Add to ORKGIn lieu of an abstract, below is the essay\u27s first paragraph. My grandmother\u27s house smelled like love. The kitchen was always baking, boiling, simmering - the pepperoni pizza, the peso, pastina in chicken soup. The living room was bright and comfortable - the squeaky, soft couch (the davenport, they called it) draped with the maple syrup crocheted blanket, the ivory-colored chairs covered in plastic, the baby basil and thyme sprouting in milk cartons cut in half on the windowsill, the old TV (a piece of furniture, she calls it) on which a couple of Virgin Marys, the pope, and some relatives I don\u27t remember watching me watch TV