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“She held up the book so Everly could see it. “It says it belongs to Erin Early.” Everly’s eyes softened. “Erin Early was my grandmother. Those are all her recipes.” Rowan felt a buzz filter through her, felt the electric charge shooting through her sister. Caraline flipped through the first few loose pages. “Potato soup. Soda bread. Hand pies. Dublin Coddle—" “What’s Dublin Coddle?” Rowan asked. Caraline skimmed the recipe, her brow furrowing. “It’s sort of like a stew, I think? Potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, and beer slow-cooked together.” — Ivy Cassidy
She held up the book so Everly could see it. “It says it belongs to Erin Early.”
Everly’s eyes softened. “Erin Early was my grandmother. Those are all her recipes.”
Rowan felt a buzz filter through her, felt the electric charge shooting through her sister. Caraline flipped through the first few loose pages. “Potato soup. Soda bread. Hand pies. Dublin Coddle—"
“What’s Dublin Coddle?” Rowan asked.
Caraline skimmed the recipe, her brow furrowing. “It’s sort of like a stew, I think? Potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, and beer slow-cooked together.