By John S. Littell
In his "charmingly comparable" (Publishers Weekly) booklet French Impressions, John Littell chronicled his family's hilarious adventures out of the country. Now, Susie, unfortunately, and the Black Torpedo of Doom reveals the Littells again on U.S. soil-and firmly planted within the peaceable Fifties ny suburbs. Or no less than they have been peaceable till John's more youthful sister, Susie, used to be born...
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Extra info for Susie, Sadly, and the Black Torpedo of Doom
Sample text
I could hear her gasp as she recoiled in horror. Stephen and I were well-coated with grease, oil, and flour; my father was scarlet and sweating; odd smells perfumed the house; and every inch of counter space was covered with a phantasmagoria of food, plates, utensils, pots, colanders, Dutch ovens, frying pans, cookie sheets, bowls, long wooden spoons, steak knives, carving knives, whetstones, and the broken potato masher. I hadn’t known my mother had collected all this equipment—certainly, I had never seen her use any of it.
Horrible, wasn’t it? Can you imagine? Smoking! Drinking! Fatty foods! How much better, and oh, so much more natural, it is to scream in pain for hours. Of course, no one these days acts the way they did back then. And perhaps we will all live longer—or maybe it will just seem that way. While Mom was gone, Stephen and I were agog with excitement. Not because of the baby—we were too young to be allowed in the hospital—but because it was almost Christmas. For months we had been stalking the elusive Christmas gifts, looking in every known hiding place for those brightly wrapped, tantalizingly shaped boxes that held—what?
I couldn’t understand that. “Ah, here’s your mother’s list,” he said. ” I suggested. “Perhaps, but I believe we should consult our reference material, to wit, The Joy of Cooking,” he said. That was a title my mother found oxymoronic, or perhaps simply moronic, but we pored through the thick cookbook while my father took notes with his fountain pen. When he was satisfied, he said,“These recipes seem quite straightforward. ” Without further ado, we began the ordeal by cooking, a little known medieval test of insanity.