Last weekend, my family gathered to celebrate my grandfather and his 83 years of his life. He sat in my dad's cushy recliner, frail from his battle with a stroke a few years ago, surrounded by three generations of an ever-growing family. We all hugged and laughed and ate and remembered like only families can, and even though we don't see each other very often, the familiarity is as easy as taking a nap. A food-coma-induced nap most of the time.

My sister made a Texas sheet cake to share at the party, a recipe that's been around our family for awhile but whose origins I've never known. As she and I sat on the couch eating our giant slices, our uncle joined us with an equally giant grin on his face.

"I just took a bite of that cake. One bite. Do you know what happened?" His eyes got the slightest bit teary as he continued. "It took me back to being a kid when Grandma would make it. This is the closest to her cake as I've ever tasted, and one bite made me a kid again."

That, my friends, is exactly what food is supposed to do. 

Yep. It's video time. 

I love cream. Like hold-a-boombox-in-the-air-and-play-it-our-special-song love.

I put it in soup, tomato sauce, pasta, and all kinds of desserts. Obsession would be an appropriate word for me and Cream.

I know what you're saying. Kendra, cream is basically liquid fat! Are you trying to kill us?! No. No, I'm not. You're way too cute and nice, and orange is soooo not my color. So cream isn't awesome for you, especially in large quantities, but it's is one of those magic dinner ingredients that you should become friends with. Why?

Cream adds luxury to anything you make. It creates unmatchable texture and (Captain Obvious here) creaminess. It mellows out tomato-based things that might have too strong of an acidic bite. Even one quick glug changes a dish completely. It's a tool in your ingredient arsenal that you're probably ignoring. 

So next time you have a pan of something - just about anything really - throw in a splash of cream and see what happens. Consider it a stepping stone toward creating your own recipes. Throw in a little of this here, a little of that there, a lot of cream everywhere... it's the gateway drug to being a Throw Dinner Together Maven.

Side note: I've eaten seven bowls of ice cream in the last four days. I'm going to pretend it's all been for "research." For you, my dear friends. I am so sacrificial.

It's time to create your family's food culture.

When you're cooking, what are you thinking? When people are in your kitchen, what are you focused on? When your kids want to help with dinner, what is your response?

You set the stage for how your friends and family see food, experience meals, encounter moments. If you're nervous when you cook, your family will be nervous when they eat. If you dread dealing with all of your kids' questions, they'll eventually stop asking. If you resign yourself to eating fish sticks and oven fries because you don't want to risk messing up, your family will have a limited view of the beautiful expanse around them.

Don't feel guilty. Don't give up. Don't settle.

Your kitchen is a lovely place. You get to create the food culture that rests comfortably within its walls. You have the privilege of setting the tone for the ones you love, giving them opportunities to be inspired by what they cook, what they eat, what they discover.

You set the stage. So set the stage you want. Decide, and do it.

It's worth it. I promise.

Ready to do something with that quinoa we learned about yesterday? Ladies and gentlemen, start your grills.

You can use whatever additions you like, but summer vegetables are such a lovely accompaniment to the nuttiness of quinoa. Grab some zucchini, bell peppers, onions, and corn, all cut into large pieces. Lightly coat with oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and grill until the edges are nicely charred and the insides are buttery soft.

While the vegetables reach their maximum yumminess, make a simple lemon vinaigrette to pour over top. Since the quinoa is nutty and earthy and the vegetables have a smoky flavor from the grill, the fresh taste of lemon and extra virgin olive oil make the party come alive. Here's what you do.

Squeeze the juice of one lemon into a measuring cup. Slowly whisk in extra virgin olive oil, about 1/4 cup, until the mixture is lusciously golden. Add a good pinch of salt and pepper. That's it. And I highly recommend you pour about half of this liquid gold over the quinoa right when it's ready. The steaming grains soak up all of that amazing flavor. {Major drool.}

Now cut up the vegetables into bite-sized pieces, and toss them with the quinoa and the rest of the vinaigrette. Taste it to make sure you have enough seasoning, and then call it a day. If you have some fresh herbs around - parsley, basil, mint - throw some of those in, too. Sooooo delicious.

If you're timid to try this grain (or more accurately if the people you cook for are infamously against anything new you put in front of them), this is the perfect vehicle. The vegetables pop, the lemon sings, and the quinoa tastes at its absolute best.

Last thing. Do you see how shallow this bowl is? This keeps the texture nice and light. If everything is too piled on top of each other, things start to get a little gummy. Gracious, don't those vegetables look good? 

I have a theory.

People avoid foods they can't pronounce. Buying, cooking, eating... we've lost an entire selection of delicious foods because we feel stupid. Or don't want to seem it. So let's put this particular food in the spotlight and face our fears.

Quinoa. Pronounced KEEN-wah. Actually, it's got one of those little symbols that puts a tiny sound in between the keen and the wah, but you'll totally sound legit the symbol-less way. It's kind of a grain but is actually from the grass family. Yeah. The tumbleweed is its cousin. But I promise it doesn't taste like prickly dirt. It's nutty and mild with a great texture. Also? It's pretty much a perfect food. It's one of the only plants that is a complete protein, and it's full of vitamins and minerals and such. It's also gluten-free. And if that wasn't enough, astronauts eat it in space. Lovely. 

So how do you go about cooking this stuff? It's pretty basic really. You put the quinoa in a pot and cover with water (or stock if you want a flavor punch), about an inch above the grain. Bring it to a boil, add a good pinch of salt, and let it simmer for about 20 minutes. Stir it every now and then so it doesn't stick, and be prepared to add a little extra water if necessary. It's cooked when the water is gone and the quinoa doesn't taste crunchy.

Important tip: Use a fork to fluff it up, not a spoon. It loses its texture, and the grains start sticking to each other. Easy to avoid with a simple utensil swap.

If I had known making quinoa was this easy, I would've done it a long time ago. Join me?

What food do you avoid cooking because you don't know enough about it? 

I have at least four gallons of ice cream in my freezer at all times. That is not a joke. I eat it every. single. day. Needless to say, I'm a bit of an expert.

And, dude, this ice cream is awesome.

No eggs, so no cooking. You're looking at maybe five minutes of hands-on time, and the rest you leave up to your fridge and an ice cream maker. (Yep, you need one of those, but get a smaller size of coffee for two weeks and you can buy one.)

Easy Strawberry Ice Cream 

• 2 cups of heavy cream
• 1 cup of milk (whatever fat content is fine)
• 2/3 cup of sugar
• a pinch of salt
• 2 cups of strawberries

1. Throw the strawberries in a blender or food processor and get them a bit pureed. A bit chunky is just fine though.
2. In a large bowl, use a hand whisk and whisk together the cream, milk, sugar, and salt for about four minutes. It'll be nice and frothy.
3. Cover with plastic, and leave it in the fridge overnight or at least eight hours.
4. Whisk in the pureed strawberries, and pour into your ice cream maker. (Don't forget to put the ice cream container first; follow the instructions of your particular machine.)

See? So incredibly easy. As long as your arm works and can move quickly in a circle for four minutes, you can make this.

Final thought. Remember eating homemade ice cream on your front porch during the summer, delicious creaminess running down your hand while you lovingly attacked a sugar cone topped with whatever you and your mom crafted together? Ice cream is one special food. Don't forget it this summer.

Did you make your butter? You better have made your butter. In case you need something to do with your butter (beats my why you would when crusty bread is within reach), here's an idea. On how to use your butter. I really like the word butter.

Potatoes aren't foreign to our kitchens, but you might not have braised them before. What's braising? It's basically sauteing something over high heat to get some crunch and color and then adding liquid until the food is almost covered to cook the rest of the way. The texture is a bit like boiled potatoes (pre-mashing), but the flavor is deep and lovely. And did I mention it's easy? Here goes.

Butter-Braised Potatoes

• 3-4 cups of potatoes (any kind or size will do, but peel Russets)
• 2-3 tbsp. butter
• 2-4 cups of chicken stock and/or water, enough to barely cover the potatoes
• salt and pepper
• fresh rosemary, sage, or thyme

Cut the potatoes into large chunks. If you have large potatoes, cube them up. If you have really small potatoes or fingerlings, leave the tiny ones whole and cut the bigger ones in half. Basically, you want everything to be a large bite-size and in similar size to each other. 

Now grab a large skillet, and throw in your butter. Turn the heat to about medium, let the butter melt, and then add your potatoes. Add a good dose of salt and pepper, stir everything around, turn the head to medium-high, and let the potatoes cook for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

Now that your potatoes have browned nicely, it's time to add the liquid. Add just enough to cover the potatoes, and if a few little nubs are sticking out, no worries. Season really well with salt and pepper (a tad less salt if you're using chicken broth), and simmer 25-30 minutes. Stir every once in awhile to make sure the potatoes cook evenly, and if you need to add a smidge more water at any point, rock it out.

You'll know your potatoes are done when a fork goes through one really easily. Now use a slotted spoon to remove the potatoes from the braising liquid, put them in a bowl, and toss with more butter, more salt if necessary, and the chopped herbs. Delicious.

So to recap. Chop potatoes. Cook for 10 minutes in butter. Add liquid. Simmer 25-30 minutes. Toss with butter and herbs. See? Easy!! But if you don't want to use butter for the potatoes, use it for this.

This butter is the real life George Clooney.

Sure, seeing him on TV is great, whether he's spearheading a humanitarian act, being the original dreamy/steamy doctor on ER, or charming David Letterman at midnight on a Thursday. In fact, you might not think George Clooney could get better.

But then. Oh, but then. You see him in real life. He's close enough to touch. Not only that, he's sitting in your living room. George Clooney. Drinking coffee, commenting on how adorable your kids are, and wishing he had met you before a luckier guy snatched you up first. 

That is homemade butter. Real Life George. Better than you could imagine. And let's face it; once you have a Clooney dent on your couch, going back to TV George is tough. Still great, but not the same. So once you make this butter, don't say I didn't warn you.

Homemade Butter

This is amazingly easy. All you need is cream. Really good, organic, not-expired heavy cream. This is the only ingredient in butter, so start with the good stuff.

I like doing this in the food processor. Some folks like a mixer with a whisk attachment. Heck, some people still dig that big wooden churner thing. Whatever floats your butter boat. For a food processor, here's the deal. 

Pour cream into a food processor fitted with a steel blade. About a cup of cream will yield something like 3/4 cup of butter. Now turn it on. With the lid, of course. Let it go for about six minutes. Here's what you'll see through the whirring. 

Before processing.

Two minutes in. Hello, whipped cream.

Four minutes in. Hello, overly whipped cream.

Done. Well, almost done.

I know it doesn't look like much, but here lies fatty, butter gold. Throw that butter in a strainer over a bowl.

Guess what ends up in the bowl?

BUTTERMILK!!! That's a little extra fun for you. Go make pancakes with it. 

You want to get out as much of that buttermilk as you can. How to do that? Let the strainer do its thing. Gently move the butter around so that the liquid will work its way out. Also, wipe out the food processor and zip the butter solids through for another few seconds if you want. But honestly, you can be done once the butter and strainer become friends. Stir it together, almost like you're kneading it, and you're done. 

What to do with it now? Umm, EAT IT?!?! Stir in a sprinkle of salt, some fresh herbs, honey... anything you want your butter to taste like. Or just leave it as is and smother it on crusty bread. Gracious. So good. Store it in the refrigerator for a week or two, but I don't think it'll last that long.

In case you're still wondering why you would want to make your own butter when you can buy perfectly good butter at the store, just think of TV George. And perhaps more seriously, things that are homemade are fun. They bring us together over a loaf of bread and the calm after a long day. Okay, and George, too.

"My kitchen is like my womb - menopausal and dead."

My mom said that in passing a few months ago, and I still belly laugh every time I think about it. But how true is it for you? Minus the menopause part, of course. No need to get super personal. 

So many of us enter a lifeless kitchen, dreading the time we spend there. It's not an exciting or calming or encouraging place to be. It's just... there. With food. And knives we don't know how to use. And people who need to eat but don't seem to want anything we come up with. Anyone up for ordering pizza? Again?

Your kitchen does have life. I promise. You just need to help her along a bit. Here are some ideas how.

1. Have living things in your kitchen.
Plants, a vase of flowers, even a little fish bowl. Or, hmm, how about this one? PEOPLE. Yep, if no one ever goes in your kitchen except to pour a bowl of cereal in the morning, it'll feel like a pretty dead place. Have you ever been inside an abandoned house? Creepy. And dead. And not place you want to be. Don't abandon your kitchen. Put life in it. Real, breathing life.

2. Create a space you like to look at.
Kitchen renovations are an atrocious amount of money, but that's not necessary to have a pretty space. Curtains. A little lamp in the corner of the counter. A tablecloth you love. A cushy rug in front of the sink. A vase of flowers. Don't neglect your kitchen and think you need quartz counter tops and a subway tile backsplash in order to have a beautiful space. Sure, if you have thirty grand to blow, rock it out, but forty bucks at Target or on Etsy or hidden at your local thrift store can do wonders.

3. Equip yourself... and not just with equipment.
You can have the most amazing Dutch oven in the world (upwards of $200 each), but if you don't know how to brown a piece of meat, it will do you zero good. And then you're out two-hundred bucks. Blerg. Yes, have a quality knife that is comfortable in your hand. Yes, have a good nonstick skillet or cast iron pan that leads to consistent results. But take the time to learn how to use them. Learn what flavors go together. How? Read cookbooks. Watch cooking shows. Take cooking classes (hint hint). Knowledge is power, especially in the kitchen. And it doesn't take much.

4.  Reflect on your food memories.
What does food mean to you? What's the first thing you remember about it? Memories are extremely powerful, and when food is involved, they're almost transcendent. Did you enjoy being in the kitchen with your mom as a kid? Did you and your best friend bake brownies when you were teenagers? When the holidays roll around, is there a traditional food that, when it's served, does something to you emotionally? Reflect on your past and what food means to you, where it's shown up in your favorite memories, how it makes you feel. Like a method actor, pull from those memories when you find yourself in a dead kitchen. Chopping and stirring feel better with a contented smile.

5. If you don't have memories or traditions surrounding food, make your own.
It's never too late to start a relationship with your kitchen and what comes out of it. If you have trouble with number four, resolve to not let that be the case with your own family. Develop a sense of wonder about what you eat, where it comes from, and how it makes you feel. Develop that in the people you feed. Sure, you might feel a little silly in the beginning, especially if dinner is just another part of the day, but after awhile, you'll see the benefits of making food a central part of your relationships. How to do that? Cook together. Shop together. Plan the meals together. Go to a farm and pick the food together. Eat together. Clean up together. See a pattern here? It's not an accident that every other country and culture in the world has a food identity, one that entire families and clans readily embrace generation after generation. Right now, ours is convenience and spray cheese. Let's change that one kitchen at a time. Make your own memories. Create your own traditions.

Inject life into your kitchen, one step at a time.