When the latest issue of Cook’s Illustrated comes through the door at my house, I know better than to grab it. First dibs go to my husband. Unlike me, he won’t just “feast” on the photos of cakes, BBQ ribs and soufflés. He’ll actually read the recipes, select one, shop for ingredients and prepare a meal--and that’s where I come in.
My grandmother was 14 years old and living on a farm in Michigan when she made an appointment with her Presbyterian minister to tell him that she felt called to the ministry. “I’m sorry, Emma,” he said. “You must be mistaken. God doesn’t call women into the ministry.” A day or two later her father went to see the minister.