[This is a guest post I wrote for Hello Vancity]
I still remember setting the table with my heart pounding and palms sweaty, silently praying that my parents and their friends would genuinely like the food. I was in Grade 8. Making a meal from scratch and serving it to guests was my final project. My grade for Home Economics was dependent on their review. What exactly I served, I can’t recall anymore. I think there was a stew and some vegetables. Of course, my mom, being very proficient in the kitchen and known among her friends as a great cook, helped me put most of the dinner together. But she still bragged to all her friends that her 13-year-old cooked for her. She would half-jokingly remark that I could now do all the cooking for our family. The prospect of which was truly frightening.
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