How To Start A Grilled Cheese Essay

The day I figured out how to use the microwave and toaster oven was also the day I became host of my very own reality cooking show. With every second of my endeavor being captured by my personal camerawoman, my little sister, I was sure I would be joining the ranks of the top celebrity cooks on television. However, it wasn’t long until I realized I was not even close to becoming the Next Food Network Star, and I more rightfully belonged with the Worst Cooks in America.

With time, my simplistic obsession with culinary fame and fortune was replaced by more complex and varying interests. Regardless of this divergence, I still returned the kitchen, eager to experiment and combine my newfound fascinations. My kitchen, once a studio, became a lab,

Popcorn and rice, hot sauce with fruit snacks, my inventions were more alarming than the fire alarms cheering me on in the background. Yet, like Alexander Fleming, I, too, made some unintentional discoveries. Who knew you could make inside out grilled cheese?

Even after my embarrassments, I continued to find myself rummaging through the pantry, challenging traditional flavor combinations, and swallowing my unusual concoctions without complaint. After all, even Thomas Edison had his share of unsuccessful results, and I was just getting closer to my lightbulb moment.

Once again in pursuit of such a moment, I entered the kitchen one day, but this time it was already occupied. Heavy cream, potatoes, and spices cluttered the counter. From behind the pantry doors, my eldest cousin appeared, inviting me to help with what she was making: malai kofta, specifically our family favorite recipe of a vibrant Indian curry.

For someone who struggles to adhere to a recipe and even experiments with two-ingredient banana pancakes, I knew a dish this complex and traditional was going to be out of my ordinary. However, maybe changing my process was exactly what I needed to discover my sought after “aha”. This was going to be my Model T, my Wright brothers’ flyer, or maybe even my Mona Lisa. I had to accept the