Her legs just aren’t as strong as they used to be. “You be careful on this slope,” Bragg told his mom, a hand on her back. So Bragg helps out where needed and writes in her basement, going to town for the occasional meal of fast-food chicken when she’s not up to cooking or helping steady her as she walks out to the small garden beside her log home. She’s 81 and frail after cancer and cardiac scares, yet there are still mules to feed and yard dogs to pet and a house to tend. Margaret Bragg’s cooking is the main course her recipes populate the space between her son’s prose. Knopf, “The Best Cook in the World” is a cookbook, but not like one of those old Betty Crocker volumes that simply listed recipes like “Ham Wellington with Chutney” and ended with a reminder that calories count.īragg’s work is more a narrative cookbook that’s heavy on stories about growing up poor, wearing out stoves and the role food plays both in his family and his native South, which gets a little more like everywhere else each time Domino’s delivers a pizza out in the county.
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