My 17-year-old daughter spent three days cooking for 23 people for my mother’s 67th birthday. Ten minutes before the party, Dad texted, “We decided to celebrate at a restaurant instead. Adults only.”

Eventually, she leaned toward me and whispered, “You know she’s better than some of the professional chefs I’ve reviewed, right?”

I struggled to swallow.

I asked her to tell Ava directly.

Soon, all twenty-three seats were occupied.

Ava peeked from the kitchen and asked, “Should I serve the appetizer?”

I answered, “No, you should serve your menu.”

She did.

The room quieted when the first course appeared.

Then came appreciative murmurs.

People admired the flavors.

Someone recognized lavender.

Others called the food incredible.

By the main course, guests were applauding.