My detour past the school had made me late getting home. Dad had been called in for an evening shift, so he’d started supper early. In the morning I had pulled out some noodles, planning to make pesto, since I’d bought sauce and some walnuts (cheaper than pine nuts).
When I had started school up on the Mountain, I’d been one of three boys who had taken Family Studies. I had the idea I needed to learn more about cooking, since Dad did most of our grocery shopping at Dollarama, and I felt I was missing something. I took the course and got interested in cooking from scratch.
Also, some of my friends ate food that I thought was really good. At Sam’s house, for example, they fed me dishes with vegetables and grains I had never heard of. Another friend’s dad was good with quick stir-fries. Eve
