I am an East Coast person but have lived in Arizona for 50 years with a short stint in Southern California in 2003. I have a husband, a married son who lives near, and four cats who "Help" me cook. I love to "Live" in my kitchen and I find that most visitors end up migrating to the bar stools in the kitchen. I start my day there and usually end it there. I have a very small laptop in the kitchen counter that holds nothing but recipes. I have a nine cookbooks that were handed down to me from grandmothers but other than that, everything is in the computer. I love to cook pastries and breads. I make two loaves of bread every week. Since I have developed RA in my hands, I have started using a bread machine to make the dough but still bake in traditional pans. I love to experiment and develope my own recipes. I love Italian, Asian, French and Mexican. The one tradition that has been handed down in my family is my bread recipe. It was used by my great grandmother, grandmother and now me (unfortunately, my mother did not inherit the ability or the inclination to cook). I make approximately 15 dozen loaves of bread starting from November 1 to Jan 1. I make dill bread, cheese bread, cinnamon bread, herb bread, raisin bread, etc. Some of it is given as gifts and some is ordered by friends for holiday parties and some is an on-going order every few weeks from others. My first Thanksgiving dinner from start to finish. I was 17 years old and decided that I was going to cook for 27 people. I wouldn't allow anyone in the kitchen to help and for three days I made pies, breads, salads, arranged relish trays, whipped cream, dried bread for stuffing, etc. I got up at 3 am on Thanksgiving morning and prepared a 28 lb turkey with wild rice and mushroom stuffing. The only concession I made to store bought was the cranberry sauce, I just ran out of time. I was exhausted, but so proud of the fact that every last thing came out perfect. I have never had a "PERFECT" meal since. The greatest memory of that day was the look on my dad's face and the smile he gave me when everyone started complimenting the meal. He was my shinning star and my inspiration in all I did and he passed on June 21, 2005. This meal is a memory that I will always have with me. Apple Pie - I couldn't make an apple pie from scratch if my life depended on it. Some cooks have those nightmares that are always with them, this is mine.