Christmas dinner at what the Fathers used to call "the Parakeet" was a grim business even back in the day. Not one of 'em could cook so much as toast, what with women to look after them all their lives -- before they had their troubles. Brother Morris got himself a copy of that Joy of Cooking finally from his friend in Chicago. Studied that book like he was back at seminary. Didn't do too bad, that first year, but for the Jello-salads that wouldn't set in the heat. The desert's not kind to that kind of thing. (This is probably the last picture they let Father Brian take before they found his collection in the laundry room and confiscated his cameras.)
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