Astonian, that reminds me of my mother's cooking. She learnt to cook whilst away visiting a relative for a weekend, when I was eleven years old. Prior to that her cooking was dreadful! I don't know how anyone can improve so much in just a couple of days, but I shall forever be eternally grateful that she did! She could bake beautiful cakes, make beautiful puddings, but couldn't cook for toffee!
I often 'failed' to hear the cry of ''dinners up'' ... prefering to leave it a good while until it was stone cold, thus I could re-heat it unto the point of it being half-frazzled (crozzled) as it improved the taste immeasurably! Of course, this wasn't always possible, especially when I was just a little boy; I just had to sit there, chewing relentlessly/endlessly at something akin to a bit of bicycle tyre! It didn't matter what it was, Mom ruined it! I remember my father once telling me off, because I'd accused mother of stewing her corsets!
I'll never forget that first meal, Mom having been away for the weekend, it was a bloody revelation! I ate a couple of mouthfuls and stopped, I just could not believe it! I turned to my mother, who was watching me, and stammered ''thissss is beautiful!'' She gave an enigmatic smile and said ''I shouldn't say so myself, but it IS rather good''
After that, life was totally different for all of us; although I often felt sorry for my older sisters, who had by then all left home. It was a pleasure, after every meal, to say ''thanks mom, that was really lovely'' and then to see her own quiet pleasure and delight in return.