I love hot pot, always have and always will. Eating hot pot is the thing can cheer me up anytime. Choosing menu makes me happy; waiting for serving food makes me happy; watching the soup to boil makes me happy; even stew the vegetables and meat I love also makes me happy. It’s suitable for any events: birthday, dinner party, gathering, or just for hunger. There is nothing not good about hot pot for me, besides one: it makes me miss it too much. As now this far away from home, it’s quiet hard to find a good place to satisfy my tongue. When I start to miss the taste of hot pepper; I realized that there’s something more than spicy missing.
There’s one time I spent two months in California with my friends; we decided to have hot pot as the first meal of coming back home. My glasses got fuzzy and all covered by moisture after I went inside a hot pot restaurant. The heat rose that I had to take off my coat. I ordered all the food that had stuck in my head for two months. After everything was ready I used chopsticks to pick up my favorite beef, “this is the happy life about,” said to my ...
The theme here is appreciation, and finding out what things in life truly have value. The author here shows a whole new perspective on living life. Many believe that a good life means being rich, or traveling, and living dangerously. Here, Yezzi shows that life comes down to the little things, he justifies the fact that life is not about dollar amounts, or number of parties. It is about living it to the fullest, in any way that makes you happy. Now that is true art, taking a subject of pure simplicity, and making it a beautiful topic. The theme of the song “Chicken Fried” by Zac Brown Band is is similar to that of “Living Room”. Zac Brown Band writes,
The meal, and more specifically the concept of the family meal, has traditional connotations of comfort and togetherness. As shown in three of Faulkner’s short stories in “The Country”, disruptions in the life of the family are often reinforced in the plot of the story by disruptions in the meal.
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 essay Eating Chili Peppers, written by Jeremy MacClancy, is a description essay. This author demonstrates a concise descriptive nature using a very fixed vantage point. It is clear to any reader what the author’s opinion of eating chili peppers is. The writer uses various similes to ignite the reader’s senses and leave a dominant impression. For example, “Biting into a tabasco pepper is like aiming a flame-thrower at your parted lips” (287) and “Tears stripe your cheeks, and your mouth belches fire like a dragon celebrating its return to life” (287).
“’I feel like I’ve come home,’ he said…’I’ve realised we’re part of Asia here. Not Europe. We’re Asians,’…’I’ll buy you a wok,’…’…you need one [a wok]. And some books. Malay cooking, Thai. That is what we should be eating - not grills and low climate vegetables.’”
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.
Everyone can pant a pretty picture of how wonderful their life may be. In fact, doing so may come with a consequences. Reading these three short stories “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson, “Shooting an Elephant” by George Orwell and a short biography by Malcolm X called “My First Conk”, set off many different emotions. I felt as these author’s wanted to me to feel in such way. I believe there is a life lesion in every life story someone has to share, no matter how small or big.
Food has been a great part of how he has grown up. He was always interested in how food was prepared. He wanted to learn, even if his mother didn’t want him to be there. “I would enter the kitchen quietly and stand behind her, my chin lodging upon the point of the hip. Peering through...
Since before I took this class I had always been attracted to movies or cooking shows. The way food is prepared and the passion that many of the chefs put into their delicious creations. Many of the recipes are part of the person’s culture and they continue to cook these recipes to commemorate an important part of their history. A good example of this is the film Garlic Is As Good As Ten Mothers, garlic being the center of every recipe but it’s of great importance to the different cultures that represented in this film.
There were people with faces that showed how that they were clueless on what to eat but when they saw people of the same culture through their dressing, they had the expression of happiness written all over them. It felt like they had found a sense of home just by discovering their culture food and those of the same culture. They immediately got their food and went to sit in the section where their culture was present. Women and Men in official clothing chose to dine at the Chinese and Italian section probably because the stand was of a more decorous setting than the other
My brother who was already was living in America picked me from the Dallas Fort Worth airport. As my we drove away from the Airport towards his house where I would abode for a while, the smooth drive fascinated me; I was accustomed to potholes on the road in my home country. Deep in my mind I kept pondering how I will be able to survive in this cold, only to be amazed on arrival at the warmth I found inside the house. Out of curiosity I asked my niece, “why is it so warm in here?”, my niece answered with a smile “the heat is running aunty” whatever she meant I did not understand, although she spoke in English she had an American accent which took me long to adapt and decipher.
...ming with life. The smell of the flowers was intense and enlivening. The breeze that was not restricted by car windows, the heat that was not reflected by a rooftop or eradicated by air conditioning, the rain that was not repelled by anything more than my poncho, I was one with all of it. As I biked past, I moo'd as loud as I could at the cows in the fields and felt happy doing it. I even occasionally rode in the van when I was tired.
Looking back on a childhood filled with events and memories, I find it rather difficult to pick on that leaves me with the fabled “warm and fuzzy feelings.” As the daughter of an Air Force Major, I had the pleasure of traveling across America in many moving trips. I have visited the monstrous trees of the Sequoia National Forest, stood on the edge of the Grande Canyon and have jumped on the beds at Caesar’s Palace in Lake Tahoe. However, I have discovered that when reflecting on my childhood, it is not the trips that come to mind, instead there are details from everyday doings; a deck of cards, a silver bank or an ice cream flavor.
I am the one in the picture with the sloppy bun in my hair and the bright red cheeks. The one who can't stop smiling. With all my friends surrounding me, it was one of the best days of my life. All fifteen of us look happy; it was a night for many smiles. Everyone is crowded around the table. There are a lot of red cheeks in the picture; the room was as hot as a sauna. There was a strong smell of barbeque sauce in the air as well. The picture was taken right after dinner. The table we are crowded around is messy. There are a lot of cups on the table and bottles of ketchup and barbeque sauce, with dirty, green napkins piled up. The restaurant was as noisy as the circus when the clowns perform.
My mother always comes up with ways to make vegetables taste delicious. Her meals are so mouthwatering that it is known throughout the neighborhood. Occasionally, we would have many guests over during the holidays. Partying and enjoying the nice atmosphere around the dining room, however, I 've noticed that they are all there impatiently waiting for my mother 's famous chicken fettuccine pasta dish. This is when my mother is the happiest. Cooking has always been her way of entertainment and she loves seeing others happy as they enjoy her delicious meal that she work so hard on. I 've never thought food could bring people together in such a comforting way, but it taught me that as long as you 're doing something you love then it can make others happy as well. Seeing her happy always warms my