introduction As a child, there was nothing more comforting than walking into the kitchen and inhaling the aroma of a bubbling casserole. Those moments spent gathered around the table, savoring …
My love for food started when I was really young probably around five or six years old. I would spend hours in the kitchen with my mom, clinging to her apron, begging to help her cook. We’d mix dough together, sprinkle flour everywhere (way more than we actually needed!), and cut out fun cookie shapes before popping them into the oven.
I’d sit right in front of the oven, watching as the dough slowly turned golden brown, waiting eagerly for that warm, sweet smell to fill the kitchen. The second the timer went off, I’d jump up, calling for my mom to take them out. I could never wait for them to cool completely I’d grab one while it was still warm, carefully blowing on it so I wouldn’t burn my tongue, savoring every bite.