Dandelion Girl, If you get this message, it’s so great this made you feel. I don’t know about you, but my issues were all around how dangerous it used to be to feel. Courage! and solidarity, of course.

I NEEEEEEEED a waffle machine ... only I abhor non-stick surfaces so need to find something better. Sigh.

What an amazing conversation this is turning into! I love every comment ... and have to find my way over to this Richman article.

Interesting how many people talk of their mothers in the kitchen. My mom has a couple of recipes that are good, a lasagna comes to mind, but mostly she cooked to save money and feed four kids. She smoked so much she had little taste buds, and her mother had been quite the Martha Stewart of her time, everything turned out just so despite her working full time well into her 70s.

Of course my mother could bake, and bake we did, right along side of her. Early on she made bread and later mostly cookies, squares and pies. I made the cakes ... I couldn’t roll pastry to save my life.

But from the time I was 12, I couldn’t take the overcooked veggies, the flavourless meats, the lacklustre table. I took over much of the cooking ... aside from the roast on Sundays. This also got me out of dish duty which, when there were four kids and a dad too, was considerable drudgery.

My other grandmother was a real health nut: dark, grainy breads, excellent cheese, apples chosen with care, cherries from the great bing tree out back.

I think that these three women equally inspired me to be fearless in the kitchen, and my stomach’s preference forced me to keep things simple and clean.

My mother hates soups, would only open a can of Campbells, mushroom or tomato, for us. She still says she can’t see the point. I, on the other hand, cannot bear the store bought, even the broths make me gag, and will be endlessly grateful for the countless women out there, women I shall never know, who’s recipes for broths I have followed until I could figure out my own.

Thanks Harriet. It is these articles that make me love food and the world and have some hope, in a time when it seems hard to have.

@Kathryn & @CJMcD

The great news is that, despite the parents’ idea that their kids don’t have time to cook, their modeling home cooking will influence their kids immensely.

My sister has a low tolerance for chaos, so pretty much always cooked alone for her family of 4 kids and husband. Her kids are now grown, one has a couple of kids, and all cook very nicely as adults.

I mix it up. My small children love to cook with me, I struggle with the chaos, but love to share. I just know, though, that like with languages, the body learns even without the practical experiences.

That lucky kid might go home and volunteer to wash the potatoes next time ...

That is fantastic. I would like to add a couple of points:

Every time I “clean” a veggie -- take a skin off an onion or a garlic clove, cut the ends off of celery, take the greens off of my leeks and, best, take the ends off of wild mushrooms (or find some dessicated button ones lost and forgotten in the back of the fridge), I put the “scraps” in a ziplock bag in the freezer. I just keep adding them in. Ditto rejected parsnip fries, or whatever. We freeze the carcasses from our chickens, after eating them too. When I have enough (more or less), I cook it up as above (more or less), adding the salt and seasoning and carrots. FREE BROTH!

Also, I do skim the fat and freeze the stock in muffin tins so that I have “pucks” of the broth to add to recipes that require it, as well as to have more soup available for cold days like today. Think I’ll dig in my freezer for some now!

Great posting, thanks for the clarity.

Amazing how it just takes one moment, one decision, to change a future. (And of course, the hard work does follow ...)

Tears sprung to my eyes at the line, And finally, I agreed to go out and eat. I knew what would happen next as it is also my story, although my story is completely, and radically, different.

At 43, I know that my story ends well. I know that I will never be in the same grip that I was at 22. For anyone still in the throes of an addiction, it can end well. It takes a lot of honesty, a lot of guts. But the dessert is well worth the effort. And life can be truly delicious.

Great story.

I love bitters in a Manhatten -- some decent Canadian whiskey, a bit of red vermouth, and a good splurt of bitters, swirled with ice and served neat. Mmmmm.

But what I love best about bitters? If we need a wee something to settle an upset tummy, we have a soda water with plenty o’ the Angostura. An instant cure!

I did very poorly yesterday, if only because I spent the day (!) micro-cleaning a car we are going to sell. I ate raisin porridge (oatmeal) made overnight in the slow-cooker with brown sugar and standard (non-homogonised) milk. I had a cup of Chai tea, also with milk and brown sugar. I ate a few slices of toast from my favourite baker with some butter and local fall-flower honey for a snack, and, for lunch, ate some local goat “Camembert” and cow “gruyere” melted onto more farmer’s market bread for lunch, with some cold spiced apple cider (Denman Island). For dinner, I ate left over turkey (Happy Thanksgiving, eh!) and potatoes and carrots in a lovely shepherd’s pie (bless my leftover-loving husband) and some tiny brussel sprouts. And finally, I enjoyed a wee bit of left over pumpkin pie (thanks mom!) with some whipped cream.

You Americans have much to look forward to ...