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After climbing up her stool to the sink, placing her hands under the running water to wash, it was time for her ‘work’ to begin.  Beside me at the counter her hands moved from one vegetable to another, as we played a game to name them all.  My work was straightforward, dicing.  Her’s, well, her tasks were a little more involved… everything else.  After much effort, tasting along the way, and no catastrophes, we had a delicious winter meal and a very proud little girl.

(An altered version of 1985 Chicken Pie from epicurious, yum!)