I'm hardly a professional cook. I have a teeny tiny little apartment with an even smaller kitchen. Meat! I'm a carnivor. But I can't say I don't like the veggies too. I remember my Mom's chicken and dumplings, my Dad's all-day spaghetti sauce, grilling steaks on Sunday afternoons, oyster stew, red velvet cake at Christmas. Gosh, there's so many memories associated with the kitchen when I was growing up that it's kind of hard to sort them all out and put them into a few words. I've had a few. They always make me proud of myself. My cooking tragedies? Too numerous to count. One person's heart actually stopped after tasting a sauce I made. Fortunately, all I had to do was rip open a vein, shove in a clove of garlic, do CPR for one minute, and he was fine by the time dessert was served.