The late Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion wine is a delightful
reminiscence of his childhood in rural Illinois
in the summer of 1928, thinly disguised as a novel. My favorite episode involved Grandmother’s
chaotic but irresistible cooking.
“Nobody knows what Grandma cooks until we sit at table,” says
Grandpa. Aunt Rose, who is visiting, decides to organize Grandma’s kitchen and to give her a
cookbook. Her cooking promptly goes
flat, and the boarders retire early from dinner to go back to their separate
rooms and brood.
So Grandpa takes matters into hand. “Strolling back under the warm summer elms to
the house, Aunt Rose suddenly gasped and put her hand to her throat.
“There, on the bottom of the porch step,
was her luggage, neatly packed. On top
of one suitcase, fluttering in the summer breeze, was a pink railroad
ticket.
“The boarders, all ten of them, were seated
on the porch stiffly. Grandfather, like
a train conductor, a mayor, a good friend, came down the steps solemnly.
“ ‘Rose,’ he said to her, taking her hand
and shaking it up and down, ‘I have something to say to you.’
“ ‘What is it?’ said Aunt Rose.
“ ‘Aunt Rose,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’”
The cooking improves. --Plautus
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