Better than Nana's chicken

A few weeks ago, my husband and I celebrated our 28th anniversary. That's a long time, but it's not so long that I haven't forgotten my experiences as a new bride. I had managed to keep a closely held secret: I didn't know how to cook. Not a clue.

My new husband loved me so much he managed to fake enthusiasm when I tried my hand at homemade biscuits. They were horrible, partially because I overdid it on the baking soda and they were way too salty. This combined with the fact that I tried to compensate for their saltiness by NOT salting the gravy made the whole thing a disaster.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Somehow he managed to choke down my cooking, but it became painfully evident that I needed to learn to cook, quick, before we both starved to death.

That's where Lee's little old Italian grandmother, Rae (short for Rafael) came into play.

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