It was time for the annual Potato-Salad Contest in Russet Park. After trying for the third time, Alexis shook her head sadly. There was no way she would win the Golden Potato again because Grandpa wasn’t here this year.

Memories of how Grandpa taught her to make potato rose in her mind. She sighed and missed Grandpa so much.

Alexis cut the potatoes and mixed the boiled potatoes, some sauces and a little salt and peppers in a bowl. But it didn’t taste right. Alexis tried a bite of the salad mixture, wondering what was missing. Seeing her frown, Mom suggested, “What about something spicy? Your   Grandpa loved spicy things.”

“You’re right! Maybe he put a jalapeno pepper in it,”   Alexis said, cutting up a bright green jalapeno and adding it to the bowl.

It was closer, but it still didn’t taste right. Alexis was drooping her head, disappointed. “Should we look in a cookbook?”

“Grandpa was never one to follow a recipe,” Dad entered the kitchen and said.

It was true. People loved Grandpa’s potato salad because it was one of a kind. Alexis remembered posing with Grandpa for a photo while they were making the salad.

Photo! That gave her an idea. Alexis hurried to the bookcase and found an old photo album. She immediately flipped it open, expecting to find clues in the photos there. Lots of photos showed Grandpa and Grandma cooking together. Dad laughed, “He and Grandma loved to tease each other but he always called her Honey.”

“Do you think he put honey in the potato salad?” Mum asked.

“It is worth a try,” said Alexis. She stirred some honey into the bowl.

But it still wasn’t quite right. Alexis’ heart sank, on the verge of giving up. Dad kept flipping the album. At the end of the album was the picture of Grandpa and Alexis making the salad together.

It looked like Grandpa was crying in the photo.

With hesitation, the family tasted the potato salad with onions in it.

The Birthday Cake

Josie was a girl who loved to bake. She always helped her uncle at his bakery. Mostly she carried ingredients from the refrigerator to the large work table. Sometimes Uncle Dave let Josie stir (搅拌) the cake batter (面糊) with a wooden spoon.

Josie wanted to learn to bake a cake on her own. She asked if Uncle Dave would show her how Her mother’s birthday was only two days away. If Josie made a cake all by herself, it would be a wonderful surprise.

On Saturday morning, Josie arrived at the bakery just as it was closing. The bakery always closed early on the weekend so Uncle Dave could walk his dogs. “Ready, Josie?” Uncle Dave asked “Ready!” Josie answered.

First, Uncle Dave had Josie get all the ingredients (原料) and line them up on the work table. Then he showed her how to measure flour and sugar so that she had the exact right amount. She added these ingredients to a large mixing bowl. Next, Uncle Dave tapped an egg on the side of the bowl to crack it. “Be careful not to get any bits of shell in the bowl,” he said.

Josie tapped her egg very gently on the bowl. It didn’t crack. She tried again, and this time the shell came apart. She pulled the egg apart over the bowl and watched the yellow egg yolk drop into the flour.

Now it was time to stir. “This is fun!” said Josie.

When the batter was ready, Uncle Dave helped Josie pour it into the cake pan. He gave Josie oven mitts (烤箱手套) and showed her how to put the pan in the oven without burning her hands.

While the cake baked, Josie and Uncle Dave wiped off the table and washed all the dishes.

On her mother’s birthday, Josie put the cake before her mom secretly.

A Different Kind of Perfect

Ellie loved the family gathering at Lola’s house on Fourth of July. She loved Lola’s chicken adobo — chicken in a delicious sauce (酱汁). It was perfect. But this year, Lola asked Ellie to make the adobo by herself because she must visit a sick friend.

“But I don’t know how!” Ellie said.

“That’s why you should be in charge. ” Lola smiled.

Lola pulled out the ingredients (原料): chicken, onion and lemon juice. She explained how to make the dish and then left.

Ellie got started immediately. When the dish was cooked, she tasted it and added a little more of this and a little more of that until it tasted right.

“Now it’s like soup! I need more chicken.” Ellie said to herself, “But I have no time to go to the store. What else can I use?”

The doorbell rang as relatives started to arrive. Ellie wanted to cry.

Ellie opened the fridge (冰箱).

Since I was young, I always enjoyed cooking. Every night I would sit in the kitchen and watch my mother make dinner. I had a toy set of pots and pans, and would copy her actions at the table—pretending to pour in ingredients and mix them excitedly just as she did. On Sundays, my grandmother would make us a huge family dinner. A dish cooked from a charred chicken with flavored sauce enjoyed great popularity with us. Watching her in the kitchen was like watching an artist at work. She never needed a cookbook, never had to follow a recipe. Everything was second nature. I couldn't wait to learn to cook myself.

So it was no surprise when as an adult I decided to be a chef. I had worked in a number of kitchens over the years, but when I got the chance to be the head chef at a new restaurant, I could not have been more excited.

On the first night the restaurant opened, I proudly put my apron on and prepared for success. Soon, orders came in, and the kitchen was at full staff running in every direction. There were many waiters coming in and out, and cooks walking between stations. It was very exciting, but a bit stressful. There was so much to do and a lot of pressure to do it perfectly. It seemed like the crowd was not slowing down.

I was hurrying to gather ingredients from the shelves and fill the orders when there was a scream from the other side of the kitchen. Looking over, I saw one of the other cooks holding her hand in pain. She had burned her fingers on a pan. I ran over to help, and as we placed her hand under cold water, a puff of smoke started to rise out of the oven.

“Oh, no!” I screamed. I reached the oven just in time to open the door and see the charred remains of a roast. Placing my hand on my head, I thought the night couldn't get much worse. One of the waiters came into the kitchen, looking very worried. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he said anxiously, “The guests are asking for the roast.”

I stared at the charred roast, anxious to find a solution.

Just then, one of the guests asked to speak to the chef.

When I was young, the kitchen had an invisible“stop" sign put there by my mom. “No, you cannot enter here!” she always said to me. Well, I really don’t blame her as it is no place for kids.

I was just left outside in admiration, looking at what wonders the kitchen held. A few years passed by and I became very interested in food, both eating and preparing it. However, the kitchen was still out of bounds so I couldn’t experiment with cooking. But they couldn’t stop me forever now, could they?

It was early morning. Mom had gone for grocery shopping and no one else was at home. Time to strike! I walked through the dining room and there was the kitchen in front of me!

I stepped inside and took in the sight in front of me—cabinets (储藏柜 ) lining a wall, the oven (炉子) occupying the central place of another wall, the dishes sparkling like diamonds. I had seen it from outside but this time it was up close. As I hadn’t had breakfast, I decided to begin my first experience as a cook by making an omelette (煎蛋) . Sure I had seen Mom do it, so how could it be hard?

I searched the cabinets and finally found some eggs and onions. I knew the basics, so I began the work. I washed an onion first and then chopped it. Then came the egg. It took me two or three attempts to crack one open and into the bowl. I put the onion and some salt in the bowl too and mixed them. After that, I lighted the stove and put the frying pan on it and poured some oil in it... and poured some on the floor too, accidentally, of course! Till the pouring of the mixture into the pan, everything was going perfect—then I wondered what was used for turning the egg upside down in the pan.

Soon, I was running all over the kitchen, searching for the cooking spoon.

While I was busy taking the burnt egg out in a plate, someone came up behind me.