A little history

It occurs to me that maybe you'd like to know a little about my background. Where I'm coming from experience-wise, if you will. Well...

First of all, I am the oldest of 8 children and the only girl for about 8 years. I have four brothers between me and my oldest sister. And the next important thing to know is that my mother HATED to cook. So, as you can probably guess, I got pressed into service at a young age. I knew how to follow a recipe and make cookies by myself by the time I was 8 years old. I believe I also made my first cake (a Wacky Cake) about then as well. When I was 13, my mother got really sick and was down in bed for about a month. You guessed it--I became chief cook and bottle washer from that day on.

My mom was a middle daughter who grew up on a farm. She not only hated to cook, she didn't really know how when she got married. Her mother and her older sister did all the cooking and she helped the boys on the farm. So, you can imagine the cooking tuition I got from her. Put the pan on the burner, turn it up to high, turn it down when it starts to scorch. (OK, it was probably not quite that bad, but you get the idea.)

When I was a teenager, I started scouring (and collecting) cookbooks looking for new recipes. I learned to bake pretty well. My specialty now is cheesecakes. Love 'em. Eat em. Freeze 'em so you don't eat 'em all in one sitting! But I grew up in a house of vegetable haters where Steak and Potatoes (or Macaroni and Cheese) reigned supreme. I or one of my sisters would bake a batch of cookies once or twice a week for the family to enjoy while watching TV. As you can probably guess, my hips are a leeetle bit wider than I'd like. Most of the things I know how to cook are plain, simple fare without the gourmet touches. I still like that kind of food.

But when I got divorced, about 10 years ago, I realized that I really hated figuring out what's for dinner every night. And, even more, I hated cooking for two people when one of them is a picky child. The poor thing, she's even pickier than I am, and I didn't think that was possible. And depression didn't help any either. So, as she got older and more able to do for herself, we kind of drifted into this short-order kitchen type of arrangement. She fixes what she wants for dinner and I fix what I want. Which means, unfortunately, that she eats Top Ramen and I eat cereal or a sandwich most nights. And mostly, we both eat by ourselves, whenever we happen to get hungry.

This is not good. Its time to change that. So...off we go on this adventure of eating real food and learning to enjoy cooking again. (Although my daughter doesn't know this yet...)

Oh, and for the record, my mom did become a decent cook over the years. But she never did like it.