Summary of Erin French's Finding Freedom , livre ebook

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36 pages

English

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Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book.
Sample Book Insights:
#1 I loved the afternoon shift at my father’s diner. I loved the peace and quiet of the kitchen, and I loved frying bacon and making ice cream cones. It was my chance to take a break.
#2 I remember the first time I went to the diner. I was five. My mother took me and my sister there to visit our father, who had just started working there. We were amazed by the diner’s interior.
#3 I was in awe at the sight of my father, the man I had missed so much, standing in front of a giant stainless griddle, flipping pancakes. He had a big smile on his face and was whistling happily.
#4 I was 12 years old when my dad first pulled me onto the line. I had stepped in to help him out at the diner, mostly because I needed the cash to buy that bike. I had learned every basic kitchen skill a cook would need to know: how to cook a burger medium-rare, how to roast a chicken, and how to extract every bit of meat from the carcass.

Sujets

Cuisine

La cuisine et son histoire

Culinary

Love

Love (disambiguation)

Informations

Publié par	Everest Media LLC
Date de parution	28 mars 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669368984
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Insights on Erin French's Finding Freedom
Contents Insights from Chapter 1 Insights from Chapter 2 Insights from Chapter 3 Insights from Chapter 4 Insights from Chapter 5
Insights from Chapter 1

#1

I loved the afternoon shift at my father’s diner. I loved the peace and quiet of the kitchen, and I loved frying bacon and making ice cream cones. It was my chance to take a break.

#2

I remember the first time I went to the diner. I was five. My mother took me and my sister there to visit our father, who had just started working there. We were amazed by the diner’s interior.

#3

I was in awe at the sight of my father, the man I had missed so much, standing in front of a giant stainless griddle, flipping pancakes. He had a big smile on his face and was whistling happily.

#4

I was 12 years old when my dad first pulled me onto the line. I had stepped in to help him out at the diner, mostly because I needed the cash to buy that bike. I had learned every basic kitchen skill a cook would need to know: how to cook a burger medium-rare, how to roast a chicken, and how to extract every bit of meat from the carcass.

#5

I was 21 years old and pregnant with my second child when I worked the line at my father’s diner. I was angry with my father for leaving me in charge of the diner while he was off at a county fair blooming-onion booth.

#6

Freedom, Maine, was a small town with a church and a couple of gas pumps. It didn’t offer much, and its residents were constantly reminded that they couldn’t be successful in Waldo County.

#7

We had a farm that was just three miles away from our town, and we spent many summer days there playing with our friends. We had a single cat who was in charge of keeping the mice away, and she soon became pregnant.

#8

I had a sister, Nina, who was two years younger than me. We were soft blond girls who played with kittens. The kittens taught us about fragility and how to care for something small and helpless. They taught us how to love and laugh. They taught us how to cry and mourn loss.

#9

I was ten years old when I first learned that God was not good. I had found Ritz, my cat, in the hayloft, huddled in the nest with his siblings. I understood why my dad had to euthanize him, but I didn’t understand how it was fair. Why did Ritz have to get hit by a car in the first place.

#10

I never stopped cursing God for the death of animals on our farm, though it also brought me some unexpected solace. It showed me that my father had a heart, and that he was emotional.

#11

My understanding of my dad was gathered in the brief moments I saw of him between his comings and goings from the restaurant. He was never going to be the soft kind of dad that I secretly wished for. He was unpredictable and explosive.

#12

My grandparents, who were born and raised in Maine, were among the hardest-working people I have ever met. They always drove a smooth-riding Lincoln with a big backseat where my sister and I would ride with so much space between us that we couldn’t touch each other if we tried.

#13

My grandparents spoiled me and my sister with treats that were forbidden by our mother, and we were sworn to secrecy. They knew full well what was going on, but they did it anyway.

#14

My grandfather was a great cook. He would rub big slabs of meat with garlic powder and pepper and roast them to perfection. He would also grill the buns until they were toasty but still soft and moist inside.

#15

My grandmother was the boss. She kept my grandfather in check, gently scolding him when he did or said things she thought were outrageous. She had incredible strength, and together they loved family and visited their nearby relatives often.

#16

The love my grandparents gave me was different from the love a parent gives you. It was a special bond that I felt at times my father was resentful of. He didn’t have the same relationship with his father that I did.

#17

My father, who was a cook, had to leave his job at the diner when my grandparents found out he was involved in a drug ring. They sold the store and moved to Freedom, hoping that would put an end to the trouble.

#18

The trade-off for the endless treats at the restaurant was that my father seemed to be holding hostage. He was spending long, stressful days at the restaurant, and we didn’t get to spend much time with him.

#19

My father had always been resigned to the fact that he would be stuck in Maine for all of his days. He had struggled as a student and ended up dropping out of college. He fell back into the only thing he knew how to do: work. He spent his days turning out pepperoni pizzas and Italian subs by the hundreds in the kitchen at his parents’ convenience store.

#20

I was never one of the popular kids, but I was the envy of the lunch table whenever I pulled a nice long Italian sub sandwich from my bag. It was like an emotion. It was like love.

#21

My dad would spend his afternoon at the diner making orders or counting cash while soap operas flickered over a small television he had jerry-rigged with tinfoil to get decent reception. We would spend hours playing on the quiet line by ourselves, making after-school snacks.

#22

My sister and I would often spend our time at the Ingraham diner trying to avoid the boredom that could easily consume us. We'd run through the neighboring back fields, play hide-and-seek among the rows of tall cornstalks, or steal a few ears to munch raw when they were young and sweet.

#23

My father was a cook, and he would spend his days cooking family meals on the small commercial stove he had installed in our kitchen. We would return home to delicious aromas and happy whistles of joy.

#24

My father was a great cook, but an even better mess maker. He would make elaborate menus, planning out courses, and serve them to us. We wouldn’t eat at the kitchen table, but in the side dining room, a room we usually only used for holidays or special occasions.

#25

I had a difficult time eating my father’s fish. I found the taste off-putting and unenjoyable, and I couldn’t help but gag and spit it out.

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Summary of Erin French's Finding Freedom , livre ebook

Cuisine

La cuisine et son histoire

Culinary

Love

Love (disambiguation)

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