A Meal for the Proles, Carnegie Hill Style

My armchair-socialist father, an Englishman, taught me that real food is blue-collar, like steak and kidney pie or mashed potatoes and liver. But after living for four years with my grandmother (his mother-in-law), a German nonagenarian brought up as the daughter of prosperous steel industrialists, I’ve developed a blooming taste for gourmet.

She is certainly pleased with her influence, as I no longer lick my knife at the dinner table and I’ve recently made business cards. Read more