Although somewhat spoiled, I'm easy to please. My mother was a gourmet cook. Once one gets past the bourgeois pretence (always something wrong with your table manners) and savors the culinary memory, she was something compared to the standard manufactured frozen food microwavers today. Dinner at 6, promptly!
Growing up in NYC with all the ethnic delis and bakeries was incomparable to the current silly foodie, er, pretences where the basics of yore are become 'artisan' grub.
Do my best but proverbial 'cooking for one' precludes much effort. Suffice it to say soup's on sale and I scored some fresh baked rye bread marked down. Good enough for me!
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