Imagine it is Saturday morning. The sun is peeping through your windows and the aroma of sweet batter fills your nose like fans filling a stadium. The smell lingers for a moment and then beckons you to come taste its sugary goodness. Though at first you can’t put your finger on it, you know whatever must be cooking below is going to be delicious and satisfying. You float out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen to find the unexpected treat: pancakes!

Kitchen, to some, is just a word meaning a place equipped for cooking, or to others, a spot where disasters are bound to happen, but to me, it is more than a room in a house, its a treasure of memories. The kitchen, this past summer, was the place where I learned to poach my first egg and was the spot where I could wake up to the smell of batter. It just so happens, it became my favorite room in the house because I learned how to cook there! I baked fudge brownies and cakes, kneaded sticky pizza dough, and seasoned boneless white chicken all in the kitchen!

You’ve just finished a world-record amount of buttermilk pancakes, and you are feeling very full, but pleased. Its here in the kitchen where I discovered my joy of food and cooking. The kitchen was, is, and will always be a place of happiness where my family can come together and just enjoy the smaller things in life. Its in the kitchen where I find peace and tranquility. The kitchen is like a pancake, sweet and warm, always leaving you cheerful.