![]() She would hide under the covers reading, in the small, silent hours of the morning while her parents slept in the next room. She'd collected vividly illustrated books about them. She remembers begging her mother to spare the moths that fluttered out from wardrobes, the gauzy spider's webs that clung to the ceiling. She was fascinated by insects as a child. The word swims up from the depths of her brain: a damselfly. The dragonfly-like creature with the iridescent wings. She shuts her eyes, opening them again when she feels something brush her hand. She stays like that for a long time, listening to the birds, the water, the insects. She can't remember what it's called: smaller than a dragonfly, with delicate mother-of-pearl wings. I even saved up a whole month's worth of allowance when I was in seventh grade so I could make 'Buela a special birthday dinner of filet mignon.” Sausages that I watched Italian abuelitas in South Philly make by hand. Fish we'd never heard of that I had to get from a special market down by Penn's Landing. When other kids were saving up their lunch money to buy the latest Jordans, I was saving up mine so I could buy the best ingredients. But 'Buela let me expand to the different things I saw on TV. I started playing around with the staples of the house: rice, beans, plantains, and chicken. This self-appointed class is the only one I've ever studied well for. I have long lists of ideas for recipes that I can modify or make my own. ![]() Like, actual notes in the Notes app on my phone. When other kids were watching Saturday morning cartoons or music videos on YouTube, I was watching Iron Chef, The Great British Baking Show, and old Anthony Bourdain shows and taking notes. “Since my earliest memory, I imagined I would be a chef one day. ![]()
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