A Fine Sunshine Dine Time (Bo Shirley- Final Draft)

White mist explosions tumbled into the dark blue abyss below. Brilliantly bright sunrays kissed the surface of the water as the light faded into the horizon. Waves continuously crashed around me like the sand flowing through an hour glass. I broke my daze and gently swam to the shore to regroup with my friends. We had been surfing all day and had worked up an enormous appetite.

(http://www.dapo.ca/2009/03/21/california-sunset/)

I was sixteen years old on my first roadtrip without adult supervision. My partners in crime were my two best friends, Jesse and Callan. We were staying at Callan's cousin Sara's house in West Hollywood, California with her roomate, a playboy bunny named Angel. Earlier in the day we had cruised on our longboards to Venice beach to meet our friend David, a Cali native and pro surfer. David gave us personal lessons and allowed us to use his boards for the day, and we were going to repay him with dinner later that night. He told us about a popular taco shack north of us on the boardwalk. We all got on longboards and adventured along the coastline as the sun sank into the ocean.

Upon our arrival at the Taco Shack, we discovered a bigger then expected line for what David described as "quick grub". After further investigation we realized a monthly taco contest was starting in thirty minutes and anyone could enter. As many tacos as you could eat in five minutes for five dollars, and the winner recieved a flashy shirt and a fifty dollar Visa gift card. Excited by our possibility of winning thanks to our extremely large appetites we all signed up. However, Callan suggested we give ourselves one extra advantage.

(http://www.sillyamerica.com/blog/2009/08/pepes-soft-taco-eating-contest/)

We had twenty-five minutes to get back in time for the start of the contest. Plenty of time for a group of experienced smokers to roll a joint and enjoy our desired side effect, the munchies. We made our way to David's favorite dispensary on Venice Beach, Dr. Kush. (http://kushdr.com/) We purchased the most expensive strand, Blackberry Kush, since we were spoiling ourselves on vacation with money we had saved working. (http://www.strainreviews.net/indica-strains/blackberry-kush-strain-review-dangreen/) After we power-blazed a quick "sesh", we headed back to the shack with smiles on our face and victory in our red eyes.

We made it back with five minutes to spare. By now my stomach was roaring for food like a hungry lion. All the contestants were seated at a table on the boardwalk, with friendly judges circled around. My friends were just anxious, as well as excited, as I was. Plain tacos with only meat and sauce were brought out in front of us. Mountains of fresh, hot, juicy tacos steamed in front of our slitted eyes and taunted our stomachs. 3! 2! 1! GO! I grabbed a taco and with three enormous bites and a sip of water it vanished. I felt like a factory conveyor belt as my hands and mouth moved in a uniform sequence throwing tacos down my throat. I was too occupied with my own success to spare a quick glance at my now deemed opponents. I was a taco-eating-machine and there was no end in sight.

(http://www.life123.com/food/mexican-food/tacos/how-to-make-tacos.shtml)

The contest abruptly ended with a screeching whistle. Only one word could describe our mood, satisfied. As the judges counted the totals for each contestant, my friends and I reconciled about how delicious the food was. These tacos were the best tasting food I had ever experienced and I had a enjoyable time eating them. I knew this was a memory I would always treasure and add to the collection I had gathered on my adventure in California. "And the winner of the July contest is... Bo Shirley!", yelled the contest official. I was stunned and confused at first. I knew I had eaten a LOT of tacos, but I did not expect to be the winner. My friends were "highly" entertained by the whole situation and besides the official prizes, I earned the nicknames Taco Champ and Fat Ass. To this day I still hear nicknames shouted at me with a smile, allowing me to remember the exciting time I had dining at the taco shack in California.

My Obsession with Chocolate

Todays culture is surrounded by things that shape us into our own identities. Different social classes participate in many different things. Depending on age, ethnicity, sex, and social class, people tend to have their own separate identities that tie in to our culture. I believe that food is one of the many things that help shape us

into who we are. If I was out drinking at bars and clubs I probably would be someone in there 20s. If I had time to cook large dinners for multiple people I would probably be a house mom cooking for her family. If I went out everyday to fast food to get the cheapest items on the menu I would probably be a student out with my friends, but what does everyone have in common, what foods do everyone seem to enjoy? The simply rich, sweet chocolate comes into mind. People young and old seem to all enjoy a chocolate splurge every so often. Chocolate has become one of the most popular desserts, snack foods, and even a social food.

One of my most clear memories was when I was ten years old when my parents told me they were no longer going to be together. Divorce meant nothing to me at the time, but the word “separation” hit me pretty hard. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents sat both my sister and I down in the living room and explained the problem to us using the most sensitive words in this delicate situation. I remember feeling hopeless, empty in-fact. One of the worst feelings, in my opinion. At the time, it was hard for me to believe ever feeling slightly happy again. After all the tears, things took a turn for the better. My mom took us into the kitchen and told us we were going to bake chocolate chip cookies from an old, simple recipe as if it would be a cure to our hopeless feeling. Once we took all the steps into making these perfect cookies, I actually did feel better. From then on, I started to look at chocolate as an escape. I relied on the rich taste to help me cope with stress and hard times making my problems seem like less vital issues. It wasn’t that chocolate could cure all my problems, but it helped prove me wrong that there wasn’t anything good in life. This one time, chocolate helped me realize that even during difficult times, you still have the little things in life that you can looked forward to.

As I grew older, I experienced new things. I traveled more with my family and visited places aro

und the world. When I visited Europe I found more exotic sweets, at this point it had just become a bad habit to eat and crave chocolate. Italy was one of my favorite places to go to because they are so fond of chocolate. I tried unfamiliar truffles, candies, and sundaes. I also visit California every summer with my dad and we always have to go to Ghirardelli factory. They have the best hot fudge sundaes and everyone goes there to socialize with their friends.

There are advertisements for food all over. Also, there is a movie called “Chocolate.” This movie showed me a new meaning to chocolate by comparing it to a sin. This movie showed religious people who are very disciplined and have different obsessions. When a women opens up a chocolate shop during lent, everyone in the town starts to lead away from there normal traditions. Movies, advertisements, and other media, show us that eating chocolate is a great thing. It is related to feelings such as love, passion, and is said can even enhance arousal. I started convincing myself that aside from the calories and sugars from chocolate, it can be good for you.

There are plenty of other sweets and foods out there, but chocolate will always be one of my favorites. It takes me back to my childhood and reminds me of certain memories in my past. No matter how old I am, I will always see chocolate as an escape. To this day I limit myself on how much I eat, but I will always have that craving and will go on my little splurges every so often.

Images cited:

Chocolate Strawberry

Ghiradelli

Cookie for your thoughts-Revised-Tristan jeffery

Sitting at the counter I had now grown to see over, the all to familiar smells filled the house from my grandmothers cooking. I wondered, how many days I had spend peaking over the counter. I began to wonder at what point I had began to associate the goodies my grandmother made with who I was? For, as long as I could remember I had been sitting on this stool learning to cook. All the while not knowing I had become the things I ate.
The cookies my grandmother made were always warm and comforting like my grandmas arms when I was scared. They brought everyone to the table despite what everyone had going on. In these moments of cookie bliss, everyone could find a quiet moment away from all the static of the outside world. When the house bussed with family, the smells would fill the rooms and halls giving the space a since of home, as if we were in the right place at this very moment. I would stand on my tippy toes watching her every movement intensely, as to not miss a thing. Her smile was always warm like a fresh chocolate chip cookie right out of the oven. When I was young sweets of all kinds filled the counter till all the space was taken up. Grandma herself had always been the biggest junk food lover in the family. I mean come on; whom do you think we got it from? I can honestly say she was the very first person to plant the seed, for my love of cooking. To this very day my love of cooking has only grown with the endless combinations and creations. My guilty little pleasure being pastry of course, because who doesn’t love desert? My grandma once told me that,” happy food is the best food, because if your angry it will make your food taste bad.” Being young I used to believe that till I realized, cooking was a great outlet. I love making pastry, because it takes so many steps and work; but when it’s all said and done I blissful moment on the couch with a warm gooey cookie is always sublime. I would per into the ovens glass window willing the cookies to be done faster. Grandma would smile and say,” Anything worth anything always takes time.” At first I would just smile and nod, but as I grew older I realized what she had meant was that if you are going to do something you love take the time to do it well. Grandma’s treats were the thing that brought everyone to the table despite how busy or focused on their tasks for the day. It was like her own little way to manipulate the kid within us all to her face time in, as family togetherness and sweets walk hand in hand. So it stands to reason that food has helped shape me into who I am, but better yet the people and the lessons I keep with me everyday.

You Are What You Eat, Ciera Ortiz

You Are What You Eat

The saying is true, you are what you eat. No, you are not literally a bag of potato chips, or a pile of spaghetti; your body’s ability to function properly depends on the food and liquid you take in. This means that they type of food you eat determines how your body functions, and it reveals a lot about the type of person you are and the kind of lifestyle you live.
The type of food a person eats and how they eat tells a lot about whom and what they are. For example a stay at home mother might have the time to cook three meals a day. She may also have the time to make sure to include a food from each food group. She might also have the motivation to cook regular healthy meals, because she wants her children to eat healthy, and in return she is also eating healthy.
If you were to look at someone’s food diary entry of one day, they may have ate eggs, toast and turkey bacon with orange juice for breakfast. Then a salad with sliced boiled eggs, fresh grape tomatoes, shredded cheese, sliced carrots, diced onions and cut chicken for lunch with a glass of water. For dinner he or she might have had turkey burgers with whole wheat buns, real American cheese, fresh tomatoes, and celery on the side and a glass of fat free milk. It would be easy to see from this person’s food diary that they have a lot of time on their hands to make sure they are eating a good and nutritious meal. One could guess from reading this persons journal entry that perhaps that person is a stay at home parent because of the time they have to make good meals.
Another example is a college student who is on their own, goes to school full time and works a part time job. The student may not have the money to buy a lot of groceries at once for meals. Between studying for exams, doing homework, going to class, work and maintaining somewhat of a social life, a student probably does not have the time to cook a healthy meal.
If you were to read a person’s food journal whose life consisted of being a full time student and a part time employee you might read that they had coco puffs for breakfast with whole milk. A monster energy drink for lunch, a McDonald’s combo meal for dinner, and chips and cookies for a snack. By reading this journal entry it is obvious that this person is very busy and possibly young. They had whole milk with their cereal, which no one over one year old needs to drink whole milk. They did not have time to eat lunch and they clearly needed energy, and their dinner was fast food. By the end of the day they binged on snacks since they did not eat enough throughout the day. It seems that this person does not cook, because they don’t have the money or the time. One can guess from this journal entry that this person was a student.
If you eat healthy then you are a healthy person simple as that. People, who make sure that they eat food in each food group, get enough vitamins and proteins and eat the right proportions of food usually have healthy bodies. People who eat healthy are not overweight or are losing weight from eating right. Healthy people fuel their bodies to be able to have the energy to do things and to think with a clear mind. Eating the right foods makes your skin stronger so that you have clear skin, and it makes your immune system stronger to fight off illnesses. Getting enough calcium keeps your bones and teeth strong. Not only that but eating right makes a person feel better about themselves and feel healthier. Eating well benefits a person’s body in many ways and can prevent many health problems and overall leads to a healthy body.
Someone who has a very poor diet and eats a lot of junk food has somewhat of a junky body. One very common side effect from not eating healthy is being over weight and out of shape. A result from being overweight can be high cholesterol, heart disease, diabetes and many other health problems. Getting enough vitamins and minerals is really important for a person’s body. With out getting enough vitamin B specifically, a person can have severe mood swings and can fall into depression, because vitamin B is needed to help regulate the hormone levels in the brain. Eating a lot of junk food and not eating enough food with protein and potassium can lead to a person feeling very tired, lazy and not having any energy. Not only can this lead to a person feeling tired but it can also lead to other health problems such as becoming anemic because of a lack of iron. Eating a lot of junk and processed food can really take a toll on a person’s body and can cause various health problems.
You are what you eat. If you eat a lot of junk like processed foods then you are turning your body into junk. If you eat a lot of healthy and fresh foods then your body is also healthy. What you eat tells you what kind of lifestyle you have and what kind of shape your body is in.

An Irish Tradition- Felecia Fast

Ever since I can remember, my grandparents have forced us to eat an authentic Irish dinner on Saint Patrick’s Day. This is because we are from Irish decent. My grandma told me that my generation is only 1/8 Irish, but still the dinner has to be kept a tradition for my mom’s side of the family. None of us grandkids enjoy this holiday; we don’t like being forced to eat something none of us care for. After a few years it starts to grow on you and become more tolerable.

The dinner includes little red potatoes, corn beef, cabbage, and Irish soda bread. The red potatoes are boiled in water in cheese cloth until they are soft and tender. The corned beef is cooked in the oven wrapped in foil to keep in the moisture. My favorite part of the dinner is the soda bread. I don’t like the real Irish soda bread; it had currents and nuts inside it. I like the loaf of my grandma makes for us grandkids. No disgusting things are found in the loaf of bread. We won’t even speak of the cabbage; it isn’t liked by anyone except my grandparents, and one of us grandkids, Madeline.

I always make sure to eat somewhat of a snack before heading over to my grandparents on Saint Patrick’s Day. I do this because I don’t want to let my tummy grumble after I have sat and “eaten” the dreaded dinner with my family. I don’t want to offend my grandparents and tell them I hate eating corned beef and cabbage, so I just eat it to make them happy.

As soon and you step foot in my grandparent’s house you can smell the aroma of the corn been and cabbage and the freshly baked bread that fills the house. The ten grandkids wait anxiously to eat because we are starving. While we wait for the dinner we play card games and do puzzles in the basement. When it’s time my aunts and uncles call us upstairs. We grandkids always get to fill our plates full. Well we don’t really FILL our plates; we all pick the littlest pieces of meat and take no cabbage. On my plate I take a lot of little red potatoes and a couple pieces of bread too.

All of the adults go back for seconds and thirds but we kids do not. My aunts and uncles, parents, and grandparents clean up all of the food my grandpa has prepared. When my grandpa cooks it looks like she has cooked for an army for a hundred people. But there is never any scraps left over.

I am so thankful that Saint Patrick’s Day only comes once a year because I would never choose to eat an Irish dinner on a normal day throughout the year. I do it just to make my grandparents happy. They want us to have a little culture from our ancestors. Even though corned beef and cabbage isn’t an authentic Irish dinner, my grandparents consider it to be close enough.

"You Eat What You Are" by Drew Churilla

The sharp sound of a guitar tears out of the speakers and the smashing of the drums shakes the ground. The crowd battles with the band members to see who can be louder. Every line that explodes from the main stage is copied back by the crowd of five-hundred screaming fans. The line “When its dog eat dog, you are what you eat” echoes in the stadium. This line is one of many meaningful ones that have earned the band Megadeth their fame and success.

“You Are What You Eat” has become a cliché used in everything from advertisements to music. It has a literal meaning side, which has been used by companies in advertisements saying ‘you are what you eat, so eat healthy’. At the same time it has been used in deeper, more meaningful ways, like in the song “Bite the Hand” by Megedeth, “When It’s Dog Eat Dog You Are What You Eat.” But while this phrase’s uses are effective in conveying these messages, is it a legitimate expression?

Obviously, this expression cannot be taken in the most literal sense, for example, if someone eats a lot of fast food, they are not comparable to fast food. Rather someone who eats a lot of fast food matches with the stereotype of the ‘ideal’ American; someone who is overweight, lazy and a low paying job. As someone whose main diet is a mix of fast food, and frozen dinners, how would I apply this phrase to myself? When I try to view the stereotype of people who eat frozen food, I think it goes with the idea of little laziness, hurriedness, and just starting to be self reliant (can’t cook). The mix of these ideas does match me pretty well, I can be lazy, I’m often in a hurry, and I can’t cook at all.

Despite the fact that this expression usually works, there is one major flaw I see in it; the fact that “You Are” comes before “You Eat”. To me, this implies that what you are is dependent on what you eat. This cannot be because who you are is what you want to be, not what you eat. For example, a professional athlete does what he/she does because that is what they want to be, they didn’t become an athlete because eating healthy helped put them in shape. They eat healthy because they want to be or continue being an athlete.

Another example is wealthy people. If “You Are What You Eat” then wealthy people, eating the stereotypical fancy food prepared by others, are wealthy because of what they eat. But instead, what they eat is dependent on what they can afford and what kind of image they want to maintain for themselves and others.

One more stereotype is many young men and women who live to play computer games eat a lot of easy junk food like huge bags of chips and gallons of soda. This is another instance where what someone eats is based on what is most convenient for them. Food like chips allows these people to focus on what is most important to them. The cliché of this group drinking a lot of soda keeps them filled with sugar and caffeine which allows them to stay up until 5am every night playing their games.

What all these examples show is that no food is limited to a single group of people and no group of people of limited to one food or one set of foods. People eat whatever they feel like eating, what they can afford, and what works with their schedule and abilities.

I believe this phrase would work better if it was “You Eat What You Are.” This version is more understandable to me as what you eat is based on what you are. This idea matches reality much more closely. Saying this phrase this way however takes away the cleaver and deep meaning feel of it.

“You Are What You Eat” is simply another commonly used cliché phrase used by everyone to help convey any kind of meaning they need.

Images from: Concert and Drive Thru

Good Ole' Southern Cookin'

Five years ago my family and I relocated from Colorado Springs, Colorado to Asheville, North Carolina. Life down south is much different than what most Coloradans experience. I suffered from culture shock initially but eventually fell in love with the southern ways and especially the down home good ol’ southern cookin’. Fried chicken, rice and homemade brown gravy, fresh green beans, and peach cobbler, could a meal sound any better? This particular meal has become one of my absolute favorites. To some of you this may just sound overly fattening but to most southerners this dish is a natural custom and will be passed from generation to generation.
On one crisp fall afternoon my boyfriend Luke invited me over to his house to meet his family for the first time. He invited me on that specific day based on what his momma was makin’ for supper. He wanted me to join him and his family in a traditional southern meal. Luke picked me up from my house at about 4:15pm because supper at his house is promptly served at 5:00pm with or without him.
As I walked through the front door, Luke’s hand guiding me like a young toddler, my nose was overwhelmed with the sweet yet sour smell of fresh, ripe peaches. My mouth began to water, and my stomach began to grumble. Luke walked me to the kitchen to introduce me to his mom. “Momma, this is Kaitlen.” “Nice to meet you sweet heart, I hope your hungry” she replied. I shook her soft, delicate hand filled with gorgeous rings. I looked around the kitchen to notice that each counter was filled with a different ingredient. Luke’s mom announced to me that she was “makin’ some fried chicken with some rice and gravy, some green beans, and peach cobbler, the best around.” I was delighted to hear that I was actually going to like all of the foods prepared. At first I was scared she was going to make cheesy grits, which is totally disgusting, and I still haven’t acquired the taste for those things. His mom asked him to set the table while she and I would finish up in the kitchen. She took the peach cobbler out of the oven and set it on the counter. The cobbler looked heavenly, a shiny glaze covering the top. She cut it into squares and the guts poured into the creases. The peaches were bright orange covered in little brown specs. “We are gonna’ let this baby cool while we eat, but will you bring the chicken and put it on the table honey?” “Yes ma’am” I responded. I inspected the chicken as I carried it over to the table. Its brown color looked inviting and I could envision the crunch that would occur when I took a chunk out of a piece.
It was 5 o’ clock on the dot when we all sat down for supper. Luke’s dad said grace, and mentioned how thankful they were that I was able to join them for this meal, “Amen, and DIG IN!” he declared. I started with scooping rice onto my plate and covering it in salty, creamy gravy. I decided to have a chicken leg instead of a chicken breast. As I picked the chicken leg up little golden pieces crumbled back into the dish. Luke passed the green beans to me and I spooned them onto my plate. My stomach was jumping inside, excited to eat all of this tasty food. The chicken was fried to perfection, the outside layer had just enough crispness and the meat was still tender. The green beans from the garden had a terrific snap but weren’t too brittle. And the rice and gravy melted in my mouth.
After we all finished our main meal, Luke’s mom brought out the cooled peach cobbler and home made whip cream. She granted me with the first piece and made me take the first bite. I hadn’t ever tasted anything like it. The whip cream provided just enough sweetness to balance the fresh peaches. The peaches weren’t soggy, they were the perfect texture. The brown sugar made the cobbler “bounce in your mouth.” I finished the piece and was stuffed. I couldn’t shove another thing into my stomach. “Thank you for this fantastic meal, I am pleased to say that this meal ranks among my favorite!” Luke’s mom was glad to hear I enjoyed her classic southern cookin’ considering I was from out west.
Southerners hold home cooking and baking near and dear to their hearts. That was my first “real” soul food I had encountered since moving. Although I am back in Colorado again, I will never let my love for southern food go. It isn’t always the healthiest but it sure is one of the tastiest.

The Torturous Food from My Past- Ashley Crowe

As I sit at the table starring at the unrecognizable food piled on my plate, I wish that I had a different mom or one that at least cooked normal food that didn’t look like someone had already ate it and puked it back up just for me to enjoy. This was a reoccurring thought I had growing up. My stepmom was raised in Wyoming. She grew up in a very Midwestern “Red Neck” home. They never had a lot of money; because of this her parents had to find unique ways to make dinners and other meals on a low budget. Unfortunately, this practice continued into my stepmoms adulthood and therefore into my childhood. I grew up knowing we weren’t rich people but I was pretty sure we weren’t poor either, so I never understood why she made these ungodly meals, casseroles.

My mom would never warn me when she was planning to cook these “meals” but it got to a point that I could tell just by the way it smelled when I walked in the front door. Sweet green beans, juicy, slightly overcooked, chicken mixed with the unique smell of melted butter, moist graham crackers and the oily, milky aroma of homemade gravy. The combination of those smells was my indicator to call my friends and see if I could eat with any of them. Now normally, for other people, that would be the smell of a delicious dinner maybe consisting of grilled chicken with delicious homemade gravy and fresh cut green beans but not when my stepmom was standing at the stove. When my house was covered in that smell I knew it was not going to be a good dinner.

I'm not exactly the best judge for food either, Growing up I was a really picky eater. I had about five food groups when I was a kid; peanut butter and jelly, Kraft macaroni and cheese, cereal, cheese, and pizza. I never ate a lot of green vegetables, fruit, or meat for the longest time. On top of that I hated and still hate when different foods touch that shouldn’t be let alone these foods are mixed together in the same dish and cooked. So the nights where we had these casseroles like dinners were my worst nightmare.

I sit at the table starring at the unrecognizable food sitting on my plate, wishing that I had a different mom or one that at least cooked “normal” food that didn’t look like someone had already ate it and puked it back up just for me to enjoy. This dish that is topped with a golden layer of sweet honey graham crackers trying to fool someone into thinking that was underneath the crispy, golden layer is actually sweet and delicious. In reality, what lay beneath was really this creamy tan slime quicksand that has captured pieces of chicken, corn, and green beans and held them all hostages. As I go to take my mandatory “no thank you bite “( I don’t know if I should explain this or not), regretting every movement I make because I already know that I don’t like it. If I didn’t like it last time whet makes my parents think I'm going to like it this time. Every second slowly ticks by. My wish that I had a normal cook for a mom is a deep concern. I can see my hand coming towards my mouth with a spoonful of the goop, even though I'm screaming at it not to. As the spoon goes into my mouth, I try not to gag as I feel the intense slime stick to the sides of my mouth. The chunks beating against my tongue and the taste of dirt with milk and the dry dull taste of bark mixed with grainy texture of sand. As I breathe in deep and ignore the urge to vomit all over the table, I shut my eyes and force myself to swallow. One big gulp and its gone but the taste still lingers in my mouth. I proudly show my mom I swallowed and ask to be excused.

I scoot my chair out as fast and as quietly as I can. I rush into the kitchen, dump my plate in the sink, and grab a glass from the cupboard. I open the fridge door; grab the closest jug I can see, and poor, slightly excited as I see the bright green liquid poor out, lime Kool-Aide, my favorite. The liquid hits the top of the glass, I grab and chug. I can feel the ice cool liquid fill my mouth and glide down my throat. The taste of sweet green gummy bears sweeps away the last lingering taste of the nasty goop dinner. As I take the last big gulp I start to feel a slight smile come across my face. I set my cup down and realize it’s all over at least for now.

Though I am not found of those memories, I am thankful for what those dinners and situations have taught me. First, that no matter how hard me or my parents try, there are just some foods I will never like. Second, sometimes shitty situations happen and there is nothing you can do to get out of them. All you can do is take a deep breath, close your eyes, and force yourself to swallow because at the end of it all you will be able to set your cup down and be able to smile.

(Final Draft) Bringing the Family Together One Meal at a Time -Clajoie

“All systems go!” Jason boomed.

“Roger, preparing for take off!” I acknowledged back.

Sitting on the rust spattered remains of a jungle-gym, I began to flip switches in the imaginary cockpit. Jason, my brother, began pitching his voice higher and higher as the count down neared launch. Mimicking the rocket boosters, he started to make his way towards me as our imaginations took charge of the current space mission.

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Ignition!” I shouted.

As my brother and I shot through the atmosphere, feeling the Earth’s gravitational pull push down on us, our ship’s boosters detached and the main engines took charge…

“Chris! Jason! Dinner's ready!” Mother called out through the screen door.

In the backyard with the midday's sun gleaming down upon us, whether playing “deep-space,” baseball, or just plain rough-housing; my brother and I would always work up an appetite. Feeding two growing boys on a budget was a lot of hard work for my parents. It took time, skill, and effort to put the love into every dish they made. My parents always took turns cooking through out the week. Mom did the majority of the baking and prepared a lot of the meals that were time-consuming. Dad specialized in Brinner (breakfast for dinner) and always did the grilling for the household; burgers, BBQ chicken, fish, you name it, he grilled it. Both of my parents worked full time, but it was still important to sit down and eat together as a family every night. To this day, a few dishes still stand out and make me salivate every time I think about them.

My father wasn’t much of a cook, but the few things he could whip up would satisfy any appetite. One of my favorites when I was a youngster was his Wagon Wheel Pie. Whether he got the recipe from the side of some box or came up with the idea on his own, I don’t care, it was delicious! You knew Dad was cooking up something special when the pungent odor of browned sausage links and green onions filled your nostrils as soon as you opened the door. Right then and there, I knew instantly what he was concocting. This dish is very unusual. Almost a casserole, but not the typical breakfast, it has all the components that one would consider makes up a hot morning meal. Egg, biscuit, sausage, potatoes, and an assortment of diced vegetables that often get put into an omelet. With a dash of this, an extra teaspoon of that, my father had put his own side notes on the recipe card. Through the many years of cooking this treat for the family, he had perfected the art of the Wagon Wheel Pie. Splotched with grease, the ink on the card now fades from the occasional spill or mishap of creating this masterpiece in the past. The card that carries his secret is all I have left of this meal these days.

But my father's meals weren't the only fond culinary memories from my childhood; my mother is also a fantastic cook. Looking back, I can remember anticipating sitting down and eating with my family. Choosing a particular entrée to mention however is tough; there are many dishes that come to mind. One of my personal favorites was her Green Chile. It took a week to prepare the Chile, so like any impatient adolescent it was painstakingly hard to wait for it. Being teased by the daily preparation of ingredients made me just want it more. One day, it would be the intoxicating smell of pork browning in the skillet; and the next day your mouth wouldn’t stop watering with the smell of Hatch Chiles floating through the air. The hardest part about the wait was having the Chile slow-cook over a period of two or three days. All you want to do is taste it, and believe me I tried, but that was a good way to get your hand smacked and a lecture about how it’s not ready to eat. The day that it was finally ready was almost like Christmas morning for my brother and I. The table would be silent the whole meal because everyone was just smacked upside the head with contentment and a side of euphoria with the rush of endorphins flowing from head to toe. The Chile would last two or three meals; smothered burritos were enjoyed, but the breakfast burritos were worshiped.

The time our family spent sitting at the dinner table was priceless, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Bringing together our family with the incredible meals my parents prepared is something I am very thankful for and I hope to pass the tradition down to my children. I remember sitting around the table and sharing my daily events with everyone. Family time goes beyond eating, it’s a great way of communication and staying connected with your loved ones. I didn’t get to see my parents a lot growing up, but dinners brought us together. I hope to one day cook these wonderful dishes for my family and put as much love into it as my parents did for us.

Once again it would not let me reference photos.

Picture 1(Space shuttle)- http://astroprofspage.com/archives/1063

Picture2(Wagon wheel pie)- http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Wagon-Wheel-Breakfast-Pie (Fyi it is not the same recipe listed)

Picture3(Green Chiles)- http://nochoiceatall.blogspot.com/2009/10/hatch-green-chile-stew.html