I grew up in a household with an Italian mother from the Bronx.
That meant she did ALL the cooking…
Seriously, whether you wanted her to or not.
There was a sole exception to this single mindedness: eggs.
Mom never liked eggs, and even though she used them in countless recipes, and prepared many other things she didn’t like, Dad would handle egg making duty when he was available. (Of course, she makes them whenever my daughter or neices want them...because space aliens replace the brains of people when they become Grandparents.)
