Jennifer P. Gives us a tear jerker!

My dad left when I was 11 years old. Up until then, we were just your average, tiny family. Mom worked part time, and we ate at home every single night. I remember a few meals as my favorites, raves about my mother's barbeque sauce, and occasional projects where mom would decide to can pickles or jelly ... but in general the meals were simple and forgettable. I never ate foods of different cultures - it was all meat and potatoes and the occasional bowl of spaghetti. After my dad left, my mom lost all interest in cooking. We ate out 5 or 6 days out of the week, knew the specials at the local restaurants by day, and there was discussion of mom turning the stove into a planter. My cousins and I joked that mom used the kitchen 2 days a year: Thanksgiving and Christmas, and honestly it wasn't a joke. But she did a bang-up job with a holiday meal, and though she's been gone for over 12 years, it isn't "right" unless I have "her" rolls, "her" stuffing, and "her" gravy.

As I grew into a (rather round) teenager, I decided that cooking was 'uncool' and 'too domestic' for me. I would be a career woman. I wouldn't do that "girly" stuff. I would find my passion. But then I met two drastically different woman, mom's of two of my teenage friends. Both women loved to cook, and for them, it was an art. It was a joy to eat their food, a priveledge to get to watch or help, and a true education into what cooking could be for a family and for myself. As an adult, I've discovered that the only passion that I hold is for my family. I AM that "too domestic" of people, and I'm terribly proud of it. I cook with flavor, I work to cook healthy food for my family to ensure that their bodies grow strong and well. I include my sons in my cooking to show them that cooking isn't done by girls, it's done by people who love to create.