I married early in life , and cooking was not even in my thoughts , after all I worked in a diner. That is where I met my husband to be . He would come in for coffee and sit for hours drinking a million cups . It was love at first sight , but that’s another story .He was Mexican and four things are very important to that culture and food was high on that list . I married into a family that extended back many generations , of which there had never been any G’ringoes /ak/white people . I was not in Kansas anymore , . My mother-in law tried to teach me to cook their way , but soon gave up I was too dumb to learn . I understood that word I heard it often enough . Thank GOD through trail and error I became an expert on Mexican cooking from scratch I might add . And the reviews were Ten stars from my boys their father included . My mother- in law never gave me any high fives just a let me clear up you worked hard on this dinner , also her plate was clean insresponse to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Food for the Soul (and the Stomach).”
