Hope, Ambition, and Ravioli: College Admission Essay Sample

My childhood memories were mixed by hand. Hunched over Formica countertops my grandmother formed my earliest ephemera between her palms. Side by side we rolled the hours away perfecting the one dish that continues to define me even now. Roll, drop, fold, cut, boil, and bowl. This was no Chef Boyardee. These ravioli were a homespun delicacy. I have never grown out of my love for continuing this tradition. This dish, while simple, represents everything that makes my family both so special and so complex.

Ravioli dinners are always filled with affection and valuable lessons that have each shaped me in their own way. Every New Years the custom is repeated. The family always gathers at the table after the ravioli is done to talk with one another about the year that has passed and the year ahead. Eating the food of his youth always put my grandfather into a nostalgic mood. He was an altogether different force from my Grandma. My grandfather was a kind old man with an exterior toughened on the streets of Detroit. When he was alive, Grandpa would wistfully begin to tell us chronicled tales of suffering and struggle. Back then, the American Dream appeared to him as a promised future. Unfortunately, the Depression had swept away the hope of gainful employment. Without the guarantee of work, there was no guarantee of food.

From a young age, my grandfather trudged through life in the hope of subsistence; what was once an oasis was now only an insubstantial mirage. Despite his hardships, my grandfather matured into a success story, securing for himself the family and the future that the American Dream promised. He would finish his sermon by pointing to the faded photographs on the walls that depicted his own small business. Finally, without fail, we kids would tuck these thoughts away and return to our desserts.

It is clear now that the stories he told were not legends, but parables. I took these images of death, hunger, and hope to heart; I was able to glean invaluable advice that could have only come otherwise through trial and error. Struggle and achievement became two ensnared inevitabilities. The past proved that anything worth having would require great effort. Yet, I was no longer stopped by the idea of fighting my way towards my goals. Following in my grandfather's footsteps was easier with his words as a guiding hand. Moments from long ago became an inspiration and route to any success that could be sought. In that way, Grandpa's long, faded narrative became mine.

Ravioli, while delectable, are not dear to me for their flavor. Instead, it is their pivotal role in tradition. In each handmade raviolo is a little love, and in each story is key advice. The affection of my family and the lessons they've gifted me have shaped me into a daring young woman. I cannot help but ask for a heaping helping of both.