the book

One of my brilliant daughters (I have four who could qualify) made up a very nice cook book a while back.

I don’t remember it being verbally described as such, but I think it was an effort to keep dad, now the cook at home, from burning the house down, getting obese from a diet of ice cream and cookies, or getting skinny from not eating decent food.

Any way this daughter made this very fine cookbook. It was full of things I would like and that were reasonably within my skill level. We are vegetarians, daughter and I, so she filled in suitable recipes laced heavy with food items she knew I liked.

But, it got put away. I looked high and I looked low and it (like the part for the grain mill) had disappeared. That was about a year ago. I was sure it would show up some day, and today was some day!

Miriam was looking through a stack of old magazines, and suddenly she said: “Here is a cook book one of our daughters put together.”

Ooh.

I thanked her for finding it and then I put it in among my books.

Now if I can just get that same daughter, who makes to die for “steaks” from the gluten found in wheat flour, to share her recipe! My mom used to make them, and Griffy my next to youngest grandson asked if he could have gluten steaks to go with his turkey for Thanksgiving.


Atta boy Griff!