Twenty years ago I was hanging around a friend's kitchen as dinnertime approached. “Let me cook for you,” he offered. “I don't want to put you to any trouble,” I said. “No trouble at all,” he replied, and in one graceful movement he leaned back in his chair, lifted a tin of baked beans from the shelf above his head, emptied them into a saucepan and turned on the gas. That was dinner.
20年前的一天，我在一位友人家的厨房附近消磨时间，渐渐到了晚餐时分。他提出：“我给你做饭吧。”我说：“我可不想麻烦你。”他答道：“一点儿都不麻烦。” 说罢，他优雅地靠向椅背，从头顶上方的架子上拿了一罐焗豆，打开后倒进长柄锅，然后打开了煤气。这就是我们的晚餐。
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