Every Year

It’s the same every year. A few days before each of our birthdays, my mom would ask, “what you you want to eat for your birthday dinner?” For each of our birthdays, my three siblings and I would always respond, “I want Dad to grill steak, onions, asparagus, and bread”. It is a family tradition that whoever’s birthday it is can chose the dinner for that night, and we all pick the same delicious meal. 

Since the meal is all of our favorites, we eat it a lot in our household, and for each of our birthdays, we have family over to celebrate and share our favorite dinner. Even though we have it very frequently, my family never gets tired of our favorite meal.

The meal is really laborious to make, since food is being cooked in so many places, on the barbecue, stove, and in the oven. My mom, the self-proclaimed head chef of the family, is charged with watching over everything in the kitchen while my dad focuses on the barbecue. Year after year, playing the many challenging roles of head chef, host, and mom proves to be too much during these hectic family gatherings. 

About an hour into dinner preparation, one of my family members exclaims “I smell a fire!” Since fires are relatively common in California, we don't think anything of it for a moment. But when we all see my mom sprinting to the kitchen, it all dawns on us: the bread! My family and I all rush into the kitchen to watch my mom open the oven. Plumes of smoke escape, making everyone blink and cough profusely. Once all the windows and doors are open and the kitchen is almost fully cleared out, we finally examine the loaf, or what’s left of it. A big black lump sits in the oven, completely unrecognizable. What once held so much promise of garlicy, buttery goodness is now an inedible block of coal. With not enough time to re-bake the bread, dinner is served without it. Everything is still tasty, but lacking the delicious garlic bread. 

This dinner is not our favorite because of the taste, though it is pretty good. It’s our favorite because it serves as a memory of relaxed time spent with family. Every time I have grilled steak, onions, asparagus, and bread, I am reminded of my extended family gathered around our kitchen table, fighting over who gets the last slice of steak. Or all thirty of us singing “Happy Birthday” to my brother and watching him blow out the candles stuck into my sister’s homemade cupcakes. Or the endless games of tag my cousins and I would play in the backyard with the smell of the Barbecue wafting through the summer air. It is a reminder of a carefree time, where dinner started off rocky, but ended with family coming together and making new memories. It’s the same every year.