Can she cook? Is she dead? Can she manage?

I'm not the real Mrs Beeton -that would require time travel or a faked death on the scale of Elvis... In real-life (what is that anyway?) I married Mr Beaton (who is probably better at Victorian style cooking than me anyway), thus becoming Mrs Beaton. The 'Real' Mrs Beaton is my mother-in-law; farmer's wife, queen of calorific puddings and all things country, with more energy in her little finger than I have on my most caffeinated day...But the name, and my inferiority complex, got me thinking...

There's got to be something in the name...

Perhaps if I dipped into my very, very old copy of Mrs B's Household Management I might learn stuff and be better at the domestic trickery than I am. 'Hell No' I hear you feminista's cry! But yes, I too consider myself to be in that bracket of feminist, but can also understand and reconcile with myself that this is a choice and one that interests me (we can debate whether this is the direct result of a damaging gender construct later). I like craft. I like wool and fabric and thread. I like crockery and order and a good cleaning product. Let's do it.

"To use language appropriate to this volume, it may be said that while statesman may carve nations, good cooks alone can consolidate them"
Mrs Beaton's Everyday Cookery, 'The Housewife', Chapter VI, p.59

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