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Nash, Edith / Practice the here and now: selected writings of Edith Nash

Nash, Edith
Grape pies,   pp. 18-19

Page 19

often. The wife of William Vaughn Moody, the poet, headed an organization
at that time called the Home Delicacies Association, and Paul was so taken
with her and her elegance he sensed from the cookbook that he went once to
call on her. Then he constructed the pies, with a marvelous crust on the
bottom and a careful lattice top. When supper took place, he produced three
of these pies, and the accolade was immense. Paul had beaten Mother at her
own game.
 One time in Falls Church, Virginia, where my husband and children and I
lived briefly during World War II, we invited a lot of people to the house
for a joint Thanksgiving — everybody brought something. We did the
turkey, and a whole pound of butter was used, although butter was rationed
and red points had to be saved for some time to get that much. Beef and butter
used the same red points; chicken and fish were free. One of our friends
came out to the kitchen with all the bustle around her, and said, "You're
just like your mother!" which hurt my feelings. I did not remember any open
heartedness or excitement from that family Thanksgiving, only my mother's
controlling hand, and her rejection of me and of Paul. I did not want to
seem like her.
 When Paul usurped our mother's role at home, I rejoiced and celebrated with
him his greater competence in cooking~#~ and in nurturing.

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