When I was a little boy growing up, I would always change out of my good clothes after church and run outside to play for a few hours. When I came back inside, the house always smelt 1 . It was my Italian Nana 2 our Sunday dinner. There would be freshly cooked Italian bread with butter. There would be noodles covered in red sauce（调味汁）3 cooked for hours.
I remember we would all 4 the old, metal dining room table. Then we would 5 with smiles, laughter and joy. I always felt so 6 and safe there. We always 7 the table with full stomachs and happy hearts.
As I got older and became an adult myself, I 8 to make smaller types of Nana' s Sunday dinners. I got the 9 of making sauce from Dad. Often I would get very close to making a dinner like Nana' s but it was never quite 10 .
There finally came a point when I 11 what I was doing wrong. I was trying to get back a 12 while what I really wanted to do was get back a feeling. It wasn' t just the 13 food that made those dinners so wonderful, it was also the feeling of 14 that was there.
Nana always put her love into her cooking and her life as well. Since then I' ve tried my best to do the same. No matter what I am cooking or what I am doing, I always try to 15 it with love.
