Letters

She does, indeed she does. In point of fact, there might have been no Nigella at all had we not loved, some decades ago, a certain initial girl. Nigella's "bodacious, carb-fortified, fertility goddess arms"—to say nothing of the cloying treats they loft before the camera—are merely lustless limbs when compared with the stooped shoulders of Julia Child, hunched over a hot plate of coq au vin. Nigella is but a simpleton seraph to Julia's siren; a Kinbote to her Shade; a Nicky to her Paris.

Walter Faure
Cobble Hill

Hans De Krap replies: My "winning prose" is patball to Faure's great game.


NO REPLY AT ALL

Yours is one of the very few publications I've seen that allow responses to letters to the editor. I think this practice is really lame.

Jane Liddell
Boston, Massachusetts

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