For a woman who claimed to dislike drunks, my grandmother sure had a knack for attracting them. Of course she wasn’t responsible for her gallivanting father, Zone. And we have to give her a pass on the very charming first husband, Robert Bruce, who, Granny claimed, squandered so much of her money on booze, she couldn’t even afford to buy . . .
Don’t miss Chris Adrian’s gorgeous and harrowing Promise Breaker. I read it twice on the train to my sister’s last night.
Through December I’ll be posting recipes — not necessarily holiday-themed — and food-related stories from writers I like. The first contribution is from Kate Christensen, whose books I’ve raved about, and whose mad skillz in the kitchen will one day be the stuff of legend. You can read more of her recipes here. Wash 25 or so fresh Brussels . . .
American Food Writing: An Anthology with Classic Recipes is a fun book to have on hand under any circumstances. But if you’re going to prepare turkey tomorrow, it could be a crucial resource. Thanksgiving, for reasons I won’t bore you with here, was my least favorite day of the entire year growing up. I lay awake worrying about it months . . .
A newly-discovered Edith Wharton letter revives the debate about Lily Bart’s death — and points to suicide.