Kristin Weatherford

Outside an ice cream shop in Monteverde I hated to cook until this year.  In middle school, after failing to convince me that learning to cook was a necessity (and after I vehemently protested ever having to touch raw meat), my mom made me take “Home Ec,” which not only didn’t teach me anything about cooking, but fueled the fire in my distaste for matters of the home.  What a horrible time/teacher that was.  Through the years I always had a boyfriend who could cook, so it really didn’t matter; now I don’t.  Boyfriend don’t know a thang about a kitchen.  I’m cheap, impatient, and slightly picky.  This is an adventure.

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