I like to try new recipes that challenge my abilities. My family cooking tradition was printed in readers digest or on the side of a box and usually included the following ingredients; Condensed milk (sweetened or otherwise), cheese, canned vegetables, hamburger, eggs, spaghetti or egg noodles, salt. My mother’s (bless her dear, dear heart) pride was a set of stainless steel pots and pans which she was sweet talked into buying when she was very young by a door to door salesman. Knives were dangerously dull and purchased in the shadow of a blue light (attention Kmart shoppers! :) I remember the few spices we had were in the back of the shelf and rather dusty. She did put one ingredient into every meal, and that of course was love. To this day I still can’t understand why anyone would ruin good corn by putting lima beans in it. I love ya Ma, but please, please, please, no more succotash… See cooking tragedies... I was making dinner for my visiting dad, sister and brother-in-law. Authentic Greek cuisine, and in the pasta dish I accidentally put in too much salt, way too much salt. Crushed, I tell my father I’ll have to throw it out, it’s ruined. And my dad, a depression era baby, waste not want not, take what you want and eat what you take, Mr. macho man’s man, the last person on earth I’d turn to for cooking advice, offhandedly says “Put some sugar in it”. Dumbfounded at this simple, yet elegant solution, but knowing in my heart that it would absolutely work, took his counsel. To this day I don’t know what amazes me more, the fact that it worked, or from whom the knowledge came from.