What I'm Really Doing When I'm Cooking
Cooking had always been my Mom's thing. My Dad was into interior design -- he had an earthy, artsy, shabby chic taste even before shabby chic was a thing. My sister has her shoes and bags and shopping. I read and I write. My Mom, she cooks. She cooks like a scientist. No not in the manner of having exactness down to pat. She was like a scientist who loved to invent new recipes. Sometimes she fails, but we all tease her good-naturedly. Not asking her to experiment was like asking Albert Einstein not to discover the theory of relativity. I wish I could say I had interest in cooking while growing up. I wish I could say I spent almost every Saturday and Sunday afternoon cooking and baking with my Mom. I didn't. I was a bookworm who would bite off anyone's head if they bothered me while reading. But I did poke out my head once in a while. It wasn't a big deal. Some days, I may have just finished reading a book, or Mom asked for help, or I was just plain bored...