Recently I recommended a detective novel written by AA Milne, especially as it’s not his genre.
I always thought Ernest Bramah, at least that’s the name he wrote under – actually his birth certificate records his name as Ernest Brammah (sic) Smith – was American. You probably know he is as English as Coronation Street and indeed they both hail from Manchester. I also had only read his Kai Lung stories, recommended to me years ago and they were easily bought in second hand book shops. If I ever found these stories funny, I don’t now. I have not read his detective stories all written between 1914 and 1927, so he qualifies for inclusion in the Golden Age of detective fiction. His detective is Max Carrados and he is blind.
I thought of him because I thought there was a Kai Lung story about stone soup, perhaps there is, but the story started as a folk story originating somewhere in Europe – Eastern Europe I guess.
“Some travellers come to a village, carrying nothing more than an empty cooking pot. Upon their arrival, the villagers are unwilling to share any of their food stores with the very hungry travelers. Then the travelers go to a stream and fill the pot with water, drop a large stone in it, and place it over a fire. One of the villagers becomes curious and asks what they are doing. The travellers answer that they are making “stone soup”, which tastes wonderful and which they would be delighted to share with the villager, although it still needs a little bit of garnish, which they are missing, to improve the flavour.
The villager, who anticipates enjoying a share of the soup, does not mind parting with a few carrots, so these are added to the soup. Another villager walks by, inquiring about the pot, and the travelers again mention their stone soup which has not yet reached its full potential. More and more villagers walk by, each adding another ingredient, like potatoes, onions, cabbages, peas, celery, tomatoes, sweetcorn, meat (like chicken, pork and beef), milk, butter, salt and pepper. Finally, the stone (being inedible) is removed from the pot, and a delicious and nourishing pot of soup is enjoyed by travellers and villagers alike.” (Wikipedia)
I was a voracious reader as a child and still am. At breakfast I was reduced to reading the writing on the Corn Flakes’ boxes. Old habits die hard and yesterday this reminded me of stone soup.
