My mother and her mother were accomplished cooks and bakers - midwestern farm cookery. My grandmother could whip up a meringue for her banana cream pie using a dinner fork. Her sugar cookies were a constant presence in the old pantry cupboard, stashed in a tin that dated from the early 1900s. The Depression dictated one raisin per 4" cookie, the trick being to save it for the last bite. Her cakes and pies were amazing. My mother was equally skilled but working full-time limited her ability to bake. There are no particular moments, but my mother and grandmother gave me the confidence to cook and bake - and keep trying until I got it right. As a result, I do most of the cooking and all of the baking for our family. We try for a sit-down dinner every night simply because some of my best memories are from around the big table in the farmhouse, and I'd like my boys to know, appreciate, and continue the tradition into their adult lives with their families. I spent every Saturday on the farm, and well recall how we all slid into our chairs, scrubbed clean from farm chores, as the noon whistle sounded, ready for meat and potatoes (I cannot recall rice EVER being served) and a vegetable - sweet corn minutes from the field or her canned beans during the winter. And, yes, while I don't want to sound curmudgeonly, it was a slower, simpler time and the provenance of the food was impeccable. A big noon meal (dinner) broke the day and was always followed by a quick nap before heading back out to work - much as is the practice in France or Spain or Italy. What I'd give to have one of those meals again, but I do like to think that they inspired me to care about sharing good, homemade food with family. We're not likely to bring that era back, but I know that it is a great thing when our boys lean back and start to talk and laugh as the meal unwinds instead of rushing off to their computers or iPhones.

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