"Cookies are made with butter & love"
If anyone in the world personified this saying, it would be my Grandmother Philomena.
Going to my Grandmom's house meant a long-ish car ride, a walk around the rose garden, swinging on the old porch swing, the Phillies games on TV and my grandfather in the recliner watching it, and the aroma of dinner cooking, or cookies baking embracing us as my grandmother opened her door, (dressed in her apron-wooden spoon or towel in her hand). There were hugs, kisses, a table filled with food, and a home filled with Love.
"Io ti amo sempre, nonna!" [I will always love you Grandmom!]