I should have learned to cook at her knee, but I wasn’t interested early on. Later I tried making her delicious rolls, but mine were always tough. “You just need more practice,” she said.
My mother died at 92, and I inherited her big green crockery mixing bowl. The first rolls I made in it turned out perfectly – light as a feather. “Oh, Mother, why didn’t you tell me that all I needed was the magic bowl?”