My mother-in-law used to be the curator of Emily Dickinson's house in Amherst (and someday I can chat about what it was like to sleep in the room next to the white dress and to eat Christmas breakfast while tourists pressed their noses against the kitchen window to see us in our pajamas), and she reworked Em's recipe for giants into one that is more manageable for modern stoves and appetites. In turn, I've also made some changes to the fruit types and quantities. But that's the story of poetry and cookery: somebody always comes along and messes with tradition.
If you want a copy of this recipe, let me know. I'll be glad to share it.
2 comments:
I love this story! I know I always beg you for things--essays, poetry and now this---but please I'd love to know how to make Emily Dickinson's Black Cake.
I'd love to see what your kitchen looks like.
My kitchen is fairly nondescript except for the counter along one wall that my husband constructed and painted to resemble a Mondrian. He gets these ideas in his head sometimes.
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