i learned how to cook when i was quite young - mostly to help mom around the house. with five children, including one terminally ill child, she had her hands full. she taught me the secret of fried chicken and beautiful brown pan gravy. i watched her hands as she stirred in the flour and made a caramely roux and though i'm not as good at it as i used to be (a lack of practice and impatience for precisely the right moment to add liquid) i still make gravy the same way. i look at a plate and think "on wait, it needs something green". i'm probably one the few weird people that like green olives in their chicken a la king....wait, i'm probably one of the few people that know what chicken a la king is...isn't that a 50's dish?
today i find myself looking over recipes, reading some of them as though they were the most intriguing book ever. i wonder if everyone will like it - is it too weird for my brother with the very plain taste? will the nephews eat it or pick around it because they were raised politely?
i am glad that i learned to cook at a young age - it helped me stand on my own two feet and take care of myself...and as a result, my family and friends.