My earliest cooking experience resulted in pancakes that were three and a half inches in diameter and as hard as a rock. I don’t want to tell you about that time.
My next cooking experience was bound to be better. At least I convinced my dad that it would be. It turned out to be one of the most memorable evenings our family talks about.
My mom was out (probably grocery shopping for supper), and my dad was working upstairs on the addition he was adding on to our home.
I climbed the wooden stairs and stuck my head through the opening. There was my dad, framing in the rooms with the two Bible college students he had hired to help him. Continue reading