Growing up, mother was tight-fisted like an immigrant. We never went out to eat. Not even ice-cream; it was always “I’ll get you a whole tub at home!”. Not even the movies; it was always: “man up, it’ll be on TV in like two years”. And we all know how two years is literally like twenty years when you’re a kid. Anyway, so we never went out to eat. And as I grew up, I stopped even really wanting to go out any more; I had no taste for it. But these past two years (there it is again), I’ve been acting like a teenage Amish kid; I went off the farm and ate out practically every meal, every day, completely forgetting how to cook in the process. I no longer knew how. Then, over the past three months, I started hanging out with people who cook all the time. Erry day. At first I thought their efforts fatuous: “come on, let’s just buy something”, I said. But I ran with the dogs and caught fleas: their habits rubbed off on me. Now, slowly, I’m starting to eat home-cooked food again. It started with baking and it’s slowly been spreading […]
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