As far back as I can remember, I loved to cook.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtMy grandmother used to teachwhen I was little. I would crack eggs for her, then spend several minutes fishing out the broken shells that always fell in. Nonna would smile and not say anything, but she would always double-check before she combined the eggs with the other ingredients.
I would knead dough with her on the kitchen table, my tiny hands chubby and pink next to her wrinkled ones. When I was older, she letcut up the tomatoes, garlic, and onions that formed the base of many of her sauces. The recipes were a family secret passed down from her grandmother.
She taughthow to brown the meat just so... how to tell exactly when to remove the pasta from the boiling water... and how to combine ingredients so that all the flavors blend harmoniously, with no one taste overpowering the others.
I loved my grandmother, and I know she adored me.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmBecause of her, I have always seen cooking as an act of love.
So I guess it was fitting I met the m man of my dreams in a kitchen.