Personal Narrative: Puff Pastry Dome

On Victoria Day, I made my family a small meal consisting of salad, tomato soup, chicken pot pie, and cookies. Albeit simple on paper, it was much more difficult in practice. For one, I am a terrible chef, so making a four course meal was not the easiest of tasks. I even prepared the soup and cookies a day in advance, but even so, it was very tiring and many problems arose. For example, only until the day before had I realized that they did not like cheesecake. So I had to make do with what I had leftover in my kitchen and made some very cakey cookies. Another incident occurred when I was making my chicken pot pie, I realized that I had bought the wrong dough. Rather than buying puff pastry, I took bought biscuit dough. Having missed a key

I am a self-proclaimed chocoholic. Seeing that I adore all things chocolate, it is no surprise that my favorite Tootsie Pop flavor is chocolate. Whenever I tear off the wrapper of a chocolate Tootsie Pop, I am thrilled. They are delicious. I enjoy chocolate Tootsie Pops because they are, well, chocolate. Tootsie Pops do a wonderful job of making their products taste like chocolate. Coupled with the creamy Tootsie center, chocolate Tootsie Pops are a chocolate lover’s dream. Therefore, chocolate Tootsie Pops are my favorite

“I hate your Arabic!” I snarled in my broken English. My mother stared at me in confusion while I seethed about my heritage internally. For whatever reason, this toxic state of mind stuck with me through my elementary-school years. I promised myself that I would strive to become like everyone else and slowly began to erase my Lebanese culture from my mannerisms.

As grandma was stirring the large stock pot of stew, I watched as vegetables popped out of the thick liquid as it steamed and bubbled around. My grandma was an amazing cook, trained at the finest culinary school. As she ventured to taste her concoction she was hit by a heavy smell of all kinds of spices. Dipping the spoon in and quickly tasting the stew, she had a smirk on ur face of utter content, but I know my grandma is never content and always has a trick up her sleeve. Dicing some pineapple and plopping it into the boiling mixture, I’ve never been so intrigued in my life. My stomach gave a grumble of excitement and the meal was served.

My Glass Castle essay is a flashback to the beginning of my adventures in Honors English. As such, it is the most suitable candidate for revision, as I will be able to observe my hopefully positive progression made over the course of the entire school year.

“When we get home I am not cooking,” I overheard the mother say to her son. “You will just have to eat an L-M-M tonight,” she followed. I later learned that LMM was an acronym for lazy mother meal. The mother, my older cousin, was a new young single parent. She had discovered that by occasionally using quick heat/microwaveable dinners she was able to provide some stability and consistency while maintaining responsibilities.

“YAY! I finally graduated! Villanova University Class of 2015!” “Now it’s time to enjoy a meal with the family.” These were words that I said the day of my graduation in May of this past year. I am sitting here now reminiscing on this very important day in my life. All this nostalgia is getting me hungry, so I decided to take a trip to the Cheesecake Factory to re-live the experience. From the outside, the Cheesecake Factory looked like a big castle; the inside was huge. The lighting was really pretty, especially at night. They have a nice cheesecake display that could be admired as soon as one enters the restaurant. I could smell the rich, decadent cheesecakes. The seating is either tables or booths. The restaurant was very inviting. The

Unlike Jeannette I never moved around a lot in my life so maybe that’s why it so strange to me, but both she and I have some things in common. We both don’t seem to like our distant relatives, both of our mothers like to be hypocrites, saying stand up for what you believe in and then reprimanding us about it, and both of us have been and are tricked by our fathers; in her case standing up to her racist parents and digging a foundation for the Glass Castle that the family only wanted to use as a garbage disposal. Anyway her family has issues with pride just as much as mine does, only in a different way. The Walls were and are the poorest in any poor neighborhood they move to, but they bring their misfortune upon themselves. Honestly they could

It’s taken me several days to write this, as I just can’t seem to grasp that a year has already passed since I posted my glass pumpkin photo with the accompanying news of my cancer diagnosis.

The day that Antonio ran out of food on September 9th, 1971 and it rained like cats and dogs. In the town of Jamestown where our saying is,”Nothing happens here, just nothing at all.” I had to pay the loan I had acquired. The loan collector had collected nothing which was bad since I Ire supposed to give back the money I borrowed back. I didn’t have the money so they basically took all our food. I lacked money, in fact, I only had 5 dollars but I borrowed 50 dollars. Then one day I bought a pumpkin from a trafficker. That day changed our lives forever.

On Sunday I went to a wonderful place, the Milwaukee County Domes. The Domes are beautiful, filled with plants from all over the world. On Sunday they were also filled with beautiful music. My friend Grace is in a group called Silver Music. Every member of the group plays at least one kind of flute. On Sunday they played a concert at the Domes. The entire seasonal dome was filled with lively music. It was also nice to see Grace, I don’t see her often.

I sit exhausted as I stir my morning coffee. I guess watching pointless amounts of late night infomercials didn’t really do anything for my health. I spilled some grains of sugar on the table and stuck one of the little specks to my finger. I sat for a second, but then I realized how insignificant one single grain of sugar really is. One grain of sugar couldn’t do anything at all to my coffee, and as a matter of fact if this particular grain did not exist it wouldn't really matter.

Sunday, is usually the day in which all my family assembles to eat our food together. This past Sunday, a few of our cousins decided to join us, which was even better. The day finally came when I woke up to the overwhelming smell of barbecued chicken. My mother screamed at me to wake up and to help her set the table with the utensils and napkins. As I obeyed her, I looked over to the kitchen that was filled with different condiments and

Some adjustment was needed to fit in American society. Rather than a warm bowl of rice and fresh homemade Korean foods, I had to have some unhealthy leftover fast-food from last night if I was lucky. Sometimes, I could not get the breakfast due to my hectic morning schedule and I was introduced to the new American culture, “brunch.” One of my favorite brunch menu is a pancake. Pancake is very fluffy and sweet which I can describe a dish as warm goodness. Every time I was making or eating the pancake, I get to think about my mother. Now, I know that making a food for someone takes a lot of time and

My sister looked inside the fryer and said, “Ma, is the oil good or bad?” My mom replied with a confused face, “Good, why?” She replied, “Oh, nothing, just wondering.” My mom left to continue cleaning. I noticed my sister picking things out of the fryer. I honestly didn’t know what she was doing. She turned on the fryer and started to put the chicken nuggets. She waited and checked every minute to make sure the nuggets don’t overcook. My mom came into the kitchen because she smelled something cooking. She looked at Lee and said, “Aww, you going to cook for me too?” Lee looked so happy and said, “Of course but let me feed Hector first because he must be hungry.” Honestly, I was. I only ate breakfast which was at 7am and it was already 2pm. I could have eaten anything that smelled