By: Emma Wei

When I was a child, my family owned a restaurant that sold delicious Chinese cuisine. Naturally, I spent most of my childhood with my cousins, Shanelle and Bianca, at the family restaurant. Every day after school, we would stay at the restaurant as our parents worked. It was really our second home.

I was never a fan of broccoli when I was younger. Neither was my cousin Bianca. But now, I don’t mind them too much because whenever I think of broccoli, I think of Bianca and I’s broccoli eating competitions at the family restaurant. Like I said, as kids, we never liked eating broccoli. Even my uncle’s signature broccoli could not convince us. To have us eat broccoli, there was only one solution: turn it into a competition. We would sit at the biggest table in the restaurant; it was shaped like a circle. In the middle of the table was a Lazy Susan, with the biggest plate of my uncle’s signature broccoli in the world. The dark green vegetable, slightly resembling a tree, was accompanied by a special brown sauce, an attempt to hide the bitter taste. Bianca and I each had a plate of our own and a fork. With a dramatic countdown, 3, 2, 1, we would start wolfing down the broccoli. The slimy sauce would get all over my face as I stuffed one broccoli after the other into my mouth, barely chewing each one before swallowing and allowing the substance to go down my esophagus. There was no time to wipe my face or chew without risking my victory! I hear my older cousin Shanelle, the referee, counting each broccoli we stuff in our mouths to keep score. She scribbled a tick on her notepad for each piece with her mini pencil from the casino.

Soon, there was only one last piece of broccoli on the plate. Bianca and I both tried to reach for it on the plate. The tension rose as this was a matter of life or death–kind of. This last piece would determine who would win and who would not. That was how important this single dark green vegetable was. The stakes were high; who was going to get it? As both of our utensils got close to stabbing the broccoli, the plate suddenly moved. Startled, Bianca and I jumped back into our seats. Shanelle had spun the Lazy Susan! Our eyes watched the broccoli spin around the table till it finally slowed down, ending up on the other side of the table. Bianca and I scrambled out of our seats, trying to get to the other side. Unfortunately for Bianca, I am much quicker than her, as I am older by a few years and more developed. I swoop in and grab the broccoli with my chopsticks, and show it off, high and proud. Shanelle adds another tick to my name. As I bring the broccoli into my mouth, with a plan to eat it nice and slow in front of Bianca, it falls out of the chopsticks due to my lack of control and experience. All three pairs of our eyes watch the broccoli slowly fall onto the carpet. Everyone yells “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” before it finally touches the carpet. We all stare at the soggy broccoli on the ground speechless. The carpet soaks up the brown sauce, leaving a stain. Shanelle slowly erases one of the ticks under my name. We turn our heads to look at each other, silent at first. Then, unexpectedly, we burst into loud childish laughter, with our hands on our stomachs, laughing so hard that it hurt.

After taking some time to calm down, it was time for the moment we were all waiting for. Who was the winner? Was it finally the day Bianca beat me for the first time in the history of our strong rivalry? Bianca and I looked at Shanelle, impatiently, eagerly hoping she would hurry up and tell us the winner. I remember being so nervous before Shanelle announced the winner, as I was not a fan of losing, even in small things. Shanelle motions us to drumroll, and we stomp our feet on the ground: thump ba thump ba thump. She takes a deep breath and flips the notepad to face us. On the notepad, with very clear blocky letters is my name! I won! The happiness and relief I felt at that moment were indescribable. I stick my tongue out to Bianca, the loser, as I owned the bragging rights. Yes, it was a mean thing to do, but the younger me could not contain my excitement.

This dynamic between my cousins and I, Shanelle, the oldest, the “moderator”, and Bianca and I, the younger ones, competing over things has been consistent not only during our broccoli competition but the rest of our lives as well. Although we have grown up and have found new things, some things stay the same. From this, I realize that growing up in the family restaurant isn’t what helped me make who I am. It is the people in the restaurant that did.