East European Cooking
Issue #28
Summer/Fall 1982
While Marquis De Sade had himself buggered, O just around the time the Turks Were roasting my ancestors on a spit, Goethe wrote “The Sorrows of Young Werther.” It was chilly, raw, bleak, down-at-the-mouth We were slurping bean soup with...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.