My dear mother told me this story when I was just a boy. I was enchanted by the idea of this magical stone, too young to consider the clever trick the tramp was playing on the woman.
The sense of cooking being a magical endeavor has stayed with me ever since.
Hah I misinterpreted it a different way as a kid, for a long time I thought it was like a collective delusion where the shared experience of contributing insubstantial garnishes to a pot of water tricked everyone into finding it filling and enjoying it.
While that was the way it was taught to me as a kid, I thought it was more of a story about con men who came to a village and tricked the townsfolk to eat their entire winter rations in a grand feast and then skipped town before anyone realized what they did.
My dear mother told me this story when I was just a boy. I was enchanted by the idea of this magical stone, too young to consider the clever trick the tramp was playing on the woman.
The sense of cooking being a magical endeavor has stayed with me ever since.