Dear Ms. Feverfew –
Did your mother teach you how to cook?
I mean really, really, really cook, not just scramble some eggs, or make a cake from a box kind of cook. This critical life skill is something I am teaching all of your siblings. Captain Knuckle knows how to pull together a few respectable meals, complete with side dishes, salad and dessert, all made from scratch. He makes a roast chicken that is sublime and his bread is nearly as good as anything I could make.
The Professor just made his first ever cannonball dinner (like meatballs, only bigger. Much much bigger).
I hate not knowing if you were taught how to cook. Is that silly or what? I guess my whole point of this letter is to let you know that if you didn’t learn those things from your mother, I would be delighted and honored to teach you someday.
If you are ever interested in learning, I will teach you to make a 6-strand challah bread (which can then be made into the most decadent bread pudding evah), how to grill salmon, how to make yogurt from grass-fed milk, and how long to boil the peach jam so it is tender, just like the fruit is at the height of its luscious perfection. I will teach you to make pico de gayo from fresh tomatoes in the garden and pesto from the basil on the back porch.