My grandmother's house was just a place of comfort. I mean, I remember going in there, and the kitchen always had pots cooking with the lids were always bump, bump, bump, bump, bubbling, you know?
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I just never saw my mother in any other room but the kitchen. There were always pots going.
My mother's kitchen was built to be the focal point of our house. I got into the kitchen often as a child.
My grandmother was the greatest cook in the world. She could just go in there, the whole kitchen would look like a tornado hit it and then she'd come out with the best food. Then she'd sit at the table and she wouldn't eat!
The kitchen is the heart of every home, for the most part. It evokes memories of your family history.
My grandmother was a typical farm-family mother. She would regularly prepare dinner for thirty people, and that meant something was always cooking in the kitchen. All of my grandmother's recipes went back to her grandmother.
As a child, I was raised with my grandmother, alongside all my cousins, and the kitchen was always full.
Less than two weeks before my 34th birthday, I bought pots. Most people were amazed that I did not previously own pots, but that was before I explained that I had never used my oven, and used my stovetop for my dishrack.
I really didn't have an interest in being in the kitchen until after I was married, when I was 18. It didn't take me long to realize that Mama was not going to show up at my house every day and cook.
My mother would never let me in the kitchen. I always wanted to cook, but I was never allowed to. Her view of the world was, 'Cooking is my job, and studying is your job.' I think, in retrospect, she didn't like the chaos. She was very orderly. It had to be her way.
My old man never used to cook, so we lived on takeaway. The others were always jealous.
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