mushrooms: a love story.

my mom wasn’t really big on cooking.

she cooked for me and my brother because she had to.  we were growing boys.  back when i was a kid, i don’t think she had the free time to sit down and really dedicate herself to the art of cooking in between all the working, helping with homework, cleaning, and weekend folk dancing.  we made a lot of boxed and instant foods because they were cheap and easy.  looking back, i know it was hard for my mom to raise us alone for most of my childhood.  but she made my life great one pan of slightly burned rice-a-roni at a time.

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