So today I am to describe my most vivid memory of our kitchen growing up. This is way appropriate seeings that next week is Thanksgiving and all.
We moved around alot as a kid so there wasn't one particular kitchen that stands out. When you are a kid one kitchen looks like the next but what I do remember are the holidays in those kitchens.
Every Thanksgiving and Christmas my father would commandeer the kitchen and kick my mother out. He had work to do. My father loved to bake, a trait he got from my southern Alabamian grandmother. Each year he would systematically go to the grocery store and purchase all of his ingredients. He'd come home and meticulously put it all together and create these culinary masterpieces.
I would sit back and just watch him work. It wasn't a holiday until daddy would perform his magic in the kitchen. Oh the smells that would emanate from that oven were heaven. It gave me such warmth. It just wasn't the holiday until my father performed his magic.
He'd bake until the wee hours of the morning, way past my bed time so when I awoke the next morning there would be all kinds of cakes and pies on the counter. It was like the cake and pie fairies came by and dropped a load of stuff off at our house.
I truly miss those days.
What are your fondest memories of your kitchen?
