This is a stretch. Let's face it, the last of the alphabet is a bummer. But I've a a blast in kitchens with loved ones over the years.
Everything from me helping Sarah make sugar cookies and tea cakes and decorate them for Christmas, to me and my niece Paige stirring up chocolate chip cookies so we could eat half the dough while they baked and even when me, hubby and his cousin Bill simmered venison hash all evening while we shot pool. Each of us going into the kitchen to check it, and each adding our on little twist to it each time. Awesome results!
But of course some of the most precious was when my children were there under foot or "helping" me. When Bubba was still a baby, I'd put him in a bean bag in the corner of the kitchen while I cooked. If he woke I'd sing to him or make animal noises the whole while to keep him happy. We made our own version of a Beach Boy classic "dishy, dishy...oh, baby, now me got to go" that we'd sing while we washed dishes together. Him standing in a kitchen chair pulled up in front of the sink. Later, Bug toddling around begging for a FROZEN french fry or pie of breaded okra!
With both of my children there was lots of grating nuts and cheese with my old circa 1950's Mouli Shredder. Sifting flour and baking powders, cream eggs, butter and sugar. All towards the goal of a yummy desert or a plate of fudge for us all to enjoy. And all the fighting over bowls and spoons and beaters to lick whether it be custard, or meringue or what! And the begging for a small cup (usually the 1/4 cup measure) to be filled with some ingredient left plain for them: pecans, coconut, chocolate chips, cheese, etc.
I suppose if love makes a family, the kitchen makes a home.