I once read a fantasy novel that, via various plot machinations, involved a 9th century woman from the Russian Steppes becoming the daughter-in-law of a 20th century Russian immigrant to Canada. The male protagonist was understandably somewhat concerned as to how these two women in his life would get along, but was immediately reassured when he came upon them in the kitchen.
“What surprised him was her instinctive grasp of what Mother needed her to do. She seemed to understand loading and unloading the dishwasher immediately, even though no one had explained to her what the dishwasher was or what it did. She seemed to know what tool Mother wanted and, most amazingly of all, where it was in the kitchen.
[ . . . . ] Katerina apparently recognized the tool when she saw it, because her hands already knew how to use it. Not only that, but she had got such a feel for the kitchen already that she knew where in the kitchen Mother would have put such a tool”
— Enchantment, Orson Scott Card –
Monday Night Dinner 