Quote:
Originally Posted by BrianL99
When I moved to NH a few years ago, I was dating a native NH lady. I usually did the cooking, but one day she told me, she was going to make her "world famous lasagna" that night. "Everyone says it's the best lasagna they've ever had", she said. I thought she was fairly worldly, she had lived in Breckinridge, CO.
OK, whatever. She says she's going shopping after work and buying all the ingredients. I'm thinking ... don't you have to start on the sauce, this morning?
& then I think, ok ... maybe she's taking a short cut and using Michael's of Brooklyn sauce ... or maybe even Rao's. I can live that, one time.
When I got home and saw the 2 large bottles of Ragu sauce, I lost it.
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Reminds me about when my father and mother got married. My mother had been brought up as a “lady” and she was not even allowed to go into the kitchen because she could “get kitchen smells on her clothing”. My father’s mother was a farmer and not only did she do her own cooking but grew her own vegetables, and had her own chickens etc too. My mother would bravely attempt to make some meals which were disastrous but my dad managed to swallow them down somehow. Mom said, that’s how it was made where she came from.
A year later, my parents were invited to stay at my mother’s parents but my dad was very unwilling to go thinking he is never going to be able to eat a bite. But he really cared for my mother and decided to go anyways for her sake. To his great surprise his mother-in-law made delicious meals for them and that is when my dad realized that my mother simply didn’t know how to cook. When they went back to his mother’s house dad’s mother gently and persistently taught my mother how to cook. And how to enjoy cooking.
My dad never gave up on mom. She was the love of his life to the day he died. And vice versa.