“What do you think?” “Two more minutes.” This is the exchange I had every single day with my grandfather “Pappy” from when I was five until I was ten years old. When I think back to my childhood, this phrase comes to mind, as it played such a huge role in my time with my grandfather. I loved helping him cook and learning everything I could from him when I was a kid. I would go to his house after school and run straight into the kitchen, waiting for Pappy to start preparing my after school snack. This was the drill and we always stuck to it.
Now, I should mention that when I was younger, my diet consisted solely of macaroni and cheese and fruit punch. I was extremely picky when it came to my food and because I only ate a few things, people quickly learned that there was only one way to make these foods for me: my way.…show more content… The noodles had to be perfectly cooked to my liking, there had to be the perfect amount of butter, and the sauce was a whole other story; I had my own scientific ratio of milk to cheese to ensure the ideal consistency. I made sure my grandfather let me test the noodles every single time and my response was always the same: “Two more minutes, Pappy.” This extremely precise and deliberate measurement was not to be taken lightly. I would stand at the stove and watch the noodles intently as they sweated out their last two minutes, making sure everything went smoothly. I would reach up, turn the timer off when it beeped, and run over to the sink to watch him drain the noodles, with steam surrounding my chubby