The Solitary Cook
Jul 21, 2017 · 1 min read

Meg, we were significantly younger when we were caught up in the dysfunction. High school years were sheer torture. When I was in college and graduate school, I used to have to unplug my phone from the wall to get some peace and be able to accomplish anything. Within hours of my son being born, I remember thinking: the insanity stops here. I would maintain weeks of radio silence when I wouldn’t take her calls, and she would just double down on my sisters, so they would call me to recount the latest drama. It was a relief when she died. Most especially for her. It took me years, and some very expensive therapy, to process the effect she had had on my life, and even longer to evolve into the person I always knew was in there somewhere.

The Solitary Cook

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A chef writing about cooking & eating in the Northern Rockies. Food for hundreds? No problem. For one? A different story. My story.