Today, the mail brought me a special cookbook, Clementine in the Kitchen, which has been reissued, after some forty years out of print, by the Boston publisher David Godine. I could not be more pleased to see it around, not only because it is good, but because it is the book that started me on my own career as a writer.
It was long ago, during World War II. I was living in Annapolis, Maryland, and commuting every day to Baltimore to work as an advertising copywriter in one of the city’s big department stores. The miserable little Annapolis-Baltimore train, which I rode, had a tendency to derail (though without doing much harm), so one had to be well supplied with reading matter for the frequent delays. One day I took along this book, and began reading it.
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