Pete and I both enjoyed my visits because we took turns cooking special dishes for each other (and my mom, of course).  He'd plan out a favorite meal he'd make for me, then the next night I'd cook a dish I knew was one of his top vote-getters.  We both pretended the meals were just "OK" in quality, but in truth, we loved each other's cooking and looked forward to working together in the kitchen.  He loved my spicy shrimp dish, and I loved the marinated Alaskan king crab legs (or maybe the salmon with mango salsa and pesto, or...).

One time Pete invited me to help him make spanikopita.  I would tease him by pronouncing it "spinach-co-pie-tuh" just to give him grief.  Somehow our communication in the kitchen wasn't crystal-clear, however, and we both wound up salting the spinach - I gave it a good healthy dose of salt, which wasn't rinsed out because he'd already rinsed it after he'd salted it himself.  So we had ourselves a pretty inedible batch of spanikopita.  Pete never let me live that down, and as I recall he never "burdened" me with future spanikopita-making tasks after that. But we kept cooking for each other, always inspired by how much pleasure we knew it brought each of us. 

Pete gets a ribbon crown at a family gathering.

Now you have yours, Pete, for your freedom!