Rutgers University is a vibrant community of people with a wide variety of backgrounds and experiences. How would you benefit from and contribute to such an environment? Consider variables such as your talents, travels, leadership activities, volunteer services, and cultural experiences
A weakness of mine is writing about prompt questions. I kinda had a different approach to the prompt that shows an interesting and humorous personality. I wanted to write something clever that I enjoyed doing and have it tell something about me. I think it may digress from the prompt way to much. Let me know what you think :)
Watching professional chefs was a hobby of my when I was near the age of 10. They were flawless in their cooking techniques and they made it look easy and enjoyable, like Bobby Flay and Emeril Lagasse. Ever night I would watch their shows and learn numerous dishes and cooking styles. When I had my first cooking class in 6th grade I thought I was the most educated because of my practice around the kitchen. Everything my teacher taught us I had already known. I felt like I was the big cheese, the head honcho, and the big shot in the kitchen. My dream for my future was to be a chef and own a 5 star restaurant. I would practice on simple things like grilled cheese, fried eggs, and pancakes. My favorite were pancakes because out of everything I had in my arsenal, they were the best tasting and it looked like I had talent when I made them. With my love for pancakes I had made it a weekly ritual.
When some people think of Sundays many of them think of spending time with friends, watching sports, or napping all day. I think of pancakes on Sunday morning. Pancakes?! Why pancakes? You mean just taking Aunt Jemima mix and adding water or throwing some frozen fakecakes into the microwave? No, that's foolish; I'm talking about making them from scratch. Over the years I've seen and acquired techniques from my grandparents, but I like to think of them as pancake wizards: whisk it enough to get the lumps out, wait for the water to boogie on the skillet, and always remember to never over fill the pan. With these techniques I have mastered pancake making. I turn on the classic rock and walk proudly into the kitchen like some kind of iron chef. I summon the ingredients to the kitchen counter and reach into the drawer for the holy grail of pancake making, the recipe. After each step is perfectly followed it is time to ladle the batter onto the scorching skillet and be as patient as you can; depending on how empty your stomach is, it could be like waiting to open your presents during Christmas morning. While they are sizzling away on the skillet I focus intensely as the bubbles begin to disappear and prepare to draw my spatula out of my holster at the exact moment as if I was entered into a western gun fight. After a little bit of work and a sink full of batter-covered dishes, I have a stack of beautiful pancakes. I carefully escort them to the table and top them with pure maple syrup (not that fake corn syrup) and butter. Finally, I devour them like I'm at a pancake eating contest until I turn green to the sight of them.
To most people, making pancakes on a Sunday morning is a ridiculous task unless your parents are the ones to do it. I make pancakes on Sunday mornings because it allows me to indulge during the only time of the week where I can relax and enjoy a hearty breakfast. Well, they aren't difficult to make, but since I'm good at it, it allows me to act as if I'm Bobby Flay or Emeril Lagasse. Although I don't have the same desire to be a famous chef, pancakes allow me to pretend that I'm a famous breakfast cook. It also leaves room for fun by flipping them up into the air and whisking to the beat of the music.
A weakness of mine is writing about prompt questions. I kinda had a different approach to the prompt that shows an interesting and humorous personality. I wanted to write something clever that I enjoyed doing and have it tell something about me. I think it may digress from the prompt way to much. Let me know what you think :)
Watching professional chefs was a hobby of my when I was near the age of 10. They were flawless in their cooking techniques and they made it look easy and enjoyable, like Bobby Flay and Emeril Lagasse. Ever night I would watch their shows and learn numerous dishes and cooking styles. When I had my first cooking class in 6th grade I thought I was the most educated because of my practice around the kitchen. Everything my teacher taught us I had already known. I felt like I was the big cheese, the head honcho, and the big shot in the kitchen. My dream for my future was to be a chef and own a 5 star restaurant. I would practice on simple things like grilled cheese, fried eggs, and pancakes. My favorite were pancakes because out of everything I had in my arsenal, they were the best tasting and it looked like I had talent when I made them. With my love for pancakes I had made it a weekly ritual.
When some people think of Sundays many of them think of spending time with friends, watching sports, or napping all day. I think of pancakes on Sunday morning. Pancakes?! Why pancakes? You mean just taking Aunt Jemima mix and adding water or throwing some frozen fakecakes into the microwave? No, that's foolish; I'm talking about making them from scratch. Over the years I've seen and acquired techniques from my grandparents, but I like to think of them as pancake wizards: whisk it enough to get the lumps out, wait for the water to boogie on the skillet, and always remember to never over fill the pan. With these techniques I have mastered pancake making. I turn on the classic rock and walk proudly into the kitchen like some kind of iron chef. I summon the ingredients to the kitchen counter and reach into the drawer for the holy grail of pancake making, the recipe. After each step is perfectly followed it is time to ladle the batter onto the scorching skillet and be as patient as you can; depending on how empty your stomach is, it could be like waiting to open your presents during Christmas morning. While they are sizzling away on the skillet I focus intensely as the bubbles begin to disappear and prepare to draw my spatula out of my holster at the exact moment as if I was entered into a western gun fight. After a little bit of work and a sink full of batter-covered dishes, I have a stack of beautiful pancakes. I carefully escort them to the table and top them with pure maple syrup (not that fake corn syrup) and butter. Finally, I devour them like I'm at a pancake eating contest until I turn green to the sight of them.
To most people, making pancakes on a Sunday morning is a ridiculous task unless your parents are the ones to do it. I make pancakes on Sunday mornings because it allows me to indulge during the only time of the week where I can relax and enjoy a hearty breakfast. Well, they aren't difficult to make, but since I'm good at it, it allows me to act as if I'm Bobby Flay or Emeril Lagasse. Although I don't have the same desire to be a famous chef, pancakes allow me to pretend that I'm a famous breakfast cook. It also leaves room for fun by flipping them up into the air and whisking to the beat of the music.
