I was fourteen when my family made the life changing decision of leaving our hometown of Klaipėda, Lithuania, and moving to the United States of America. I still remember clutching my little sister's hand and dragging a suitcase with the other, trying to help my parents navigate the intricate layout of the Miami International Airport. They had made the decision to move to the city of Boca Raton, which I later found out translates to ‘rat’s mouth’. Nevertheless, the irony was not missed when that same summer I entered an American high school for the very first time. I could take up half a page jotting down all the culture shocks that I experienced; having the same seven periods every single day, practicing a code red, seeing my first pep rally or even tasting my very first school lunch. Ultimately, I have to say that the lunch had to be the most shocking. Coming from a country where a warm, nutritious, in-facility prepared lunch was available to me everyday in middle school, I was appalled at the state of an American school lunch; a slice of pizza, with pre-cut apple slices packaged in a plastic bag and a carton of milk. That was the time that I realized my biggest difference from my peers; my need for hearty, healthy, homemade cooked Lithuanian food or something that I consider the epicenter of my heritage. “What is that?” is a question I received way too many times whenever my peers would see me opening my lunch box. “It’s šaltibarščiai”, “Oh, that’s bulviniai blynai” and “This is balandėliai” would be some of the answers I would give before going on small spiel about how that is not actual pigeon meat that I am eating, rather just the funny Lithuanian name of the traditional dish. They would always ask me if I cooked it myself, and I always had the pleasure of saying that my grandmothers taught me well. Aldona and Elvyra are the two greatest role models in my life. Both women survived years of USSR oppression, overcame several obstacles in order to secure careers as women, and raised multiple children whilst fighting for the freedom of Lithuania. I have to thank them, my grandmothers, for being the main nurturers of my heritage. Heritage that I maintain and still develop through my love for cooking, just like my močiutės. Aldona and Elvyra have always shown their love for me, my sister, and my cousins through food. “Have some more” and “I’ll pack some for you to take home” would be a phrase said at every dinner together. It’s a way the two of them expressed their love and caring for us, which is how I wound up repeating the same phrases to my roommates, my freshman year of college. The passion and drive I developed to share my heritage and culture through food became unstoppable. I would cook all types of traditional Lithuanian cuisine, from Kugelis to Kibinai, in hopes of spreading my love for others, just like my grandmothers did with me. Today, my love for food and cooking has brought me closer with people of all cultures, backgrounds, ages, and ethnicities, and in the process has made me a proud American Lithuanian. In the future, I hope to continue my passion and grow even more accustomed to my heritage by connecting with people through food.