The first thing Mom taught me how to cook was an over-easy egg. It was a Saturday morning, a time she usually spent occupied with all the household chores. But she had promised that week to teach me how to cook an egg, and despite her busy morning I kept pestering her about it. My begging and persistence finally paid off—she knew I was not going to let it go so she dropped everything she was doing. After several failed attempts at turning my egg over without breaking the yolk, I finally got it right. Success! This would be the first of many “cooking lessons” from Mom. I was nine.
