I began to cook. College offered me the experience to attempt to cook my own food. That’s been both a blessing and a curse. I began very slowly, and started to make things up as I went along.I would try different spices, learning to toss stuff in the pan, and not look back.
I tried MANY recipes and tried to feed my mistakes to my roomates. One was thrilled, the other rarely came into the kitchen for fear I would make her taste awful things. She decided my baking was alright and stuck around for a cookie or two.
I began to wish that I had paid more attention to my mother, and godmother when they used to cook for me. There were the struggles, the cookbooks, the attempts. I would start spending more at the groccery store, poking around things I’d never seen or hadn’t tried.
That ended after a few weeks of depleting my bank account.
Having tried my hand at everything from Nachos to Pizza, I started to find things that I could get better at.