ragged collection of recipes – I had
after all been using them – to
various publishing acquaintances.
All of them except one said – and
who shall blame them – ‘What a
mad idea writing a cookery book
when we don’t have enough food
to cook.’ That one exception was
John Lehmann. I didn’t know him,
although his name was familiar as
the editor of Penguin New Writing,
when he wrote me a brief note
telling me he would like to publish
my book, and asking me to go and
see him in his Henrietta Street
office.
It wasn’t only that I had never