A Dip of Stories

Annette Salas#23
E.L.A- Food Memoir
6/20/16

        The red car door slammed shut, and I stepped into a little rocky path that stood small with the green grassy lawn beside it. My mother and I, along with our four cousins, arrived to a little beige house that must have been at least two stories tall in Southern New Jersey.  It was Thanksgiving Day, and it was the first time I would spend it with my cousins. I was very excited, smiling the whole drive to the house, because they were the only family members that were my age, and seeing them would be thrilling. I was eleven at the time, and Juilea was thirteen, Yuilea was ten, and Gaby and Thomas were both six.

       “Well, we’re here!” My cousin's mother said in an excited tone. She was barely taller than me, but she did have beautiful long brown hair.

As we all walked into the house, making noises with our shoes against the shiny wooden floor, the rest of my family greeted us happily, saying things like, "Look how much you've grown!" or "You're so pretty, I love your hair!" Things you always smile and saying thank you about, but you never pay much attention to. But, ten minutes into the party, my cousins and I were doing something with our phones and electronics. Even though I really do enjoy my phone, I wanted to do something with my cousins. I could play with my phone any other day, I thought. Forty minutes into the day, we were still using our electronics. However, we were also very hungry, so, I looked over at the turkey sitting in the oven, but it seemed like it needed at least four more hours to cook. The oven isn't even on, dumbo, I thought, feeling stupid but, silly at the same time.

      “I am soooo hungry,” said Thomas, in an exaggerated tone.
Everyone nodded  their heads in agreement.

      “I know! Let’s make a spinach dip”, my oldest cousin,Juilea said.She was quite a cook, cooking for everyone at that time.

       I stepped into the kitchen, and what laid upon me was a gigantic rounded kitchen, with clear cabinets that were filled with what must have been hundreds of different spices. There were two large ovens and about twenty different kitchen appliances. I yearned for my tiny, comforting kitchen that filled me inside, feeding me everyday, and having the feeling of my mother’s hands as we cooked together. This kitchen was a little too strange and big, so I tried not to pay much attention to the kitchen itself.

     “Okay, so let’s get started; Annette can you pass me the cream cheese?”

      I opened a large refrigerator door, searching for the silver packaging of cream cheese. As I was scanning through all the food items, I knew I was related to some seriously good cooks. I thought I heard my mom say something about my cousins loving cooking, and that it brings us closer together, but, it’s not like I listen to her anyways. My parents are both good cooks, especially my dad, but never like my cousins. I could make a great Mother’s Day breakfast with just two eggs, some vegetables, potatoes and a classic bread with cream cheese and prosciutto on the side.

Something about me needed to memorize this small dip recipe perfectly. So here we began.

    I finally found the big cube of cream cheese and gave it to my oldest cousin. As I washed the spinach over the refreshing cool water, I watched her carefully, her delicate fingers unfolding the packaging, then grabbing all the ingredients of this very important, yet very simple dish. She first seasoned the cube of cream cheese completely in salt and pepper. Then, she sprinkled some nutmeg over both sides of the cube. Now, she placed the block of cream cheese in the frying pan. I dropped in all of the spinach into the frying pan. Yuilea poured some lemon juice on it. We all took turns stirring it, even the twins, until it was completely melted. Juilea poured the dip into a navy blue ceramic bowl. I grabbed a tortilla chip from an orange plate and dipped it into the bowl. It was delicious. It was creamy, but not too creamy. Just the perfect hint of savory and creamy. After we finished every corner of the dip, we started talking. Which led us into playing various of different games. We played truth or dare, heads up, and other games. We even went outside and played tag, even though it was cold outside.

   A dip may not seem of much importance to many. But as I eat this dip every time I see them, I know that it has bonded us closer together, like you can never imagine. My mom was right, cooking does make us a family.