Each issue of Cook’s Illustrated begins with a folksy letter with news from down on the old Vermont farm by founder and editor-in-chief Chris Kimball. These charming, old-timey updates remind us all of a slower, simpler way of life, where neighbors stop to swap plowing tips out by the trading post and run when they see Old Henry coming. Who’s Old Henry? Why, what a question, stranger. Old Henry knows who you are. That much is certain. Old Henry knows who you are just fine.
The Toast has received an advance copy of Mr. Kimball’s latest essay, which we are proud to publish in full here.
I found a perfect miniature of myself in the walk-in freezer this morning. His hands were clasped behind his head and he had no eyes. He was buried under forty pounds of boar meat.
Some of you haven’t been following the instructions to my Perfectly Flaky Biscuits (May 2009). Some of you thought you could skip the step where the dough chills. You can’t skip that step. That isn’t how Cook’s Illustrated works. From now on, the illustrations in your copy will never hold still long enough for you to see what you’re supposed to be doing. That’s only fair. And fair’s fair, here in Vermont.
Fall’s coming on. You can’t smell it in the air just yet, but the trees will tell you, if you’re still for long enough. And after fall there’s always winter. Mr. Winter always walking just a few steps behind Mr. Fall, hiding his foosteps in the echo of Mr. Fall’s. Someone will go missing this winter. They always do. Someone who went missing the last winter back will show up on the frozen edges of Fike’s Pond, but with different-colored eyes this time. They always do.
Have you seen Old Henry yet today? Old Henry says hello. I saw old Henry out by the hitching post, and he was doing just fine. “Spry as a mule with a chicken’s ear,” he said with a low, rumbling laugh. He clacked his heels together and I gave him a silver half-dollar, as is my custom.
A tractor’s a mighty useful thing, if you can find one.
Someone tried to take my bowtie last night while I was sleeping. You found yourself with more than you bargained for on your hands, didn’t you? Got yourself a little surprise. Don’t worry about trying to scrub it off. It won’t come off. I’ll know you when I’ll see you, now.
Did you know that maple syrup makes an excellent preservative? Sink almost anything into a vat of maple syrup, and it’ll keep. Yes, sir. It’ll keep.
Let me tell you something about lobsters.
Saw a man in rags on the north end of my cornfield this Saturday at dusk. He appeared as if out of nowhere, dancing nervously between the rows. He spoke only in rhyme. Said his name was Granger. Said he used to work the grapevines up in Maine. Worked like a dog. Never saw no money, never met no one named Luck. One day he spat in the ground and said he wished Death would come for him. Then Death came and caught his eye, and he lost his nerve and ran. Been running ever since. His voice was thick and hurt to hear, like his throat ached to say it. “I called for Death, he learned my name/ Now I run through cold, I run through rain/ Oh, I wish I were in the fields again!” He took off before I could offer him a slice of the peach pie I’d made. Someone was walking in his direction after he left. Walked that way a long while. Walking fast against the horizon.
You can sell just about anything to a restaurant.
Mae down at the drugstore wanted me to let you good folks know that all salves and unguents are half-price this weekend, and that a large ball of twine has gone missing, along with half a carrot cake she was saving for Old Henry. Old Henry won’t be pleased when he hears about this.
A tin can’s as good as a gravestone, in a pinch, as my grandmother used to say.
No crashes up on the mountain pass today. Nobody mangled in a thresher this afternoon. Nobody’s drowned in the cistern or fallen down a collapsed mineshaft. Everyone hale and hearty and walking around on the earth with all their red blood pumping through their arms and legs. What’s Death up to, you have to wonder. Biding his time for something.
If you chase a turkey long enough, it’ll pass out from exhaustion. Like as not, it’ll choke on its own vomit, and then you won’t even have to wring its neck. You’ll want to clean the vomit off, though.
No supper like a church supper. No gravy like church gravy. I like Presbyterian gravy best, but don’t tell the Methodists.
Saw one of the hired hands out near the bingo hall today. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as we passed in the street. He’s got something to hide, Maxie does. Wonder if he’s seen how swollen Suzy Pyle’s belly has gotten since the last full moon. Wonder if he knows.
What does your furniture do when you leave the house? Are you sure?
Went back to the walk-in freezer this afternoon. The doll was missing. But I found something else, something even smaller. A tiny version of our entire village, perfectly recreated in ice. Right down to Old Henry’s stump out by Fike’s Pond. And it was alive. Things were moving, like. There were little ripples across the surface of the pond. I wasn’t in it, though. Couldn’t find myself no matter how hard I looked, no matter how loud I screamed.
Sure do wonder what that doll could have got to.
Well, folks, that’s all from Vermont. Til next time – happy cookin’. You let me know if you see that doll, now.
Chris Kimball
Tags: america’s test kitchen, christopher kimball, cooks illustrated, letters from the editor, old henry, vermont
An incredibly thin line between “folksy” and “backwoodsy.”
Of course, a pie crust that flaky is obviously using the old magics.
old magics vodka
Lard. It’s magic.
You know the big theory of how all Pixar movies take place in one coherent universe? I like to think we could come up with something similar for all of Mallory’s Creepy Stories*.
*(TM)
The Melisverse
This is wonderful. I have The Yellow Farmhouse cookbook, and while the recipes and tips are great, roughly one-third of the book is this. I’d say NO 1 CUUUUURRR, but I guess some people do.
I misread that as “The Yellow Wallpaper Cookbook,” and I was equal parts envious and terrified.
… and now, obviously, that is my next short story prompt.
“KILLL! all the nasty little creatures in the wallpaper. Build a fire of the furniture, and roast the nasty beasts on a curtain bar. Wrap the leftovers in bits of paper, and shove them under the door to your evil husband.”
I was just coming in here to say that I enjoy the recipes from TYFC and the discussions about meat cuts and all, but oh my goddd every time I look in it I see something like “I take my kids to the old skating pond on winter Saturdays and before I go I pop in some coffee cake with a crumble topping made from scratch the night before because we don’t have TV or internet or radio or human children, apparently, and then I fix up some apple cider made from apples I grew in the orchard last summer and pressed in my own backyard press, and I leave it to stew on the stove with some cinnamon sticks I bartered for at the general store with beads and feathers and my kids play together all wholesome-like JUST LIKE KIDS USED TO BACK BEFORE THESE CRAZY TIMES and then we come home and enjoy a wholesome breakfast frittata with coffee cake and apple cider and then I go down cellar to select a ham bone to make soup with from beans I grew and dried myself and the ham bone is from my old hog Sally and blah blah my folksy backwoods way of life blah blah I’m rich enough to be able to afford all this and blah blah I’m white enough that nobody is ever racist to me in the backwoods and blah blah let’s all go back to the 1850s because why not.”
Fuck, even in Farmer Boy, not everything is “man farming is awesome and this life is cool” and Farmer Boy is WISH FULFILLMENT PERSONIFIED.
Apparently I have more feelings about this than I thought I did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go debate whether to make biscuits from butter, or Bisquick.
this comment is the best
I love Cook’s Illustrated, and I love this.
This pretty exactly mimics the tone in which I read CK’s usual front-page dispatches, though I often mentally edit in some raccoon hijinks.
You know: stealing scraps from well-secured rubbish bins, stand-offs with bold cats in the dooryard, casting unworded conjurations with the unreadable gestures of their tiny dextrous razor-clawed hands, unfastening the screen door and refastening it backwards overnight as a hilarious raccoon prank.
I like you.
Also, what’s the over-under on how many comments til someone mentions that N____ V___ podcast?
If you see something, say nothing. And drink to forget.
I will say nothing except that it’s put me in just the right mood to read this.
I called that boring the other night and accidentally offended half the internet.
Everything good that happens to me today can be traced to this post.
Melis, you have the key to my heart.
How did I never notice before that Christopher Kimball, with his primly folded mouth and his crisp, narrow bowtie and his squinty pretense to folksiness, is a minor Shirley Jackson character? We Have Always Lived in the Test Kitchen.
DO YOU WRITE FOR THIS WEBSITE YET
OMG PLEASE YES!!!!
This is perfect. Well I wish you’d used “Just because you put kittens in the oven it doesn’t make ’em muffins.” but otherwise perfect.
Marvelous! I read this in John Lithgow’s voice (with a Georgian accent), for some reason.
Farmers: they’re filled with secrets!
I also read it in Lithgow’s voice! But no accent.
This is totally excellent, and made even better by the fact that I read it in his voice. Delightfully creepy and pie-licious.
Any opinions on Cook’s Illustrated versus Cook’s Country? My boyfriend is very into America’s Test Kitchen and their scientific approach to the perfect recipes, and I’m thinking about getting him a subscription to one or the other. What is the difference??
Every recipe that is on America’s Test Kitchen was in Cooks Illustrated first, so if your boyfriend is already watching the TV show, he might find some of it kind of redundant. (although not ever recipe makes it onto TV). Cook’s Country the magazine has completely separate recipes, although some will wind up on Cooks Country TV.
Cook’s Country is mostly regional and “down home” food with some lost recipes that have been revamped but you may never have heard of (like porcupine meatballs) but both Cook’s Country and Cook’s Illustrated magazine recipes are developed the exact same way in the same test kitchen.
(I used to work there)
i’m so glad I also know someone who used to work there because the gossip about Chris Kimball is TOO good. it helps me read his little letters in the right spirit. 😀
well you have to *share* the gossip! (as long as doing so won’t bring forth some horrifying eldritch abomination to feast on us all)
suffice it to say that he has a tumultuous relationship history.
Interesting. He does not seem like the kind of guy who would.
he’s a CEREAL monogamist. (i am so sorry)
hahahaha, oh my god. (puns require no apology! puns are the highest form of wit!)
So Cook’s Illustrated might be more his speed because it replicates ATC more. It does stuff like rates mayonnaise and a recent issue had and entire article on (ishityounot) the BEST way to fry an egg. Oh yeah. It also has pretty illustrations etc, but sometimes it can seem like there are three recipes in the whole issue. But I personally prefer Cook’s Country. Its good folksy americana insanity coming out the ears. I like to read recipes like wee short stories and they have a Margarita Cake (!!!) made with a pretzel crust and margarita mix that I keep threatening to make.
Also don’t tell Melis but the best hummus recipe I ever found was in Cooks Country. Also I prefer the photos. And the general lack of Chris Kimball insanity. But negative points, the issues are so large they don’t fit on my gd bookshelf so I have to stack them. Wow that was a lot of opinions on ATC. Anyhow! Good luck!!
So Cook’s Illustrated might be more his speed because it replicates ATC more. It does stuff like rates mayonnaise and a recent issue had and entire article on (ishityounot) the BEST way to fry an egg. Oh yeah. It also has pretty illustrations etc, but sometimes it can seem like there are three recipes in the whole issue. But I personally prefer Cook’s Country. Its good folksy americana insanity coming out the ears. I like to read recipes like wee short stories and they have a Margarita Cake (!!!) made with a pretzel crust and margarita mix that I keep threatening to make.
Basically Cooks Illustrated is very much like ATC but with illustrations and a high tone but not a lot of content (but high quality content!!) and Cook’s Country is a giant splashy magazine with a ton of photos, way more recipes, including 30 minute dinner cards in the middle, with a few off the wall american regional specialties. Also Melis can cover her ears for this part but in Cooks Country I found the best recipe for hummus evah.
This is all very helpful! Thank you both.
You think the unsettling folksiness is an act, but it turns out that a good chunk of Northern New England is actually like that.
For example, a classic excerpt from the Hanover, NH, police blotter: “Hanover Police arrived on scene responding to a call from a woman saying that a crow had been on Rope Ferry Road performing somersaults for several hours. Upon investigation, police found ‘no sign of a weird crow.'” (cite)
ominous
What that woman really needed was an augur to tell her what the Gods were trying to say to her.
I still read the Sheriff’s report from my hometown paper just for gems like this:
At 2:53 a.m. a caller reports finding fliers on the floor of the employee break room at the [local] Lumber mill. It’s also reported that workers at the mill found the tool shed open, graffiti in the tool room and WD-40 sprayed over the floor. Caller believes they were trying to set the mill on fire. A note was found at the scene: “Viva La Revolution” and “I want my BB gun back.” A security officer contacts dispatch with suspect information and evidence.
There was a several-week saga in my hometown paper’s police log about escaping goats.
Loved it. It reminded me a bit of the Welcome to Nightvale podcast but with more Lynch and less Lovecraft.
When I was younger, my mother found a listing in our town paper police log under our address. She had left the garage door open while she was out, and someone called animal control because there was a fisher cat inside.
No other taxidermist has ever received a higher compliment.
but also, Verlyn Klinkenborg