I was a pastry chef/cake decorator for awhile in my youth. Now I'm just a lowly Accountant with kids and a dog. I love to make anything that takes a lot of chopping. Standing over the counter with my knives and cutting boards going to town on veggies always makes me feel better after a stressful day. My family's apricot jello on Thanksgiving is always a fave. I also love teaching the kids the french terms for the food and/or process we are using while we make dinner. My biggest triumph was the first night I ever cooked for my father, a true Italian. I wanted to surprise him with Manicotti and Tiramisu. Not knowing that the whole garlic was a bulb while the innards were individual cloves, I used the entire bulb when the recipe called for one clove. My father was also very leary of my homemade Tiramisu. Both turned out fabulous though and my dad bragged to everyone for weeks after. Waiting till the last night before a cake was due the next morning for someone's birthday, I was rushed to complete it (and very sick on top of that). I half- measured the flour, which was not cake flour, and I did not sift it. When the cake came out of the oven, it was a one inch thick brick. Needless to say, I bought a cake on the way the next morn and walked in carrying it with my tail between my legs.