Dinosaur Nuggets: Kyle Knight’s Food Biography This story begins with the bare essentials: a box of chicken nuggets, Dr. Pepper and a pack of ketchup. Considering my limited diet of dinosaur-shaped fried delicacies, you can infer that my childhood in Manvel, Texas is relatively unexciting and basic. Growing up on the edge of suburbia, I attend a small-town school and eventually upgrade my meal plan to include cheese sandwiches and the occasional slice of pizza. Chocolate is my mortal enemy, Satan himself if I had to give it a title. Peanut butter is its distant cousin, and deserves nothing short of my absolute animosity. I am a picky child and an even pickier eater, but I find my salvation in mozzarella and anything fried.
As we fast-forward the clock, I find myself staring down a textbook from AP U.S. History, reciting dates and munching on a ham sandwich with the graceful movement of a barnyard pig. I skip breakfast often to make room for more studying, knowing that grades and GPA are my ticket into college. Food at this point in my life is the least of my concerns, and with all the craziness of life at home, the reduced lunch prices and small sandwich in my hand provide a temporary relief from the onslaught of high school stress. Between exams and moments of pulling out my hair, I discover my taste buds have matured. I venture into new avenues of culinary curiosity, eventually becoming a coffee addict and realizing my one true love has always been Tex-Mex. On a date with my high school sweetheart, I find myself on the phone with a man who is offering me a 50-50 shot at a full-ride scholarship to several Texas universities. He tells me I can only pick one school to interview for. The aroma of fajitas sizzling and crackling on the plate below invades my nose, dances around and excites my brain even more as I contemplate the potential opportunity to attend college without debt. As the meal is concluding, and we begin to pack up our to-go boxes, the excitement disappears as well. My mind races, munching on one last chip and savoring the question of which school is the right choice. Which school do I interview for? What if I fail to get the scholarship? A few days pass. As I pick up my plate from my grandma’s dining room table and deliver it to the kitchen, I consider the implications of choosing the University of Houston. Much like the cabbage rolls I see on my sister’s saucer, is the school underrated and tasteful? Or, as my peers in class suggest, is the school spoiled and not worth digging into? The thought of choosing wrong consumes me for weeks, up until my interview and the ensuing weeks of anxiety which follow. As I press the ground-level button on an elevator in Cougar Village One, we fast-forward again; packed like sardines, 15 Terry Scholars bump shoulders and laugh like hyenas as the door opens up and we stroll onward like kings and queens to an awaiting banquet. Chicken, roasted vegetables and cheesecake make their way into my belly, and guest speakers offer the audience a glimpse into what it means to be a part of a new family. I have succeeded at the interview, and four tasty years await me as I look around the table at new faces and friends. Two years pass, and a box of Cane’s takes its place at the back of a large classroom. Munching on a piece as I make my way to the front of the room, I take a moment to chew on the fact that I am now the President of the cohort. I am reminded of my dinosaur nuggets and how some things never change, like the amazing taste of fried chicken. Addressing the Scholars, I introduce my officer board and begin a year of amazing service activities and family bonding. Another year passes, and now I sit with a cup of coffee in my hand with a stomach full of cheap McDonald’s breakfast burritos. Cougar Cash, much like Monopoly money, encourages me to visit the Student Center Food Court far too often. Yet, as the warm Vanilla blend of sugar and cream streams delicately down my throat, I smile knowing this is exactly how the story is supposed to be. Pushing myself to the brink of social suicide, I have managed to reach my final semester with two degrees. I think back on the nights of 3 a.m. donut runs, reminding myself of how delicious strawberry milk tastes when mixed with flour and glaze. I think back on watching Gladiator in the big dormitory lounge, holding hands with the cutest girl I have ever met while munching on a pack of Doritos. I think about making my famous banana pudding, which elevates me to celebrity status on the sixth floor hallway for a time. I think about the thanksgiving meal my dorm buddies helped create as we took over the community kitchen for a day, nearly setting off the fire alarm with overcooked meat. Looking forward, with dreams of a communications career in Austin or Houston, I know that great new food adventures await me. As long as chocolate and peanut butter stay away, I have a feeling the years ahead will be full of great taste and savory memories. |
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