I don’t know when I really took to cooking. I took to eating at a very young age, but the cooking came later.
My parents always cooked most every night, TV dinners were treats because we never ate them and when we lived overseas, other kids wanted their dads to bring them clothes but not me, I wanted Hamburger Helper. I thought it was a delicacy. Rather, I just didn’t realize that I had it great already with home-cooked meals!
I think I decided to start cooking after what was probably my 100th chicken sandwich with honey mustard dressing and a side of fries from the college dorm cafeteria my freshman year. I just felt uninspired and well, heavy. So it was back up to the dorm room with a microwave and a George Foreman grill. I fought with these two appliances (if you prop up the slanted George Foreman so that you have a flat surface…you can actually fry an egg on the thing) until the next fall, when we moved into an apartment with a full kitchen. Then the cooking began.
Now, I have the pleasure of a husband, who will try anything I am working on atleast once, for whom to cook.