My maternal grandmother was one of the best cooks I know. She wouldn't have called herself a feminist, but she was. She was rough and tumble as a kid, regularly beating up the neighborhood bullies (and her older brothers). Ironically she didn't learn how to cook growing up, she learned from my grandfather. They frequently shared the cooking duties. He slapped her once, just once, she smack him over the head with a rolling pin. He died in 2003 from a stroke, she died the same year from a broken heart.
My maternal grandmother was one of the best cooks I know. She wouldn't have called herself a feminist, but she was. She was rough and tumble as a kid, regularly beating up the neighborhood bullies (and her older brothers). Ironically she didn't learn how to cook growing up, she learned from my grandfather. They frequently shared the cooking duties. He slapped her once, just once, she smack him over the head with a rolling pin. He died in 2003 from a stroke, she died the same year from a broken heart.