When Mamma was searching the closets of our farmhouse for pictures of Pappy, she found some of my old scribblings. Here is a letter--written at the wee, tender age of 18--to Ruth Reichl, the Editor-in-Chief of "Gourmet" Magazine. I suppose Chef's big, brown eyes and long, muscled arms aren't the only reason I'm into this food thing...
Ms. Ruth Reichl
Editor-in-Chief
"Gourmet" Magazine
4 Times Square
New York, NY 10036
Dear Ms. Reichl,
You were weaned on Gerber strained English peas and I was raised on Granddaddy's organically-grown carrots, apples and collard greens...
I am a Southerner in the City, an aging debutante, a small town girl cursed with big city aspirations. My grandfather says that I’m at the cusp of feminine failure—I’m as old as a bottle of prime Tennessee whiskey (aged 25 years) and still single. I need to “get on home” and find a nice Southern boy—a doctor, maybe an insurance salesman. At this, I dig in my heels and set out to date every inappropriate man in Manhattan…
No comments:
Post a Comment