Fork into fluffy piping-hot metaphors

This page is a poignent reminder of the lot of the working woman in the 1950's. Imagine a career as a copywriter for Better Homes and Gardens--a gal's dream job, by all popular standards. And yet--how many snappy verbs can you come up with for heads and sub-heads in a cookbook? There's cook, sure, and eat. Maybe serve. After that . . . the list tails off, your mind wanders, your polished fingernails tap the freshly-sharpened pencil absently on the steno pad . . . you wonder, was the degree in Literature really necessary for this job? Maybe you should have followed Sue's lead, and done the Home Ec course instead. Sure, there were more lab hours, and you had to pass the test in appliances and electricity, but look at Sue's career now. She invented a rosin potato cooker . . . Don probably thinks that's swell, he always hated mushy baked potatoes . . . that's how Sue stole him away in the first place . . . wonder if they're really happy. Ah, fork this job anyway.

Would you cook your potatoes in rosin? Webster's Seventh tells me rosin is "a translucent amber-colored to almost black brittle friable resin that is obtained by chemical means from the oleoresin or dead wood of pine trees or from tall oil and used in making varnish, paper size, soap, and soldering flux and on violin bows."

Yum!