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When I was a child, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mother. She liked to cook and so did I. Because of this, I learned my way around the kitchen. I knew the place for everything, and I knew the uses of most everything. There was only one paradox, in my knowledge of the kitchen: vinegar. My mother had one bottle of vinegar for as long as I can remember. She never used it in cooking, or taught me how to for that matter. Our bottle of White Wine Vinegar sat in our cupboard: on the bottom shelf, enigmatically, untouched, detached. I knew that my mother wouldn't h…
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