Heavens, what was it? I know I can never be so terrified by anything met with in the real world as by the shadowy play creatures which lurked in the dark corners of the hay mow to attack us, or crept up the creaking steps from the lower stalls.
Another favorite Saturday occupation was cooking our noonday meal on a brick oven of our own construction. Fried eggs were the principal dish, as I remember, and we gladly accepted contributions out of the back doors of our respective kitchens to build up the menu. Though I did not care for cooking in school, I liked this particular kind and I believe it started me on certain researches made when I was somewhat older.
These were in the nature of trying to find new foods. I distressed several cooks by boiling up pea pods and corn husks and various other concoctions with which I had hoped to create original and palatable dishes.
I have since found that many of my selections were not unusual at all, and that far more of nature’s supplies than I then wot of are used by one people or another as everyday fare.
However, there is one thing I searched for which I am sure has not been used. I had been brought up as regular church and Sunday School attendant in the Episcopal church. Of course, the story of the Children of Israel being fed manna which dropped from Heaven had impressed me deeply. I thought I knew exactly what manna should taste
