Mrs. You remembers her fist pot of rice, cooked on a wood fire, when she was about nine years old. The bottom was burned, the middle was watery, and the top not cooked. Grandma laughed and said, “You are a lady. You are supposed to know how to cook!”
“But Grandma,” the girl said, “This is my first time!”
“Step by step,” Grandma said, “you learn from me.”
For a decade, she did.