My grandmother started teaching me how to cook when I was 13. She was born in Italy and cooked all her life. Many times we would be in the kitchen yelling back and forth, but the meals always came out perfect. I was the only one she taught to cook so I take a lot of pride in my cooking. I love to cook anything. If I have a hard day give me my kitchen and I'm happy. PIE!! The first Thanksgiving after my grandmother died we had a major tragedy in the kitchen. My grandmother had always made the pie so my mom and I decided we were going to continue the tradition. Well, 40 minutes into it we decided to go to Marie Calender's and buy pie. My mother was making the crust and it kept splitting when she tried to put in the dish. I turn around and a ball of dough goes flying past me and into the sink full of dishes and water. Water goes everywhere. I turn around and continue cutting my apples when I stop paying attention for a slight second and I almost cut off the tip of my pinky. Now, every holiday we talk about the "pie incident". Whenever I get in the mood to try again I look down at my scar and I gracefully back down and buy pie.