Every Thanksgiving, I have my routine. As the heavenly smells start coming from the kitchen, it's only natural for me to sneak in and grab a quick bite of whatever tasty dish my wife is cooking up. She doesn't mind, and even kinda encourages it. A little sip here, a bite there and she makes me feel like I've contributed in some way to the process. But growing up, My Mom didn't allow this type of collaboration (which is probably why I enjoy it so much now). She would say, "When it's Finished!" That's what I heard, over and again. What helped her cause was that my childhood home only had an 80 to 90 square foot kitchen , so it's not like I could make my way in there without being noticed. If only it was slightly larger, maybe towards the middle of the floor plan and not locked away in the corner of the house. THEN I would have been more welcome, and what chef wouldn't like a little bit of company as they experiment on different flavors