What do you think of when you remember your kitchen growing up?

Do you hear the sound of clanging pots?

Do you smell something cooking when you walk past it?

Is it chaotic?

Is it calming?

We asked you to tell us about your mother's kitchen and here's what you said.

The kitchen I grew up in was always filled with smells of some kind of southern gourmet

yumminess.

My mother made drop biscuits often and there were often collard greens, turnip greens,

and fried chicken every Sunday after church.

I remember a sense of urgency in my mom's kitchen and I can hear the bubbling of the soup

pot.

I can smell the tomato paste in the pot.

I can hear the sizzling and smell the sizzling of green summer squash.

I woke up while I was on vacation with my girlfriend to a smell that I had not smelled since I was

10.

One of my girlfriends was making salmon cakes, grits, and eggs.

My mother's favorite breakfast.

I woke up crying, almost tasting the buttery grits and almost hearing the pat pat pat

of her putting the cakes together that triggered emotions I had not felt ever.

Well, whether your mom was a natural cook or a reluctant one or someone else was the one

throwing down in the kitchen, food and where it's made lives inside of us long after we've

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