I never would've thought

Ya know when you're ten and in class they ask you "hey there lil billy what do you want to be when you grow up?" I was utterly convinced that when I was older I'd be a ninja. This of course is not something that a young teacher fresh out of college with her first teaching job would allow so of course my back ups were things like fireman, cop, superhero ya know, the normal ones.

I never would've thought that I'd be the way I am now, a loud, dirty mouthed, chain smoking pastry chef. Well soon to be a pastry chef, with an associates in Baking and Pastry Arts. So here I am...almost twenty-one, and not a ninja. I'm not sure how well that sits with me. Wait what the hell am I talking about, screw ninjas, I love food. I always have.

Food is important, especially when you've grown up with a filipino mother, and a Japanese/Irish world traveling father. In retrospect its almost obvious that food would become my life. I owe a lot to my parents for that one. "Visiting family" when my mom said it meant a veritable filipino feast for a week. Ten pounds gained a day on those and loving every minute of it. My grandma scurrying about like a chicken without its head in her thick accent talking a mile a minute making pancit bihon, lumpia shanghai, adobo, and kare-kare. The smells of a million and one flavors in the air and little me with no idea whats going on at all but thoroughly intrigued. Food was power there and it was Grandma Llora with the scepter (read big wooden spoon).

So from my mom and her family I got a respect for the power of food, but from my dad I learned to respect the food itself. Eating with him is an adventure, if I got anything (other than my mannerisms, personality, sense of humor, etc etc etc) from him its an utter love of ethnic food. Bring on the foods of the world, the creepy, the crawly, the slimy, the oozy, the deep fried, stir fried, pan fried, you name it I'll eat it. If it swims, walks, or flies my dad has probably put it in his stomach at some point and maybe one day I'll actually catch up to his track record. That I think was the only rule with him when we ate, was try everything. It didnt matter if you liked it or not afterward, it was that sense of adventure and willingness to try. He also has a knack for finding the best food in the most hole in the wall places there are. No five star 150 dollars per person places for him, he wants it cheap and he wants it done right. Doesnt matter if it was hot dogs or chinese food he found the right places that everyone else always seems to pass over. Some of my fondest memories are sitting in a dingy little hole in the wall eating the best hot dogs you can find and not paying more than twenty bucks for four starving teenagers and my dad. Its a particular talent I've gotten from him too.

There's nothing that makes me quite as happy as sitting in chinatown in a bustling crowded dim sum restaurant surrounded with friends, and possibly even seated with a whole lieu of chinese immigrants that share the table with us. Fine dining is not exactly what I'd call that, but its where I'm really at peace with life. Bring on the food of the world I'm ready for it.