Once upon a time, I didn’t know how to cook. I had an inkling that a certain combination of ingredients and application of heat would produce something edible, but the details were fuzzy. I had better things to think about than those details. I had a daughter whom I loved very much, but didn’t feed very well. I had a job I loved to geek out about. I read books. I played spades.

Then I found love, with a man who could cook. And I watched him make me very good breakfasts, lunches and dinners. He took me to restaurants that prepared great food. Then, he married me and gave me two more children. And he bought me Alton Brown’s “I’m Just Here For the Food.”

So, I found myself at home more than I used to be, with mouths to feed large and small. I missed eating well, my best beloved was too tired to cook, and I couldn’t afford to have someone else cook for me. What else could I do, but get off my ass and learn to really cook?


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