My mother was born in 1912, and was the oldest of 13 children. Their mother died when she was a young girl. She began working in her father's restaurant as soon as she was tall enough that the water would run off her hands and into the sink while standing on a box. She used to take simple ingredients like flour, salt, and sugar and make the most amazing foods. I was always in awe of her kitchen magic. Family would call and say they were coming to visit, and by time they arrived there would be a feast on the table, complete with homemade bread and wonderful desserts. She always asked us what we wanted for dinner on our birthdays, and I always chose Chicken and Dumplings with cornbread. She was an amazing cook. I wish I had paid more attention to her cooking and had kept all her recipes; but alas, I was too young when she died to think of such things.