Cooking With My Mama

My earliest memories are of being in the kitchen with my mom. Back then, she was Mama, not Mom. I remember watching her make pies, mixing up the crusts by touch, with her experienced hands able to tell if the dough was too wet, or too dry, without measuring. I would sit, transfixed, on a chair, as I watched her chop fruits and vegetables to make potato, macaroni, and waldorf salads. Much of what I learned in the kitchen, the skills I used when I moved into my first apartment, was learned first by observing my mom as she worked, […]