On the brisk clear morning of October 2nd, I woke up bright and early; I even got out of bed without a fuss or struggle. Surprisingly, I didn’t even press the tempting snooze button or toss the alarm clock against the wall to make the relentless beeping noise cease. It was a Saturday morning and I had never felt more rested. I was ecstatic on that particular morning—not because it was finally the weekend, but because I had plans to go out to eat that night at my favorite restaurant: Outback Steakhouse. I guess I should have also been excited because the occasion was my two-year anniversary with my boyfriend, but in all honesty the thought of succulent steak and savory soup excited me more than the thought of a romantic evening and exchanging gifts.
I sat around all day, anxiously waiting for my boyfriend to come pick me up. We were finally on the road by five o’clock, but I wished we had left earlier. Not only had I been starving all day, but the wait for a table was now thirty-five minutes. Although disappointed, I knew the meal would be well worth the wait. My boyfriend suggested that we head over to the Olive Garden across the way, but I simply refused. I had been patiently waiting for my New York strip steak all week, and I just wouldn’t take “No” for an answer.
As we both waited for our party’s name to be called, our mouths watered. The sight of each passing steak, marinated in fourteen different seasonings, herbs, and spices, lit up our eyes, and the smell triggered our stomachs to rumble even more than they already had. We were delighted when we finally sat and placed our order.
While waiting for the appetizers, we sustained a conversation for quite some time. It was when our Kookaburra chicken wings, salads, and soups arrived that the table turned dead silent. If it wasn’t for the sound of us chewing and scarfing down every crumb and morsel on our plates, you would be able to hear a pin drop. Based on the way we ate, an onlooker would have thought it was our last meal. Not a word was spoken, except for when we fought over the last wing. Normally I would be polite and give in without an argument, but these wings are heavenly.
The poet spends most of the next three stanzas describing the Green Knight in detail; first, we learn of his clothing, trimmed in fur and embroidery, all green and gold. Then we learn that the horse he rides, the saddle, and the stirrups are all green. The man's long hair matches that of the horse, and he has a great, thick beard, also green.
It seems that the United States has been one of the most dominant, if not the most dominant, countries in the world, since the Declaration of Independence. Yet, on Monday, April 17, 1961, our government experienced incredible criticism and extreme embarrassment when Fidel Castro, dictator of Cuba, instantly stopped an invasion on the Cuban beach known as the Bay of Pigs. President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, his advisors, and many Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) officials, made the largest error of their political careers. Once the decision was made to invade Cuba, to end Castro and his Communist government, Kennedy and his administration were never looked at in the same light nor trusted again. Russian leader Nikita Khrushchev was affiliated with Castro, and the two countries made many military decisions together. As Kennedy and the United States tried to stop Cuba and Russia from becoming a threat to the world, an invasion was planned out and executed. The results were a disaster. The Bay of Pigs invasion was the largest military mistake ever made by the United States government and the CIA in the 20th century and brought America to the brink of war with Cuba and Russia. The Bay of Pigs invasion was not a quick decision, many hours of meetings and conferences occurred before President Kennedy gave permission for the attack. President Kennedy was inaugurated on January 20, 1961, and immediately wanted to take the initiative with the Soviet and Cuban governments (Pearson 12). Russia was already under Communist control, and Fidel Castro took over the Cuban government with heavily armed troops and policeman. Castro’s policemen filled the streets, and he ran the newspapers, as well as many assembly buildings (Frankel 60). At the beginning, Castro did not run a Communist government, but once he began to meet with Russian leader, Nikita Khrushchev, Castro started a Communist government (Crassweller 23). Max Frankel, writer for the New York Times, summarizes the situation in Cuba by saying, “Little by little, the vise tightened. Little by little the free people of Cuba came to realize it could happen there. The grim facts of life on an island that became a police state” (Frankel 59). Every day, Castro came closer to controlling every aspect in life in Cuba. Fidel Castro even took control of the schools in Cuba, throwing out any teacher who he thought...
On a rainy Monday, I had come to San Francisco to do a cuisine comparison, sort of a tour guide-cum-restaurant review, covering the soup kitchens that I remembered from my time in SF—my two years of living on the fringes. Those years seemed distant now—I am a university student, and I feel suddenly distant from my old days. I am hipper now, I thought. I felt the smugness of a wise-ass. I had thought before I made the trip: here’s a twist on the old restaurant review. I can talk about worn-out things: the bouquet of the food, the ambience of the place. How original. I had felt like slapping my own back.
They are a culture of hunting and gathering. The men are warriors that help to defend the tribe from other tribes, hunt for meat, and attack opposing tribes. The women stay home and cook, raise the children. Many people stay in the shibono, or community complex. The children are raised for a rough life, to be warriors. They learn that every injury suffered must be repaid. Men are the powerful gender, with all the rights. The relationships created by having in-laws are the basis for their power. If a favor is granted, it must be returned. A person is always supposed to be loyal to their family connections.
The Zuñi are a large group of people formed by many clans. They are known as an exogamous clan (Page 245; Cultural Anthropology; 14th Edition; Ember), so within their tribal ways one does not marry within one’s own clan, and though one should not marry within the father’s clan, it does occasionally occur more than it seems necessary. (Theodore Frisbie; Encyclopedia) The Zuñi are al...
While this invitation produced anxiety for every person that attended this meal, the toll that it took on my nephew was rather difficult to watch. His father chose to attend the day before Thanksgiving; but a half-hour before the scheduled 2 p.m. time for dinner, he let his son know that his girlfriend and her children had decided to come as well. While the adults scrambled to add additional seating, my nephew excitedly stood outside on the porch anticipating his guests’ arrival. An hour later, this little boy dejectedly wondered whether his father had changed his mind. When his guests finally arrived, we all ate an awkward, cold dinner, and my ex-brother-in-law whisked them all (including my nephew) away to his family’s Thanksgiving meal, which meant that my disappointed nephew never got to share the chocolate pie that he had helped make.
... I had never even seen most of the food displayed, I eagerly and respectfully tried each dish. After everyone in the room sat down at the massive table, the Rabbi picked up a glass of wine and made a prayer over it. Then, Rabbi Kanelsky passed around pieces of Challah bread to the entire table. This lunch festival was yet another ceremony dedicated to one of the member’s deceased relative. At the conclusion, the Rabbi said another prayer out loud for the deceased and the relative expressed his gratitude to everyone.
Eating different cuisines and trying new dishes at a variety of restaurants is an important hobby in Ashley’s life. In the future, Ashley hopes to go into the field of marketing or advertising, and hopefully specialize in food. But no matter what job she pursues, she hopes to have her own children (she is hoping for two) and a joyful family. The first thing she teaches her kids will be to always try new things and be accepting to the unknown. That is the one thing she regrets from her childhood. Not being more open-minded and unwilling to step out of her comfort zone. But despite this, her childhood has shaped who she is today. By pushing away vegetables and having a constant craving for macaroni and cheese, the cheesy pasta dish is now the single dish that can cheer her up when she feels defeated or disappointed. It is the comfort food that will remain a part of her life. Throughout Ashley’s life, she has always wondered why certain foods triggered certain emotions. Why does macaroni and cheese make me feel so cheerful? And why is it that this dish is what I rely on when sad? Her curiosity for the deeper meaning of food has grown throughout the years, but what has risen to a new level is her true passion
“Marcellino! For the last time, PLEASE PASS THE SALAD DRESSING!,” my mother shouts to my dad jokingly. My oldest brother Marc, who has already finished his bowl of pasta, is signaling for his first refill of the night. Both my sisters are laughing hysterically at my dog, who has snatched my other brother 's chicken leg right out of his hand, and is now being chased around the kitchen while licking her chops and trying to scarf the bone down before being caught. This family dinner scene depicted was a normal part of my daily routine growing up. My family of seven made an effort to sit down once a day and eat a meal together. This provided a daily opportunity for meaningful conversations and the nurturing of close-knit relationships between my
There is a diversity of tribes that the human society was once uninformed of its existence. Until the 1970, mankind was unaware of the Korowai society existence. The Korowai also known as Kolufu are from the southwestern part of the western part of New Guinea. The Korowai tribe follows a common language, economic system, and an exceptional lifestyle. They practice rituals and have incredible architectural knowledge. In the verge of extinction the Korowai tribe continues to practice their unique culture and traditional rituals.
Never, ever, in my life has something tasted so good. We shared a meal that no restaurant could ever top. My father and I became even tighter. From that day on, regular meals tasted like plastic and hot dogs and no better than that. Dangerous dishes became our gourmet good eats.
The Myth of the Separation of Church and State retrieved on January 7, 2005 from: http://www.noapathy.org/tracts/mythofseparation.html
About a week before they all came to dinner, I began to plan what I would make. After having talked to each of them several times on the telephone, I could tell they may de...
I enter an exquisite room welcomed by a benevolent host. I glance around and see dining tables strategically set as if the queen were to be expected. White flowers with silver sparkles adorn the tables to add a final touch. The lights are dimmed low and classical music plays in the background to create a placid atmosphere. A savory aroma fills the room making me crave the chef’s fine platter. The host leads my party to a table and offers us drinks. As we wait for dinner to begin, murmurs fill the room with general conversation.
Soon, we all sat around the dinner table enjoying my grandma’s culinary specialties. There was one dish that had stuck in my mind though, possibly because it was the last dish served that night.