Now that my novella THE POTATO EATER is on the window ledge about to leap into publication, I’m dithering. Has it’s raw lusciousness gone over the top? Should I have left Padric’s story in the banker’s box where it languished gathering dust for 30 years? Are there seats at my table for both my dour non-fiction FIET’S VASE and POTATO EATER? For THE WOMAN WHO BROUGHT MATISSE BACK FROM THE DEAD and ANNE FRANK REMEMBERED? What cook mixes guests who are kosher, non-kosher, vegan, carnivore, lactose intolerant, gluttonous?