Chambers 1

Chambers, Jebraune
Mrs. DeSarro
13 October 2015
Dual Enrollment
Descriptive Essay
It is absolutely freezing. Everyone elses average cold is my below zero. So, right
now I am feeling the kind of cold the racks your body into uncontrollable shivers. I feel
goosebumps covering my body with a shaking hand. I fold my arms around my body to shield
myself from the winds that I believe appeared right from the polar ice caps, but it is a force that
dismisses my many layers of clothing and demands to be felt. I feel it alright, all the way to my
ribs. It will all last for a few more seconds because I am opening the door to la panaderia. The
illustrious panaderia has always been my warm safe haven.
I smile like a darn fool when I feel the warmth of the panaderia. Not just because it
scrubs every malicious tendril of cold lingering on my body, but also because it is the obvious
sign that the most delicious and sweetest baked goods are coming out the oven. What am I going
to eat? I walk to the numerous shelves overfilled with fresh hot pastries. I have to catch me drool
before anyone notices. What am I not going to eat?
I take off my jackets, I close my eyes, and I feel. I feel the different scented wafts pass
over me and around me. I feel them curl across my face and weave through my arms and fingers.
The mouthwatering, soul healing aromas heat my every cell. I am drowsy, but in a good way, like
I am in the state between dreaming and waking up. It is luxurious and I am richer than I have
ever been.

Chambers 2

I gaze over all the pastries. I smell the conchas, sweet bread with flavored sugar crust.
My favorite is chocolate. I put an empanada, a rolled up sweet bread held together by tangy
apple puree slightly sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, on my tray. I pull 2 hot bolillos from a
shelf that I am anticipating to tear apart in my hands and see the steam come up from the soft
inside concealed by perfectly crisp outside. I have no control and help myself to semas, donas,
galletas, cuernitos, budding, tres leches, pastel de chocolate, and mantecas- I can regret this
tomorrow when I have the worst stomach ache and I cant stop pooping, but tomorrow is a whole
day way.
I may cry as sit with my glorious pan dulce. I am weak. All my joints feel weak, weak
like when I have just woken up and cannot form a fist. It comes from my foretaste of
champurrado, a Mexican hot chocolate. I am not dainty or ladylike as I drink it. I chug it. I feel
the delicious liquid pass down through my chest. Its heat expands inside me like a butterfly
unfurling its wings, gratifyingly taking in its surrounding space and filling it with its
magnanimous glow.
I am triumphant. I am eating at la panaderia.