A Taste of Family

It was my second semester as a senior in high school, a time when most kids were dreaming about prom and graduation. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to graduate and found myself living with my best friend Cyrina and her mother. Life became an unexpected and daunting challenge. Thrust into a world where I had to fend for myself, I juggled multiple jobs to pay bills and tried to keep up with community college classes. It was during this time that I developed a relentless work ethic, born out of necessity rather than choice.

Cyrina was on a similar path, working two or three jobs while putting herself through school. Despite our struggles, we found solace in each other’s company. Money was scarce, but one Sunday in the summer of 2009, I decided to create a small tradition to bring a sense of normalcy and comfort. I took $10, walked two miles to Food 4 Less, and bought ingredients for a simple spaghetti dinner: a box of pasta, two jars of sauce (one regular and one roasted garlic to blend), garlic bread, and a 2-liter soda. That evening, we set the table and sat down together as a makeshift family, establishing a tradition that would become a cornerstone of our lives.

Looking back, I realize I was trying to recreate the feeling of family that I missed so much. Cyrina and her mother became my chosen family, and those Sunday dinners were our way of bonding and finding comfort amidst the chaos. As the weeks passed, I tried to be more adventurous with our meals, though our limited budget often meant sticking to inexpensive staples like Hamburger Helper or Rice-A-Roni. Yet, one day, with $50 in my pocket and a craving for PF Chang's, I decided to attempt Shrimp Fried Rice.

With little knowledge of cooking, I took the term "fried rice" too literally, frying the rice in oil and tossing in whatever ingredients I had bought. The result was a greasy, burnt mess of overcooked shrimp and sludge-like rice. But that evening, we gathered around the table and ate it with enthusiasm. No one complained. We laughed, shared stories about work, and enjoyed each other's company. Years later, we would all agree that it was the worst meal we ever had, yet we fondly remember it as one of the best times in our lives.

Since then, my life has changed dramatically. I've dined at the finest restaurants around the world, even at Michelin-star establishments. But nothing compares to those humble Sunday dinners for $10. The beauty of food lies not in the skill of the chef or the quality of the ingredients but in the people you share it with and the memories you create together.

I’ve since mastered fried rice, but nothing will ever bring me the same joy and nostalgia as that first disastrous attempt in the summer of 2009. It was more than just a meal; it was a testament to the power of love, friendship, and the family we choose. And that, in the end, is what truly nourishes the soul.