My grandmother moved from Ithaca New York, to Brooklyn New York. The story takes place in 1976 where my mother and grandmother was cooking Italian food together. My family always came together; the person who brought everyone together was my grandmother Marie. I grew up loving to cook, because that’s what I did most with my grandmother. Italian food brings happiness and love in a home, and you wouldn’t know that unless you come from one. This picture is my mother Rachel and my grandmother Marie making yorkies, or pasta. Cooking is what known in my family and when we would all sit at the table and laugh it was because of my grandmother. I will never forget the smell of the kitchen when I use to walk into it. The smell hit me like a ton of breaks in the face, I can still close my eyes and smell her food on the stove weather it may be, pancakes, sauce, eggplant parm, pasta. My heart lights up with joy when I close my eyes and see me standing next to her cooking and laughing with me. Cooking is what brought my family Italian family together.