I grew up next door to my grandmother, and called her Granny. Back then I was better acquainted with Granny than Tasha Tudor. She was always busy and in good humor, and always ready to have tea or bake cookies, though everyone knew she napped each afternoon between two and three and took care not to disturb her. She did say, however, that she didn’t mind hearing the lawn being mown while she rested, or the commission of other industrious projects, for example, splitting wood, or minor carpentry jobs.
The speckled cookies were two thin wafers with a layer of melted semisweet chocolate between. She often put the wafers in the oven around the time she anticipated visitors. When you came in the door, the remnants of rolled out dough sat beside the round, fluted cookie cutter on the marble top, and cookies were cooling on a rack on the table opposite the wood stove. After a warm greeting she might ask if you would be good enough to stand before the stove and stir the semisweet chocolate chips in the double boiler until they melted, then assemble the cookies. All the while she carried on a lively conversation, busy preparing tea or getting supper together.
Granny had many friends and visitors. All kinds of people. Young women seemed interested in her. There was little difficulty finding men to help out around the place. There were publishers, literary agents, and the spontaneous appearance of fans, who Granny might put to work. She often got people to work on projects together. Her home was a busy place. As I got older, I got to know Tasha Tudor. She possessed numerous far ranging talents, and excelled in business, and her chosen field of writing and illustrating. She was a highly motivated, charming, self-sufficient woman people remain fascinated by to this day.