Last night my god-daughter was learning how to make fried okra but felt the okra would suffer if she didn’t have on an apron. Seriously, C., where did I go wrong?
She stops cooking for just a moment to pose for me. She’s almost fourteen years old. They grow up so fast.
C. is getting a cooking lesson from Grandma. Grandma extols the virtue of cooking with lard; my arteries close just listening.
There are too many cooks in the kitchen, which is my out to leave. Yeah! I don’t have to cook! I love you all!
BTW, the artery clogging okra was fantastic. Nothing says cooking in the south like a cupful of lard! 🙂 This is why we only visit twice a year.
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