I had pizza and Chinese on speed dial. What more did I need?
My husband, david, and i had just gotten married and were living in L.A., trying to make it as actors. In his crisp British accent, David asked me one evening, “What are we going to have for dinner tonight, dear?” We were happy to order out, but for the first time it occurred to me that I wanted to learn how to cook for my family, how to pick the best recipes and make them—and how utterly clueless I was.
There was no trove of family recipes for me to rely on. My mom was one of 15 children, and her mother didn’t have time to pass along any culinary secrets. To feed my four siblings and me, Mom scrambled to figure out what other moms—and dads—already knew.
I’d come home from school and see her in front of the TV, watching Julia Child and taking notes. We never feasted on boeuf bourguignonne or a perfect French soufflé, though. It was just too complicated. Mom stuck to the standards: meat loaf, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken, pork chops, burgers, pot roast and fish sticks on Fridays.
This story is from the April 2018 edition of Guideposts.
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This story is from the April 2018 edition of Guideposts.
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