Don't Boil Oil! by Jihun

Don't Boil Oil! by Jihun - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

I can’t cook. I just can’t. Recipes might as well be in Chinese or Greek for me. Most kitchen utensils leave me dumbfounded. It doesn’t really help that I have bad hand-eye coordination. Every time I try to chop vegetables, I have to fear for the well-being of my fingers. I was the last person you would expect to take Foods class in high school. I guess life has a sense of humor because I did take Foods in high school, for one semester during my senior year. I had room for an elective in my schedule so I thought, why not? The great figures of history all took risks in their lives. That’s what allowed them to be the admirable, noteworthy people that they are. This was my risk. This was my opportunity to achieve greatness. I took the class expecting to fail miserably. I wondered how it would affect my GPA, but you’re supposed to coast your senior year, am I right?
I wasn’t worried about our teacher, though. I knew she would be great. A popular figure in our small, cozy campus, she was known for her kindness and patience. That’s good, I thought. She would need a constant supply of patience with me in the kitchen. The semester went by fast. I learned so many terms, so many utensils, so many ways to separate the yolk from the white part of an egg. I tasted most of the food I made and I’d have to say they were definitely edible. I got good grades and enjoyed my time in the class. That’s not to say I didn’t’ make mistakes. It was in a crucial moment of mistake that I learned the most important lesson from a teacher. One class, I was trying to fry chicken. I filled a deep pan with oil and set it on top of the stove, waiting for the oil to boil. Soon, there was black smoke coming from the pan, and my heart raced, thinking this was the day I burned our school down. Thankfully, our teacher got to me before arson could get on my school record and she turned off the fire, still with a smile on her face. She said, “Daniel (my English name), you don’t boil oil!” It was a revelation. I had no idea you weren’t supposed to boil that much oil when trying to fry chicken, especially in a non-professional kitchen setting. Tears welled in my eyes. Forget existentialism. Forget the Treaty of Versailles. Forget derivatives. This was it. This was why I came to high school. I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll never do that again.” People say promises are made to be broken. I say promises are made to be kept. Since that fateful day, I’ve never tried to boil oil. I guess it helps that I haven’t really attempted to cook anything since graduating from high school, but my point still stands.
Our Foods class teacher ended up being one of my favorite teachers in high school. She was sweet, as sweet as the cinnamon rolls we made one week in class. She was patient, as patient as rice in a rice cooker waiting to be served to a smiling family. She understood my crippling inabilities and turned them into inabilities that looked less crippling and more inspiring. If Jihun (Daniel) Lee could cook, anyone could. I take that lesson with me everywhere I go. Worried about final exams? If I can cook, I can definitely take this final exam. Worried about paying for college? If I can put flour, sugar, and milk into a bowl and mix it with a spoon, I can pay for college. I will carry this lesson until the day that I die.