I grew up on a steady diet of milkshakes and french fries. Okay, most meals were eaten at home and cooked by my mother, but my family was fond of "greasy spoon" diners on our many road trips or moves across country. French fries were a reward for enduring painful doctor appointments without complaints or a welcome end to busy weekends at sports conferences (my sisters played soccer and softball, I watched). Today most meals are still eaten at home, although now I cook for myself with a cookbook my mother made and diner stops are a welcome indulgence on dreary days when I'm feeling under the weather. There's still nothing else quite like a well-mixed milkshake and a basket of fresh fries to make everything seem worthwhile.