Perfect Meal

                Perfect Meal Draft

                In a small crowded kitchen on the first floor of DeWaters, I was cooking rice and lemon pepper chicken. The sound of laughter and cooking jokes filled the air, along with the smell of caramelized onions and peppers, mixed in with tomato sauce. Chopped up vegetables and lemon juice covered the countertop and created a sticky mess for me to clean up.

                Never in my life have I been forced to cook an entire meal by myself. I have always been directed and ordered by my mother for the family dinner, making either a side dish or a small part of the meal. When my parents would be away, my siblings and I would come together and create a simple meal, dividing the work equally among each other. Cooking is a serious affair in my family, and whether it tasted good or not was of greater importance.

                When deciding what would be my perfect meal, I thought about what I eat at home. Usually, our family meals included a meat of some sort, two sides, and a salad. The meat is the centerpiece of the meal. It is what the two sides dishes are chosen and created for, to make a balanced dish that brings out the meat and flavors that support the spices added to it. It was because of this that I decided to make Lemon Pepper chicken breast, with Mexican rice and what we call “Creamy Corn” on the side along with spinach and strawberry salad. Creamy Corn is a mixture of corn, cream cheese, butter, and chopped jalapenos made in a crockpot mixed all together. I figured, this is perfect enough, since it brings the idea of family for me. Each portion represents some of my family members: the Lemon Pepper Chicken is my dad, my mother and grandma represent the rice, and corn is my brothers’ favorite vegetables. The spinach and strawberry salad is my sister, since she is all about being healthy. Lastly, no meal of mine would not be perfect if it did not have fresh Pico de Gallo to garnish everything, so I included that as well.

                I had to take my roommate’s Crockpot to make the corn. It’s a mini one, and so it was so cute to use. The size helped me figure out the right corn to cream cheese ratio, and it fit perfectly on the tiny countertop. Since I am an unexperienced cook, I had to call my grandma for her to tell me a step by step process for the rice. She laughed at me, but assured that even if I burned the rice, it would taste good if I use the correct ingredients. Hearing her voice made me miss home little, but it also assured me that making the rice was the right choice, for what better way to deal with homesickness than to cook food from home. I chopped up green peppers, onions, and jalapenos to make the two sides that would take the longest. The jalapenos went in the Crockpot with the corn and cream cheese, then put on high for it to really melt and mix in together. I walked over to the stove top and my roommate, Qynce, assured me that I won’t burn the building down with my cooking. We laughed little, knowing that it was a possibility.

                In the pot, I poured some rice over a tiny bit of olive oil. “You know you’re feeding me too, right?” they teased to me. I poured in some more rice, and began mixing it all together. I wanted to brown the rice just a little, since that was what my grandma told me to do in the beginning, but was hesitant because she said if I didn’t pay enough attention I’d burn it. I didn’t, so continued on to the next couple of steps. My friend Gil walked in, and laughed at the sight of me over a stove top.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked. I gave him an anxious glare, “No, but that’s okay.”

With two sets of eyes watching me, I became even more anxious. The rice was the most difficult part of the meal, and I was already nervous just at the thought of having to make it. My mother’s and grandma’s always tasted so good. The taste from their version was the reason why I decided to include rice in my perfect meal. Without it the meal would be incomplete. From being a keen observer during cooking, it always seemed so difficult and long to make. My mom has tried explaining to me over a million times, but I just would get bored or distracted and would stop listening to her. I think another reason why I’m so worried about making the rice is because it’s a key dish in my Hispanic culture. Rice and beans are staple foods, and they are usually what can add flavor or ruin a dish. I did not want that to happen to me, so the pressure was on my shoulders.

I poured in the tomato sauce and Comino, which is a spice packet composed of cumin and crushed cilantro, into the pot. Then, my friend David walked in, and the second he saw the rice he told me I added too much tomato sauce. I immediately regretted my decision, but with two death glares from Qynce and Gil towards him, he assured me it would be fine. I added water so the rice mixture could boil (also to kind of and tried to focus on making the chicken.

                It was tough for me to decide where to get my ingredients from. Back at home, groceries were always listed, and we only got what we needed and the cheapest of it. In Texas, the local H.E.B, which is the local grocery store, has produce from nearby farmers and stuff from farmers around in the state. We never questioned where they came from as long as they were cheap enough to feed a family of six for at least three meals. There is no food coop, so getting organic foods is difficult. Farmers markets are available, but typically H.E.B has the cheapest prices, and so we go on our monthly grocery trip to H.E.B first, then the farmer’s market to get whatever else we needed. Another contribution to my decision making was the fact that I am a college student on a budget, and had less than $75 to buy everything. This led me to go to Meijer, because it is the most similar to H.E.B. I figured it had to have some sort of organic foods, and hopefully would be cheaper than the food coop. I went with Qynce and Archie, a friend who drove us there, and together we walked around the store, getting my ingredients. Since according to them I act like a mother, they started calling me “Mom” and kept asking if they could get lunchables as if they were my children. At some point during the trip, they ran away with the cart full of food. I had to search the store only to find them in the ice-cream aisle. At the self-checkout, they asked why we couldn’t buy lunchables, and I told them if they were going to pay for it. Laughter and judgmental looks from strangers ensued, but we left with everything needed to make the meal. I chose a chicken breast packet that advertised it was organic and grain fed chicken. As for the vegetables, they all advertised that they were from nearby farmers, all almost under 5 dollars a pound. The only thing I didn’t get that either advertised it was organic or non GMO was the spinach, because 7.95 for a bag of baby spinach will never be in my budget and was definitely not that day.

Using organic and Non GMO foods is not typically what my family and I would think about. For a family of six, it’s more of feeding everyone kind of thinking rather than what is the healthiest option. In class we talked about the mass production of food and the hidden story behind it. The way certain animals are treated and the types of ingredients and pesticides added to make food more appeasing is appalling. Reflecting on this, it was why I wanted to try to get some organic and Non GMO foods. However, the prices for these types of foods are higher because of the time and energy that is put into them growing organically. This is why I couldn’t get my entire meal organic or non GMO. If I had more money I would get organic ingredients all the time, but for this specific meal, it just was not the case.

“You need to season it more, like really season it.” David said.

“Ashley, you’re getting salmonella all over the place, you need to watch out!” Gil chimed in.

“Do you think it’s getting warm in here?” Qynce asked.

These were the comments being thrown at me while I was preparing the chicken breast with lemon pepper spice and placing the pieces into a pan. My nervous laughter and trembling hands just made my friends comment more, in an attempt to pick on me altogether. It made me laugh, kind of, but more nervous than anything. The rice was still boiling away, the corn was bubbling and being stirred. I had to cut the chicken into pieces while it was still in the pan, because I wanted it to cook thoroughly and not give my friends salmonella.

                Another bright idea of mine was to make my own bacon bites for the salad. The salad was the last thing needed to complete the meal, just mix up the strawberries, spinach, cheese, and bacon bits. I thought it would be a great idea to make my own bacon bits since they would still be fresh and not completely dry. I put the bacon in the pan to cook and checked up on the corn. As a result I burned it to a crisp, and an immediate freak out ensued. Windows were opened and hands were flying about in the air in order to not alert the smoke alarm. I laughed, while holding the burned and smoky bacon pan in my hand. I knew I was going to burn something tonight. Needless to say the salad was bacon-bit less.

                The plate looked like home, the grilled lemon chicken with freshly squeezed lemon juice and seasoning complimented the bright orange of the rice. The green peppers and onions practically glistened mixed in with the orange. The yellow and beige hues of the Creamy corn did not meet my expectations, for it was more liquidy than what my mom makes, and now thinking about it, I think I forgot to completely drain one of the cans. The Pico smelled delightful, the chopped tomatoes and cilantro looked like a mini forest, with white onions mixed amongst it. The strawberries and cheese tossed up in spinach and garnished with store bought croutons was a subtle mix in compared to everything else I had made. When I finally got the chance to sit down and eat my food, everything tasted delicious. The lemon pepper gave the chicken a light kick because of the amount of pepper on it. The green pepper mixed with rice really gave it some flavor, and because of the Comino mixed in with it, it had the right amount of seasoning. The tomato sauce was another evident flavor, just enough to be known that it was mixed in along with the peppers. The salad was dry because I completely forgot to get some kind of dressing, but the strawberries, chopped tomatoes and croutons made the spinach flavorful. The butter and cream cheese overpowered the jalapeño in the corn, but because of the lack of spices in it, when mixed with the rice and chicken it balanced everything out. The cut tomatoes, cilantro, and onion in the Pico with lemon was the perfect garnish with everything. I mixed it with a spoonful of rice and chicken, and the crisp vegetables really made the whole meal appeasing. I got compliments about the rice, which surprised me the most. I thought I would for sure mess that up, but it was the best part of the meal.

                To call this meal perfect I think would be an okay title for me. I reminded me of home and the people who are the closest to my heart. Although it was stressful, especially when everyone was commenting on my seasoned chicken, it was oddly enjoyable. I think what really made it enjoyable was the fact that I was surrounded by people who are in a sense, family. They are my college family, and making a family meal with them made it even more special. What else made this meal close to perfect would be the ingredients. I was familiar with everything I chose to make, and so the act of having to use my memory to recreate these foods added to it. Lastly, my culture also played an important role that I didn’t really see until the end. It was especially evident in the rice, and was why I was so worried about it. To get compliments about the one thing that I was worried about the most is great, especially because it was the part of the meal that had the strongest connection to my Hispanic culture. To say I made rice and it was good, really makes me feel like a proud Hispanic individual. It makes me feel like I am connected to my culture more than I think.

                The overall experience of making an entire meal all by myself was insane. It was a mix of good and bad, but it generally lead to good food and some really great memories. Though more stressful than enjoyable, it really made me see what truly matters at the moment; I am one week away from having homemade meals like this daily. Maybe I will start cooking more, or maybe I’ll leave it to the experts I know that are home and awaiting my arrival. Whichever the case, I can’t wait for either.