by Susan Weidman Schneider

From the Editor

The inscription in the cook-book given to me as a Bat I Mitzvah gift by my very I well-educated next-door J neighbor reads: “This, more than anything, will bring bring pleasure to those you love.” After more than 30 years, the assumptions in that declaration still sting: that at thirteen I’m going to be ready to cook for anybody; that-a   couldn’t possibly be for my own pleasure, but for some mysterious persons I might serve in the future; that it’s food and not, for example, sex that is the preferred pathway to joy.

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