看起来他们的妈妈和我有着更多的共同点，在我们烹饪时，都使用了同一种重要的配料，也是最主要的成分爱。

香蕉布丁为何如此美味，因为加入了爱的佐料。冰冷的心灵为何变得火热，因为有了爱的炙烤。只要你付出真爱，你便会得到真爱。

Anytime I see banana pudding on a menu, I'm filled with an euphoric sense of well being and taken back to a special moment in my life when I learned an important lesson about jealousy and love.

It all began when my stepchildren came for a visit shortly after their father and I were married. Cheryl was 8, and Chuck was 10. Our small apartment soon became an obstacle course littered with stuffed animals, toys, and games.

But I liked the kids from the start. They were everything I could have wanted in a son and daughter.

Of course, I wanted to win them over. They seemed to like me well enough, but I wasn't sure, especially at mealtime. Cheryl, in particular, enjoyed watching me prepare the evening meal and shadowed my every move in the kitchen. She had an insatiable curiosity combined with an enchanting, yet somewhat disconcerting, honesty.

Whatcha doing? she asked.

Making potato salad, I replied.

She stood on her tiptoes and scrutinized the bowls of chopped pickles, eggs, and onions. Her lips curled in disgust. She pointed at the bowls. What's that? And that ... and that!

My answers did not seem to please her. She shook her head in disapproval. My mama doesn't make it that way, she informed me.

Well, just taste it at dinner, I countered, smiling thinly to mask my irritation. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it.

It became a nightly ritual. Unfortunately, her father believed that children should eat everything on their plate, including a sample of any dreaded dish that their mother made in a different way than I did.

As a result, I started to feel like Snow White's wicked stepmother, plotting against the princess as I willed her to succumb to my culinary magic. Chuck, who at first ate anything and everything, developed critical tendencies. He soon took up the hue and cry of Mama doesn't make it that way.

Each night after dinner, we sat on the sofa with Dad in the middle, a child on each side, and me on the outside. It seemed appropriate. I was feeling more and more like an outcast.

One night while wrestling with his father on the sofa, Chuck found some stray popcorn kernels under the cushions. Cheryl chastised me, saying that her mama always vacuumed under their sofa seats every week.

By this time, I was developing a serious dislike both for her mother and her methods.