Search Results for shit-my-granny-taught-me-to-cook

This statement took my world and turned it upside down, and shook the shit out of
it. ... I've HAD to cook since I was married, and I can't tell you how much I hate it! ...
My grandmother taught me to cook; she made it fun, interesting, enjoyable.

Author: Sheryl Kirby

Publisher: Lulu.com

ISBN: 9780991737703

Category: Cooking

Page: 186

View: 215

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2012 By Sheryl Kirby

Working with them, and working on myself, allowed me to focus on being a better
me. I worked ... I cooked and cleaned. I took the ... My brother told me that one of
my granny's sisters said that I wasn't good enough to teach Sunday School
because I didn't know the Bible. ... According to them, I was destined to not be shit
.

Author: aDeborah

Publisher: Dorrance Publishing

ISBN: 9781644263464

Category: Religion

Page: 64

View: 319

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Don’t Wait to Realize You’re Great By: aDeborah Through the heart-wrenching account of neglect and abuse as a child and the continuing dysfunctional and toxic relationships with her family, aDeborah hopes that her readers realize the greatness they were born with and destined to be. “No matter what life throws at you, live and be great,” she says. In her book, aDeborah compares passages from The Bible to theories like The Big Bang and Evolution to prove the existence of God and His plan for each person’s individual greatness.
2020-04-16 By aDeborah

S. THIRTEEN. haron had Pike's kitchensmelling delicious with her home cooking.
... “My grandmother,” Sharon responded. “With my parents ... She taught me allof
her recipes. ... “Damn,this shit isgood,” he praised her heavily. ... Her
grandmother had always told her that the way to a man's heart wasthrough his
stomach.

Author: Nisa Santiago

Publisher: Melodrama Publishing

ISBN: 9781620780497

Category: Fiction

Page: 296

View: 940

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Knock, Knock. Four broke girlfriends go into a Long Island church looking for a job. Four trained assassins come out. The Cristál Clique is born when these young killers are immersed in the intense underworld of murder-for-hire. But with youth comes naiveté. When heartache, betrayal, and revenge lurk behind every door, these Brooklyn girls must remain on point if they want to stay alive.
2014-12-20 By Nisa Santiago

Author:

Publisher:

ISBN: PSU:000050039166

Category: English poetry

Page:

View: 716

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2001 By

Author: Tessa Kale

Publisher:

ISBN: UOM:39015067701568

Category: Literary Criticism

Page: 2376

View: 414

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Features 85,000 classic and contemporary poems by 12,000 poets. This work covers such anthologies as "The Oxford Anthology of African American Poetry"; "The Oxford Book of American Poetry"; "The New Anthology of American Poetry", "The Columbia Anthology of Modern Korean Poetry"; and "The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature."
2007 By Tessa Kale

Just enough to clean her up, to remove most of the stink from her skin and the shit
that had gathered in the creases of her buttocks and thighs. ... She taught me
cooking, he taught me to write, only for Grandmother to steal away my pencil.

Author: Rebecca Tinnelly

Publisher: Hachette UK

ISBN: 9781473664517

Category: Fiction

Page: 368

View: 522

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Some family secrets demand to be told . . . Connie lost her words at the age of five, the day she witnessed her mother and father's untimely death. Since then she has been all but mute, only being able to choke out a few select words. Now, years on, Connie's husband is on his deathbed and all she can do is quietly sit by his side. But there are so many dreadful secrets locked up in Connie's silent prison. And time is running out to set them free . . . This book sucked me in and wouldn't let go, even after I finished it! I absolutely loved it. Dark and suspenseful. Brilliant characters. Stunning revelations - Patricia Gibney, bestselling author of, The Detective Lottie Parker series Praise for Rebecca Tinnelly 'A beautifully written, riveting read. Perfectly crafted. Absorbing from start to finish'Amanda Robson, bestselling author of Obsession 'Rebecca Tinnelly created a village so real, so secretive and scary, I was edge of the seat. Rebecca Tinnelly has a new fan in me' Liz Lawler, bestselling author of Don't Wake Up 'So tightly plotted [and] totally absorbing . . . the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere kept me reading late into the night' Elisabeth Carpenter, bestselling author of 99 Red Balloons 'Mesmerising, shocking, I just couldn't look away' Sarah J. Naughton, author of Tattletale 'Twisty, DARK, fast-paced, shocking. EXCELLENT' Will Dean, author of Dark Pines
2019-06-13 By Rebecca Tinnelly

Then you need to buy this gift for your brother, sister, Aunt and celebrate their birthday. Are you looking for a Gift ? Shit My Mom Taught Me To Cook Journal ? Shit My Mom Taught Me To Cook Notebook ?

Author: Cook Journal

Publisher:

ISBN: 1652394915

Category:

Page: 102

View: 967

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Shit My Mom Taught Me To Cook Journal: 100 days of Memories, 6x9 Diary, Dotted and Lined Book gift a 100 pages Notebook and a funny I'm not arguing I'm just explaining why I'm right on a Matte-finish cover. A perfect gift for your grandmother, mom, sister, girlfriend, or anyone who loves to cook. 100 blank recipe entries in 6" x 9" with plenty of spaces to write Crisp White Pages Great for Mom! Matte Finish Cover for an elegant look and feel Beautiful graphics in the interior for each page. Durable and easy wipe cover which is able to withstand the stains of cooking Are you looking for a gift for your parents or relatives that or friends ? Then you need to buy this gift for your brother, sister, Aunt and celebrate their birthday. Are you looking for a Gift ? Shit My Mom Taught Me To Cook Journal ? Shit My Mom Taught Me To Cook Notebook ? Then click on our brand and check the hundreds more custom options and top designs in our shop!
2019-12-28 By Cook Journal

We spent most of the summer at Grandma's house so Mother could work a part-
time job at the Greeley Women Center close to ... She cooked, cleaned, sewed,
taught, scolded, fed and raised us; Mother held us down. I learned a lot about
responsibilities and how hard it was to be an adult. Charikka was all into school
and even went during the summer, leaving me to do more shit because Rho'
Sheek ...

Author: Lavez Robinson Sr.

Publisher: Xlibris Corporation

ISBN: 9781479761685

Category: Biography & Autobiography

Page: 286

View: 247

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This is the story of a once lost black man, giving compelling details of the trials, tribulations, and the ever changing circumstances surrounding him. Cursed from birth with unusual attributes; early on, he was faced with ridicule and constant criticism from not only peers, but also his parents. Desperate to be a part of something in a city plagued with hate, he was determined to escape the detrimental society that had withered away at the lives of so many. Therefore, he enlisted in the armed services after completing high school in hopes of finding his purpose in life.
2013-01-08 By Lavez Robinson Sr.

I remember sitting down with my grandmother sewing and knitting when I was
seven years old . ... We used to sew and cook . ... such a bad feeling about
everything that was going on in my life and what my grandmother was going
through — she took shit because I was ... After I started getting the effect , I went
upstairs and told my aunt , who wasn't really my aunt , and she rushed me to
Bellevue Hospital .

Author: Eric Marcus

Publisher: Perennial

ISBN: PSU:000021917851

Category: History

Page: 534

View: 478

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A personal account of the forty-five-year struggle for gay and lesbian rights recalls the struggle through the eyes of more than fifty participants. By the author of The Male Couple's Guide to Living Together. Reprint. 17,500 first printing.
1993 By Eric Marcus

I glanced over at the unfinished manuscript of my novel and fought back a sigh . “
Sure . ... My grandmother had taught me how to cook before I hit my teens . I ' d
seriously ... Knock that shit off , Betty Crocker , and get to work ! ” and I went back
 ...

Author: M. Christian

Publisher: Berkley

ISBN: 0425205401

Category: Fiction

Page: 260

View: 201

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An erotic anthology explores the world of clothing fetishes in twenty-two tales in which men and women act upon their most intimate fantasies. Reprint.
2005 By M. Christian

In the words of my maternal grandmother, “The day I learned up North wasn't
streets paved with gold and that white people there could be just as bad was the
way I learned that sometimes the grass is greener because there's more shit to
deal with. ... and my grandfather missed the taste of ripe cane nabbed from a
neighbor's yard; I had come to see it all for myself. ... ten and I was barely taught
in school that in my own area—the Washington metroplex—slavery and racism
had defined ...

Author: Michael W. Twitty

Publisher: HarperCollins

ISBN: 9780062379283

Category: Cooking

Page: 464

View: 476

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A renowned culinary historian offers a fresh perspective on our most divisive cultural issue, race, in this illuminating memoir of Southern cuisine and food culture that traces his ancestry—both black and white—through food, from Africa to America and slavery to freedom. Southern food is integral to the American culinary tradition, yet the question of who "owns" it is one of the most provocative touch points in our ongoing struggles over race. In this unique memoir, culinary historian Michael W. Twitty takes readers to the white-hot center of this fight, tracing the roots of his own family and the charged politics surrounding the origins of soul food, barbecue, and all Southern cuisine. From the tobacco and rice farms of colonial times to plantation kitchens and backbreaking cotton fields, Twitty tells his family story through the foods that enabled his ancestors’ survival across three centuries. He sifts through stories, recipes, genetic tests, and historical documents, and travels from Civil War battlefields in Virginia to synagogues in Alabama to Black-owned organic farms in Georgia. As he takes us through his ancestral culinary history, Twitty suggests that healing may come from embracing the discomfort of the Southern past. Along the way, he reveals a truth that is more than skin deep—the power that food has to bring the kin of the enslaved and their former slaveholders to the table, where they can discover the real America together. Illustrations by Stephen Crotts
2017-08-01 By Michael W. Twitty

My grandmother taught me to never say ' ain ' t . ... came to rest on the butt of her
gun when she got mad , he way of telling the world that she wasn ' t going to take
any shit from ... The man who got this girl was going to get a rotten cook .

Author: Kit Dalton

Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Company Incorporated

ISBN: 0843924209

Category: Fiction

Page: 208

View: 354

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The adventures of Buckskin Frank Leslie, a cowboy whose talent with a gun is only surpassed by his way with the ladies.
1986 By Kit Dalton

My grandmother taught me to never say ' ain't . ... to rest on the butt of her gun
when she got mad , he way of telling the world that she wasn't going to take any
shit from anybody . ... The man who got this girl was going to get a rotten cook .

Author: Kit Dalton

Publisher:

ISBN: 0843929804

Category: Fiction

Page: 410

View: 614

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In Gunpoint Lee Morgan runs up against ruthless sodbusters determined to settle on his newly regained ranch. And in Lever Action, Morgan must go on the warpath to stop a renegade band of Mormons who have murdered his ranch hands and stolen his new bride.
2007 By Kit Dalton

Roast beef hash. Ick. you can assemble and bake at your own risk. It looked like dog food. That is the only mention of hash in this book. Ill never forget the smell of liver and onions.

Author: Kristen Homan

Publisher: Xlibris Corporation

ISBN: 9781477181911

Category: Cooking

Page:

View: 266

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My mother was the cooker in our house while growing up. She was a stay at home Mom for almost all of my youth and my Dad was a traveling salesman who was gone typically monday through thursday. Running the house was my mother's responsibility and as my sister and I got older we assumed more domestic tasks. I recall my mother usually in one of three places as a kid - at the stove, the clothesline and at the head of the table. It's always nice to have company in the kitchen. Anyone who's ever hosted a party knows that everyone is in the cook's way, but the every day drudgery of cooking doesn't afford one the lively conversation with family members. These days the draw of TV and internet pulls your family away from you as you're again relegated to peeling half a bag of potatoes with only the scraper to break the silence. As kids, we had to help with the work...I'm not suggesting that every day in the kitchen was quality time spent with my mother, and I'm not being nostalgic or sentimental. I hated being pulled away from Buggs Bunny and, a little later in my years, Oprah. But I did chat it up with my mother as I chopped or did some kind of prep work with her. It was a slow saturation over the years which is how I learned so many basics in home cooking" that many kids (mine included) need a GPS to navigate the kitchen and its accoutrements. I watched and learned-whether it was a conscious effort or just the repetition I became kitchen savvy early on and my epicurean roots go back to my single digit years.I come from a long line of serious eaters and fabulous cooks. Like eating Olympics. Mostly everything Mom made was from scratch. We did have convenience foods - we weren't snobs about food - we ate condensed soup, ellio's pizza and an occasional pop tart. My mother preferred to feed us the way she did because that was how she was taught and its just cheaper to cook that way. I lived in a small town in a rural area whose culinary delights were a taste freeze, pappy's pizza, and a tiny diner that to this day still does not take credit cards. We rarely went out to dinner. The closest McDonalds then was 15 miles away. There were times that my mother, for as a good a cook that she was and still is, did not delight my palette. Leftover roast beef was ground up/pureed and mixed with leftover mashed potatoes and sprinkled with breadcrumbs and baked. Roast beef hash. Ick. you can assemble and bake at your own risk. It looked like dog food. That is the only mention of hash in this book. Ill never forget the smell of liver and onions. Mom and Dad bought half of a cow - mysterious meats wrapped in white butcher paper with bluish ink stamped indentifying what part was what. As the packed freezer dwindled we knew there was a chance at some point - liver was for dinner.I had thoughts of taking the liver to school and putting in my third grade teachers filing cabinet over a long weekend. I hated her. I hated liver. Holidays and family gatherings were always a good time and you made sure that you wore buffet pants to accommodate the "food baby" that resulted from over eating. Its weird to look 5 months pregnant at 12 years old. Of course, familial paparazzi has memorialized most of my youth at the "kids table" with all the cousins. It was good times and pretty much every holiday or gathering offered the same dishes with some variations here and there depending on what magazine publication flaunted a new recipe (remember the first time you ever had spinach dip?) we all ate in good spirit. Full stomach. Happy heart. My maternal grandmother was 100% Irish and my maternal grandfather 100% Polish. My grandmother's best friend married an Italian and owned a pizzeria. You can imagine how well we ate considering that most of Europe's food cultures were represented. When my aunt married a man from Thailand we incorporated some Asian flair to our buffet repertoire and life just got even better. Some people eat to live. We lived to eat. Eating and gathering, experimenting, celebrating is what we did and we did it well. Time has separated all of us with either death or distance but I have fond memories of those years. I have incorporated some old traditions and tried to introduce new ones with my family. Given today's extended and separated families, work demands and even the lack of finances, or the new normal I guess you could call it, its challenging to keep the kitchen as the center of the home but its worth the effort. Growing up in a rural farming area there was nothing to do. We weren't close to a mall or a movie theater. Cable hadn't been invented. There weren't any athletic clubs or organizations unless you were a boy. True story. My athleticism extended to hoping I didn't get picked last for kickball and avoid dodge-ball. One year my mother enrolled my sister and I in 4-H. We didn't grow up on a farm. I could smell them wafting into my room at night, but I never had to get up early and feed anything but my face. I had friends who had livestock or horses and my mother's very good friend had a farm. To this day I can identify a soy bean field from a potato field. I know the olfactory difference between chicken shit and pig shit. Since we had no livestock to show, my sister and I took cooking classes, painted ceramics and learned to sew. We would show our wares at the state fair. Essentially we entered future suzy-homemaker competitions. I learned how to sew a zipper into a skirt, attach sleeves to a blouse, the art of canning, how yeast makes bread rise glazed pottery, and how to set a table that compliments the dish you're serving. My parents had a huge garden. I would have to help pick some of the fruits of this dirt chamber. Let me tell you, if I ever pick another bush bean it will be too soon. I hated how cucumber plants have little prickly things on the back of the leaves that scratched my skin. I hated swatting bees away from me while I picked near blossoms and dirtied my tube socks. Lima beans, pole beans, tomatoes of all varieties, squash, zucchini; I had to pick them all a few times a week, wash them, slice them and help my mother can them. It was a long hot process that took most of the day. How many quarts of endless vegetables did I have to help prepare for winter? I couldn't even fathom a guess. I am convinced I would have made a terrible pioneer and I am quite thankful that I am spoiled by so many conveniences. What was a moderate high light to this country lifestyle is that fellow farming /gardening friends would help out when the garden exploded and it seemed like I would snap beans forever but at least we had friends to help us do it. Camaraderie helps in the survival of menial tasks. "
2013-11-27 By Kristen Homan

I was coming from blues and rock , and my brain was a little fried from back in the
day . ... So you know my shit was gone . ... Even the smell : In Brazil there was an
old woman cooking just a simple tomato sauce , but it smelled exactly like when
my grandmother cooked back home . ... Song 1789 ) ” left me fascinated : “ I
remember when I was eight years old , and my grandfather taught me a song that
his ...

Author:

Publisher:

ISBN: UOM:39015057456496

Category: Jazz

Page:

View: 724

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2006 By

When Aunt Kizzy died , Luna on an old promise of Grandmother ' s became the
cook . ... She had managed to curb her appetite for dirt ( substituting strawberry
Kool - Aid ) , and she ' d taught her how to make ... She looked at me for a full
minute or longer , her mouth bulging with Kool - Aid , then spat red and said , “
Shit .

Author:

Publisher:

ISBN: UOM:39015011328930

Category: American literature

Page:

View: 987

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1968 By

You told me not to confess to nothing , " I repeated . “ I gave it a shot . " Dad said
... I just went into the kitchen to watch my mom as she cooked . Later , I ... I
reacted with one word , “ Shit ! ” She hit my ... We lived only a few blocks away ,
so she and my great - grandmother , a real spitfire , showed up right away . I was
crying ; I ...

Author: Michael Gambino

Publisher: Beyond Words/Atria Books

ISBN: 0743442792

Category: Fiction

Page: 268

View: 664

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With this blistering and revelatory crime epic, Michael Gambino, grandson of the original "Godfather, " aims for the gut and catapults readers straight into the heart of the Mafia--a world he knows better than anybody.
2001 By Michael Gambino

He taught me to fillet precious, hard-won, freshwater fish with a few elegant
swipes of a boning knife. ... A large copper boiler like the one my grandmother
had used to wash clothes was filled with fresh water each morning and kept
simmering on the coals for use in cooking, and for washing hands and forearms
with the precision of a surgeon between each foray into ... The man who owned
the lodge, and called 'The Big Boss', used the expression 'He's full of shit' as often
as possible.

Author: Sally Henderson

Publisher: Pan Australia

ISBN: 1741978599

Category: Biography & Autobiography

Page: 400

View: 280

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When an elephant saved Sally Henderson's life in Botswana, it was to change her irrevocably. A passion to conserve this majestic species was ignited, and in 1990 she left Australia to join an elephant research project in the wilds of Zimbabwe. What follows is a remarkable journey into the world of Africa's elephants, and a deeply personal memoir of one woman's awakening and the choices she makes to follow her calling. Sally paints a rare and unforgettable portrait of a Herd and its matriarchs, and the perils they face in an unforgiving landscape further torn apart by civil strife. But it is the daily pleasures of being in their mighty presence that gives her story its countless wonders. Beautifully written, Silent Footsteps is a love letter to the spirit of Africa and a jubilant portrayal of the lives of elephants.
2007-11-10 By Sally Henderson

We went outside so he locked the door leaving us in the dark outside and played
his loud music . ... That time I started to believe everything my mom told me about
our father . ... My mother told him there was nothing to cook . ... woke us and told
us to pack all our clothing and blankets as he was taking us back to our
grandmother ' s house and he locked the house and told my ... They shit inside
the house .

Author: Zazah P. Khuzwayo

Publisher:

ISBN: IND:30000081151270

Category: Abused women

Page: 76

View: 200

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Me . Food is much better off the hand than the fork . My first memory ? I can ' t
remember . But I can remember being almost five ... I mean , I can teach a chimp
how to cook dinner . ... My kids taught me that . ... These mussels smell like shit .
... I ' m like an Italian grandmother who ' s been watching her grandchildren learn
to ...

Author:

Publisher:

ISBN: STANFORD:36105112936351

Category: Fashion

Page:

View: 839

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2004 By

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