personal narrative

My mom and I were in the kitchen cooking dinner. As usual, I was standing on a little metal cow print stool I needed in order to reach the counter. Growing up, enchiladas were my favorite thing to make. My mom and I had a special way of preparing them and it became “our thing” to do with each other. Still to this day, we do things the same way. I put the cheese and meat filling in the enchilada, and she rolls them. Having this system made me realize how much I enjoyed spending time cooking. I’ve always felt comfortable in the kitchen and anytime I haven’t known how to do something, I will look it up or use that as an excuse to sit around watching cooking shows.

Growing up, my parents always talked about opening a bed and breakfast in the mountains. I never understood why they were interested in doing that.

Once I started cooking and baking it all became clear. It wasn’t a job; it was a passion for my parents. Having a bed and breakfast was something my parents could do to pay the bills, enjoy life and give someone else a chance to do the same. One day we found a piece of property that was perfect. It had beautiful log cabins, a miniature water park and an algae infested pond. We couldn’t afford the property at the time, and my parents just kind of let go of their dream. However, that’s when I picked it up. Since then, I’ve always dreamed of opening my own bakery or bed and breakfast where I could spend all of my time cooking and baking.

If my parents had not spent the time teaching and helping me in the kitchen, I can’t imagine what my life would be like. I am so grateful to have grown up in a food loving environment. Cooking and baking will always be a passion for me, whether it’s school, a job or just on my own time.