Actually, I cook just as well as my mother. Phillip cannot tell the difference. On the other hand, my adoptive mother was such a horrific cook, that my adoptive father had to take over, just so the family could eat edible food. Ever had a burger cooked until it was indistinguishable from a charcoal briquette? Then serve that cold, on a stale bun, with no catsup, mustard, or anything else. That was the way my adoptive mother cooked.