Prompt:
Complete an essay of 400-500 words about the person in your life who most influenced your interest in the foodservice and hospitality field. Please include a discussion of your career goals.
Essay:
As a child, every braised goat and vegetable-of-the-season stew my mother would put on the table had these little bones in it. I would wrestle anyone who touched my bones. It wasn't the bones I was after, though, it was what was nestled in between them. A buttery, translucent marrow, which has now begun to grace the menus of every gastropub and french restaurant Manhattan has to offer. That's the first food I fell in love with. Bone Marrow. Sigh, just saying the words are giving me goosebumps. Since then, the epicurean in me has devoured every other part of me.
To say that one person solely influenced my culinary dreams would be insulting. Of course, my mother, and her mother played a backbone in the development of my passion. Their loving homecooking elevated my palate of one of which most of my surrounding Euro-blended schoolmates never experienced. While I was eating coriander and brain, they were enjoying Kraft's Mac & Cheese. But, even though it played a tremendous role, the exquisite, regional, home cooking isn't what attracted me to this field the most. Truth is, through the turmoil and shattered dreams my family has experienced, food was (and still is) the only aspect of our lives that can shut us up and let us enjoy something as a family. As I grew older, this idea of a meal bringing people together began to grow. Two strangers beginning a meal together, and through their love of mussels and roasted garlic they found a deep connection, only to depart the meal with an ever-glowing smile and a beating heart. I want to be responsible for bringing people together. You see, it's not who influenced me the most to go into this field, it's what.
Then it happened, the little marrow sucking child grew up and moved into the culinary epicenter of the world, New York City. I already had a devotion to food, but now I had a growing curiosity in the restaurant experience. I began religiously reading the New York Times critics and reluctantly scrounging up my spare change to dine at some of the best restaurants New York had to offer. I found inspiration for my own kitchenette on the plates prepared by some of the most profound chefs, such and Daniel Boulud, April Bloomfeld, and Eric Ripert. Honestly, the list is endless of the chefs I have grown to admire, but who I began to adore are the food writers. Anthony Bourdain, Ruth Reichl, Sam Sifton, Ed Levine; the list is prominent. Overtime, I realized that I wanted the ultimate job: to be a food critic. I want to have the experience of a restaurant chef, so when I do eventually combine my appetite for both writing and the culinary arts I am able to fully comprehend the blood, sweat, and tears that go into the perfect dish. As a writer, I want to be completely aware of my muse.
When asked the question of my deepest passion, only one thought has ever come to mind: food. Well, honestly, unless you're a self deprecating anorexic, who doesn't adore food? It's sexual and enticing, sinful and intoxicating. It is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins. My enthusiasm for food, however, goes beyond the quarter pounder with cheese, though there is such comforted beauty in the perfect cheeseburger. What I fell in love with is the aura that food radiates: the invigoration of all five senses; the artful preparation of a classic roast; the contemporary presentation of filleted branzino; the excited anticipation of both the diner and cook; and finally, but most importantly, the decadent smile that erupts onto the palate with the first bite, a purely sinful ecstasy that has become my drug of choice. I am addicted, infatuated, even possessed with the art of cooking and eating. It is the only thing I have ever loved and all I want to do is share my heart beat.
As a child, every braised goat and vegetable-of-the-season stew my mother would put on the table had these little bones in it. ---Werid intro!!! I like you already.
But the sentence is hard to understand, and that diminishes the coolness:
As a child, every braised goat and vegetable-of-the-season would become a stew, and when my mother would put it on the table it always had these little bones in it. ---There, that is a little better. :-)
Run on sentence!---> It wasn't the bones I was after, though; it was what was nestled in between them. ---I fixed it with a semi-colon.
A buttery, translucent marrow, which has now begun to grace the menus of every gastropub and french restaurant Manhattan has to offer.---nice.
That's the first food I fell in love with. Bone Marrow. Sigh, just saying the words are giving me goosebumps. Since then, the epicurean in me has devoured every other part of me. ---Ha ha. hahahah! How did you get to be so awesome... I like this so much...
It is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins. ---You are so right! Well... not exactly, but still...
You are going to be accepted to the school, for sure. Maybe not as a member of PETA, though. :-)
