Category Archives: Food

The Sweetest Treat

The Sweetest Treat

By Jacob Lockett, emerging author, Pennsylvania.

Roshni finished making her costume at five o’clock on Halloween night. Happy with her work, she ran downstairs.

“What do you think, Mama?” she asked. “I’m a khargosh.”

Mama turned from the stove, where she was cooking. “Wow!” she said. “You’re such a cute little bunny!”

Roshni giggled. “A cute little bunny that can jump really high!” she said, hopping around the room on spring shoes she had made herself.

Mama handed Roshni a pumpkin-shaped bucket. “Ready to trick-or-treat at school tonight?”

“Yep,” Roshni said. “I love getting candy!”

“Remember, you have time to go trick-or-treating at just one or two houses before going to school,” Mama said. “And I want you back by dinner.”

Roshni nodded excitedly.

Mama hugged her. “Get hopping. Halloween comes only once a year!”

With a spring in her step, Roshni bounced out the door and into the cool night air, her large bunny ears flopping this way and that. Kids ran around the street, dressed in fun costumes.

As Roshni hopped to school, she looked around her neighborhood, deciding which house to go trick-or-treating. A house with a ramp and a brightly lit pumpkin by the door caught her eyes. She remembered Mama telling her that a new family had moved in recently.

Curious to see what her new neighbors were like, she went over to the house and rang the bell.

The door opened.

“Trick or treat!” Roshni shouted.

A boy in a wheelchair appeared, a candy bowl sitting in his lap.

Roshni recognized him. He was DeAndre Lewis, the new kid at her school. He was in a different grade than Roshni, but she sometimes saw him in the hallway. He always seemed… lonely.

She waved. “Do you remember me from school? I’m Roshni.”

“Sure. I do remember,” DeAndre said, smiling. He rummaged around in the bowl, giving Roshni a Nougat Rocket Bar. “Super costume!”

Roshni blushed. “Thanks! I’m a khargosh—that’s the Hindi word for bunny.”

“That’s really cool,” he said.

“So, are you trick-or-treating?” Roshni asked.

DeAndre shook his head sadly. “My mom’s too sick with a cold to take me out tonight.”

Roshni gasped. She couldn’t imagine not going trick-or-treating. She looked at DeAndre’s sad face, and Mama’s words came back to her: Halloween comes only once a year…

“I can take you trick-or-treating,” she offered.

DeAndre’s eyes shone with hope. “Really? That would be wonderful! I’ll go ask Mom.”

DeAndre returned to the door with Mrs. Lewis. “You must be Roshni,” she said, sniffling. “Your mother told me so much about you at the store last week. DeAndre said you want to take him trick-or-treating with you.”

Roshni explained about their school’s Trick-or-Treat Fair and how there would be lots of treats, games, and contests for DeAndre to enjoy.

“Sounds like a good time!” Mrs. Lewis said. She turned to DeAndre. “Get your costume, honey. You can go have some Halloween fun with Roshni tonight.”

DeAndre’s face lit up just like the jack-o’-lantern that sat outside his door. He turned around and disappeared. He soon came outside wearing a superhero’s mask and a long cape.

“DeAndre, I want you back by seven,” Mrs. Lewis said. “Now, go have fun.”

The kharagosh and the superhero went off into the moonlit night. In no time at all, they arrived outside the school, which was covered with Halloween decorations. After DeAndre wheeled himself up the long entrance ramp, he and Roshni entered the cafeteria to the sound of spooky music and laughter.

They went around to different booths, collecting delicious treats from their teachers.

As Mrs. Garcia handed the kids each a pack of Licorice Lassos, DeAndre asked Roshni, “What are your favorite sweets?”

“I have so many!” she replied. “But I think my favorite would have to be galub jamuns. I make them with Mama for special occasions. They’re kinda like spongy—”

“Donut holes!” DeAndre finished.

“How did you know?” Roshni asked, surprised.

“I had one during Multicultural Day at my old school,” DeAndre explained. “It was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. I make them with my mom now, too!”

They laughed, high-fiving.

After they were done trick-or-treating, Roshni entered the costume contest. After Roshni and the other contestants had displayed their outfits for the judges, Principal Jackson cleared his throat near the microphone. “And, the first prize goes to Roshni Kaur with her homemade bunny costume! Come on up!”

“Way to go!” DeAndre cheered loudly from the audience as Roshni hopped on stage to receive her blue ribbon.

DeAndre pointed at the haunted house in the corner of the cafeteria. “Let’s go in there.”

Roshni shivered. “I don’t know…”

“Have no fear!” DeAndre shouted, striking a pose. “I’ll protect you!”

“Ok,” Roshni said. “As long as you protect me, I won’t get scared.”

They went into the haunted house. Kids dressed as monsters jumped out from the shadows to try to frighten them. But every time they did, DeAndre would boom, “Back, you villains!” in his superhero voice. Roshni couldn’t stop smiling. Because of DeAndre, she didn’t get scared, not even once.

After they bobbed for apples, they sat at the snack table and drank pumpkin punch and talked about their favorite scary movies. All of Roshni’s favorites were DeAndre’s favorites, too!

Soon, Roshni checked her watch. She felt her heart drop. “It’s almost seven,” she said glumly. “Time for us to go home.”

“Aw,” DeAndre moaned, shaking his head sadly. “Do we have to?”

DeAndre guided his wheelchair down the school’s ramp and onto the sidewalk. He looked up at Roshni. “Thanks for taking me. I had a blast!”

“Sure,” she replied, swinging her bucket of candy as she hopped. “Halloween comes only once a year!”

“Do you… want to trade candy tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, we can do it at my house,” Roshni replied. “You can help me make gulab jamuns when we’re done at my home. Mama would love it.”

DeAndre giggled. “Great. But… don’t you only make gulab jamuns for special occasions?”

Roshni blushed. “I do,” she replied. “But you’re the special occasion.”

Now DeAndre was blushing, too!

On that Halloween night, Roshni had collected many sweet treats. But the sweetest one she had received was a new friend, DeAndre.

By Jacob Lockett, emerging author, Pennsylvania.

Gone Bananas

By Connie Salmon, bilingual author, originally from Puerto Rico, lives in Connecticut.

You put it in your cereal. You eat it with peanut butter and bread. You eat it with ice cream in a special dish. But have you ever wondered where your banana came from?

Bananas for Sale in a Grocery Store

Many people think that bananas grow on a tree. The truth is that they grow on an herbaceous (herb) plant. It’s leaves sprout from the ground and wrap around each other very tightly, forming the stem. Large purplish red buds push through the center of the stem and later form smaller purplish flowers that grow into bananas. The banana got its name from the Arabic word for finger, banan. A single banana is called a finger.

Bananas most likely came from South East Asia, about 7,000 years ago. Then they were taken to Arabia, and later to the Middle East and Africa. They were transplanted to the Canary Islands. From there, the Spanish brought bananas to the New World, after the voyages of Christopher Columbus.

Bananas grow in plantations in countries with a tropical climate. Leading exporters of bananas to the US are Columbia, Ecuador, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic and West Africa.

The banana is America’s favorite fruit. There are 500 different types of bananas. The most popular one in the US is the Cavendish.

If the bananas are going to be harvested the traditional way, they are sprayed with pesticides (chemicals to get rid of insects) at the plantation. Then the farmers add fertilizers (artificial nutrients) to the soil to help the crop grow.

If the bananas are to be harvested organically, natural fertilizers like manure and seaweed are used. Insect predators and barriers are used to prevent pests. For example, crushed eggshells or pistachio nut shells prevent slugs and snails. The plants are weeded by hand or mulch is used to prevent weeds.

Farmers tie banana plants to long poles for support and cover them in large, plastic bags to protect them from insects and birds. The clear plastic lets light reach the leaves, allowing the fruit to mature.

Nine to twelve months after planting, the fruit is ready to be harvested. The bananas grow in large bunches. These are broken down into smaller groups. 10 to12 bananas are called a cluster, 4 to 6 are a hand, and each individual banana is a finger.

There are many steps to the harvesting (gathering) of the bananas. They are picked while still green to prevent them from spoiling while being shipped. A worker called a cutter cuts down the plant with a machete. Another worker, a backer catches the plant as it falls into a large cushion on the backer’s shoulder, to prevent the fruit from bruising. The backer attaches the bunch to one of the overhead cables that run between rows of plants. The moving cables bring the bananas to the packing shed, located in the plantation.

The bananas are washed in large tanks of cold water. The water removes most of the chemicals from the fruit. It also lowers the temperature of the bananas, which are still warm from the tropical heat in the field.

Inspectors then examine the bananas, to make sure they are of good enough quality to export. Once they pass inspection, the bananas are carefully packed into boxes, so they don’t bump against each other and bruise.

Boxes of bananas are loaded into huge, refrigerated ships or reefers, to prevent the bananas from ripening any further, putting the bananas “to sleep.”

Once the reefers arrive at their destination, they dock at food terminals. They are then inspected for insects, snakes and other tropical pests (spiders sometimes hide in banana leaves).

Then the fruit ripens in special rooms for 3 to 8 days. Ethylene gas, which is produced naturally by all fruit, is pumped through the ripening rooms to speed up the process. The temperature is lowered as days pass, so the bananas don’t over-ripen before they are loaded onto refrigerated trucks and brought to the market to sell.  

The banana has at last made its long journey to you. The next time you are in the supermarket with Mom, you can pick out a hand or a finger of bananas and tell her all about them.    

Sidebar: TOP EXPORTERS OF BANANAS TO THE UNITED STATES

The banana is the most traded fruit in the world. Bananas started to be traded internationally by the end of the 1300’s. Today they are grown in over 150 countries.

There is an organization called Banana Link in Latin American countries like Ecuador, Honduras, Columbia, Costa Rica, Guatemala and Nicaragua. It campaigns for fair and ethical trade practices for banana (and pineapple) plantation workers. In a largely hostile work environment for trade unions, there is a high level of violence and repression.

There is also a failure of health and safety standards, that causes much devastation of human health and natural environments, due to the use of toxic chemicals in banana production.

Banana Link fights for the dignity of workers (both men and women) and trade union rights. Trade unions try their best for workers to have better wages and benefits as well as better working conditions.

Bananas and plantains are a staple food in many tropical countries and play a major role in food security for many households.

TOP EXPORTERS:

ECUADOR:  US $3,68 millions in exports. Total Banana production: 6.28 million metric tons.

THE PHILIPPINES:  US $1,608 million in exports. Total production: 8.4 million metric tons

COSTA RICA:  US $1,083 million. Total Banana production: 2.27 million metric tons

COLUMBIA:  US $990 million. Total Banana production: 3.7 million metric tons

GUATEMALA:  US $956 million. Total Banana production: 3.8 million metric tons

Other smaller banana exporting nations include countries like Nicaragua, Panama, Honduras, Mexico, Dominican Republic, and Ivory Coast.

Sources for the Information:

“How bananas are Grown, Banana Link”  www.bananalink.org.uk

Encyclopedia Brittanica.com:  “Banana (Description, History, Cultivation, Nomenclature)”

By Connie Salmon, bilingual author, originally from Puerto Rico, now lives in Connecticut.

Nice Rice

By Gloria Lauris, Ontario, Canada.

Allow me to take you on a quick rice journey through several culinary dishes and countries.

I grew up in British Columbia, Canada, to second-generation Ukrainian parents who were raised on farms in the prairies, so our dinner was typically bread, meat, and potatoes. We rarely had rice, and it was usually parboiled or instant. It was cooked occasionally as part of something like stuffing in cabbage rolls or in a casserole or pudding. Little did my younger self realize that my travels, especially to Africa and Southeast Asia, would drastically change how I viewed food, especially rice. Just as wheat is a staple in a grain-growing country like Canada, so is rice a cultural way of life in rice-growing countries and is the main cereal crop for over half of humanity.

Fast-forward several years to when I visited Egypt with my Canadian Egyptian husband, I remember seeing large pots of warm, freshly cooked white rice in their kitchens. Sitting on the floor with Egyptian women relatives, we would laugh, smile, and chat speaking broken English or Arabic, taking turns picking up limp pieces of steamed cabbage to fill with a mixture of short grain rice and seasoning to make mashe karumb (cabbage leaves filled with rice). This is a mini-version of the more common Western-style cabbage roll, halupki, which my mother made as a throwback to our Ukrainian heritage. Eastern Europeans make cabbage rolls large and smother them with tomato sauce. But in Egypt they are finely rolled, and just a little sauce is used, as they are mainly steamed in chicken stock and are delicious finger snacks. Egyptians also fill other tasty vegetables with rice, such as peppers, grape leaves, eggplants, and zucchini.

Another exotic rice dish was chicken baked on a bed of Egyptian rice, with nuts and vermicelli. Sometimes yellow or red saffron was added, although that was popular mainly in Middle Eastern countries like Saudi Arabia and Lebanon, where people could more readily afford this expensive spice. Sometimes pine nuts and caraway seeds were added for flavour.

Egyptian Rice Dishes. Photo by Gloria Lauris, Canada.

Koshary, believed to be the national dish of Egypt, uses rice. A flavorful mix of lentils, rice and macaroni is topped with a tomato-chili sauce, garbanzo beans and fried onions. It is served in just about every Egyptian restaurant, in most homes, and on many street corner stalls. It makes a hearty, delicious, and affordable meal.

Later, I visited my son who was living in Japan for a while. I found almost all foods included rice; snacks, bento boxes, and sushi and sashimi all came with rice. There was the right way to cook and eat rice: white, steaming, and fresh to be scooped up with chopsticks. To put soy sauce on this essential but bland food was blasphemous to rice purists!  When we ate sushi, we were always amazed how perfectly the rice was cooked. Yet it was sticky enough to be held together with Nori (a seaweed) and veggies to make rolled shapes. We were so impressed with the art of making excellent rice that we bought a Japanese rice cooker in Canada to create perfect rice, every time. The pot somehow senses the right temperature and humidity to produce a quality product consistently.

Now, let’s go to the Southeast Asian country of the Philippines. Rice is grown in many of these islands with their tropical climate, and they export a lot of rice. Some Filipino agricultural institutes even offer a PhD in rice cultivation!

While living in the Philippines, I remember my Dad, who had re-married a Filipina, remarking how the Filipinos love their rice. They have it not only with every meal, but even the desserts were usually made with rice. It was perplexing to a man raised in the prairies to be served a daily diet of rice and fish! He lost a lot of weight during his time there, whereas many Filipinos gained weight due to the regular intake of this starchy food.

In the Philippines, my personal favourite became Dona Maria Jasponica white rice, a type of hybrid Filipino and Japanese jasmine scented rice, famous for its fragrance, soft texture, and pleasant taste. However, jasmine rice is not good for a risotto as the starch count is not high enough. The Philippines Miponica brand is fluffier and stickier, making it good for risottos, paellas, and congees. Indian basmati rice is a long grain rice which is soft and fluffy when cooked, and it is served with Indian dishes such as biryani, or spicy dishes like butter chicken, chicken tikka and various curries. Filipino Harvester Dirorado rice is naturally fragrant and fluffy in texture and is used in Asian cuisines and in most Filipino dishes such as with chicken inasal, kare-kare and sinigang. At a cat café in Manila, Philippines, I remember being served decorative rice cat cut-outs, their eyes and whiskers being decorated with bits of sauce. Perhaps a sticky rice was used for this?

Affordable and filling, rice is a staple food for many. It is used in Asian (e.g., Chinese, Indian, Filipino, etc.), Middle Eastern, and Mediterranean cuisine. But different types of rice are used for different dishes. Did you know that brown rice is unpolished so it contains selenium and has fibre and B vitamins? It is mineral rich, thus keeping a person full longer than with white rice. However, it takes much longer to cook, and so it is less commonly used, and it is more expensive to buy.

My favourite rice recipe? Although I am a converted fan of Egyptian rice and the delicious Mediterranean style food produced in and around the Nile Valley, my favourite is probably a coconut-flavoured rice, made from jasmine fragrant rice like Jasponica and adding a Thai twist to it. As taught by my kitchen helper in the Philippines, you rinse the rice thoroughly to get rid of any dust and foreign objects in the rice before cooking. Then you add some young coconut milk (buko) to water (liquid to rice ratio is 1:1) to make this delicious rice dish. I have had coconut-flavoured rice in Thai restaurants, and it is a delightful accompaniment to chicken dishes, like peanut chicken satay sticks. Another satisfying dish for me is Egyptian mashe (filled) vegetables, as it brings back happy memories of hearty, flavourful Egyptian meals made by friendly extended relatives, a world away.

International travel and overseas living have opened my culinary taste buds to elevate what I once considered lowly rice. I have come a long way, and not just figuratively, from cooking instant rice once a month in my meat-and-potato youth!

Do you have a favourite rice recipe too?

By Gloria Lauris, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Gloria is an emerging Canadian writer. She has visited over 50 countries, and lived in three of them (in the Middle East and SE Asia). She is a long-time animal welfare promoter. She loves to cook.

Taiwanese Food

By Camille Chen, age 10, Asian American, California.

I eat, sleep, and speak Taiwanese culture every day. Not a day goes by without my speaking Taiwanese or eating Asian food. My parents moved from Taiwan to America before they had me. Their childhoods were very different though, because my dad had to travel with his family because of his dad’s job. My mom experienced the art of Asian foods, and learned how to cook Asian food from her mom, her grandma, and other elder family members. 

I think that to be in an Asian family, it is a necessity to be able to at least cook some egg-fried rice. There are so many people out there that make such simple things the wrong way. You wouldn’t know how many videos are on YouTube with Asians looking at other people cooking Asian food and correcting them. Also, I think that Asian food allows you to really freestyle/improvise. For example, one of the dishes that my mom makes is Udon. Even though Udon is a Japanese type of noodle dish, you can cook it on the pan and mix it with pork and vegetables, and it is so enjoyable! 

Taiwanese food is very unique compared toEuropean food. You need a lot of effort to make it,  and learn about it. For instance, egg-fried rice can be extremely easy to make, but if you want someone to taste it and immediately love it, you need wok hay to make the flavor scrumptious when you are chewing the rice. The wok hay gives the rice a special flavor as if it’s cooked right under charcoal with a big fire underneath it. I consider the Wok as one of the wonders of Asian culture! It is so special and when you use it to cook anything, you can sense the heat and unique smells. The garnish adds even more flavors and makes it even better. But, you also need the correct garnishing. Egg-fried rice garnished with green onions is a classic, and adding cabbage with it is nice, but you don’t want a salad-like vegetable to go with your rice! The tiny details make Taiwanese food extremely difficult, but if you trust the process, it is all worth it in the end. However, egg-fried rice is just square one. Taiwanese food also includes soups with strong flavors or soups that can actually help your health! 

One soup that’s healthy and delicious is ginger soup. Usually, my mother adds cooked chicken to make the soup less boring. My mother also adds rice to make it more child-friendly. The real stuff about it is the special cooking wine. And a pinch of garlic. That makes the whole house smell like heaven. When I taste the soup, first I detect the rice. The rice has no flavor on it’s own, but since it’s been in the soup for some time, it tastes like the soup. Its texture is sort of al dente and the chicken is no different. When I eat the chicken, it has the flavor of the soup and tastes wonderful. The garlic is so soft that you can eat it without thinking it tastes weird. You won’t even notice you’ve eaten garlic. Underneath the base of the soup, I taste the ginger combined with the cooking wine, but it isn’t overpowering. Soy sauce is added as well. The rice, chicken, and the stock together make a wonderful homey ginger soup. The best thing is that each quantity is about equal, so you won’t have to waste anything. Once it’s on the table, we finish it all and stay full for a long time. 

Taiwanese food is important to me because I feel it brings culture and tradition. For example, dumplings, a very common and well-liked dish, are shaped so that they look like bars of gold; so when Chinese New Year comes along, people make or buy dumplings to eat in hopes of getting more money in the new year! The dumplings are a symbol of wealth. 

Zong Zhe, another very popular Asian food, also has a long history behind it. Once, a man named Chu Yuan was hired as an advisor of the King. After a long time, he became an extremely wise advisor and everyone saw him as a good person. But then, one day when Chu Yuan was giving the king advice, the King disagreed with him. This made Chu Yuan so sad that he thought he was unfit to serve. So, he drowned himself in a lake. Everyone felt sad that such a good person would die, so they wrapped up the rice in leaves to prevent all the fish and shrimp from eating up Chu Yuan’s body. This rice wrapped in leaves soon became known as Zong Zhe. Nowadays, people eat Zong Zhe at the Dragon Festival. I feel like this is an important and somewhat heartwarming story. It’s pretty entertaining to see others’ reactions to the story of Zong Zhe. 

When my grandpa was young, his family didn’t have much money. He didn’t have shoes to wear, no toys to play with, and they rarely had meat on the table. But when Chinese New Year came along, his family mixed flour and water together to make a certain type of dough and pinched it into shapes of butterflies and flowers. The point is, just because my grandpa’s family was poor, his mom still did her best to keep the tradition going on, and also wanted the kids to have =>p.17 Taiwanese Food continued from p. 16

fun moments in their childhood. So when he was in the hospital, he remembered all of these fun moments and savored them. 

Taiwanese culture and food are very important to me. I know many of these stories by heart; they were told to me by my family. I hope that one day I will be able to cook our traditional food and share our culture and history with the next generation. My family keeps the Taiwanese traditions going.

By Camille Chen, age 10, Asian American, California. This was selected as a Noteworthy Entry in our 2021 Youth Honor Awards program.

Mother’s Daughter

“The way you cut your meat reflects the way you live.”  –Confucius

If Confucius was right, then my mother lived delicately, treading a tightrope as thin as the slices of her twice cooked pork.

When she ate her first American hamburger, she had complained.“Ai ya. Why is the meat so big? With a hulking piece of meat like this no wonder they all in debt. Americans cannot save.”

She told me this while I minced the pork for our dumplings and she rolled the dough. “Thinner, Jian Yang. We are not the barbaric Americans.”

She didn’t intend it, but with those words, the knife I held slashed across my life like the cuts across the pork. In that moment I told myself I am not a barbaric American because I am not an American. My narrative became a relic of my mother’s, two sides of the same page, her side’s ink still impressed on mine.

For five years after that, I remained scared of knives, and my mother cut my meat for me.

“You are what you eat.” –American proverb

“Is that dog food?”

“It can’t be, because Ling Ling doesn’t feed dogs, she eats them.”

That day I went home in tears and asked my mother to pack me a sandwich. I showed her what the pale kids kept inside of their princess lunchboxes—spongy white bread around ham and cheese, a cereal bar, an apple.

“Ah yes, I make for you.”

The next day I found a pork bun in my backpack. I held the baked dough and took a bite. I tasted pork marinated with soy sauce and chives. As I chewed, I hoped the hujiaobing could pass off as a hamburger.

“Ling Ling is eating dog food again.”

“Does that make Ling Ling a dog?”

The day after, there was steamed bun inside my backpack with barbecue pork and black pepper. I looked once at the pearl knot before throwing out the chasiubao. I didn’t eat my lunch the day after, or the day after.

If you are what you eat, I thought, I don’t want to eat Chinese anymore.

And so my transformation began. Everyday at lunch I’d throw out the delicacy my mother had packed. Everyday at dinner I’d pick at my rice while staring at the woman across from me, pockmarked yellow on her cheeks and creased valleys in her forehead. My greatest wish was not to turn out like her.

I thought I had actualized my wish when my skin began to turn translucent from skipping meals. I thought I was becoming white. I started eating nothing altogether, and I became nothing.

Once my mother scolded me for not eating. “Jian Yang, you look like ghost. Eat your noodles and you become yellow again.”

I can’t remember most of what happened next. I remember my tongue, poised like a knife, uttering some ugly sounding words I barely understood. I remember wanting to make her bleed with my words, one cut for each bite of dog food I had endured. I remember pretending she could seep out red on a cutting board, bleeding until we were left colorless.“Chink.”

“He who takes medicine and neglects diet wastes the skills of the physician.” —Chinese adage

My mother doesn’t cook anymore. Instead, she lays on a red-blanketed bamboo mat in a room brimming verdant. On her desk, an incongruous collection of terracotta cups, holding qi-rectifying rhubarb and shen-calming wolfberry.

The doctor said her condition is too fragile to eat. Strong flavors could disturb her gut, and I should instead blend basic nutrients for her to drink. I promptly replied that he was a fool.

The first time I cooked for her, she was coming back from the hospital. When I saw her, face of mountains reduced to ash, I dropped the plate. She asked what was wrong with me. I told her that my greatest wish was never to turn out like her. She told me that she had shared the same wish.

“You must turn out better than me,” she said.

We ate my meal, pork buns ribbed in ginger, in silence.

“Fashion is in Europe, living is in America, but eating is in China.”  —Chinese adage

I saw this scribbled against a dusty window to a grocery store in Chinatown. I don’t know why they say living is in America, because this country killed my mother. She died four months after the pork bun meal—inevitable, the doctor said. The nail salon she labored nine hours a day at had used illegally toxic polishes for years. While she scrubbed counters and coughed chemicals, her liver simply gave out. It was a miracle that she lived as long as she did.

My mother was a failure of an immigrant in most aspects. She stood at the Angel Island bridge seeking freedom, yet each day she beat herself an ocean back, until her vision became a mirage on the horizon. By imagining walls of white supremacy and shadowy businessmen, she trapped herself in a prison of her own making. She never found freedom because she never made it off that bridge.

I live in America, though. For lunch I go out for drinks with my roommates. We catch up on Grey’s Anatomy and someone invites me to a frat party later, which I only pretend to consider.

For dinner I stay home and cut my own meat, a piece for Brooklyn, a piece for Chinatown, for eating, for living. One piece for Jane Young, amateur journalist and cup-pong champion, one piece for Jian Yang, aspiring princess haunted by the paleness of memory. They are the decussations of a third-person America, carved apart by my mother into island pieces long before I realized that action had shattered me.

And so, I reassemble. I take the pieces, toss in a million chili peppers, and sauté in an ocean of soy sauce until they become one and the same.

By Samantha Liu, 16, New Jersey. She adds:“Mother’s Daughter” parallels my two clashing heritages. Having been raised speaking and reading Mandarin Chinese, I was expected to fulfill all the Confucius-esque dreams of my Chinese immigrant mother, whom I ended up resenting more than anything. Through the symbol of food, my story explores my struggle to reconcile these beliefs as I learned to define myself—as Chinese-American, as heterogeneous as food itself.”