asksenpai
Dec 27, 2018
Undergraduate / "Grandpa's cuisine" - without cooking, I would be incomplete. Common app essay [4]
Every day, at 7 PM, the smell of garlic and ginger penetrates through the door and into my room, making my stomach rumble without stop. As the sound of the rice cooker rings, signaling the rice is ready my grandpa shouts "William, dinner is ready!". I open the door and the scent engulfs my whole body, the aroma tickles my nose as I stand in front of the hall to guess what's for dinner. I sprint my way through the hall approaching the kitchen and see my grandpa in his usual square pattern black and red apron, cooking with the sizzling hot pan and my mom near him like a chef and his apprentice. Just like every day, white rice with an assortment of side dishes was the norm and the thought of this ever disappearing was unthinkable but time is the unfathomable enemy of all, slowly my grandpa became afflicted by type 2 diabetes.
The taste of steamed fish, red braised meat, and stir-fry cabbage became blander every passing day, as diabetes affected my grandpa, his overall energy decreased and the once enthusiastic chef now felt cooking was just an obligation.
After a year of diagnosis, my grandpa decided to return to China to treat his diabetes. I could feel the sorrow my grandpa felt, the feeling of frustration, the feeling of never being able to entrance us with his cooking. That day I was determined to learn to cook.
I set a goal, to replicate and go beyond the taste of homemade cuisine. I made cooking my passion with every passing day, I honed my skills through trial and error, sometimes too sour, other times too sweet, or too salty. I learned to be patient, a skill needed in life, I learned about the nutrient in every food, a mastery to be healthy. But most importantly I learned to connect with my origins. People always say I'm more Italian than Italians and I don't deny it but the moment I step into my kitchen, I feel Chinese. I get to experience the best of the best from both worlds but without cooking, I would be incomplete. Cooking has helped me find the reason why I should be proud to be Chinese.
I still remember the day my grandpa came to Italy, the moment he stepped into the house, I was there, right in front of him, waiting with a bowl of rice in my hand. I could smell the same fragrance of garlic and ginger from the old days at the steps of the door. That day I achieved one of my goals.
435 words, please I need feedback.
the fragrance of garlic and ginger
Every day, at 7 PM, the smell of garlic and ginger penetrates through the door and into my room, making my stomach rumble without stop. As the sound of the rice cooker rings, signaling the rice is ready my grandpa shouts "William, dinner is ready!". I open the door and the scent engulfs my whole body, the aroma tickles my nose as I stand in front of the hall to guess what's for dinner. I sprint my way through the hall approaching the kitchen and see my grandpa in his usual square pattern black and red apron, cooking with the sizzling hot pan and my mom near him like a chef and his apprentice. Just like every day, white rice with an assortment of side dishes was the norm and the thought of this ever disappearing was unthinkable but time is the unfathomable enemy of all, slowly my grandpa became afflicted by type 2 diabetes.
The taste of steamed fish, red braised meat, and stir-fry cabbage became blander every passing day, as diabetes affected my grandpa, his overall energy decreased and the once enthusiastic chef now felt cooking was just an obligation.
After a year of diagnosis, my grandpa decided to return to China to treat his diabetes. I could feel the sorrow my grandpa felt, the feeling of frustration, the feeling of never being able to entrance us with his cooking. That day I was determined to learn to cook.
I set a goal, to replicate and go beyond the taste of homemade cuisine. I made cooking my passion with every passing day, I honed my skills through trial and error, sometimes too sour, other times too sweet, or too salty. I learned to be patient, a skill needed in life, I learned about the nutrient in every food, a mastery to be healthy. But most importantly I learned to connect with my origins. People always say I'm more Italian than Italians and I don't deny it but the moment I step into my kitchen, I feel Chinese. I get to experience the best of the best from both worlds but without cooking, I would be incomplete. Cooking has helped me find the reason why I should be proud to be Chinese.
I still remember the day my grandpa came to Italy, the moment he stepped into the house, I was there, right in front of him, waiting with a bowl of rice in my hand. I could smell the same fragrance of garlic and ginger from the old days at the steps of the door. That day I achieved one of my goals.
435 words, please I need feedback.
