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I’ve spent the past hour and a half on Pinterest, mostly looking at foods and recipes.  I yearn for a time in the future when I will have the time and the energy (and other things) to cook and bake and create things in my kitchen.

My mother was a cook by trade.  My entire life, cooking is what she did.  She worked in a restaurant when I was young.  She worked in the kitchen at the URI dining halls since before I can remember.  She cooked for us all the time.  I remember when I was little wanting to be like her, and cooking reminds me of her.  I can’t say that she’s the only reason why I love spending time in the kitchen, but I think that’s a huge part of it.

Unlike my mother, I also love to bake.  Growing up, my mother couldn’t bake a cake out of a box if her life depended on it.  I can’t tell you how many times I had to bake my own birthday cake (and let her decorate it, of course), or my siblings birthday cakes.  Let’s just say it was a lot.

I grew up in one kitchen or another (amongst other places, some rather unsavory I’ll admit).  My grandmother is also a cook.  She used to be a lunch lady at my high school when my mother, aunt, and uncle were going to school.  I guess it feels like a family thing, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being forced into cooking.  It just feels right to me.  I love making soups (especially soups, and soups) the most, I think, because it allows me to be creative and traditional at the same time.

I find a lot of inspiration in the memories I have of my mother in the kitchen.  It’s comforting, I guess.  I’ve always found comfort in food, but preparing food is comforting as well.  It feels good.  It feels like I’ve accomplished something.  I’m filled with pride whenever I make something delicious and right.