Week #2– Hamilton’s “Killing Dinner” Assignment:

• One word from Hamilton’s essay that I had to look up was blubbering. This word means to sob noisily and uncontrollably. 
• A passage from the essay that was interesting/important to me was in the first paragraph. She states, “I have butchered two-hundred-and-twenty-pound sides of beef down to their primal cuts; carved the tongues out of the heads of goats; fastened baby lambs with crooked sets of teeth onto green applewood spits and set them by the foursome over hot coals; and boned the saddles and legs of rabbits, which, even skinned, looked exactly like bunnies.” I chose this sentence from the paragraph because I find it very interesting with the way she described the process of killing the animals. Hamilton uses word choices that show the cruel process of killing animals which also helps us see an image. My question for this would be, why would Hamilton use these cruel words such as “dislodge warm guts” and carved the tongues” when describing the process of killing animals. 
• One discussion question that I would like to raise about this essay is why Hamilton would describe her dad in such a bad way and showing how her dad is constantly disappointed in everything she does.

     Assignment Week #2: 

• Identify and define the word “butchered”. I looked up for the word butchered and it meant killing (people) or also cutting up an animal for food.
• Important or interesting: “But when I killed my first chicken I was only seventeen and unaccustomed.” I find this sentence interesting because the author is using words that would let the reader know what the passage will be talking or mentioning about. This sentence lets the reader analyze not only was she a 17 year old girl but also an unexperienced chicken animal killer. This shows that the author will provide some sort of new experiences that the 17 year old girl had. Which, new experiences means learning something new. Though, what I would like to know is how was she feeling while she was trying to kill the chicken for her first time and what would she have done different or does she regret doing it?
• Is there any way that you can relate life experiences with the first time killing a  chicken? If  yes, how or why does it make it relatable?

Every christmas since I could remember my family has always gathered together at the table around 11:30pm on Christmas eve and said a prayer to thank god for the food we are able to have that night, any other day before and after that, for our health, and just the fact that we are able to have everyone there. My family is pretty big and somehow we manage to have everyone to have a space at the table even my grandfather even though he passed away almost two years ago we always leave a spot free for him and put the plates in his place. After we prayed we ate, I still remember how loud we all are, the laughter and smiles are seen and heard everywhere at the dining table. The different conversations happening, trying to hear each other over one another and over the background music. A traditional food for Christmas that my family has always been cooking is rice with corn, turkey and relleno navideño. My grandma used to always cook this, it’s a traditional plate we have done for over 19 years. My grandfather’s favorite part of Christmas gatherings was having all of us together and eating the sweets, because of him we started the tradition of drinking hot chocolate with pan de pascua, he loved that. My grandma also made flan and jello for us to have. But now that she is older and can’t do much, the cooking duty has been passed on to my mom, she is the one that wakes up 5-6am on christmas eve to start cooking so that everything could be ready by the night. She has this tradition of seasoning the turkey three days early and leaves it in the refrigerator so it can marinate better and when the day comes all she needs to do is put it in the oven. I love waking to the smell of turkey baking, I think that is the best part of the traditions, being together enjoying every part of the food and knowing we always have those there by our side no matter the situation. 

Since I can remember every spring whether it was at our home or at my grandparent’s we would make Sumalak in Navruz. Navruz is a traditional celebration that represents a new year, a new beginning, it’s celebrated on March 21 through March 22. We also set up a huge table with freshly picked fruits from the farmer’s market as a wish that our tables will be full in the upcoming year. Sumalak is made of germinated wheat and takes a whole night to cook. The sweet smell that used to be around the house as it made its way to each room would lead its way back to the pot where a lot of the time I would find my family singing and dancing, while each of us got to stir the pot. While stir it is common to make a wish and that it’s most likely to come true. For us Tajiks, it is really common that one person from the neighborhood makes the Sumalak at their homes in a huge pot, and everyone else helps out. Later when it cooked we would give it to our neighbors and family that wasn’t able to be there. 

I remember every Christmas eve with my family and friends, how we would all gather together at the table in our living room while we heard the cold winds whistling outside our windows. I remember the table and the seats arounds them and how each person occupied different spots. I remember all the people in my living room talking loudly and laughing, all enjoying themselves. I remember the food, all different types of food that my mother had cooked, and the dishes the other guests brought over. I remember the strong wonderful aroma of all different kinds of food that could make anyone’s mouth water. Spicy, salty, bitter, and sweet were all different flavors that you would be able to taste that night. All dishes had a different meaning to us whether it was a traditional meaning, or it was just a new dish someone was proud of and wanted to share with everyone. Some dishes would be over the top and extravagant while others would be simple and modest. When it was time to eat we would all gather around the table and say thanks for the meal we were about to have. As we ate stories of our parents’ childhoods would fill the entire living room, making the mood of the room warm and cozy. At the end when we were all done with our dessert,  when the children were starting to doze off and everyone was leaving, that feeling was still there, and even long after they were all gone, the cozy warm feeling of the environment was still there, and even reminiscing about it now, I still feel it , and it feels like I am their, like they are all here, reliving that moment of us all sitting at the table eating a meal with those who I hold dear, and that brings me joy.

Due to the pandemic many changes has occurred. I miss being surrounded by my whole    family. The time where I would be with my entire family is in parties. I can’t deny it I miss going out to parties. Why so ? I remember how we would all unite as a family and enjoy eating some delicious food plates. All the parties that we have had there was not even once where food was not served. My family wouldn’t call it a “party” if no food was present. Let me tell you something. It was not just one type of food plate that was served but instead there was a variety of food type to eat. If I were to go back into time “ohhh yes I can remember the smell of the  delicious foods that my family would serve”. Every food type had its own taste. Every food plate that was served to my family it was unique, special and with a great taste. Why special ? In every party once food was served we would talk, laugh, tell each other jokes and much more. That was special because not only were we eating our delicious food but as well a great family time existed at that moment. The food isn’t what I exactly miss. I miss being with my whole family and having a great time. When does that great moment time come? It comes at parties once food is served. At parties not only does food help the hunger go away but it brings in a moment of unity among all the people that we are surrounded by. Sadly, due this pandemic situation for now I can’t feel that feeling of union that existed as a whole family. The good memories remained among all of us while eating our enjoyable food plates.

The Chinese version of Thanksgiving, Chinese New Year. It was the holiday that our family always looked forward to every year. It meant the gathering of close family and many relatives. The beginning week of this special holiday was always busy. From being with my parents as they went through the supermarket getting groceries and planning out the dishes to seeing all my relatives come together spreading happiness. Chinese New Year’s eve dinner which was also known as the “reunion dinner” was the most important. There were so many dishes that needed to be prepared in order to celebrate this Chinese New Year tradition. These dishes were known as “lucky dishes” and by the middle of the day, the house was filled with a smell that one cannot explain. It was a mix of everything that was being prepared. Everyone in my family would chip in to make sure that this day would be as perfect as it could be. Standing there, all I could think of was the food that would be at the table and the people that I would be spending this day with. It was the sweet and savory taste of the crispy fried fish in a sweet soy sauce top with cilantro, that ginger scallion lobster dish, and a big bowl of soup that just had so many flavors and seasonings combined and even the sweet rice cake to end it all. However, this was not all of it. Each dish that is served on this day has a special meaning behind it. Eating noodles with a bit of seafood, meat, and vegetables meant longevity and that you will have a long and prosperous future ahead. For as long as I could remember, everyone always had a bit of every dish that was on the table. With all these foods that everyone was indulging, you can’t forget about the drinks. I would always have my can of sweet smooth coconut milk while others had sweet herbal tea and it was so refreshing. The last thing for us to enjoy was the homemade sweet rice cake and the glutinous rice balls that had sweet peanut filling. After all the chaos of preparing the end result was so worth it because so much quality time was spent with each other and catching up on life. Until this day, I still count down the days until I am able to experience the joy this holiday brings to all. 

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite days of the year not only because I get to be with my family, but due to the amazing food that is given during Thanksgiving. One of the foods that I really enjoyed during last year’s Thanksgiving was pumpkin pie. Before my parents had bought pumpkin pie during last year’s Thanksgiving, I wondered about when I would ever get to eat pumpkin pie. Once I got to eat pumpkin pie for the first time last year, I was left amazed at how delicious it was. I believed that it was the best pie I had ever ate. Having been used to eating the same food during past Thanksgivings, eating pumpkin pie felt like a refreshing change. I used to always eat turkey and mashed potato for Thanksgiving, and felt that I would never get to eat different food during Thanksgiving. Pumpkin pie was always a traditional food for Thanksgiving, but my parents never bought it before because they were used to eating healthier food. But I was willing to convince my parents to buy pumpkin pie so we could see how good it tastes.

Having ate a delicious pumpkin pie, I asked my parents if I could eat more pumpkin pie. But they said that I could not eat anymore since there had to be enough pumpkin pies for everyone in the family. Initially, I was upset but then realized that I could buy more pumpkin pies at Shop Rite. Later that day, I went with my sister to buy more pumpkin pies. Once I came back home, I had my time to eat the pumpkin pies that I bought. Knowing about how great pumpkin pies tasted changed my perception of how I would usually eat during Thanksgiving, since I was accustomed to just eating turkey and mashed potato. By discovering the delicious taste of pumpkin pie, I realized that I could look at more food variety during Thanksgiving season.

For as long as I can remember, my mom would always be in the kitchen stirring up new recipes or baking pastries. She would always tell us how she didn’t feel obligated to cook for us, but instead, she genuinely enjoyed making food because it brought her comfort. I never understood what she meant by this because I saw it as another chore to avoid. However, my perspective of this changed due to one small inconvenience. It was a cold Sunday afternoon; I have been resting all day because I was feeling very ill. My mom warned me to wear another layer of clothes before going to school, but of course, being a stubborn thirteen-year-old I went without wearing a jacket. That weekend I wasn’t allowed outside. So I was forced to stay in bed, which I didn’t mind until my mom called me to help her cook. I groaned my way out of bed and slowly put on my slippers. I tried to look frail, but my mom didn’t buy it. She handed me an onion and asked me to cut it into pieces. I could already feel my eyes water up as the onion’s aroma filled the air. I grabbed the cutting board and headed to the table. As I did, I watched my mom turn on the radio to her favorite channel and place her apron on. She opened up the pantry and picked out bright red tomatoes, golden Yukon potatoes, carrots, and two handfuls of green beans placing them in a bowl. As I was finishing up the last bit of onions, she asked me to wash the vegetables. I walked up to the bowl full of colorful vegetables and began to rinse them one by one. I dried them with a towel and placed them on the cutting board. I peeled the potatoes and cut them into squares. My mom walked in, I could smell the fresh basil and mint leaves she picked out of the small garden she had. She placed all the ingredients down and began to prepare the soup. She blended the tomatoes, basil, onions, and garlic, turning it into a smooth red paste. She placed the washed chicken breast into a big pot of boiling water. I joined in and sprinkled some onion and oil in a pan. As I let the onions fry, I drained the rice and placed it into the pan. My mom waited for the rice to fry and added the tomato paste. I could hear the sizzling of the rice as it let out a popcorn-like smell. My stomach began to rumble. My mom placed the vegetables onto the soup and sprinkled in some lemon, oregano, salt, pepper, and a dash of red pepper flakes. I turned around and filled up a pitcher with water. My mom passed me the sugar and mint leaves. I added everything and began to stir it while she squeezed in some lemons. When everything was ready, we placed the soup into five bowls and served it with some rice. My mom didn’t need to call for anyone. My family came down as soon as the smell of the food engulfed the house. I was the last one to sit down since I was cooking some tortillas. Watching my family together laughing and enjoying the food made me realize why my mom loved cooking so much.