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416 pages, Paperback
First published April 2, 2002
To the right of the entrance are the first and second salons, in Regency style, with many mirrors. No checkroom for your topcoat. Keep it on your knees. At Demel’s you are not supposed to be comfortable; you should be glad to be there.
People often speak about “the sweet secrets of Demel’s” as if the establishment had top-secret recipes. But their only secret is quality. Today as before, they use only the finest ingredients, and they work a little harder than everybody else.
It was a pioneer meal, that ancient breakfast, a meal for men who were carving a nation out of forests and earth and mountains. It was a prelude to the two-bladed axe, the cant dog, the crowbar, the scythe, or the adz. It was the only proper breakfast for the man with fists like mauls and thighs like young oak trees.
…
The Maine morning meal is like a tune on the bagpipes which calls the stouthearted Scot to war.
It’s interesting that in New York one can find authentic food of every country on earth, save of the South. What is advertised as Southern fried chicken is usually an ancient fowl encased in a cement mixture and tormented in hot grease for an eternity. Southern biscuits à la New York are pure cannon wadding. Gumbo they’ve not even heard of.
There are meals we never forget for the sheer delight, the astonishment, the novelty, of them… Oh, such feasts—meals in distant places, vegetables never before tasted, soufflés that literally took one’s breath away, and yet there is always a meal that one wants to repeat.— Edna O’Brien, “The Ghosts of Taste: Recapturing the Flavors of Childhood”, Gourmet, September 1999