Gourmets and cooking-show
fanatics will shake their heads at this post, but I must share the story of the
first dinner I cooked for my boyfriend (now my husband of many years). We were
sophomores in college and had only been dating for several months. Yet, somehow
we both knew this was the one. Keep
in mind, any time my mom tried to teach me to cook I would run in the other
direction. Even chemistry homework appealed more than anything in the kitchen. But
when Ken asked me to fix him dinner during Christmas vacation, what did I say?
Sure, why not? After all, how hard could it be? I packed all the ingredients from
grocery store into my car and drove to his house. The rest of his family would
be out for the evening. Did I take a cookbook? Of course not, since my mother
didn’t own one. She’d learned everything from Grandma Ellis who also never
wrote anything down. Ken chose fried chicken and potato salad as his favorite
meal. I added iceburg lettuce with bottled dressing and green beans straight
from the can—no butter or seasoning—to round out the meal. I breaded and fried
the chicken, then kept turning the pieces in the skillet until I set off the
smoke alarm. After all, I had no idea when they were done. But the extra crispy
chicken turned out better than my potato salad. Since I had no idea when the potatoes
might be cooked, the result resembled mashed spuds with tiny pieces of celery,
onion and hard-boiled egg. But Ken loved
my dinner. He not only cleaned his plate but raved about everything. Maybe it’s
not surprising since I was cute-as-a-bug and he was enchanted. But here’s the
best part: When his parents and sister returned from the movies, they all took plates
and ate the leftovers. In fact, my late mother-in-law’s exact words were: “Oh,
my, you better not let this one get away. Any girl who cooks like this is a
keeper.”

I went home that night thinking I
was a good cook. It would be some time before I found out the truth. But Ken
proposed that Christmas and we marred six days after college graduation. I
still miss my mom and my mother-in-law. They both taught me that unconditional
love is more important than anything that goes into your stomach. Before she
passed away, my mom did teach me to cook a few of her special recipes, but every
now and then I still set off smoke alarms…just for old times’ sake.
Please leave a comment telling me how you learned to cook for a chance to win an ARC of my Amish mystery novella, Nothing Tastes So Sweet, included in the anthology, The Amish Sweet Shop, that will release in December. USA only, please. ~ Mary Ellis, Suspense Sisters
You may also pre-book at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Amish-Sweet-Shop-Emma-Miller-ebook/dp/B07BVGY2HD/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1536951371&sr=8-1&keywords=the+amish+sweet+shop&dpID=5143TwRcd%252BL&preST=_SY445_QL70_&dpSrc=srch