My mother was the Goddess of Leftovers. I say that with all of the awe and respect she deserves. Around dinnertime, we would enter the kitchen drawn by smells that, although mouthwatering, we couldn't quite place. Was that cheese? Broccoli? Ham--no wait, hamburger.
When we asked her what was for dinner she would give us that "Mother's Secret" look and say it's a "Concoction!"
