CAROLINE WAS AN ACCOMPLISHED PIANIST who lived alone.  She didn't like to cook.  Her mother was a fabulous cook.  Caroline couldn't even follow a recipe.  It was like trying to read a manual, she said.  She decided it would be simple if she ate white food.  So she ate rice, potatoes, yogurt, milk, cottage cheese, parsnips.  She came to have a pasty complexion and grew weak.

Her friends grew concerned.  What to do.  They decided to write a recipe in musical notation—a fold-out book with photos and notes.

Chicken Breasts with leeks (whites only) in an Aromatic White Sauce served over White Rice

Caroline laughed but she never bothered to make the recipe.

For her thirtieth birthday, Caroline announced that she would like to give a recital at her home.  Her friends were delighted.  They would prepare fancy white food:

The day of the recital came.  A sunny Sunday afternoon in June.  Caroline sat down at her white baby grand in a white silk shirt and pants.  She looked lovely.  Her friends waited.  She played.  Her friends were thrilled that she sounded so well.  "Encore, encore," they shouted.  She smiled and played "Chicken Breasts."

How they laughed.  They presented her with a bouquet of white roses, one for each year of her life. 

Caroline smiled.  Someone took a picture.  The photograph now hangs on the wall behind the piano--everything is white: her clothes, her skin, the roses, the wall, even the picture frame.  But if you look closely, her friends say you can see a hint of pink on Caroline's cheeks.