My family, like many American families, considered the kitchen the Mecca of meeting places in the house. No matter what the gathering was for, we always end up in the kitchen.  I can still remember those sweet smells, buttery biscuits, mouth-watering steaks, and fresh vegetables from the garden, all surrounded by the chatter of family.

From the time I was 5 years old, I was stood up in a chair and taught  how to cook. I started out making bread--the corner stone that was at every family meal. I steadily progressed through my vegetables and meats, and was able to cook, from scratch, a full meal for 4 or more by the age of 10. I took pride in my cooking skills when my mother and father let me cook. I loved experimenting with spices and seasonings, sampling the entire time of course. Even now, just the thought of cooking makes my mouth water.

Eventually, my parents got divorced and they were at home less and less, either because it reminded them of what they had lost or they were distracted with other things. My cooking skills became my survival. I often times came home to an empty house or a busy parent. I cooked for myself, taking my time and enjoying every minute of escaping from reality. The kitchen became my sanctuary in the evenings. It reminded me of the way things use to be and how I would make my own kitchen my favorite room in the house one day.

I was forced to become an adult before I wanted to but  no matter how bad my day was, I always looked forward to coming home and cooking. I took my survival cooking skills for grant it. It wasn't until I entered college that I realized how many people had no remote idea of how to cook. In their families, life did not revolve around food and the kitchen. This came as a complete and utter shock to me. With my closest friends, I began to share my passion for cooking. For some of us, it was a bonding experience--the only kind of experience you get when you cook with another cook. For others it was more like a lesson of what you should and should not do when cooking. Regardless, I enjoyed every waking minute of being in the kitchen and creating ever-lasting memories with my friends.

After college, I did let up with cooking. My cooking skills have allowed me to make friends, relate to others in ways that we only know who to do over food, impress guys, and make even more memories. My kitchen is the heartbeat of my household. In my house, you know to go straight to the kitchen, because I'm going to feed you, rather you like it or not, some good old southern style food. My kitchen brings me warmth and joy and it all began in my first kitchen where my greatest life lesson was learned. You value your family, your friends, and your ability to cook. Your food is an extension of who you are, so make it the best that you can.