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Good Food and Good Memories by Sommer Miller

My purpose for choosing this meal is to show that a meal does not have to be extravagant or fancy in order to be memorable and hold a special place in your heart.

The meal took place in Puerto Rico in my grandparents’ marbled �loor kitchen that always seemed to have the windows open no matter the weather. I remember waking up to my mother knocking on the door to tell me to get up and get dressed since breakfast was almost done. Walking into the kitchen where my grandparents, my sisters, and parents were gathered, with the sun shining through and the warm breeze �loating through the front and back windows created the most relaxing morning I had ever experienced. The atmosphere was peaceful and calm like standing on a beach with the sound of calm waves, eyes closed, and the sun on your face; I just wanted to just freeze the moment and cherish it. The setting of this meal was one of the three main ingredients that made the meal itself so signi�icant to me.

Even though this meal is just made up of typical breakfast foods, the taste of the fruit, bread, eggs, hash browns and even the ketchup were special compared to the many other breakfasts I have experienced. My grampy walked into the kitchen holding a sugar cane and a machete. His neighbors had allowed him to chop it down from the sugar canes in their backyard.

My grampy gave me the sugar cane to suck on. The rough, straw-like �ibers of the inside of the cane where the sugar was held scraped my tongue as I sucked. The sugar cane was sweeter and tastier than any sugar you can buy at the grocery store. The eggs were �luffy, squashy, and melted in my mouth as I chewed. I dipped my eggs into the only ketchup she always seemed to have that would always produce a funny taste in my mouth. A hash brown went on the side of this meal and her hash browns were without fail somehow wet from when she would continue to wash her hands as she cooked and did not dry them thoroughly due to her rushing around. The women that made this meal seemed to make these ordinary foods taste a little bit better.

The women who made the meal gave it that special taste and importance to me. She was my grammy. Her name was Tina Soto, and she had a mouth as loud as mine. Tina was average height, round, and waddled like a penguin but sweat like a pig which did not make her any less loveable. Breakfast was not a challenge to her since she used to own a breakfast place where she also cooked. When Tina made this meal or any other meal, she rushed all over the kitchen, juggling too many priorities at once without taking the offer of those who begged to help take the pressure off. She lifted her glasses up to wipe the sweat from under her eyes and dabbed her arms and neck with a damp paper towel to soak up the sweat from the heat of the kitchen. The meal tasted good because of the effort and hard work my grammy put into creating the food.

Yellow Spanish bread would be paired with the eggs and hashbrown. The squishy, soft, and sweet bread was perfect for putting my eggs on. Butter would not be needed for the bread


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