Common Application Samples #1 by Sarah O'Neill

 ADMITTED BY UPENN 

My ritual for making yoghurt has finally been perfected. I scoop two generous tablespoons of culture with milk, blending until there are no clumps. In the nook above the radiator, I keep a bowl overnight to ferment and wake up to the perfect blend of milk, cheese, and probiotics. Like my yoghurt, when I first moved from China to the US for school, I wanted to blend into everything: jumping right into Halloween, embracing gourds filled with candy with my friends while learning how to high-five. I tried all the pizza I could and ventured to a speciality ice-cream parlour to try every kind of cone. It all tasted so good and novel. 

That's why when Thanksgiving came around in which I’d be traveling home, I was stoked to prepare for my family the most quintessential American feast. On the menu: honey-covered, juicy turkey drumsticks; garlic-flavored, buttery, decadent mashed potatoes, slightly charred, well-seasoned asparagus and Brussel sprouts; with a side of spaghetti melting under steamy, chunky tomato sauce. After hours of toiling in the kitchen, I placed a hot pile of everything on the table along with perfectly set silverware with the fork on the left and spoon on the right. Breathing in with a smile, “Dinner is served!” I was surprised by the tenderness of my turkey and just the right amount of seasoning I had pinched onto my vegetables. Digging right in, I gulped down everything, not sparing any time for conversations. Lifting my head up after eating so much, I was disappointed to see that my family still had piles of food on their plates. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“It just doesn’t feel like home.” 

Pretty dejected, I tried to understand where they were coming from. Maybe to them home was the precious piece of wintermelon my parents bought from the market, hankered but burned in the kitchen. Or perhaps it was an excuse for daily meeting with beloved friends and family. Either way, to them, home is in our food. Its presence is everywhere, as the ancients said, “Food is the first necessity of people”. It is the question to every greeting, “Have you eaten yet?” and provides a sense of security and warmth. I thought about it. During my move-in trip to school, my family travelled to America with me and insisted upon only eating at Asian restaurants to experience the remaining tastes of home. 

After Thanksgiving dinner, I realized that being the “cheese” in my special yoghurt was not the most important thing; it was also about retaining the “milk.”  Later that evening, I dug for my old clothes tucked away in a closet. They resembled Chinese New Year with the crowds and red envelopes that flutter across the skies. That’s when I started to long for my grandma’s fresh seafood dishes from Ningbo and missed watching my aunties as they discussed family affairs over tea and red bean cakes.

 Upon my return to school, I decided to join the Association of Chinese Students in Private Schools. As Vice President,  I have helped other students coming from other countries find their own cultural balance. I also help connect students from hundreds of schools through discussion sessions and events like the Lunar New Year Gala. I also embraced my time in America during quarantine. Four people living in a crowded apartment, we each cooked food for weeks, and each dish reminded us of home. We shared our food with one another but also savored the aromas of our past and present worlds. 

Today, I combine eastern and western ingredients into my own style. I use the techniques of whisking egg whites for macarons and Chiffon cakes to bake Chinese egg sesame cookies, making them lighter and fluffier. Using my grandma’s approach, I add sugar to savory dishes to freshen the palate and western spices to flavor a steak. It is all of these different flavors that have combined to make me who I am today: full and happy. Have you eaten yet?