I COME FROM A family of some pretty serious home cooks. Homemade chicken stock and pizza made from scratch are regular parts of my mom’s repertoire. And now that I am an adult, I want them to be parts of mine, too. This would be simple to do—or so I thought.
After graduating from college in New York, I got a job offer in Boston and had to find a place to live within two weeks. While I was grateful for this news—#blessed—it also stressed me out. In the end, it worked out for me. I was able to find my own place to call home just in time, with a decent kitchen in which to cook my favorite childhood dishes.
I thought living on my own would be a breeze. I thought my kitchen would be equipped with the best cooking tools so that I would never have to suffer through another dining hall meal and could make virtually any dish I’ve ever craved. Key words: I thought.