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... d experimentation.

She’d bought two dozen rootknots from the morning market—the ugly ones, the ones vendors sold cheap because they weren’t pretty enough for display. Perfect for crisps, where appearance before cooking didn’t matter.

Now her small kitchen was a laboratory. Rootknots sliced paper-thin on her cutting board, some with her regular knives, some—experimentally—with Edmund’s grandmother’s spoon used as a makeshift slicer. A pot of oil heating to precise temperatures on ...

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