Cross-posted from <ELDERS@sjuvm.stjohns.edu> From: Eunice Richter <erichter@pa.mother.com> Our family has a favorite mince meat story. We reminisce about it every= Thanksgiving. It happened long ago and far away, when we lived in= Wisconsin and my husband used to go deer hunting with bow and arrow. = Venison makes delicious mince meat. I had spent the better part of a day preparing a large batch, with= everything from scratch. Had made a pie for dinner, the rest was to be= canned. As I had trouble tightening the jars when canning, the final= touches were always done after Elmer got home. =20 When it was time to reheat the mince meat, my husband offered to stir it,= while I did other things. We had recently bought a television which was= visible from the doorway of the kitchen. Here my husband stood. At first= he stirred, but then became engrossed in what was on television. I= returned to the smell of something burning. (His sense of smell has never= been terribly good.) By the time he grabbed the kettle from the stove the= enamel was melting.=20 What a mess! My very chagrined husband has never again had the chance of= eating mince pie made from scratch. I retired from that job! Eunice
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