When I was age 16 I couldn't cook a lick. All I knew how to do was heat up a can of soup and sort of make a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet.

When I was age 16 I couldn't cook a lick. All I knew how to do was heat up a can of
soup and sort of make a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet.
After leaving home at 16 years and 4 months old I was projected into the
world of poverty. Lived with my dad and stepmother from hell in the ghetto then to
my mom's apartment in northeast kansas city, missouri, the true epitome of
poor. Pregnant with my first child when I reached the ripe old age of 16 years and
8 months, I was living with people who lived on welfare food stamps and
what they called adc aid to dependent children at that time.
I learned slowly very slowly how to feed myself by cooking real food
something other than a honey bun, processed food made with flour, sugar and
preservatives.
Grandma, my mother's mother always cooked daily but didn't teach me how to
cook anything. She obviously didn't teach my mother, her daughter how to
cook, either. My mom could halfway fry lots of chicken, fry some eggs in bacon
grease and put together a few dishes made up of lots of government
cheese and processed foods, stuff out of a can or box but she wasn't
nearly as enthusiastic about cooking real good food as she was eating it.