stamped out in the form of ravioli, or baked into custom birthday cakes or sung into fondue pots when someone loses their piece of bread. The kitchen is where my family happens.

 

It should be outstretched - its arms waiting for your embrace, ready to never let go. It should be sparkling and quirky and make you smile, like the cooks who work there. It should be warm and layered and bursting with memories, and when you eat something delicious on a vacation years from now, it should be this place that you’re instantly transported back to - Mom & Dad’s house.