Food Memoir

When I was a young child my father had always brought home a little surprise for me. At that time my brother was 2 or 3 years old. One night my dad had brought home a white bag with him. He had a smile on his face as he took off his shoes and walked up to me suffocating me in a big bear hug. Being the child that I was I hugged him back. By the time that he let go of the hug my face was about as blue as the ocean and I was gasping for air. He lowered himself to my level and looked at me with a big smile plastered on his face.

“Guess what I got for you today? I looked at him straight in the eyes with a questioning face, but soon his smile started to catch on to me as I started to giggle and jump up and down in excitement.

“What is it! What is it,” I was still jumping up and down happily wondering what might me in the bag which my father had brought. For all my child self knew it could have a magical unicorn in it.

He started to stand up and ruffled my hair while handing me the bag saying, “Why don't you go and see what is inside!” I smiled as he held the bag in front of me. I took the bag from his held out hand and started running to the other room. My heart raced as I heard my little feet pitter and patter against the wooden floor that was below me. I could hear my mom yelling at me from the kitchen to stop running since I was making too much noise. My slowed down hearing my mother's request and tried to make as little noise as possible while still running as fast as I could.

My feet finally slowed down to a walking pace and all I heard was my deep in and exhales of panting. I could feel a few tiny drops forming and falling from my head. The droplets slid down my cheekbone sending a few shivers down my spine. They grazed past my lips and slowly fell off my face landing on the hard floor which was lying under me. I could still feel the smile that was on my face. Not in the entire run had my smile even drop. I plopped on the ground to feel the cold floor mix with my warm temperature. The anticipation of finding out what was inside the bag was killing me more than ever. I untied the bag which was on my hand and put in on my lap. Unfolding the tight not which was holding the bag from opening. While I started to dig and fiddling with the knot my smile had turned into a concentrated frown as I put my full focus on untying the bag. I finally got it loose enough. I grabbed the sides of the bag and pulled on it gently but tightly enough that it would untie itself.

To my satisfaction the bag had opened easily. I slowly put my hand inside the bag and started to dig inside. I took a peek inside only to find another packaged item. I let out a huff as I picked it up and put it in my hands. I started to examine the weird packaged item. The package was wrapped in a yellow plastic wrapper to keep me from looking inside to see the content of the package. I frowned slightly and started to try and open the packaging. Fiddling with the packaging I couldn't see a sign of it opening. I let out a sigh of defeat and started trying to think of more ways to open the weird package.

I looked at the package and suddenly got an idea. My eyes almost shone like stars. I knew that my mom would probably scold me for doing this, but it was an emergency! I took the package in my hand and
brought it up to my mouth. I opened my mouth showing my teeth which I used to bite into the yellow packaged object. I held the package with my hands and my mouth holding the way that I was going to open it. While I pulled downwards with my hands I pulled upwards with my teeth.

It took me a while o finally open the packaging since it was made of plastic, but I finally got it to open. I smiled brightly at my accomplishment. I looked at the package which now had a big and wide opening in it. I looked in the opening to see a bunch of weird oval shaped pieces. My attention was not towards the 
shape of the weird object, but to the different colors that were filled inside the opening of the yellow packaging. The yellow package was filled with all the colors of the rainbow. I slowly reached into the packaging cautiously and took out the first small object which I touched. I pulled out my hand and looked at the small object. I didn't really know if it was edible or not, but i knew that it was as small as an ant and that it was an oval shape. At first I didn't really want to try it, but finally curiosity took over me and I put the oval shaped item in my mouth. The texture of it was hard at first, but bit by bit the outer shell broke and I felt the touch of chocolate dance on my mouth. It was like a butterfly had just come out of its cacone. I started to chew the shell which was left from the chocolate that was just in my mouth and another blast of sugar had escaped into my mouth, it was like a sudden blast of electricity. I was too stunned/shocked to even move for a while. There was one thing that stood out in my mind at this point in my life. Whatever this was it tasted amazing. I started to dig in the package for more of these delicious yet weird looking candy.

I stared down at my hands which were now filled with the different colors of the rainbow. I got up and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. I smiled as I washed my hands. I had learned an important lesson which was to never judges something or someone by the way that they appear. I did promise myself another thing though. I will never forget the taste of the candy which I had just tried tonight.

Mistaken

I stared at the tv intentivly notbothering to look up from the cartoon that I was watching. My mom had called me for something which I had no idea for because everything that she had said came in one ear and the other ear. Instead of paying attention to what she said I continued to stare at the tv. From what I knew about my mother she would probably come in person if I didn't hear her once or twice. Without even lifting my eyes from the tv I yelled a, “What!” at her. I think that she took it as a chance to come to me in person and tell me in person because I heard footsteps coming closer and closer to me. There was a sudden stop in the footsteps which I heard and I knew that it meant she was here. I sighed as I shifted my eyes and head to her and looked at her with a questioning face.

She held one hand on her hip and the other was pointing at the tv with the remote. She looked at me with an angered face. I looked at her as if things had turned to slow motion. It was like in one of those action movies and she was the bad guy about to enact a bomb. My face looked horrified as I jumped up from my position trying to stop her. Plunging back into reality she hit the button faster than i could even get off the ground. I looked at her with a pouting face and she let out a sight while pinching the bridge of her nose and repeating what she for the third time.

“I said to come to the other room and change your clothes, we’re going outside,” she turned her back to me and walked off, probably to my brothers room. I slowly got off my seat on the ground and went to the room where my clothes had been laid out for me. I started to undress and then called for my mom to help me put on my new clothes. I let out a small sigh in my mind noting that one of these days I need to do it on my own. She changed my attire in the blink of an eye. I sometimes think that she might be a reincarnation of the Flash. I picked herself up and started to walk out before turning to me.

“You and wear your shoes, I’m going to go and get your brother ready to head out,” she said with a smile as she turned and headed out. I let out a small grumble. Im her child too. Why does he get to have all the attention. I kept grumbling small words as I went to wait by the door for my mom and my brother.

I tapped my foot in frustration. “What is taking them so long,” I questioned in my mind. I don't know how long that I have been waiting for them, but it seems like forever. I still don't know why she didn't listen to me when I told her to give him up. I let out a huff as I remembered when my younger brother was just born. He isn't that young. I mean we are only 1 year and 9 months apart. I was shaken out of my thoughts by loud-ish footsteps which were coming my way. I looked up smiling. The moment that she had come close enough I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the stairs forgetting that she needed to lock the door. I didn't bother to look up at my attention hogging brother. After she had walked back a few steps to lock the door and came back to me. A big smile started to grow on my face. I took a hold of my mother's hands and started to drag her down the stairs while running.I could hear her let out a small yelp of surprise  behind me. Ignoring her little yelp I continued to drag her down the stairs not bothering to look up from the stairs. I had a sudden urge to look behind me. At first I ignored the feeling and continued on running down the stairs, but the feeling kept growing and growing until it finally took over and I let my head turn around a small bit to take a peek at the action that was behind me.

I saw my mom holding onto my younger brother tightly afraid that he might fall. A small grin formed on my face as I thought that he had got what he deserved for today. Finally, I averted my attention from him and when I looked forward I could see a small ray of sunshine. I continued to drag my mother behind me and started to run faster as the rays of sun got brighter and brighter. I knew that I was getting closer to the exit of our house. I felt like a bird that was escaping her cage after being trapped there for the longest time.

I jolted my body to stop as I felt the heat of the sun on my skin. My face beamed like there was no tomorrow as the rays of sunlight danced upon my skin. I turned my head back to my mother and saw her panting for air while clutching onto my brother like it was her life and it was running away. I felt a little bit of guilt hit me and I let out an awkward chuckle as I rubbed the back of my nec. Both of my hands were free now. I looked at my mother who was now shaking her head with a frown, but then let out a sigh. She gripped my hand tightly enough to make sure that I couldn’t get out of her grasp, and yet her hand was still gentle. We started to walk toward a meadow kind of place. I forgot that we were ever walking and let my body walk while my mind was somewhere else. It was like an autopilot thing.

After a while I felt a tug in my hand which signalized that I should stop walking and we were here. A smile started to decorate my face as I heard my mother's sweet voice saying “We're here!” i quickly untangled my hand from hers and started to run around and play. I ran around and played in the mud. I did everything possible that I could think of doing and soon just like almost every child who comes outside i got bored and tired. I plopped myself on the ground and started to dig around in the dirt looking for worms or anything that would catch my interest. I tilted my head to the side and finally found something which caught my attention and interest. It was a dark brown color and maybe even black. I picked it up without any effort given and put it up to my nose to give it a sniff. The oval shaped object reminded me of something which I couldn’t remember. I stared at the weird object and tried to get my brain to think about what it reminded me of.

Finally, after thinking for a long time I remembered it. It looked like chocolate! I started to not only fill my hand and every pocket that I had on my, but also my mouth. I felt my mouth starting to drop into a frown because of the weight that was being applied in my mouth. I started to walk to my mom. While wanting to savor the taste I didn't bite into the chocolate pieces which were in my mouth. I walked like a penguin up to my mom who was now trying to rest after playing with my brother.(The weird thing was that although I walked like a penguin I looked like a squirrel with my mouth full)

The look on her face when she saw me and what i was holding was horrified. The moment she realized what I had in my mouth, hands, and pockets she rushed up to me while cupping my face with her hands and started to make me spit out all of the chocolate pieces that were in my mouth.

I later learned that it was actually goat poop and not chocolate. I was so glad that I didn't eat them and walked to my mom first. After that I also had to thoroughly wash my mouth.

The Secret Behind the Chopsticks: Seoul Food

THE SECRET BEHIND THE CHOPSTICKS: SEOUL FOOD

By: Jennifer Lee

A small groan of complaint escaped my chapped lips as the sun glared down at me. Squinting my eyes, I glared right back at it, urging it to stop burning holes into my skin with its stinging rays. As usual, I lost the staring contest, and my eyes drifted to the small phone with a case that had a similar hue to the sky above me. Sighing in defeat, I grasped my patterned backpack a bit tighter while I merely stayed seated on the warm concrete of the stairs, staring at the happy screams of children whom were years younger than me. Envious of their freedom, I looked away, my mind drifting to all the assignments I had to complete that day. Suddenly, a soft buzz and a hum of a sweet melody entered my unsuspecting ears, causing hope to flutter in my stomach, filling the previously empty space. Eyes lighting up, I scrambled to my feet and raced past the wired fence that imprisoned yards of burning concrete, the countless trees with their bright green leaves, and the wisps of small smiles from familiar faces. As soon as I swiped across the shining screen at the device I was holding in my sweaty hands, I automatically pressed the cool glass against my right ear and immediately recognized the person even without looking at the contact icon.

“Nedyuwa [Come down],” his masculine voice flowed through the phone.

“Adasu [Okay],” I replied shortly.

The call ended with a small BEEP as my hand dropped back to its original place, the electronic that was still caught in my tight grip. Our phone calls were never the longest, but it didn’t matter to me at the time, since I was going to see him in a few moments. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could with my short little legs and feet, my bag hitting my back each step I took. Hopping down the last three stairs, my sneakers smacked onto the ground. Quickly regaining my balance, I briskly turned and exited through two large fence doors. My feet skidded to a stop as I analyzed my surroundings. Searching for a certain silver car, I soon spotted it, with the only inhabitant calmly awaiting inside at the other side of the road. A silly grin broke out onto my face as my head turned to the right and the left to check that no vehicles of any kind were passing. Assured that nothing was heading in my direction, I scurried across the cracked road. Finally reaching the Honda, I reached out and grabbed the warm handle of the door. Flinging it open, I felt a cool breeze drift across my skin. Mentally sighing at the bit of refreshing air, I giddily jumped into the back seat, throwing my bag onto the empty spot next to me. Shifting in the driver’s seat, the man turned around to see me in his line of vision.

“Hi apa! [Hi daddy!]” my voice cheerfully rang out.

“Hi Jenny!” he said, returning the enthusiasm.

We conversed, asking about each other’s day and of course, if I had homework. Our voices filled the space in the car, with the occasional comfortable pause of silence. Now here was the real challenge: find a parking spot. My eyes narrowed as they skimmed over the rows and rows of cars, waiting to pass by an empty space. Minutes (that felt like hours) passed, and we drove past the same street for the tenth time. I was slowly becoming more and more agitated as seconds ticked by. Suddenly, I visibly stiffened in my seat, soon regaining my composure. A growl had almost escaped my rumbling stomach, and I was trying hard not to show my discomfort since I didn't want to seem whiny.

“Apa. Jogi hana eenunde. [Daddy. There’s one over there.]” I calmly motioned to the empty space that I had spotted, keeping the irritation out of my high-pitched voice. The hunger was getting to me, and at a fast rate, which was not a good combination with my short temper. Following the vague path that was being shown with a point of a finger, he grasped the steering wheel, and backed up into the space. With the sound of the motor dying down, we exited the air conditioned car, and, almost immediately, I felt a heat wave crash over my recently cooled skin, engulfing me in its burning flames. My dad grabbed my bag from its former place next to me and easily slung it across his shoulder, then locked the car with the press of a button. His tall structure towered over mine, glasses refracting the bright light of the sun, and smiled down at my shorter form. Me being me, I naively ran all the way to my apartment, which happened to be rather far, considering my little nine-year old legs. The trees seemed to blur around me and the miniscule, amused smiles of strangers were barely caught by my dark brown, almost onyx, colored eyes.

I’M SO FAASSSSSSSSTTTTTT! I thought, while moving at the speed of a small dog running, probably slower. Panting, I grinned childishly, as I looked behind me and saw my dad smoothly walking a couple meters away. Grabbing the gray metal of the door handle, I swung the glass door open and let myself inside. I smirked evilly to myself as I pulled on the handle on the other side of the glass door, preventing anyone to be let inside as long as I kept my firm grip. My dad reached the front entrance and tugged on the door’s handle, only to find that he had a bit of trouble doing so. Looking down, he spotted my small figure that had an impish expression adorning my small, round face. Of course, with his strength being superior to mine, he applied more pressure, and was able to open the door. Giggling, I moved back from the door to make way for the taller man. Smiling at me, he took out his keys and checked the mail. Meanwhile, I just stared at the mirror that served as a wall in the lobby and made faces at it. Unlocking the front door, my dad held it open for me. Gliding across the threshold, I murmured a few words of gratitude. As we strolled along the long hallway, a glimpse of a polished door came into view. Pressing the elevator button, my dad and I enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of the room, with the soft whirring of the air conditioner protruding the silence. When the elevator came to the lobby after a few minutes of waiting, we entered the small space and pushed the button engraved with the number “2”. The walls were a marble-like design, with a ceiling that had a built-in ventilation system and rows of buttons with various digits labeled on them, along with braille on the bottom of each one. The door slowly closed, encasing us in the elevator. With such a quiet mood, anyone might have thought that the atmosphere was awkward, but between my dad and I, we both understood that we were comfortable with just acknowledging each other's presence.  Reaching our floor, we stepped out. My dad, once again, took out his keys and unlocked our home door. Walking inside, our stomachs let out slow rumbles that had been held in for a while. As my dad set down my bag and turned on the air conditioner, we looked at each other with a mischievous glint in our almost identical eyes.

“Begopa? [Hungry?]” my dad questioned.

“Uh. Apa nun?[Uh (kind of like yes in Korean, but it doesn’t exactly translate to that). What about you?]” I replied. It had been a long day after all.

“Mo mugoole? [What do you want to eat?]” he asked.

“Ummm...” I thought, heading tilting upwards.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in both of our heads.

“RAMYUN! [RAMEN!]” we blurted out in sync, with identical smiles on our faces.

My dad’s ramen wasn’t the regular, everyday instant ramen you might see in supermarkets. Korean ramen itself is quite different, and we only have it on rare occasions since my mom isn’t a fan of having something unhealthy as a meal. The brand that we usually purchase is called “Shin Ramen” (no, not as in the body part “shin”, but “shin” as in spicy. It is not a Korean word, but from Chinese, since Korean includes some Chinese characters). Most Koreans and Korean ramen companies prefer spicier ramen, thus as a child, my dad would usually have it as a meal. Being experienced with the dish and all, he would make his own and experiment with it as a child.

We agreed that while he made the ramen, I would complete some of my homework. I glided into my room, and got straight to work. My mechanical pencil flitted across the paper of my assignments, making scratches of sentences, lines, and numbers in my neat handwriting.

Finishing off a math problem, I heard my dad’s voice ring out.

“Dahesu! Bapmukja! [I’m done! Let’s eat!]”

“Okay!” I replied, gathering up my stuff and organizing everything.

Running out, my face lit up at the sight of the familiar food. It was still bubbling, its red soup base enveloping the noodles and the various spices. My dad was already seated at the table, chopsticks in hand. Sitting down and grabbing a pair of chopsticks for myself, I had a bowl of ramen set in front of me. We broke the wooden chopsticks in half, and dug in.

“Kahmsamnida! [an informal “Thank you!”: I never was one for formalities, especially in front of my parents],” I slurped, already starting to eat. The taste always burned my tongue, as there were chili peppers used in the soup base, but I paid it no heed. At certain times, I would take a few sips of water in attempt to soothe my burning mouth. Even though we enjoy talking during meals, this was the exception. Only the sounds of our satisfied slurping dared to break the tranquility of the cozy apartment. Being the slower eater, I finished ten minutes after my dad did, yet that didn’t change the outcome. After eating such a spicy ramen, and during the summer time as well, we were left with runny noses and watery eyes.

“Eating warm things during the summer is good for you, especially since you eat so much ice cream. Your body temperature lowers, as it needs to adapt to the warm climate. So, by eating hot foods, your temperature will stay normal, and perhaps you won’t catch as many summer colds,” my dad would say to me.

Although it may not seem like it, I never really liked spicy foods too much when I was little, since my tongue was sensitive. As I grew older and older, I experienced new foods and new cuisines, gaining new tastes. But, deep inside, I always knew that the ramen that I had as a young girl, and still consume today, would be one of my favorites, since it started this long journey. My long journey through food, family, and Korean culture.

Dad’s Special Ramen Recipe

(WARNING: NOT FOR THOSE WHO CANNOT DEAL WITH SPICE OR DISLIKE IT)

Ingredients:

Shin Ramen Pack (store-bought, and the amount varies - if you want to serve more, put in more packages. For two people, two packages is best, and so on.)

Chopsticks (or anything that you can stir the ramen with)

Water

Stove

Pot

Trivet (or hot pad)

Bowls

Instructions:

1. Gather all your ingredients.

2. Take your pot, and pour in water until it has at least been filled up halfway.

3. Put the pot on the stove, but do not turn on the flame.

4. Open the ramen package, and take out the noodles. There should be multiple packets (which are seasonings, flavorings, etc.) as well, and those will need to be opened. Pour in these ingredients into the pot.

5. Turn on the flame to high.

6. Take your chopsticks and carefully stir, keeping the noodles intact.

7.  Stir until the noodles are soft.

8. As soon as the noodles are soft, turn off the flame and take the pot off the stove quickly, yet carefully.

9. Place the pot on the trivet/hot pad.

10. Serve the ramen by putting them into bowls. It is best when eaten as soon as it is served.

11. Enjoy!

The First Glimmer Of Culture

A Found Poem Adopted From Tom Birchard
by Anna C. Hermann

I have a confession to make 

I adopted the Ukrainian community

I know the tradition: a humble dilapidated

I found I loved the food: pierogi and borscht, its first glimmer of living culture 

I wasn't interested in the appearance of garlic or salt, but I loved Veselka and its own special culture

pastelito food memoir :)

In the streets of Inwood, I grew up. I learned how to make so many things. But in my grandmother’s kitchen, I learned how to make my favorite of all.

I walked into the apartment, expecting my favorite hello, “EMELI!” my grandmother would whisper-shout my middle name. Just enough excitement or ‘animo’( as called in spanish) as a regular scream, but with an inside voice. I would respond with, “Bendicion, mama,” the respectful greeting to an elder. I jumped into her arms for our everlasting, ‘no-hands’ hug because she would always come to greet me from the kitchen, hands dirty from whatever she had been cooking that day. Today she smelled of adobo and freshly made pastelito discs. The meat seasoning, adobo stung my nostrils, making them confused, for I had just come in from the rainy outdoors with very bland smells. I wondered if she had used too much that I could smell it on her. Then I remembered her master cooking skills and thought, never. I walked into the kitchen after her, ready for the heavy smoke and intense heat from the stove.

“Pastelitos?” I asked

“Yes, darling,” she responded in spanish

“Can I help?”

“Claro mami, wash your hands,”

“Yay!”

With excitement, I ran from the kitchen into her and my grandfather’s bedroom to put down my bag, breathing in the mix of sweet perfume and strong cologne in the air. Before I went to wash my hands, I had to stop at my uncle’s room.

I sniffed the air in front of his door. An even stronger cologne along with the two egg and cheese sandwiches that he had for lunch (one always unfinished and left somewhere on the floor) entered my nose. I could hear the television playing an old movie so I ran in and jumped into his arms. “EMELI!” he whisper-shouted as he squeezed me until I couldn’t breath. His mouth was dirty from whatever food he just ate, shirtless and smiling. I couldn’t picture my uncle any other way. “Bendicion, tio! Mama’s making pastelitos! And I’m gonna help!” I tried to contain my excitement and use my ‘indoor voice’ but it wasn’t working.

“Niiiiiiice. Bring me some,” always his response at the talk of my grandmother’s cooking. This I couldn’t blame him for. Everyone loves my grandma’s food. Something about it is just special. It always will be. I gave him a final hug before I left, my tiny body squashed like a pancake under the pressure of his. He must have been two feet and Lord knows how many pounds larger than I was at the time. Still, I made my way to his face and kissed him on the forehead, his frizzy curls in my eyes. I jumped off of his bed and yelled, “Byeee!” as I ran to my aunt’s room.

“Bendicion, titi! Mama’s making pastelitos! And I’m gonna help!” I said quicker, more anxious to wash my hands and get to the kitchen.

“Hey Emi. Que Dios te bendiga.” I jumped on her bed and squeezed her, breathing in her fruity perfume. She had just gotten home from work, lying on her bed in black slacks and a black blazer, atop her hot pink shirt. I always loved that quality about her: she could turn a something plain and boring into something bright and exciting. Her work clothes always showed this. “Wowww,” she responded, dragging out every syllable. “Okay, I gotta go!” I jumped off of her bed, falling to the floor, on my rear. The bed was about as tall as I was. I picked myself up and ran to the bathroom. I threw my shoes off and stepped barefoot into the bathroom, loving the ice cold, wooden tiles on my feet. On tippy-toe, I extended my arms, struggling to reach the soap container and with the other I pushed the top down. I then washed my hands, barely breezing over my hand-washing song, more and more anxious to get to the kitchen. From there, I raced to the kitchen, almost falling when I finally got there. “I’m ready, mama!”

“ Muy bien!”

She slid my step stool against the washing machine with her foot. There sat four plates waiting to be put to use. One had cheese, cut into squares, one had ground beef, one had pastelito discs, and one was empty.  I felt bad for that one plate but was then reassured once I realized that it would be the happiest, holding our creations. In spanish she told me, “This is what you do. Take a disc, put a few chunks of cheese in the middle and fold the disc over, then, take a fork and press the sharp thingies around the edge. Flip over the pastelito again and press them in around the edge again on the other side.  For the meat ones, put a spoonful in the center and do the same. then, leave them on the plate for me to fry.” I looked into her beautiful, dark eyes the whole time, not completely listening at all. I had the procedure already memorized. I thought about how much I loved her. One day, I’m gonna teach her how to make something, I thought to myself. As she walked to the stove to check on the rice, I started preparing the pastelitos. Fill. Fold. Indent. Flip. Indent, again. Repeat. I always had trouble indenting the fork, mostly because it was too large for my small hands. I always figured that she would give me the biggest fork she could find, just to mess with me. I didn’t mind because she would laugh and then come over and do it with me. She would take my hand and we would close up the pastelitos, one by one. When I finished making them all, my grandmother would walk to the frying pan and turn on the stove. With her hands, she’d place as many that could fit onto the pan, into the sizzling oil. Pop. pop. pop. The burning oil flew out of the pan, onto my hand. “Owww,”

“Go sit in la sala and wait. You’re just going to get more burned in here,”

“Nooo, mamaaaa. I wanna watch. Pleeaase?”

“ Fine. But go over there!” she finally gave in, pointing to the end of the kitchen, by the door.

Good enough, I thought.  

I watched  her put in and take out the pastelitos. She seemed immune to the burning oil, popping everywhere. They were finally ready, after what seemed like an eternity. My favorite part of cooking is carrying the plate around to everyone to try. I loved the looks on their faces as they bit into my food and talked about how good it was. In their eyes, I was an excellent cook. After everyone had a pastelito, I had one of my own. The soft cheese melted in my mouth as I pulled a string of it away from its resting place. I ate the first bite slowly and then wolfed down the other ones. It’s amazing how many times I remember savoring food my grandmother cooked. Her food was spectacular. It always will be.

CUPCAKE MASTER-DISASTER

The expansion of clear cool water seems to go on endlessly to my left and right. The far shore is a solid green, speckled with various tints and shades of the color. Splashing coming from behind me awakens me from my deep and distracting admiration of the scenery, and I submerge myself in the shallow lake. Pale legs approach me, those I recognize to be the ones of my kidnapper, and as I try to silently swim away, they advance towards me rapidly. I disregard my previous plan and thrash through the water to the shore, disturbing the calm exhibited before my attempt at a violent escape. Panting, I heave myself up onto the yellow sand and flop to the ground in defeat.

“Fish out of water!”

I get up and smirk at a drenched Lexi, her blue and green bathing suit sagging under the weight of the water.

“Well...” I see her grin at me as I strive to make up an excuse. “Julia and Isabelle have been sitting on the beach the whole time.”

We see two distant figures, one wearing red and blue, and the other dressed in purple, wave in our direction and head towards us.

“Whatever. Why don’t we play tetherball?” As the girls reach our location, we inform them of our plans and walk to the pole with the string and ball hanging from it.

Lexi gets to pick teams, since it is her birthday, and being cousins, chooses Julia.

As we play, it is clear that Isabelle and I have an advantage due to our towering height, compared to our friends. The sides continuously adjust to support fairness in team skill until the four pairs of hands are red and have swollen to twice their original size. After Lexi announces that she has to use the bathroom, we decide to take a break from our intensive game to talk in the playground.

Left to think to ourselves among the old-fashioned wooden equipment, I stare into the rich green forest surrounding us. A light breeze catches my hair and it glints in the sunlight as I shift my gaze to the dazzlingly blue sky. This is the cause of my eye resting on a peculiarly shaped cloud, which gives me an association.

“Hey guys,” Julia and Isabelle turn to look at me. “Why don’t we–”

Just then, Lexi bounds toward us over the twig-littered ground.

“What did I miss?” she says.

“Nothing really,” we reply in unison.

“Hey Lexi,” I add. “Could you stand in the forest for a bit? I have something to tell Isabelle and Julia.”

“Hmm…” her dark brown eyes stare into my caramel ones suspiciously, as if she is trying to read my thoughts. “Okay?”

She trudges through the wood chips blanketing the ground and heads toward the tree-line, seeming somewhat disappointed.

“So here's what I was thinking: why don't we make some cupcakes for Lexi, since it’s her birthday? We could do a play on a chocolate covered orange peel by making a chocolate cupcake with orange glaze.”

Julia, who is now perched on the monkey bars, tan legs dangling from in between the green metal beams, purses her lips. “I don't really like chocolate.”

“How about vanilla then?”

“Alright… I’ll go ask Aunt Stacey.”

“Ask ‘Aunt Stacey’ what?” asks Lexi as she emerges from behind a slide.

Isabelle and I plaster on sweet smiles that reveal all of our teeth, and look innocently at our friend as Julia runs to Lexi’s mom.

“Nothing!” we both say, managing to keep our excitement hidden behind our grins.

“Hmm…” Lexi looks to me, then Isabelle, followed by another glance back to me, scrutinizing our facial expressions. “If you say so,” she says, and walks back to her towel.

Soon after, we see Julia sprinting back.

“Aunt Stacey says that we can make the cupcakes, but that we should buy cupcake mix so we don’t spend too much time on the batter.”

“Alright,” I say.  “Let’s head back.”

We reach the towel where Lexi is beginning to pack up our stuff. We throw on shorts over our slightly damp bathing suits. Then we head to the car, putting all of our belongings in the trunk.

Reaching the store, we split up into the same two teams as we compete to see who can retrieve ingredients off of a list in the least amount of time.

“Ready…” Stacey gives us all a hard stare, narrowing her brown eyes. “Play fair. Go!”

Isabelle and I run at the speed of light to get the orange juice, then sprint back to Stacey, waiting to hear what we are to search for next. The game continues until all of the food items on the list have been checked off.   

Of course, Lexi and Julia are faster than my team, being the more accustomed to the store.

As we round up the gravelly driveway, the large black-and-red-painted country house comes into view.

Eager to dress ourselves in dry clothing, in a short amount of time, we find ourselves in Lexi’s partitioned bunk-bedded bedroom, one by one getting ready to take a shower.

As Lexi is still cleaning herself up, we decide to begin making the cupcakes.

I start to make the batter, beginning by adding milk to the floury mixture from a box. Thick clumps form in the blend, but after the spoon scraping through the bowl countless times, a light beige colored paste-like concoction is formed, which can only be identified as a successful cupcake batter.

I fill a tray with my creation, although some of it doesn’t make it into the container, landing on the counter and floor instead, then place it in the oven. Soon, the heavenly scent of sugar and carbs waft up from the baking goods.    

“I smell cupcakes!” says Lexi.

“No you don’t!” I reply.

“Prove it!”  

We hear shuffling, and right as she is about to step through the wooden door frame, Isabelle tackles her to the ground, pinning Lexi’s limbs onto the soft carpeting of her room.

“Get off me!”

“Ow, she bit me!” shrieks Isabelle. “Maya, come help me!”

At this point, Julia and I are dying of laughter, and observing the scene in Lexi’s room doesn’t help the case.                                     

After settling down, we inform Lexi that she is to stay in her room until we tell her otherwise. She sighs in consent and gets to examining her birthday gifts.

At this point, the cupcakes are ready to be taken out of the oven. We set these on a counter to cool, while Julia begins on the toppings. We empty the contents of a pre-made vanilla frosting package into a container, getting some in the sink. This we mix with orange juice, until it has a seemingly “perfect” consistency. To our blend, we add orange food coloring, and some marshmallows I had cut up beforehand.

While Isabelle begins to blow up multi-colored balloons with a pump, I start to set the table. Each person receives a single cup of orange juice, along with a birthday themed napkin and plate, to assist herself with cupcake-eating. I place a platter at the center of the dining area with room for our treats.

In the kitchen, the girls pipe the frosting, after retrieving piping-bags. Unfortunately, the icing was very liquidy. For this reason, beautifying the cupcakes reveals itself as quite the challenge.

“Maya?”

“Yeah Julia?”

“We have a problem…”

There is Julia holding a hand torch (used for torching marshmallows) that has mysteriously stopped working. I get the contraption to brown the remaining decorations, which smear outward onto not only the plate they were on, but the table too. Then another dilemma presents itself. There is Isabelle holding a cupcake with frosting dripping down the sides of the colorful wrapper. The icing is unsalvageable, and has already covered the counters with sticky orange mess. We are forced to use it, attempting to pipe an orange swirl on the top of the cakes, but managing to smear it across the walls instead. We move our cupcakes to the platter on the table.

Julia goes into the bedroom and ties a blindfold over Lexi’s eyes; I can hear her shout.

The two come stumbling into the dining room and collapse by the large oak table. They stand up, and the covering is ripped off of Lexi’s eyes.

“Surprise!” we all yell as Stacey snaps a picture.

We light a candle to be placed on the birthday girl’s cupcake, and sing Happy Birthday, in honor of the special day. After blowing out the small flame, we all sit down at the table to enjoy our creation.  

“Wow,” Lexi says. “These are really good!” She then glances at the kitchen. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“What did you do?”