My Aunt Evelyn (no relation, just a family friend) used to complain, after she moved to New Mexico, about a friend who was a cookbook author. You’d think she’d be excited to know a published writer, but apparently no one exactly thrilled with the author’s dinner parties.

It seems that Clarinda was ahead of her time in writing about International cuisine. She would call up her circle of friends with an invitation that went something like this. “I’m thinking of writing about Indian food and I’ve found some fabulous, authentic Indian recipes. Can you be here at 7:00 for dinner Saturday? Come hungry.”

And whether it was Indian or Columbian, Vietnamese or Aleutian cuisine, her friends would dutifully come to sample her potential cookbook fare. But after the first invitation, they always ate at home first. Otherwise they’d go home hungry. It turns out Clarinda could write, but she couldn’t cook.