long rambling post on my history in the kitchen.

I grew up in a restaurant. About 7 years old I filled in washing dishes, moved to being a waiter, and then cooking.  My mother, aunts, and Lucy Morgan were excellent cooks and taught me a lot.  Lucy, especially, who used nutmeg in her donuts taught me how easy it was to ruin anything with too much nutmeg.  With that background I became known as an excellent cook.  My sense of smell was so good that I could smell a pot and be able to identify what was in it and what it needed. I actually tasted with my nose.
When I left Montana I was exposed to many different foods from around the world.  Greek, middle eastern, Mexican (oh my, I still love Mexican food!), etc. I almost forgot , Spanish and Basque.  I remember a dirty rundown little place in Bakersfield.  She made the most wonderful camarones rancheros.   I couldn't put my finger on the magical ingredient. She didn't habla englis and my Espanol was rudimentary at best.  Eventually she was able to figure out what I was asking.  She went to the kitchen and came out with some cinnamon.  With a BIG smile she made a pinching gesture and said poquito (very small).  After that my ranchera sauce improved dramatically.
My first exposure to birria was at El Jalicience in Williams, Ca. What a wonderful flavor!  I inquired and the cook was in the process of making tomorrows birria so she took me to the kitchen and showed me what went into it.  Its an all day process but oh so worth it!
I lost my sense of smell in 99 and my sense of taste is much diminished, so I don't trust myself like I used to. I can still look at an ingredient list and figure out if it's good or not but sometimes the greatest dish will taste horrible to me today and good tomorrow.
I enjoy cooking for the neighbors because I like pleasing people and especially enjoy the accolades.