I grew up in a traditionalChinese family. My grandma would cook for us daily. Probably because I wasforce fed at home, I have always been a picky eater. Brought up in the littletown, I felt that the world was just as insipid as the rice I ate every day.The experience of food has been a part of my world for as long as I canremember, but only that of Chinese food. 

In grade 10, when I came toAmerica, I was lucky to have a host mom who loved to cook in every stylepossible. Chinese food, Japanese food, Mexican food; almost everything youwould find on a menu could be our next dinner. I savored different foods, and Iquickly began to love the experience I had with each meal. A sense of happinesscame over me when the bell struck for dinner time.

I loved my new experiencewith my host family and the world of food that they introduced to me, but overtime I was not content. I set out to explore on my own, looking for exoticfoods while traveling across America. I placed flags on my travelling map, anddecided to make my way across the country, literally eating my way through eachtown one by one. I planned and spent my vacations roaming several cities andrelishing local foods.   

My first stop was Boston. Iwent to Newbury Street and stopped at “Georgetown cupcake”, whosecupcakes were the best. After an enjoyable “duck tour” around the city, Iasked for a “Sunshine Vanilla”, and the sunshine of Boston was etched onmy memory. Then I came to the famous “Doughnut Planet” at NYC.

I was so content sitting bythe window, with a strawberry syrup donut in hand. Outside, the busy NewYorkers were walking to their destinations; inside, the soft muffin gave me akiss that I would never forget. Later, I came to Philadelphia. “Philly Cheesesteak”was the one that I loved with all my soul. The grilled beef steak was wrappedwith cheese, niched itself in the freshly baked bread, a treat for the stomachand mind. 

One by one, the flags wentdown.

Day by day, I came to lovethe country more and more. After each vacation traveling, I had a more profoundunderstanding of the specialties of that city, and the historic events foundtheir way into my memory. When I returned to school for the new semester, myAmerican History course was not intimidating, but interesting. 

My history teacher Mr. Roestood in front of the big map of the United States. He pointed out a small spotin map: “This small place is Philadelphia, the birthplace of America”. Hetalked about the historical events that the small town had witnessed and how ithad changed the history of United States. “In 1776, Founding Fathers of theUnited States signed the Declaration of Independence; in 1787, theConstitution.” I looked at the spot on his map, and I fondly recalled the flagthat once stood there but recently went down with “Philly Cheesesteak”. 

I gulped down all thehistoric events related to Philadelphia. 

Now with a world map on thewall, I set my eyes on the little planet, on the little towns that seem tobeckon me. I am burning with an urge to gulp down each town on the planet, togulp down its food, and its culture.