Having found her number through the famous barbecue smokehouse she works for in Texas, after weeks of trying to get hold of her, we called Tootsie, huddled around a phone we’d put on loudspeaker. The line was not at all great. ‘Hello?’ barked a gruff voice, more demanding than enquiring. We dived into explaining that we’re two British girls on a mission to share recipes from grandmothers all over the wo— ‘WHO may I ASK is SPEAKING?’ the voice bellowed in a thick Texan slur. A quick exchange of glances. Then we tried again.
