Amazing culinary prowess: age 8!

The summer I was 8, I decided that I wanted to learn to cook.

Mom and I trooped off to Coburns (just over 2 miles straight downhill), where I picked out a box of Duncan Hines spice cake mix and matching frosting. (1) I liked the color and (2) "spice" sounded super fancy, like something out of Narnia.

Back at Innisfree, Mimi set out a footstool for me. I cracked an egg! Then Mom fished the pieces of shell out. I stirred that cake mix with all the strength in my little twig arm. Later, when the cake was cool, Mom inverted the two layers and I used every molecule of frosting. Geez oh man did it smell good: clove and cinnamon and just like I had hoped. It was all I could do not to quiver into another dimension, waiting for dinner to be over.

After dinner, we repaired to the terrace. "Does anyone want cake?" I asked. *I* wanted cake, let me tell you.

"I get the first piece." Gogo said. "A big one!"

I brought him a piece of cake as big as his head. He ate the whole thing. "Delicious!" he said.

I thought, "Great! I am a really good cook!" And of all the things I have felt insecure about in my life, I never once doubted my ability to cook yummy food.