I have been a picky eater for as long as I remember. I tend to like the simple meals such as pizza and buttered pasta. It tend to find that type of food more pleasurable. I decided to create a basic meal that my grandmother had taught me a few summers ago - Garlic Bread and Salad. It sounds quite basic but in reality it does take some work and tastes delicious. Creating this meal myself would be a challenge, since no one in my family could cook. My family was known for getting takeout almost every night. I decided to Zoom my grandmother for a nice virtual visit, and to have her remind me of the recipe. After my zoom call, I went to the grocery store and collected my ingredients. It was a lot of work to find them all but I finally had gathered salt, pepper, carrots, baby heirloom tomatoes, romaine lettuce, arugula, cucumbers, a baguette, balsamic vinaigrette, parmesan cheese, butter and olive oil.

First , I created the salad. I selected a large bowl with painted on blue dots and retrieved the romaine lettuce and a few pieces of arugula I had purchased. I washed the lettuce until it was quite soaked. After allowing the lettuce to air dry on a napkin, I started to tear off the cold textured pieces one by one and placed each piece in the bowl. Next, I took out the bright red, miniature tomatoes - which I thought were quite adorable. I washed about eight of them to make sure they were ready to be cut. I cut each tomato in half and placed them in the bowl with the lettuce. Of course I had to try one. I had never had these types of tomatoes before and they were much more tasteful - more mild and less sour compared to regular tomatoes I had tasted in the past. I mixed the lettuce and the tomatoes together with large fork-like utensils, then retrieved the carrots and cucumbers from the refrigerator. I washed the large carrot s under the cool water and sliced it into thin, circular coins. Then, I peeled the cucumber and I cut the cucumber into thin, circular pieces, just like the carrots. The vegetable coins were as smooth as a newly cemented floor, and I added them to the bowl. Finally I poured a good amount of peach vinaigrette that I had purchased from the grocery store(which tasted quite fruity) until it covered the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots. I took a piece of the baguette and cut it into tiny squares as best as I could to use as croutons. Once I added the bread to the bowl, I added a dash of salt and pepper. I found a lid from a container that is used to hold cookies and placed it on top and shook my colorful creation. After I mixed the ingredients, it was time to taste the salad. I realized I had definitely put too much peach vinaigrette on it because the salad tasted a bit fruity and bitter. Even so, the texture of the cucumber and carrots contrasted with the romaine lettuce and arugula and was excellent. It didn’t feel or taste like the basic caesar salad that I tend to eat quite often-- it was so much more. The different components in the salad made it feel like I was eating three different meals combines. Having a variety of fruits, vegetables, and sauces was very filling. The only negative thing about the salad is that bread was a bit hard to chew because the pieces were too big for my mouth.

Now after creating my delicious salad it was time to create my garlic bread. I got out the baguette and cut it into six pieces. Next, I got out “Spanish” olive oil, parmesan cheese, and butter. I found a paint brush tool with a very wide tip and spread the liquid, spicy olive oil over the bread stroking each fluffy piece back and forth. I put half a stick of butter in the microwave for 30 seconds and watched until it melted, then I poured the melted butter on top of each piece of oiled bread and sprinkled thin strips of parmesan cheese on top of the butter. I preheated the oven to 375 degrees and clicked the “bake” setting . I placed the tray of the gooey bread into the oven for about 8 minutes until it turned brown. After allowing the bread to cool it was time to taste it. It was the best cheesy, garlic bread I had ever tasted. The cheese was not too strong and the mix of olive oil and butter was excellent. I had created delicious fluffy bread with a creamy top and everyone in my family enjoyed it.

Creating this meal allowed me to show my family and myself that I can, surprisingly, cook a good meal. My mother and little sister thought the meal was splendid and were very pleased. I enjoyed creating this basic meal because it allowed me to create my grandmother’s recipe and feel close to her, since I have been unable to see her for about a year. I also found out something interesting about myself - I actually enjoy cooking!

My mom works night and day. She is completely and utterly devoted to her job and the people whom she employs. She works tirelessly for her family and her community. Despite her constant efforts, there always seems to be more work to do. She comes home late and immediately begins working on cooking dinner. Cooking food for our family always falls upon my mom's shoulders. Last night, she told me and my sister that she’d be working later than usual. The two of us then decided that we’d help out our mom by cooking dinner.

Now, I am not much of a cook. In fact, I burn water. My sister’s not very talented in the kitchen either. Nevertheless, she decided that we’d make Chinese chicken salad. A simple recipe with many, many steps. We began by cutting the chicken. Correction, I cut the chicken. My sister complained that she didn't want to touch the raw meat, so she had me do it instead. The chicken was pink, lifeless, and wet. The texture of it was discomforting. I took no pleasure in cutting the chicken but proceeded to do so as fast as possible. We baked the chicken until its once raw, pink skin turned golden brown. The chicken had a rubbery texture, but the taste was delicious. We decided to throw away the undercooked bits and use the cooked chicken for the salad. Then, came the making of the glaze. We combined the sliced chicken, soy sauce, sesame oil, and white pepper in a zip-lock baggie. A bit dripped on my finger so I took the opportunity to have a taste. The combination of sweet and savory all made the sauce delicious. It was tangy, and the flavor lingered on my tongue for the next few moments. My delicious ecstasy was short-lived, as my sister soon began barking orders once again. We began slicing the vegetables. Carrots, edamame, red cabbage, and lettuce.

It was now time to create the final masterpiece. We placed the romaine lettuce in a large bowl and poured the vinaigrette on top. Gently tossing the salad, we ensured that the chicken and sauce were well distributed. The green lettuce stood out against the red salad bowl we had been using. The bright colors of the vegetables and the nuts welcomed themselves to be eaten. We waited until both my mom and dad got off of work and set the table with plates, the salad, and bread rolls. We began to dig in straight away. The sensation of the cold salad touching the tip of my tongue was ecstasy. The flavor of sesame and soy sauce was familiar and flavorful.

Though the salad was delicious, the best part of the night was sitting down with my family and sharing a meal; a meal my sister and I had made together. We not only had we gotten to share it with the people we love the most, but had gifted my mom the night off. Something as simple as making a home cooked meal had made my mom so incredibly happy. The food was a simple pleasure that we divided among all four of us.

My dad and I have been obsessed with musubis from our local grocery store. Musubis are a traditional Japanese food. It looks like a large, seaweed wrapped sushi roll and,typically,it is filled with rice Spam, teriyaki chicken, avocado, lettuce and more. My dad and I have been devouring these things (say how often) and buy at least 6 or 7 when we go to the grocery store. Recently my dad surprised me and ordered a cheap musubi maker off Amazon. I think financially this was a smart investment. The musubi maker is just a square shaped mold with a small press that pushes down the rice. I instantly googled multiple recipes to help us create our store quality musubis despite them being an extremely simplistic food. Either way we were excited to create our new current craving: a musubi.

In the kitchen I gathered rice, pans, Spam, and our new musubi maker. We instantly got to work. I began boiling the water on the stove. The click of the stove igniting symbolized the start of my new passion. With a trickling sound the hard rice dropped into the boiling water. After 5 minutes I covered the rice with a tight fitting top. As the rice streamed my dad and I waited with anticipation, the clicking of the kitchen clock mocking me. The second the rice was done cooking I had to again patiently wait for the rice to cool down. While waiting, I spent my time rereading the instructions on the musubi box. Once the rice cooled I scooped the moist rice into a glass bowl with a thick wooden spoon. Staring at the white cloud of grain that formed in the bowl I reached for the seaweed, then opened the spam. . I layed out the thin seaweed on a cutting board horizontally and carefully put our new musubi maker on top facing in the same direction. I then took the thick wooden spoon and got a good mass of white gooey rice and put it into the musubi mold. Next I grabbed the spam and cut itto fit into the musubi mold. I placed the faux ham on top of the rice. I grabbed another spoonful of rice and placed it on top of the spam. Using the plastic flattening tool from the musubi maker I flattened the rice. At this point I was two seaweed folds away from finishing my first ever musubi. Carefully, I removed the mold, leaving the rice spam sandwich. I folded one side of the seaweed up and over and then the other. I did it, I created my first musubi. Eating the musubi was a great triumph.

The creation of my first musubi felt extremely rewarding. It was something that I knew I was going to enjoy. I have learned that creating your own food can be just as satisfying as the food can taste. Spending this time with my dad brought us a little closer and we bonded over our love for our cheap musubi maker. Being in the kitchen with my dad was comedic. He was cracking cheesy dad jokes while I was struggling to put the rice into the mold. My dad was just grateful to spend quality time together especially before I leave for college next school year. Being able to gleefully create something with my dad brought me a little bit of happiness brightened up my day. I am looking forward to experimenting with other stuffing such as teriyaki chicken, tofu, and avocados. for my musubis and hope to become a true musubi pro.

After being in the hot sun for hours, I walked into the kitchen and decided to make chicken quesadillas for lunch. My friend and I turned up the music and started preparing the meal. I could see the ocean from where I’m cooking, making me feel like I’m in a movie. The kitchen is clean, but not for long.

I started by chopping chicken into bite sized pieces while my friend heated up oil in a thin, blue pan. Once the oil was hot, I placed the chicken into the olive oil trying not to splash it everywhere. After about five minutes, I dropped the sliced onions and peppers, along with showering salt into the same pan. I danced around to music as I stirred the ingredients in the oil. We removed the greased vegetables and placed them aside for a little bit. The sweet smell of salty grew and made me even hungrier than I was before. Then I added more oil to the pan and let the chicken bathe as I got the tortillas from the pantry. I heated up the stove and put oil into another pan to prepare the crunchy outside of the quesadilla. Cheddar cheese was sprinkled onto the tortilla and turned into a hot, goopey mess in just a few seconds. I took the chicken and vegetables from the first pan and stuffed it all into a folded tortilla. The zesty chicken and cheese delight was ready to be eaten.

The pleasure of food preparation matters to me because cooking is not just following a recipe, but building a relationship. Making my own food brings me joy because I feel as though I am responsible for something bigger than myself. I can make a connection between myself and my food. I can take part in fueling my body while also having fun. The most important aspect about this meal is knowing that I am capable of making myself food and not depending on someone else to do it for me. From cooking just this one meal, I am encouraged to continue this healthy habit.

It’s a Wednesday, about 6:30 pm, and my family and I had just returned from our evening walk. I know the dinner will take a little bit to cook so I start getting the ingredients out. My mom asks, “what can I grab?,” and I list the pantry items while I rummaged in the fridge. She asks what we are having and I tell her “red sauce, an Impossible meat sauce, and spaghetti squash.” My brother complains from the living room couch that he wants “real meat” and no red sauce, but we have a deal that we can do one fully vegetarian meal per week. He is pretty much a carnivore who eats candy so he often makes himself a piece of sausage on the side, but I encourage my parents to stick with the vegetarian because it is better for the earth.

The cans of crushed San Marzano tomatoes sit on the counter near the “meat.” My mom begins to try and cut the spaghetti squash with the biggest knife we own but she is unsuccessful. She pokes a few holes with a fork and plops it into the microwave to soften it a little, and she is able to chop through it on her second try. While she chops the spaghetti squash in half I grab the can opener and hear the satisfying pop of the punctured can. I peel the metal off of the can and then turn around to grab a pot and sprinkle some olive oil in. At this point I remember that I need to mince some garlic so I go into the pantry and grab a few cloves. I crush the garlic under my chef's knife with a powerful hit and then mince it. I see the oil gets a little shiny, meaning it is warm, and so I put the minced garlic into the pan with an unmeasured ¼ cups olive oil. I like my tomato sauce to have a little kick so I grab a hefty handful of red pepper flakes and throw them in. My mom questions,” honey, do you think that's going to be too spicy?”, but I know that this is part of the reason everyone loves this sauce. I assure her that it is fine. Once I can smell the toasted garlic and pepper flakes and see the oil turn a little red I add the tomatoes. It splatters a little before I have time to stir. I stir it enough to incorporate the oil into the tomatoes and then throw in a good bit of salt, basil, oregano, onion powder, and a little garlic powder. I always need more salt than I think so I throw another handful in and then stir until the tomatoes and oil are warmed evenly and can be incorporated. I turn the heat to medium and put a lid on to start browning the Impossible meat in another pan.

My mom has finally oiled and salted the squash to be able to put it in the oven and once she does that I ask her if she can chop the basil. Usually, I like to cut the basil because I love the satisfying curls of the chiffonade, but I know she likes to do it as well. I quickly slice an onion to cook down a little before the Impossible meat goes in. It doesn’t take long to brown the “meat” and then I turn to taste the sauce. I can tell it needs a little fresh cracked pepper and basil so I add those and a little balsamic reduction. I think the balsamic gives it a richness, but maybe I am making that up. The sauce feels ready and the meat is browned so I slowly scoop the meat into the sauce and then stir. My mom starts doing the dishes as I cook because I am the messiest cook ever and she knows I hate dishes. I really appreciate when she does the dishes and I think she appreciates when she doesn’t have to cook the whole meal by herself. I start to wipe down the counter with a lemon scented cleaner since the marble near the stove has turned a little red from the bubbling sauce. Next, I set the table, making room for some of the fresh basil and parmesan. Now, we just wait 20 mins for the squash and sauce to finish. I sit on my phone for a sec and respond to Snapchats, and as I am taking a picture to respond my mom starts intimidating me by doing an overdramatized selfie “look.” I giggle a little bit and my brother looks over from the couch and rolls his eyes. I smell something burning and remember that our oven has this little piece of food from last week that keeps burning everytime we turn the oven on. I get a little frustrated that nobody has cleaned it, but then my mom says “if you care so much you should do it,” and that shuts me up because I hate cleaning the oven.

My dad walks through the room and says it smells “amazing” and asks, “when is dinner ready?” I tell him a couple more mins because I can also smell that the sauce is nearing the end. I grab a spoon and take the lid off the tomato sauce to give it a try. It’s hot so I blow on it for a couple seconds before plunging the hot spoon onto my tongue. It burns it a little but I can tell it taste pretty amazing, in my humble opinion. I yell “DINNER!” and my mom gets a little frustrated because she doesn’t like yelling. I asked her to pull out the squash from the oven and put it in a bowl, and I set the still bubbling sauce on the table.

I am someone who shows their love through physical acts and I always enjoy cooking for my family. Every lunch period, when I have time, I like to make my brother a lunch. I show him that I love him by doing something that he doesn’t really know how to do and values. When my mom cooks for me I feel love and I want to show that love to my family. Over the last couple of months I have started to really care what I eat and want it to be healthy and not boring. I enjoy the special time with my mom and want to show an act of service to my family who does so much for me.

On Wednesday afternoon, I told my mom that I was going to help cook today. With a surprised look on her face, she told me to start off by cleaning the shrimp that she had left out to defrost as we would be eating shrimp spaghetti with tomato sauce. With a bit of ice still on them, I started to take out the shrimp. Next, my dad came with a knife, to open up the shrimp. After cleaning the shrimp, the only thing I felt in my hands was all the cold ice from the shrimp, not allowing me to do much after. After waiting for a few minutes and washing my hands, we were back in action. My mom put water in a pot; I remember asking her if I should place the pasta already but she gave me a commanding no. In a separate pan, my dad cooked some small chopped onions to later put onto the pasta. Calmly waiting for instructions, I opened both tomato sauce cans; honestly, it was satisfying to see how the lids opened up very smoothly and the edges were very fine, one of the sharpest cuts I’ve seen from a can. My sister and I had lots of fun cutting the pasta and hearing the crack. Then, I placed both pre made cans of tomato sauce onto the cooking pasta; it was very satisfying how the sauce dispersed onto the pasta like waves when they hit shore.

As the pasta was getting nearly ready, my dad started to place some vegetables including peas, capers and the shrimp onto the pot. It was very fun to see how all the ingredients were starting to come together and all mixing to achieve an orange red color. After more time passed by, our kitchen and house started to smell more and more like shrimp and pasta, with a rich aroma of tomato on the side. Then, after both my mom and dad called me from my room as I was also doing homework, the pasta was finally read to be eaten. They also instructed me to make some orange juice from our orange tree in our backyard. So I grabbed five oranges and the juice presser and started to make the juice while my parents were preparing a salad. They alway make sure I do that as it's something I have come to master, as my pressing skills have become impeccable the past couple of months. We then sat down and enjoyed the very d splendid spaghetti.

Honestly, it was very fun to cook as we were all able to participate in something fun and help prepare our dinner. Seeing my family and even my dog all in the kitchen felt really nice and heart warming. It's been a tough couple of months but we have been able to continue working hard. I hope to continue to have experiences like these with my family where we can cook more food and have more fun. Food is always something that unites people and allows for special moments to occur. That is something I hope to be able to share more of.

Around March, my dad made a new rule in the house that everyone, including me and my two siblings, would have to cook a meal mostly by themselves each week (two days were ordered in meals). While this idea raised concerns between my siblings and I, we eventually grew somewhat attached to cooking for our family. So, when I was told by my English teacher to cook a meal for my family, I was already quite comfortable with the prospect. I decided to prepare a favorite dish of mine, grilled shrimp and vegetables with garlic bread.

The cooking starts with preparing the bread. I normally buy a sourdough loaf, and cut it in half lengthwise, only to further score it so it is divided into manageable portions. I melt some butter that is mixed with minced garlic, a process that somehow always seems to result with butter spilling on the microwave tray. I stubbornly use a specific spoon, which I imagine is intended for stirring tea, every time I make this meal to measure the garlic in order to keep a consistent taste. This butter concoction is evenly spread onto the bread with the same spoon I am so attached to, before it gets a coat of shredded mozzarella and lemon garlic seasoning. Shredding the mozzarella is always a strange process, because the cheese is so soft and squishy that it falls apart in my hand. Once the bread is prepared, I preheat the oven. I always forget to do that earlier.

The next step is preparing the vegetables and shrimp. The vegetables change from meal to meal, and the main ingredient I experiment with. In this particular instance I selected asparagus. The tougher parts of the asparagus are trimmed away, before getting a splash of olive oil as well as a few shakes of salt and pepper. I struggle to toss them so the ingredients are spread throughout the stalks. I start to prepare the central element of the meal, the shrimp. They all get skewered before getting their own drizzled layer of melted butter. The final step before flames is freshly squeezing a lemon, and more application of the aforementioned lemon garlic seasoning.

I put the bread in the oven and head to the grill. After a quick grill preheat and a coarse scrubbing, I lay the food on the grill. Everything sizzles in its own song that I can only shortly enjoy before shutting the lid. When I come back after what I recklessly think is an appropriate amount of time, I open the grill to a waft of flavor and food eager to be flipped over. My hands are near burning as I attempt to turn each shrimp skewer and asparagus stalk over. I always consider wearing oven mitts for this step, but value the dexterity of my hand over the scorching temperatures. After another unknown period of time, this one usually shorter, I grab the serving platters and delicately stack all of the items from the grill. The bread is soon removed from the oven and the meal is at last ready to be enjoyed in all of its crunchy garlicky goodness.

Even though I have made this meal many times, I always have moments of uncertainty and mistakes while cooking. This is the main reason why I enjoy making the meal, and grilling in general, as there are no set times or measurements. Everything is done with an impulsive attitude. This strange thrill I feel from improvising in the moment, and ending up with an amazing meal is what I attach to. It is a mindset that I enjoy in other activities, particularly video games and robotics, and I am very thankful that I found it in the kitchen, too.

I woke up 20 minutes before my first period and walked downstairs to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. My mom and my sister were already eating so I was able to have a interesting conversation about politics with them while I was making some cheesy scrambled eggs.

I’ve made myself scrambled eggs many times before so it just felt like I was going through the motions of something that I know well. I cracked 3 eggs and then put them into a bowl and whisk. Then, I poured in a little bit of whole milk to make them smoother and fluffier. I turned on the stove and poured the eggs into the pan. I waited for the eggs to solidify, then I sprinkled some salt and pepper onto the whisked eggs to ensure my eggs were properly seasoned. Next, I begin mixing them around until they start to take shape while making sure not to over mix. Next, I pour in a handful of grated cheddar cheese and let that start to melt around the light and fluffy eggs. As the cheese starts to melt and combine with the eggs, I can almost see the cheesy goodness that you will soon be tasting. Before the eggs start to brown, I get a plate and slide the cheesiest and fluffiest eggs I have ever seen onto them.

Whenever I cook my own food, I enjoy the eating process more because I know that I worked to make this meal so I feel as though I have earned every bite that I take. I also think the food I make tastes better because I contributed to the creation of this meal. I also was able to talk to my mom and my sister while I was eating which made it even better because I enjoy having intellectual, and sometimes controversial, conversations about current events with them. I find that cheesy scrambled eggs are the perfect breakfast meal and always get me ready to attack the day and give me energy to focus and learn in class.

I love cooking eggs because I find it to be very easy and quick so I hope to continue to learn new tricks and include new flavors in my eggs like learning how to add just the right amount of hot sauce to increase the flavor but not dominate the palate to keep things fresh and original. Cooking is meaningful to me because it helps me feel connected to what I eat because I have an impact on what I eat. I also know I am preparing for when I go off to college and get my own place because I won’t have a parent there to cook for me. I love food so cooking opens up infinite possibilities of what I can learn to make and then enjoy eating whether it be a pasta recipe or a perfectly cooked steak.

I think that my most fond experiences with cooking food combine the enjoyable process of cooking, but also with the feeling of happiness that I get when others appreciate the cooking that I have done for them, and more importantly the chores that come with preparing a meal.

My favorite meal of the day is no question breakfast, places like Ann’s Coffee Shop and Stacks are always frequent stops for myself. I love their perfectly cooked pancakes, waffles, french toast, really anything they serve I enjoy. I enjoy making these foods as well, especially on occasions like Christmas morning with my family. I recently found the sense of happiness with cooking when I was cooking for my friends while we were staying in Santa Barbara. Making food for ten teenage boys is certainly a challenge, with no one usually wanting to endure the long and challenging task of pleasing everyone. However, when I woke up early to make everyone pancakes and eggs, I found a feeling of accomplishment in overcoming challenges as a novice chef that was seemingly simple, yet made me feel special. After waking up on Sunday before everyone else, I began making batter, and preparing the griddle for cooking. Again, it's rather simple adding a few ingredients together and whisking, as well as cracking eggs for scrambling. Some challenges included, finding the rights density for the batter, whisking such a large bowl of eggs, and having the patience to crack 16 eggs and make 25 pancakes. Once everyone had gotten some I fed myself and began to clean up.

It felt great to see everyone appreciating my efforts into making their morning enjoyable. Taking the responsibility of cooking for everyone gave me a sense of pride in taking care of others. Not just the cooking, but the preparation, and especially the cleanup. Cleaning is where I definitely learned to appreciate those who cook for me, mostly my mom. As everyone else is sitting on the couch watching football, something I like to do, I was cleaning off the dishes that I had used. I thought to myself, “this is what my mom must feel like on Sunday mornings.” It was a great experience for me to know how it feels like to take one for the team, something that I am learning to do, especially thinking about the family I might be fortunate to have in the future. Cooking breakfast showed me what it means to care for others, and that it can actually be fun to have some responsibility, while making you feel good about yourself.

I had just finished with my classes and I went into the kitchen to start preparing dinner for my family. I have developed a really strong passion for cooking especially for trying new recipes that are simple but really healthy! I think it’s also super special to be able to cook a meal for your family knowing that everybody appreciates your effort.

It's around 5:15 in the evening and the majority of my family was around the house but my mom was in the kitchen checking her emails. The kitchen had just been cleaned, and it was ready for cooking.

I decided I was going to make an arugula chicken salad which I have made on multiple occasions, with heirloom tomatoes topped with burrata cheese. This is one of my favorite dishes to make and is super healthy. I started by getting the ingredients to make the chicken. I washed the chicken under the cold water of my sink and placed it on the scratched, green cutting board. Then with a kitchen brush, I brushed the chicken with some olive oil and squeezed lemon on top. At that point, I sprinkled some sea salt and pepper on the chicken and put it in the oven. I set the oven at conventional bake at 375 degrees and put the chicken in for 23 minutes. When I pulled the chicken out, I smelled a strong lemon aroma that filled the air. It was if I had just squeezed a lemon but a slightly less acidic aroma. As I let the chicken rest and cool, I prepared the arugula salad . I tossed the arugula into a large glass bowl and mixed it in with a bunch of pine nuts. Furthermore, I grated fennel cheese into the bowl and t made the dressing. In a smaller bowl, I drizzled extra virgin olive oil and added a squeeze of lemon juice l. Furthermore, I sprinkled the salt into the bowl and mixed it thoroughly til it was a bright yellow smooth mixture with hints of salt. Once the dressing was done, I cut the chicken into thin slices, then shredded it with my fingers into even smaller pieces. I then threw the chicken into the bowl so it was almost full and then poured the dressing into the salad. The salad smelled fresh, as if all the ingredients had just been pulled from the garden. A sharp lemon scent coming from the perfectly mixed salad with the pine nuts and white chicken standing out. Finally, add a little more salt to balance the flavors.

I think that the thought-process behind making a recipe is really unique but also how much pride you put into every dish. Cooking is it’s own art form in the way you can make your own recipe but make it your own. I really enjoy cooking for others because I think it's super cool to share your creations with others while having the peacefulness of cooking.

Last night in the kitchen, I turned to my mom and asked what I could make that I wouldn’t mess up. She usually does most of the cooking and baking, so when we tried to review what I had previously made it was only scrambled eggs, mac and cheese from a box, and pasta with butter and cheese. Since there was really no recipe I could try and replicate from my repertoire, we decided to make something sweet. After a few minutes we settled on some classic chocolate chip cookies. We both love them and decided it would be hard for me to mess up.

The very first thing my mom instructed me to do was to preheat the oven to ensure that it would be warm when we were done with the batter. My mom and I gathered the brown sugar, flax eggs, chocolate chips, butter, flour, cornstarch, salt, baking soda, vanilla, and water we would need to make the cookies. We put the rich and soft brown sugar into the bowl; the sugar dropped out of the stainless steel measuring cups in a clump. We then added the softened, pale yellow, dairy free butter into the mixture. Unmixed, the light yellow of the butter contrasted from the molasses colored brown, but mixed, the batter took on a pale brown color. Once the batter transformed into a slightly granular texture I added the flax eggs and the vanilla. The vanilla scent in the batter transported me into a bakery with vanilla bean scones in the oven, making me want to eat it before it was cooked. After the vanilla, the flour, cornstarch, baking soda, and salt all followed. The litany of dry, white ingredients rested on top of the creamy batter. The more the ingredients were mixed the harder and less malleable the dough became. Once all the ingredients adhered together all what was left was to add the chocolate. Dark chocolate chips were then sprinkled over the pale yellow dough.

We formed the slightly sticky dough into balls and put them on a stainless steel baking tray lined with parchment paper. I opened the oven and was hit with a sudden hot wind. The oven at 350 degrees was the perfect temperature for the cookies. I kept the oven light on so I could see the cookies flatten and expand as they cooked. The longer they were in the oven, the more my house began to smell like freshly baked cookies. The smell only intensified as I took them out of the oven and transferred them onto cooling racks. The perfectly golden brown, slightly chewy, warm cookies didn’t last very long in the house with me and my mom.

It was an extremely rewarding experience to make a baked good from scratch. After, my mom and I also watched a movie together eating the cookies we had made. It was not only an experience that allowed me to spend time with my mom, it also helped me realize all of the ingredients, time, and effort that goes into making baked goods. It helped me become less detached from the prepared food system. Unlike boxed baked goods that give me a powder, and I just add eggs and water or oil, I knew exactly what was in the cookies I made. This gave me comfort. After watching Food Inc again and seeing what happens when people are detached from their food. Helping her in the kitchen even made me realize I am slightly detached from the food being created in my own home. I want to try and remedy my detachment from the food in the grocery store as well as the food cooked in my own home.

Two years ago I blew out my knee, and I was stuck on crutches and unable to play sports or be active for a few months. My mom insisted that sitting in bed all day would not help my recovery and that I needed to find some new hobbies. I started stationary golfing, just putting the ball with assistance so I would not have any rotation. I ventured into coloring, drawing, and ukulele. I soon realized that my artistic abilities were not superb. Ukulele was one of the few hobbies I stuck to. I quickly learned how to play songs from youtube and it is something enjoyable when I have free time. Cooking was something else I started to practice, my mom would put me in charge of dinner two to three times a week. I quickly became my mama’s sous chef. My mom has always enjoyed cooking and is really talented in the kitchen. My siblings and I tell her to either open a small restaurant or interior design studio. She is so creative and able to create much more than food on a plate.

So last night, as I joined my mother for another night in the kitchen, with Morgan Wallen’s new country album playing on the home sound system. The counters were shining from a recent cleaning and we set out our long spaghetti noodles, sauce, oils, and herbs. On the menu was a bruschetta pasta, which is a rub of tomatoes, herbs, olive oil with mozzarella balls which we put on our spaghetti. This was one of our simpler dinners because my two older siblings were not home. We turned the stove on to boil the pot full of water. We sprinkled some salt and olive oil in the water to introduce flavor and then chose our spaghetti noodles and placed them in the pot to boil. This bruschetta sauce was a pre-made sauce from our local farmers market we attend weekly. On the side, I chopped up freshly packaged soft and mousse textured mozzarella and rolled them in the balm of my hand into ball shapes.

While the microwave timer descended from eight minutes, I created a side salad. I grabbed our big salad bowl, quickly rinsed lettuce, and dried it with piles of paper towels. Then I whisked avocado oil, garlic, lemon, salt, and pepper in a tiny glass and poured in the bowl to dress the greens. We drained the pasta, mixed our bruschetta sauce, and planted the bright white mozzarella balls, basil, and parmesan cheese and our dish was ready to serve.

Although I am not very artsy, cooking is an artistic hobby of mine. I am “rebellious” in the kitchen. For the most part, I veer away from recipes, unless I am baking, and pick the tastiest ingredients. I am normally swayed towards pasta, salads, fruit, and salty flavors. in hopes to make a creative and delicious meal. Most of the time some weird taste comes through like a smokiness from being burned or too much salt and or pepper. but when I succeed it is so rewarding. The pleasure of preparing food is a communal and entertaining environment. My family loves to gather in the kitchen and listen to music while meals are prepared. While we were eating last night, my dad said “I just really like to eat.” This is currently on a meal plan so my mom was monitoring his proportions, but really it is true. The Lynch family loves to eat. We have an amazing mother/chef and meals are when we share some of the fondest birthdays, holidays, and celebrations. The pleasure of food is probably the meal itself but close in second place is the kitchen abode created in my family.

The place I call my kitchen has changed many times throughout my life. I’ve learned to love each kitchen and each house every time I move. The skills I’ve learnt in my past kitchens cling to my memory as I grow, and most of the memories involve my mom. My mom is an amazing cook and baker, and is the queen of delicious homemade meals. But for as long as I can remember, my favorite desert has been Pavlova. Pavlova consists of chocolate meringue and whipped cream, both made from scratch, with raspberries and chocolate shavings on top. I first learned how to make it in 6th grade for a school project. Making the Pavlova was frustrating at first, I had difficulty getting the raw meringue in the perfect shape for it to bake in; not too flat, not too fat. Sometimes it collapsed after I took it out of the oven. Nevertheless, I learned from my mistakes and my mom's instructions, and can now make it from memory.

On an unusually warm winter’s day, we were expecting our family friends for dinner. My mom had done the bulk of the cooking the day before, but the Pavlova had yet to be made. Starting the meringue, I whisked the egg whites and spoon in the white sugar, a little at a time. Stiff peaks started to form and I checked with my mom to make sure the meringue was the perfect consistency. I’ve never been able to eyeball measurements and consistency the way she can. Folding in cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and balsamic vinegar, I think about how weird the ingredients are, but how delicious the result is. The fluffy, sticky, batter is ready to go in the oven. I plopped the meringue onto a baking pan, and smoothed it into a round blob. Sometimes there are little swirls of white where the cocoa powder didn’t reach due to my lack of proper folding. It's ok though, it will taste the same. Struggling, I asked my mom to fix the shape for me. Once the meringue was in the oven, it took about an hour to bake. My mom whipped the heavy cream, with a little bit of sugar, to make the fluffy cream, and put it on top of the meringue. I carefully placed the sweet red raspberries on the whipped cream, making sure they were all snug and close together, tossing the mushy ones to my dog. The finishing touch was the rich dark chocolate that was grated over the now finished Pavlova. We put it in the fridge until it’s time for dessert.

Though my mom’s help is no longer necessary, her company is. I don’t cook with my mom nearly as much as I should. I could blame it on my teenage laziness, well, I actually think that is the reason. Though I may be reluctant to leave my room and help prepare our food, I end up having fun and enjoy spending time with my mom and my family. I try to remember how happy it makes me feel, like the pleasure of creating something with someone I love, and getting to enjoy it later. The work became fun, and the Pavlova became the reward.

During quarantine, one of the restaurants that my mom and I love closed. It is an Italian restaurant called Vina Enoteca in Palo Alto. The guy who owns it is named Rocko and his kids actually went to Sacred Heart for a little while. The restaurant was mainly intended for large wedding and birthday parties, but because of Covid, they were not able to use the space very well. So, Rocko started doing live cooking classes over zoom. People could sign up for the classes, and would have to buy a pre-prepared box with all the ingredients for whatever dish they signed up for. It just so happened that last night, he had a pasta sauce making class. My mom and I were so excited. We set up a laptop and put all of our ingredients out on the counter to begin the class. We were going to make three different sauces: Cacio e Pepe, Amatriciana, and Puttanesca.

At the beginning of the class, my mom and I were prompted to start the Amatriciana sauce. In the box we received for this specific sauce, we got an onion, guanciale, tomato sauce, and pecorino cheese. Rocko explained that guanciale is a special Italian cured meat; it is pork cheek. We started off by pouring rich olive oil into a pan and throwing in the guanciale. I had the duty of mixing this popping oil and sizzling meat on the stove while my mom started to chop the onion. Once the onion was chopped, my mom slid the pieces off the cutting board into the explosive pan and I began to stir the mixture again, but this time, the oil started to calm down with the foreign onion bits added in. After mixing this for a couple minutes--until the onions turned a light golden brown and the meat gained a layer of crispiness--we went ahead and added the tomato sauce in. At this point, we turned down the heat on the stove and mixed all the ingredients together until they fully combined. As we were making the sauce, we had one big pot with water on a burner heating toa boil. When the water reached the boil, we added in the pasta Rocko had given us. The pasta is called lumache, it is a very big shell pasta--one piece is bigger than my thumb. We placed the uncooked pasta into the water and waited for four minutes for it to cook, then strained it and poured the cooked lumache into our sauce. We kept this mixture on one of the back burners on the stove as we continued to make the other two sauces.

The next sauce, puttanesca, I was most excited for because I love olives and capers. Puttanesca consists of capers, black olives, garlic, anchovies, and tomato sauce. Anchovies don’t sit well with me so I was a little scared. I was put on mixing duty again. I poured an ample amount of olive oil into the saucepan and my mom started to cut up the anchovies. Before turning the stove on, we put the garlic and anchovies into the olive oil. As this started to cook, we put in the olives and capers. Once all these flavors looked mixed enough, it was time to add the tomato sauce. While this sauce was cooking, we had started another pot of water for our next pasta to cook in. This time, it was fusilli. Fusilli is a corkscrew shaped pasta. This one had to cook for three minutes before we added it to our sauce mixture.

The last sauce is called, Cacio e Pepe. This sauce consists of vegetable stock, butter, pecorino romano, and pepper. First I melted the butter over medium heat in a saucepan. Once it melted, I added the vegetable stock and the pecorino romano. It was a light colored, thin mixture. Then I added the black pepper while also turning the stove down to a simmer. While all of this was happening, my mom was heating up another pot with water to cook the spaghetti in. This recipe uses spaghetti as the pasta. After the water reached a boil, my mom poured in the pasta and cooked it for five minutes. After cooking, she drained the pasta and put it into the sauce we made.

Cooking can take you anywhere in the world. My family and I were planning to leave the country for the first time this past summer but because of Covid, our trip got cancelled. We were supposed to spend a couple of weeks in Italy. What I have realized is that if you can’t go experience another country’s culture in person, the closest you can get to it is through food. These pasta dishes my mom and I made tasted so fresh and new to me. I have had these dishes when I have gone to eat at Vina Enoteca, but I don’t think I appreciated what goes into the food I was eating. To have Rocko in the background talking about his family in Italy and his traditions, it is so cool to be able to experience a tiny bit of his culture in my own kitchen.

My mom waltzed into the kitchen with a large bag of groceries. A cornucopia of fish, meat, pasta, and vegetables spilled from the bag.“Ready?” she asked. It was my sister’s college going away dinner and we had decided to make some of her favorite foods before she left.

My mom would be making her seafood pasta and I would be making my simple quesadillas. “ How much white onion do you need?” my mom asked as I was searching the bag for one. As soon as the onion was in my hand, we were off. The once round onion was reduced in a matter of minutes to neat little squares. After a quick run to the fridge, a handful of cilantro quickly met the same fate. Across the main island, my mom was painting the chicken with a kaleidoscope of spices from habanero pepper to chile pepper to a dash of ginger. As soon as her masterpiece was complete, Mom placed the seasoned chicken into the oven as soon as possible. At the same time, my mom began by unleashing two handfuls of pasta into the boiling ocean of a pot. She heated up our black cast iron skillet and began placing an aquarium’s worth of fish into the pan. Within a few minutes, scallops, shrimp, and crab meat were singing a sizzling tune. Meanwhile, my dish was starting to come into being. The crushed avocado and cut bell peppers had come together wonderfully in the guacamole. The chicken was finally out of the oven and ready to be cut. After a few decisive cuts of the chicken, I started my own pan and placed the first white, floury tortilla into the pan. The first spoonful of meat, onions, and cheese was placed on the tortilla, ready to cook. The soft sizzling tune of my mom’s skillet quickly became a boisterous opera of cracks and pops. In addition to the fish, mellow sun dried tomatoes occasionally raised their voice in a pop. The pasta was now boiled to flexible submission and added to the pan. As the dish itself was coming into being, a tide pool of “secret” cream sauce was coming into being near the cutting board across the island. As my Mom was completing her sauce and dish, my crunchy half moons of perfection were done and being placed on their respective plates, and finished off with dollops of Guac and sour cream making the plate look like a tasty smiley face. My Mom, now with the sauce complete, bathed the pasta and fish in the secret sauce. With two mixes, the dish was complete.

Cooking a meal like this with my family serves as indicators of where my family is from and where it has gone. For example, My mom’s seafood pasta perfectly reflects the sleepy New England fishing town where she grew up. The fish represent the fish dominated cuisine she was used to because of where she lived. The heartiness of the meal with the volume of fish, the presence of pasta, and the heavy sauce reflects the caloric needs of the working class background of my mother. While the light tortilla and ecletic combination of ingredients represents the more diverse, health focused background where I grew up. These two dishes perfectly represent where each generation is from and what the components of of current modern family are.

The New Year’s Roast Beef and Potato Au Gratin are only

just two of the many centerpieces at my New Year’s dinner in Japan. Every year I watch everyone from my mom’s family bustle around the kitchen in a frenzy. This year, I was given the coveted responsibility of the roast beef. It was my turn to be in a frenzy.

The preparation for the Beef began at 4 pm on New Year's Eve. I walked out to my grandmother’s beautiful vegetable and herb garden. I began by grasping as many rosemary stems as I could fit in my hand, then walked back into the kitchen. With its strong mint-like smell, the rosemary’s aroma immediately filled the kitchen. I stared at the 2kg slab of wagyu beef, and slowly took off the saran wrap that was protecting the meat from my inexperienced hands. I slowly chopped up an entire head of garlic, took the rosemary leaves off of the stems, and then added them to a bowl with an excessive amount of olive oil. Next, I lathered the entire piece of meat in the mixture I had just created. It did not end up on the floor, so I counted that as a win.

The real preparation for dinner started at 11 am on New Year's Day. Where I found myself aggressively asking Siri “How to slow cook a roast beef?” and “Converting Fahrenheit to Celsius.” I sat on the kitchen stool and went on my phone reading different articles occasionally looking up at the daunting, marinated piece of beef. By the time I found out that the meat needed to be cooked at 150-170 degrees Celsius for 4-6 hours it was already 1 pm. The frenzy had just begun. I shoved the 2 kg of beef into the oven and turned it up to 170C. The rest of my family was going to arrive in less than 4 hours!

I hustled and chopped all of the vegetables that we were going to use as vegetable sticks and also vegetables for a salad. The sharp Japanese knife glided through each of the different vegetables making it hard to tell if I was cutting through a dense carrot or a piece of paper. I got so absorbed into the rhythm of cutting all of the vegetables I completely lost track of time. I went back to check on the beef in the oven. It's internal temperature was 150C. Perfect! Even though I had finished all of the steps I was still nervous. I waited patiently until it was time to cut open the roast beef. To my surprise I had cooked it just right and just the smell alone made all of the panic worth it.