Reclaiming my kitchen
I have a confession: I love to cook. It's not something I usually share because I have family and friends who are much better cooks. I'm not Julia Child, but I can hold my own in a kitchen. I got my love of cooking from my grandmother, Bessie Lowery, and she could cook , especially her chicken and rice. I've never been able to replicate that recipe. I think the secret ingredient was love. As a child, I wore the pages thin on a beat-up copy of Joy of Cooking . I didn't just cook from it—I read it cover to cover like a novel. Honestly, like a Stephen King novel, except no scares but lots of butter. I imagined myself throwing elaborate dinner parties for family and friends. Somewhere along the way, I decided I would someday write my own cookbook. I even started a handwritten recipe collection for that future version of myself. In high school, I took every culinary class that was offered. In one class, we worked in groups. I was the only girl, paired with four football ...
