Cooking for me is a therapy. It is something I can start, give closure and learn about the results easily. I can always resort to cooking when my days are a stressful mess, when business are not turning the right way or when my family or I need comfort. It reminds me of the good things in life and the pleasure of living. In my kitchen frustration becomes art with a couple of ingredients and utensils. I like to make bread when patience is running low and to experiment with whatever is in the pantry when ADD is high. Fish tacos, enchiladas, ceviche and many mexican dishes. Actually, I am in a Mexican cuisine rampage in 2009. Missing Phoenix and my many amazing mexican friends. Thanks giving has always been a time for lots of good food. We all get in the kitchen and we all help with a dish or bring a dish. Whenever I put together a dinner for friends and they start arranging their schedules to make it to the dinner… that is a cooking triumph. To learn that someone doesn't eat a particular ingredient or dish and when they try my version of that dish or the dish with infamous ingredient and I see them eating it all and repeating... that is cooking triumph and last when my kids, husband and I seat at the table for dinner or breakfast we tend to talk while we eat, but when everything is quiet and all I hear is: "mmm! this is really good" that is a cooking triumph. Too many to mention in deed. But I would like to share the one that made the difference in me hating or loving the kitchen. The first time I made a cake it was from scratch, that was more than 20 years ago. I was in my grandparents home (dad side) and they had this old old old gas oven. I didn't have any electrical utensils, neither I knew the oven thermostat was broken. I put a lot of effort in that cake (whipping butter and sugar until pale and silky with a 10 year old hand whipper was a challenge, making meringue by hand was a challenge, whipping cream by hand was a challenge, grinding almonds with no electrical instruments was also challenge). With blisters in my hands and happy with my preparations results I put the cake in the oven and 20 minutes later it was burnt. I took the cake out, then I cried... cried... and cried some more. When done crying my grandfather suggested cutting the burnt parts and so I did. I frosted it and voila! the best cake ever tasted so far