Here are three sample chapters from The World Is A Kitchen.
The Slaying of the Yabbies by Lucy Friedland
I have no business being in culinary school. I’m slow, clumsy,
uncoordinated. Not chef material. Here I am anyway, slogging through a
Commercial Cookery course in Sydney, Australia. We’ve covered soup
through dessert in just ten weeks, skipping over the main courses. But
now the party’s over. No more frilly stuff like canapés and Chantilly
cream. We’re in the throes of the Fish and Shellfish module.
Crustaceans are on the menu, and we’re staring down a tub-load of live
yabbies.
Tastes of Generosity by Judy Ware
Spanish verbs run amok in my brain. My husband Jim and I are only two weeks into a three-month commitment to learn Spanish in Oaxaca, Mexico. I suggest a getaway day to explore the food of this region where at least fifteen indigenous groups contribute to its diversity. We get lucky. A call to local cooking diva Susana Trilling of Seasons of My Heart fame results in A journey into the secrets of Oaxacan cooking. Now our teacher sits in the front seat of the van, her long black braid brushing the top of my knees.
Basque Tortilla by Melissa Kronenthal
The first time you step off the plane into the cool, humid air, you
could be forgiven for thinking you’ve arrived in the wrong country by
mistake. The landscape is the first clue, particularly if you’ve
traveled here from other parts of Spain: parched, arid plains have
given way to close-knit, brooding mountains, green and hemmed in by
rain clouds. The cities are tucked in between them, huge apartment
blocks challenged in height only by the aging black spires of the
industrial infrastructure. There is no endless sun, no evening
bullfights here; the people you encounter are quieter, more reserved.
Signs on streets and doorways mock your grasp of Spanish with their
incomprehensible strings of letters containing multiple k’s and x’s,
and words like kaixo and eskerrik asko
filter their way into the conversation of those around you. And if
that’s not enough, when you start talking to people they all ask you
how you enjoyed your time in Spain. But, you stammer, I haven’t left
Spain! Yes, they assure you, you have. You haven’t just crossed into
another province of Spain, you’ve entered a place that is emotionally,
intellectually, and linguistically its own country—the Basque Country,
or Euzkadi, as the locals call it.
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