First Draft Essay

As I grew up from a young, curious child to a mature adolescent young lady, throughout all those years, I still see my mom cooking the same old dessert, Bibingka. As that little child, I didn't understand why she made it all the time. I guess I didn't have the tendency to ask. My mind just wandered & I just let the questions flow in my head. It was as if I was saving them for later & I believe that later is... now. After this interview, I learned so much about the food & the hidden stories behind it. All my questions about what & why were all answered.

I remember back in the day, I used to wake up at 3 in the morning to sneak a midnight snack. You see, as a kid, there was always something about my dreams that would get me all excited. Till this day, I still don't know what it was. So as I open the door discreetly, I drag my petite feet & try to hold my weight up so I wouldn't knock out on the floor. I felt as if I were an old Nana (grandma), with my back all bent & lazy-like. I look over to my parent's door & I see it slightly open. As I walk over to the kitchen, I spot the light open. I think to myself skeptically, "What are my parents doing this early in the morning?"

I rub my eyes gently because they were still half closed. I creep in slowly & take a peek to see what was going on. I begin to smell the warm sweetness of something & my mouth just started to water uncontrollably. Right then & there, I knew my mom was making Bibingka. I caved so I crept into the kitchen like my dog, Cookie as quietly as I could to see if my parents would notice that I even woke up. They didn't notice, that's a relief. I climbed onto the chair & I just stared for a good 3 minutes right at the fluffy, golden brown delicatessen. At that moment, I didn't care about anything other than what I was looking at.

My tummy just started to growl & I just remembered that I was there for one reason & one reason only, my midnight snack! I saw that my mom cut the bibingka into square pieces & I saw that a piece was already taken, so one piece for myself wouldn't hurt right? As sneaky as I was, I took a piece & crawled out of the kitchen towards the living room. I got situated on the couch & turned on the television. The dessert was still tremendously hot so I switched the dessert back & forth, left to right every few seconds. The puff of the smoke coming from the petite- looking dessert brushed up against my face & the smell just lingered up my nostril. I started to get the feeling of chicken skin & the excitement flowed into my skin, making me feel all tingly & bubbly inside.

I took my first bite out of it & the taste just melted into my mouth. I savored every bite of it, enjoying every ounce of flavor. I munched on the coconut & the fluffiness of the dessert. All I thought about was the taste, why it tasted the way it was, perfect, light, creamy, etc. I always save the best for last, the custard part. When I took my last bite, I fell to pieces. I really wanted another one. I heard my parents taking out another pan so I assumed they were making another batch.

I wanted to se ehow they made it this time, but I didn't want to make it obvious that I've been to the kitchen earlier. So I walked in like a normal sleepyhead, rubbing my eyes precariously. I actually pulled it off. I coughed a small cough to get my parent's attention. They looked at me in a weird/skeptical way. I knew what was running through their head, so I automatically said, "I heard something in the kitchen, so out of curiousity, I wanted to see what it was." I sat down at the dinner table & watched as my parents brought out the a big red bowl, which is my mom's favorite bowl to use when it comes to making desserts.

I watched how she measured all the ingredients precisely & accurately. First, I watched as she carefully poured the flour into the bowl. The flour was creating an array of white puffy smoke that filled the air. Second came the milk, eggs & sugar. The way she simply cracked the eggs open, the quickness of how she did it caught my attention. The directions weren't intricate at all. It was quite easy to follow actually & that's what caught me; the fact that maybe it wasn't as easy as pie, but it's the thought & practice that mattered. Third came the vanilla extract & the melted butter. & lastly, I watched as my mom trickled the grated medium cheddar cheese & the shredded fresh young coconut meat. She mixed all of that together a certain way: round & round, side to side, round & round & round. My mom took out another bowl for the custard topping. This was another simple thing to understand. All she did was break 4 eggs and pour a can of evaporated & condensed milk. Again, she mixed that, not in a certain way though. She cooked the Bibingka first & as it was done cooking, she took it out of the oven to pour the topping. She put it back in the over for another good 30 minutes. I watched the oven w/ the Bibingka inside of it silently & mesmerizingly. I watched the timer as it said 1 minute left. All I heard was the clock ticking & tocking w/ my foot tapping w/ the beat of it. DING! Mom pulled out the Bibingka. My patience was relieved & settled as the smoke from the Bibingka blended w/ all sorts of flavor. Yum! I smelled the coconut & the cheese mixed into one.

I looked at my mom & saw pride & joy in her eyes. She worked so hard on it & only now I got to see how much devotion & effort she put into making this one little dessert. She tries her very best to make it perfect. I never knew a small dish like that would mean so much. Now I know.