the coals in the grill were completely out, as he always did.

I will never forget the look on his face when he came back inside. He said, “I found some stuff in the backyard.” He handed me several 8 x 10 pieces of paper. They were black and white autopsy photos! And I could tell, looking at the first one, they were from the autopsy of the murder victim whose killer had just escaped from Walpole. Bill said, “They were all along the back fence.” I said, “We have to call the police.”

The police told us a patrol car would be right over to collect the photos. A young officer appeared on our porch within a few minutes. We handed over the pictures. “Are they really gory?” he asked, laughing.

He told us one of the sergeants had pulled the files on the murder to see if he could learn anything that would help track down the escapee. He’d sat in his cruiser parked in a cul-de-sac around the corner from us, reading the files. Because it was such a beautiful day, he decided to get out, and took one of the files with him, to read on top of he car as he stood beside it. Suddenly, he got an emergency radio call. Not thinking, he jumped into his cruiser and sped off. “The file blew all down the street,” the young patrolman said. “We’ve been getting calls from your neighbors all day.” We were the lucky yard that won the autopsy photos.

The story has always sounded a little hinky to me. But what worse story could it possibly be covering up? So it must be the truth, right?

By the way, the escaped criminal was caught. On the South Shore, not far from his mom’s house.

Puppies, More Puppies, and a Maine Crime Writers Prize for Coastal Humane Society

Hi all, I feel like I’m getting a little stale with all this dog business – next month, I promise to write about something more murder-y. In the meantime, though, my life has become considerably more dogged in the past couple of weeks, so I’m going to keep to the theme one more time. First off, though, I wanted to give a quick update on the children’s book I talked about last month. I ended up being less pleased with the printing job than I had anticipated, so I’m working with a local printer to produce a book with a more picture-book feel… Thus, Maya Picks a Puppy isn’t quite ready just yet, but will be available by mid-October. I’ll keep folks posted on dates.

And, onto other puppy-related matters. A little over a week ago, Ben and I became the proud foster parents of three 7-week-old pups from Mississippi. It’s anyone’s guess what their mix might be, but their mom is a sort of beagle-y/Dachsund sort of dog. Here are some pics of the little ones – Sage, Rosemary (Rosie), and Marjoram (Marji) – and you can decide for yourself what the babies might be.

This means that life for me has shifted from a sort of aimless non-routine to a much more regimented existence: up at 6:30 to feed Magnus the cat and then get the pups out. They’re staying in a puppy pen in our rumpus room – which is way more rumpus-y than we ever anticipated it would be, with three little ones running wild in there. The pups came to us with a bit of a cold, so meds and breakfast follow our first out, and then there’s an extended out and lots of wild play time to try and tire the little buggers out. It’s been just a week, but I’m already finding that it takes a lot more to wear out 8-week-old pups than it did 7-week-old pups. Still, I’m having a good time with the whole thing.

If you want to read more about the schedule or view more photos, you can check out my website, where I’ve put together a page with a daily diary of the pups’ antics. I’ve been doing a lot of research on early canine development, as well, so you can read about that there as well.

[image error]I’m fostering the pups through Coastal Humane Society, which is located in Brunswick. They will be up for adoption shortly, are smart as little whips, and already know ‘sit’ and are well on their way to being potty trained. You can check in with CHS if you’re interested in adopting one of the girls. Ben and I are seriously thinking about adopting one ourselves… Now it’s just a matter of figuring out which one. Can you say ‘Sophie’s Choice’?

For those unfamiliar with Coastal Humane Society, the shelter cares for about 3,000 stray or unwanted cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, rats – you name it, really – annually, serving fifteen towns in Midcoast/Southern Maine. The Lincoln County shelter also came under the management and ownership of Coastal Humane in June of 2016. In a nutshell? They’ve got a lot going on, and a whole lot of fur and feathers flying ’round the place on any given day.

Coastal Humane’s annual fall fundraiser is coming up on October 28th, and I’m pleased to say that Maine Crime Writers has stepped up and are donating a basket of signed books from our members as one of the prizes in their silent auction. There is also a raffle, for a whopping $10,000. No, that’s not a typo – it really should be that many zeroes. Tickets for the raffle are $100, and only 500 tickets will be sold for the $10K prize, so your chances are actually pretty good. If you are interested in purchasing – and supporting a great cause – you can comment below and let me know and I’ll hook you up, or you can just follow this link, and get your tickets that way. You don’t have to attend the ball to be a winner… If you’re in the area and feel like shaking your bootstraps, though, what better way than this? The hootenanny takes place at Fort Andross in Brunswick, starting at 7 p.m. on Saturday, October 28th. You can purchase tickets here.

Jen Blood is the USA Today-bestselling author of the Erin Solomon Mysteries and the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue Mysteries. You can read more about her at www.jenblood.com. 

Puppies, More Puppies, and a Maine Crime Writers Benefit for Coastal Humane Society

Hi all, I feel like I’m getting a little stale with all this dog business – next month, I promise to write about something more murder-y. In the meantime, though, my life has become considerably more dogged in the past couple of weeks, so I’m going to keep to the theme one more time. First off, though, I wanted to give a quick update on the children’s book I talked about last month. I ended up being less pleased with the printing job than I had anticipated, so I’m working with a local printer to produce a book with a more picture-book feel… Thus, Maya Picks a Puppy isn’t quite ready just yet, but will be available by mid-October. I’ll keep folks posted on dates.

And, onto other puppy-related matters. A little over a week ago, Ben and I became the proud foster parents of three 7-week-old pups from Mississippi. It’s anyone’s guess what their mix might be, but their mom is a sort of beagle-y/Dachsund sort of dog. Here are some pics of the little ones – Sage, Rosemary (Rosie), and Marjoram (Marji) – and you can decide for yourself what the babies might be.

This means that life for me has shifted from a sort of aimless non-routine to a much more regimented existence: up at 6:30 to feed Magnus the cat and then get the pups out. They’re staying in a puppy pen in our rumpus room – which is way more rumpus-y than we ever anticipated it would be, with three little ones running wild in there. The pups came to us with a bit of a cold, so meds and breakfast follow our first out, and then there’s an extended out and lots of wild play time to try and tire the little buggers out. It’s been just a week, but I’m already finding that it takes a lot more to wear out 8-week-old pups than it did 7-week-old pups. Still, I’m having a good time with the whole thing.

If you want to read more about the schedule or view more photos, you can check out my website, where I’ve put together a page with a daily diary of the pups’ antics. I’ve been doing a lot of research on early canine development, as well, so you can read about that there as well.

[image error]I’m fostering the pups through Coastal Humane Society, which is located in Brunswick. They will be up for adoption shortly, are smart as little whips, and already know ‘sit’ and are well on their way to being potty trained. You can check in with CHS if you’re interested in adopting one of the girls. Ben and I are seriously thinking about adopting one ourselves… Now it’s just a matter of figuring out which one. Can you say ‘Sophie’s Choice’?

For those unfamiliar with Coastal Humane Society, the shelter cares for about 3,000 stray or unwanted cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, rats – you name it, really – annually, serving fifteen towns in Midcoast/Southern Maine. The Lincoln County shelter also came under the management and ownership of Coastal Humane in June of 2016. In a nutshell? They’ve got a lot going on, and a whole lot of fur and feathers flying ’round the place on any given day.

Coastal Humane’s annual fall fundraiser is coming up on October 28th, and I’m pleased to say that Maine Crime Writers has stepped up and are donating a basket of signed books from our members as one of the prizes. The grand prize in the raffle? $10,000. No, that’s not a typo – it really should be that many zeroes. Tickets for the raffle are $100, and only 500 tickets will be sold for the $10K prize, so your chances are actually pretty good. If you are interested in purchasing – and supporting a great cause – you can comment below and let me know and I’ll hook you up, or you can just follow this link, and get your tickets that way. You don’t have to attend the ball to be a winner… If you’re in the area and feel like shaking your bootstraps, though, what better way than this? The hootenanny takes place at Fort Andross in Brunswick, starting at 7 p.m. on Saturday, October 28th. You can purchase tickets here.

Jen Blood is the USA Today-bestselling author of the Erin Solomon Mysteries and the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue Mysteries. You can read more about her at www.jenblood.com. 

Dining at the Lobster Dock

Lea Wait, here.[image error]

One of my favorite summer things to do in Maine is to sit outside on a wharf and eat fresh-from-the-water lobster, clams, oysters or mussels, sip a glass of wine or beer, and watch lobstermen unloading their hauls, sailboats dotting the harbor, and private

[image error]

Where you order …

boats of all sizes coming and going. (Angie Curtis, in my Mainely Needlepoint series, worked the steamer at a restaurant like this when she was in high school.)[image error]

[image error]

Barbara and I after a delicious meal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maine offers dozens of restaurants that fit that description, but I have my favorites. One that’s close to my home is The Lobster Dock on the east side of Boothbay Harbor.

[image error]Sadly, this summer I spent most of my time at my computer, and by the end of August I was longing for fried clams and harbor views. Finally, about ten days ago, my [image error]husband I and fellow Maine Crime Writers  Barbara Ross and her husband Bill, who’s a photographer, managed to meet at The Lobster Dock and have a final outdoor meal before restaurants like that closed for the winter. (Lobster and clams and mussels and their accompaniments can be found all year round in Maine, but sitting outside gets a bit chilly after Columbus Day.) [image error]

I wish you all could have joined us. But instead, I took some pictures of what you might have seen that evening. Wish you’d been there! But there’s always next summer.

Farewell Ryan

[image error]

Vaughn

As many of you know, I have just been through a very, very emotional month. For those of you who are unaware, on September 3, 2017 my youngest grandson, Ryan Kaad, passed away from injuries incurred when his motorcycle collided with an eighteen wheeler on August 28.

His injuries were extensive he broke both of his arms, both collar bones, both shoulder blades, and several ribs. I have been told that after the accident he somehow got to his feet and walked to the ambulance, but once inside he crashed. On the way to the emergency room his heart stopped and they revived him. They rushed him into the operating room where they removed his spleen and part of his left lung.

Of my two grandsons, Ryan was the outgoing one. Where his brother, Nickolas is slow to make friends (and slow to break away from them) Ryan could walk into any situation and come away with a new friend. He was the athlete. A baseball player who during a Cal Ripkin tournament game fielded eight consecutive balls, throwing out the runner each time, and the opposing coach shouted to his batter,”Hit the ball to someone else!” He was born in the Chicago suburbs and lived with my wife and I in New Hampshire from 2002 to 2007.  The father of a single female child, Nickolas and Ryan were like sons to me.

 

[image error]

Ryan Kaad

Septembr 23, 1992 – September 3, 2017

I was recently at my significant other’s 50th High School reunion where a poem was read in honor of classmates who had passed on:

The Dash

A Poem by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend

He referred to the dates on his tombstone

From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of his birth

And spoke the following date with tears

But he said what mattered most

Was the dash between those years.

For the dash represents all the time

That he spent alive on Earth

And now only those who loved him

Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;

The cars…the house…the cash

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,

And more often wear a smile

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a while.

So, when your eulogy is being read

With your life’s actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent your dash?

 

Ryan, your dash was very short, only a brief 22 years, but you brought us a lot of happiness and love  during it.

Weekend Update: September 23-24, 2017

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will be posts by Vaughn Hardacker (Monday), Lea Wait (Tuesday), Jen Blood (Wednesday), Barb Ross (Thursday), and Susan Vaughan (Friday).

In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:

Today, Saturday, September 23rd:

LOCAL WRITERS at THE LOCAL BUZZ

SEASON #7 Kick-Off!
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Kate Flora ~ Prose
Anna Wrobel ~ Poetry
4:00 – 5:00 PM
at
The Local Buzz
327 Ocean House Road
(at Pond Cove IGA Shopping Center)
 Cape Elizabeth, ME 04107

More information at:
www.localbuzzcafe.com



 

And Kate (who doesn’t want to dominate this page) is so pleased that Newsweek has included The Obama Inheritance in its list of Top 15 Books to Read this Fall:

http://www.newsweek.com/what-read-fall-new-books-brooklyn-book-festival-667803

 

[image error]

From Kaitlyn: This is the last weekend to enter the Goodreads drawing for an advance reading copy of X MARKS THE SCOT. It ends on Monday and ARCS will be shipped to readers on Tuesday. Click here to enter: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/253616-x-marks-the-scot

[image error]

If you missed it earlier, there was an amusing excerpt from Death Warmed Over at Dru’s Book Musings on Friday. It gives a nice flavor of Thea’s character. https://drusbookmusing.com/2017/09/22/thea-kozak/

An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.

And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

The Bee Killer: A Glimpse Into Creating Fictional Scenes

A beehive developed in the pile of limbs I acculmulated last fall. It was my fault. I left them there in the patio, way too long, figuring I’d get to them this summer. By the time I started to clean up what I started, I could see them buzzing around: a helicopter squadron of bees hovering close to the house, darting in and out of the various foxholes to service their almighty queen, who was hidden away beneath it all.

[image error]Now I had to clean it up without getting stung to death. Which meant I had to kill a LOT of bees. Writing was the last thing on my mind. And yet being a crime writer, the irony of serial killing a hive of innocent bees didn’t escape me.

Getting rid of them bothered my wife more than it did me. She’s an animal, bird and insect lover. And bees are definitely a good thing for our planet. Bees pollinate plants, many of which would die without these stinging insects. They’re good for the environment. They make healthy and tasty foods, and provide us wax so we can cisit Madame Tussauds museum and see Elvis and Marylyn immortalized. Without bees we’d not have baclava, mead and Honey Cheerios. And one catches more flies with honey and not vinegar. So the prospect of eliminating the hive slightly concerned me.

But it had to be done. Like Muhammad Ali once said, I’d have to “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. You can’t hit what your eyes don’t see.”

So my wife and I set about ridding the hive from our patio. It took a lot of time and patience (the details I’ll skip for the sake of brevity). Bees swirled all around us. We got stung often, although my honey seemed to bear the brunt of their painful stingers. I swept up the remaining pile of dirt, debris, bee corpses and honeycomb, satisfied that I’d cleaned it all up. God Save The Queen, The Sex Pistols sang. More like God have mercy on her bee soul.

After I swept up the patio, I sat down tiredly on of the plastic chair and happily studied my handiwork, a cold beer in hand. But then I noticed that there were bees still buzzing around. They landed on the patio and seemed to be studying their lost kingdom for posterity. I sat fascinated while watching them. It was both sad and mesmerizing to observe them checking out the aftermath of destruction, and I began to wonder what these bees were thinking. Was I a mass murderer of bees? Bees who’ve only helped sustain mankind throughout history? It depressed me as I sat there, and I felt like a character out of a John Cheever novel.

it’s a scene that stayed with me and I vowed to use in one of my novels. So I wrote it down. I wrote down the discussions I had with my wife. What I was thinking. The unique pain of a bee sting on my stomach and ankle. A man alone on his patio, thinking about life and death, his family scattered in one place or another, thinking about his life in relation to these poor bees doing reconnaissance of their bygone civilization, forever separated from their revered queen. Now these surviving bees had nothing. No leader. No home or hive. No where to go except to study the remains of their once vibrant, honeycombed community.[image error]

And all because of me. Or maybe because of my laziness in not cleaning that wood pile in the first place. It made me reflect on nature, life and, especially, death.

i thought of Muhammad Ali’s quote again. How fitting the bee sting is for fiction. A writer leaves his stinger in every story before dying a slow death. Good writing requires subtly and an even hand, and yet at the same time the writer needs to strike bodly when the scene calls for it. Thus when penning a novel, the writer must know when to “float like a butterfly” and then “sting like a bee” to jar the reader.

The bee colony must live on.

it will in my fiction. Maybe in my next novel so if you see a bee flying out of one of my books you’ll know the full story.

 

When You Try, But Only a Little

Dorothy Cannell: Last Saturday evening my husband, Julian, and I attended our [image error]neighborhood’s monthly pot luck.  The host provides the entrée and everyone else brings a side dish.  Usually I feel morally obliged to put my best foot forward with a salad (Julian always votes for Waldorf), vegie casserole, or fancy dessert. But this time I was spending the day with my granddaughter, Hope – a few hours of cleaning the house followed by an outing to Dairy Queen, and so decided to half-inch that foot forward.  A few moments of reflection brought to mind a recipe, if you can elevate it that high, given to me at another potluck several years ago.  Its virtue is that even given my hopscotch memory I didn’t have to write it down.

[image error]Take one jar of salsa, combine with one can drained and rinsed black beans, add chopped herbs – basil, cilantro, parsley, chives, or whatever strikes your fancy in whatever amounts appeal.  Chill if you have time.  Serve in a dish surrounded by corn chips and pat yourself on the back.  At potlucks few people know what you brought anyway, but this turned out to be a hit as it had been when I first tasted it.

Julian, my personal grocery shopper, said he had bought one of the better brands of [image error]salsa; from the hesitancy of his manner I think he risked being slapped on the hand for extravagance.  I was however, moved to give the nod of approval.   For those who have not read Peg Bracken’s I Hate to Cook Book and its Appendix you have missed a treat.  Her premise is that whatever you cook or prepare should look and taste as though you have tried harder than you really have.  That more expensive Salsa gave me a virtuous feeling that set me up for the whole evening, as if spending four hours on a seventeen-layer French torte from one of the footstool-sized cook books would have done.

Happy reading

Dorothy