By Annette Bridges
When my country boy husband and city girl me got married 38 years ago it would have been presumed I would be the one doing all the cooking, and I knew how to cook.
Not only did my mamma not raise me to get my hands dirty in the fields, she also didn’t raise me knowing all there is to know to function well in a kitchen.
Honestly, this could be because she didn’t know herself. My childhood memories were of my dad doing the cooking.
Mamma loved to tell everyone how excited she was when McDonald’s opened near our home and she could feed her children the quick and easy healthy meal of a hamburger, french fries and a milkshake. Indeed, my husband would tell you I was a cheap date because the primary place I wanted to eat back then was at McDonald’s.
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