“ABOUT STRUDEL – When the last princess slip was freshly beribboned, our beloved Hungarian laundress sometimes found time to give us a treat. She made strudel. Draping the round dining room table with a fresh cloth, she patiently worked flour into it. Neighborhood small fry gathered on the fringes of the light cast by the Tiffany dome, and their eyes would pop as she rolled the dough, no larger than a softball, into a big thin circle. Then, hands lightly clenched, palms down, working under the sheet of dough and from the center out, she stretched it with the flat planes of the knuckles… She would play it out, so to speak, not so much pulling it as coaxing it with long, even friction, moving round and round the table as she worked.” — Irma S. Rombauer & Marion Rombauer Becker – Joy of Cooking

An epistolary cooking exchange between M and C 

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