Growing up in Southern California, my family lived across the street from a large Mexican family.
Their house was always filled with laughter and love and a generous “more the merrier” attitude. They were always happy to host an impromptu pool party or water balloon fight at the drop of a hat. If any parent in the neighborhood was looking for their kid on a sunny summer day, they usually knew where to find them.
It’s no surprise that I would run over to their house every chance I got — not to play, but to hang out in the kitchen.
As is true in many houses, the kitchen was where the action happened. Whether you were looking for family drama or a bite to eat, something was always cooking in the kitchen.