Growing up, all important and non-important family memories happened in the kitchen. Family and friends gathered in a big open kitchen talking, laughing, crying, whispering... most of my family memories are in my grandmother's kitchen.

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Her kitchen was the hub of my childhood, lessons, stories, and the occasional juicy piece of gossip came with the aroma of something savory on the stove and a conversation quickly interrupted with "taste this, it needs something" as bodies smoothly move around between the stove, the sink, the fridge, and the spice cabinet.