I’m pretty sure many chefs of my generation started cooking for similar reasons. We grew up in an era when food was transitioning from daily chore to convenience and even pleasure — a time when it was becoming more acceptable for mothers to not cook every last thing, when wayward latchkey kids like me could have a sweet treat just waiting for us in the refrigerator, as if it was no big deal. Chocolate pudding, cheap and simple, neither laborious nor meant for any kind of special occasion, was a fixture, ready to be enjoyed alone with our books, our albums, our radios and our televisions.