It’s 12:30pm on Christmas day and I’m upstairs bathing my grandson, Boe, enjoying his little boy antics and squeals of glee. I check my watch and call down to whomever will hear “Hey! Don’t forget to put the roast in the oven at 1!” My sons and daughter in law are scurrying about preparing for our 20 plus guests- straightening out the toys, figuring out the logistics of the oven and deciding whether or not to do the veggies on the grill outside. “I need a bigger kitchen!” – my mantra since my first apartment as a new bride. I inherited the tendency to cook for a crowd from my mother who taught me that food is love. I’m afraid my kitchen lust will only get me in trouble. If you build it they will come!
Oh Lordy.
