Birth of a baker
Finally! I’m about to write a sentence I never thought I’d write: “I cooked something, and it was REALLY good.” Around here I’m known for both my lack of cooking expertise and my disinterest in acquiring any. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. I wanted to be one of those mothers who could really cook – the kind whose meals become legendary with not only her own children but also her children’s friends, who begin coincidentally stopping by to visit around dinnertime. My mom was one of those mothers. Her mom was one of those mothers. DNA was on my side. But it didn’t pan out. It’s not that I never cook. I do, and I can produce a […]