I don�t know where I got it from either. I grew up eating either T-bone steak or spaghetti for dinner every night. Eventually my parents added chicken wings to the mix as well, but that wasn�t until I had already left for college.

When M and I moved in together, our first meal was spaghetti. I bought the chunky style sauce, buttered and heated up some French bread, and poured a salad out of the bag. When all was proclaimed good and well, I confessed to my then-165 pound boyfriend that it was a good thing he liked it because that was all there was in my repertoire of cooking knowledge.

I expanded a bit, cooking macaroni and cheese, buying alfredo sauce instead of the regular Ragu, and putting things like chili on top of the noodles. When I got sick of Hamburger Helper without the meat and noodles in general, I decided to figure this whole cooking thing out.

And I�ll be the first to say it: I do a pretty good job.

I�m the woman who makes her own broth.

I�m the woman who makes her own cream sauces.

I�m the woman who makes her own bread, pizza dough, muffins, piecrusts, and biscuits.

I�m the woman who finds

They make it all up/
There's no such thing/
Like a female with good looks/
Who cooks and cleans

the most offensive thing on Eminem�s new album.

[Okay... Ignore the cleaning part when you come to my house.]

With few ingredients more than flour, rice milk, and veggies, I can whip up damn near anything.

After nothing that I hadn�t made a real dinner more than three times in the past year, I decided to do something about it.

Here are the results:

Are you sure you still want to eat at my house? �