I was six years old when I realized that food can be dished up in two categories: food that proves someone loves you, and food that proves someone doesn’t love you.
Let me explain.
Imagine that you go to your grandmother’s kitchen in the morning. Breakfast at your grandmother’s—crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, warm, tender cinnamon rolls—lets you know that the day will be good. Life is good. Someone loves you.