I grew up in a kitchen that rocked. My mom had the radio on in the kitchen 24/7. It was never off. Then, one radio station played all kinds of music; the Monkees next to Neil Sedaka next to Aerosmith. My mother liked what she heard, I liked what I heard and my brother, well, he only liked The Who. My kitchen also rocks. I cannot cook without listening to the radio. It’s a zen thing I guess. I get into the groove with the music. It’s me and the hot stove on the weekends when there is no rush and I can listen to every single note of Hotel California. Singing is involved only if I am the only one home since I can’t carry a tune. But all those chocolate chip cookies, lasagnas and green beans from my kitchen are not only cooked with love(most of the time) but soaked in rock and roll.