Differences In American Culture

Months ago I had a date, we went to panda express after walking around Des Moines all day. I was so nervous I got the sweet and sour chicken even though I hate it. The first bite was mushy and gooey, but not the kind of gooey you like your brownies to be, it was the kind of gooey meat is when they name it “roast with gravy” and give it to you during a 2-hour flight. The crust felt like wet bread and tasted tart almost like it was fermented for too long and it immediately made me want to puke. Trying to swallow the bland doughty chicken was torture but from across the table I could see my date smiling as they exclaimed: “This chicken is so buttery, isn't it delicious?”.

dogs. I've eaten hot dogs covered in beef gravy and sausage with pepperoni and fish sticks.

Which must be served on with carrots and of course, ranch. I remember lasagna being a family made meal, my mother makes the the noodles. My step-dad layered the ingredients and I sat on the counter and ate cottage cheese. There were also my famous frenchiladas, made by me in my pink and white play kitchen in the basement. They were also only for my Tofer, while he would watch T.V. I can’t quite remember why I called them frenchiladas, I have always assumed that I meant enchiladas, or maybe French enchiladas, couldn’t tell you why. Only that they were basement famous.

Eckerts was my first job. Also, was the worst job of my life. I was a busser and dealt with gross, slimy people. Customers that would just leave nasty chicken bones and gravy spread all over the table and thrown all over the floor. Leading me to never have any desires toward fried chicken or gravy. EVER AGAIN. Thoughts of chicken dangling with someone else's saliva dripping off the bone leaves me wanting to gag. Notions about gravy, leave me thinking about the circular bowls Eckerts puts it in; the thick brown liquid sloshing around in the bowl slapping my skin. This disgusting liquid left my skin feeling sticky and crusty. Nothing was worse than the two combined in the same bowl. The aroma of fried chicken makes my stomach heavy with vomit.

My obsession of macaroni and cheese.It taest so good that you want to eat it over and over again.All you need is kraft macaroni and cheese,a pot,a spoon,water and (milk) if optional.To me it is the best food I had ever eaten because it is cheesy good.

wishing we could have a bite of that delicious dish. But sadly for most of us, we would never

Blueberry yum yum is special to me because when my nanny was alive she created this recipe. When she passed away the recipe was passed down to my mother and was taught how to create this with her own kick to it.

We had precooked meals delivered to the training site called hot meals. We would receive the meals for either breakfast or dinner. Sometimes the meals would be delicious and at other times they left you deeply unsatisfied. I always believed that hot meals only tasted as good as you imagined them to taste. Normally for breakfast you would get the same thing; powdered eggs, Raisin Bran, and fruit. Breakfast was not horrible tasting, but eating the same chalky eggs and Raisin Bran almost everyday got tiresome. Dinner was usually the exciting meal. The meals were always different, but almost always made with the same ingredients. One day you would get beef pasta, the next day you would get beef lasagna. Sometimes they would advertise Sheppard’s Pie and it would end up being lasagna shells and beef smashed up into squares with pasta sauce on top. On the side you could choose mixed vegetables, salad, or Jell-O. Just like breakfast, the food did not taste horrible, but it got tiresome to eat the same thing every time we got a hot meal for dinner. There was one day that something remarkably strange, but very inviting was put on the dinner menu. The hot meal was steak and potatoes, with no option of noodles or beef pasta sauce. The meal had such a high impact on me that I can remember it as if it happened yesterday. All 150 trainees sat on the floor joking, laughing, and seemingly in a mood that would make you

My mama Nila took some of her precious time to teach me how to cook. I remember that at first, I learned to heat the oven to 350 and then, heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. That temperature is very high so, I was afraid of getting burned. But my grandma made it easy for me because she just held my little hand and turn on the oven. This made me feel more confident, and secure because she was next to me. Next, I learned to add onion, celery, salt, and peppers to pan; sauté 6 minutes or until onion is tender. Then, Mama Nila taught me how to combine cornstarch and beef, tossing well to coat. I tried to mix the ingredients with a circular motion until well blended, but it was a little bit difficult to blend because it was my first time doing it. So mama Nila told me to be patient and keep do it until I get all the ingredients in a uniform consistency form. I kept trying it, until I got it right, and that makes me happy because I learned how to blend the mixture

Individual family tastes worked out so that I always got a drumstick. Finally, one Thanksgiving when my sister and I were just starting high school, my parents were entertaining close family friends, which finally meant Turkey on Thanksgiving. My dad saved a drumstick for me, the size of the leg was impressive and I expected it to taste like chicken. Wrong! The strong taste of dark meat turkey surprised me; fortunately and unusually, I was permitted to switch to turkey breast. This began a lifelong dichotomy of loving dark meat chicken and white meat turkey.

My mom told me her memories as a kid when I asked her about the yum yum and it made her light up. She said, “I looked forward to every summer to go to my Granny Fulmer’s house. When I thought of Granny Fulmer, I thought of blueberry yum yum. She would always make the yum yum for any occasion. As I got older she would make blueberry and cherry yum yum because the grandchildren would go out and pick the cherries and blueberries from the back yard. There was over 21 grandchildren and because they picked the cherries they wanted a cherry yum yum too. My favorite was always the blueberry. The yum

My mom knew I hated it, and she never really gave it to me anymore. So I am about 3, and my mom,brother and his girlfriend went to eat at a Mexican restaurant. My mom tried to feed it to me AGAIN! Of course I never ate

Memories of me trying to get chicken nuggets down my throat as a kid still

It all started after church when our stomachs were grumbling to be fed. My parents had suggested to eat at Slim Chickens with the rest of my family because we always eat with them. When we got there I step up to the line a hope there is something good on the menu that in my world would be called “edible”. Thankfully there was something that every kid liked which was chicken stripes

One time I was at a Super Bowl party, and there was this desert (I guess was supposed to be lemon bars). Anyways, they were bright orange, slightly see-thru, and tasted like rotten wood. Not the wood you use to smoke meat but like the kind that is used to burn trash. Plus, whenever you bit into them it was pasty and stayed in your mouth. Me and my cousin called it lumber, and that is the worst food I’ve ever eaten.