I am deeply in love with my husband of 13 years. We have 6 beautiful children
My favorite things to cook
I love to make everything homemade. It gives me a deep sense of accomplishement and makes me feel good knowing that may family is only getting the things I put in, not additives and extras that may be harmful to them.
My favorite family cooking traditions
I used to think that having the same meals over and over would be old and boring. I hesitated to set up food traditons. But, I have found that my husband and children and even I look forward to the same things. We have many wonderful memories surrounding our "same old, same old". We always have homemade pizza with salad on the side on Friday nights. We always have popped corn on Sunday nights. We always have "lamb cake" (made with the Wilton stand-up lamb pan) on Resurrection Sunday to help us focus on the Lamb of God Who took on Himself the sins of the world. We always have cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.
My cooking triumphs
One of my greatest memories of things turning out just right came when I was 14 years old. My mom was leaving the house to run some errands and she instructed me to make an angel food cake for a certain occasion. No Problem! You get the boxed mix out of the cupboard and make the cake. Well, NO boxed mix. (and no cell phone to call and say, "MOM! what do I do?!") So, I got out my mom's old, red-checked, Betty Crocker cookbook and looked up angel food cake. I found it called for 12 egg whites! At that moment at great debate went on inside my head..."Will mom kill me for not making the cake, or will mom kill me for using all the eggs?" Finally, I decided that mom needed the cake NOW and could replace the eggs later. When my mom arrived home she found a beautiful (though I say it myself), fluffy, white angel food cake all ready for her. I then explained that there was no mix and apologized for having used all the eggs. Her mouth dropped open. She said she could not believe I ha
My cooking tragedies
My cooking troubles seem to revolve around my poor sense of time. I fail to calculate how much time it takes to peal all the potatoes and cook the meat and then put it together in a casserole. Once, I was supposed to make a meal for a family who was struggling. I told them I would have it there at 6:30pm. I think it was around 7:45 when I was finally able to deliver. I was terribly embarressed to find that they had already eaten something else.