Back in the mists of antiquity, when we were living in Southern California, and I was maybe 7 to 9 years old, and my Mom was making cole slaw, my job was chopping up the cabbage into itty-bitty bits. I did it with an implement called a "mezzaluna" (half-moon) chopper that Mom had in the kitchen (watch out for your fingers!!). It consisted of two curved blades about five or six inches long, parallel, and about an inch apart, with a wooden handle.

Mom would cut a head of cabbage into, maybe eighths, then I would take it from there and whomp, whomp, whomp it all into little, tiny bits. Mom would check from time to time and tell me if it needed more, or when it was fine enough. Then, she'd take it and mix it with other ingredients, of which I knew little.

Cole slaw and/or potato salad usually meant we were going on a picnic.

I'm not exactly a gourmet chef. Given TV-dinners and a microwave, I can cobble together a fairly tasty meal, and I can make a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich that is to die for.

Don Firth