Grandma, to granddaughter, to great-granddaughter.  This was the flow of all recipes in my family.  My great-grandmother was always the one to create new recipes and add her own twists.  She then would pass that style of cooking down to my grandmother, who would then pass it down to me.  She started me off with easy recipes, such as eggs, sandwiches, and cakes.  As I got older, the foods would become more intricate, and challenging.  I remember one time, when I was ten, my grandma was attempting to teach me how to make homemade ravioli.  It was so hard for me to wrap the pasta around the meat correctly, that I threw the noodles on the counter which caused the bowl of sauce to fall off the table and spill all over the floor.  After this incident, I never was able to perfect my ravioli-making skills.  When I finally turned 12, my grandma decided I was ready to learn how to make apple pie from scratch.  Foods that involve dough always scared me, because there was so much room for error.  If your dough is too tough or loose, your dish is ruined.  I didn’t think I was ready for this.  I started by learning how to peel the apples.  Sometimes, I would cut off too much skin, but this was never too difficult for me to do.  Then, the dreaded dough-making started.  I added the flour, oil, water, and salt into the bowl.  I hesitantly folded in the ingredients to find that they were actually forming a dough of perfect consistency.  I got so excited that I made the dough correctly, that I got carried away.  I ended up overmixing my masterpiece, and I was devastated.  My grandma reassured me that it was going to be okay, but I was very upset with myself.  The next month, I gave the pie one more shot.  I peeled the apples and added cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg.  I added the flour, oil, salt, and water to the bowl.  I (even more carefully) stirred the ingredients together.  Once they had reached a dough consistency, I stopped stirring.  This was it.  I had perfected my dough.  My grandma was so proud of me.  That night, the whole family ate the pie for dessert.  Everyone was complimenting me on my new skill.  I looked across the table at my grandma, and in that moment I knew, she was proud.