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Geneva Wendy's 6 O'Clock
When Dad and I were living in Geneva by ourselves, he had to learn a lot about cooking. He'd always cooked occasionally around the house, but now it was every night. Dad cooked like a true chemist: everything was measured to the milliliter and timed to the second. All ingredients were laid out on the counter beforehand in the order that they'd be needed, and not a word could be said to distract him.

For all that, his menu was pretty narrow. The only dishes I remember eating that year were omelets, cheese fondue, and breaded veal cutlets. We couldn't possibly have had one of those three every night for a year, but I can't recall ever eating anything else.

Chez Zeus: Speak, Minotaur!: Station No. 33

Last modified: Thu Mar 31 16:14:13 2005
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