My dad kindly lays out the dull uncooked steaks in front of me. "Beat them." With one brow raised, I stared at him for the longest time with a confused but soon to be horrified look. "You really want me to hit the steaks?" "Uh, yeah, it makes the steak extra tender." I begin to barely hit the cold pieces of the cow spread across the kitchen counter. "Hit them harder. No, harder! Put your back into it!" I soon began to feel as if I were playing a solo in a hardcore heavy metal band. The room became completely dark making me feel like I'm the only band member present; beating the soundless drums again and again.
          After ending on a good smash, the lights instantly came back on and there stood my dad with the same look I gave him before I had started this madness. While peering into his soul with my crazy, over dilated pupils, I stood there heavily breathing as if I were a fat kid chasing after a warm, frosted doughnut, waiting for his approval. A moment of silence crept over the room. "I'm never cooking steak with you again, you're freaking me out..."
          My then dad frolics to the pantry, looks at me, and whispers, "This is my favorite part." He brought back his own steak seasoning concoction, cradling it like a new born baby. "Sprinkle this very lightly, Em. You don't want to ruin the steak." I took a pinch of the seasoning, sprinkling it very slowing over the lifeless meat. Mean while, the grill had been waiting for us to drop the steaks into its charcoal infested mouth. "Patience is the key when it comes to making the perfect steak."     
          Instead of flipping them over every 10 minutes or, he had flip them within 2 minutes; making each side equally cooked and tasty. My arm felt like it could fall off and crawl away from the abuse of flipping the steaks so often. In the middle of the grilling, he brings out margarine so that I can slowly butter up each side of the steaks to make them juicy.  The smell smothers your nose. Standing there flipping the steaks, my mouth begins to water. Not too much long after that stage, the steaks are at a perfect medium well. By then, my mouth became Niagara falls. Now, the moment of truth. My taste buds were about to become the judges of an amazing steak that I cooked all by myself.
          I pick up my knife and cut into the tender cow slice. I gradually swirl it around in my dad's famous, loaded garlic mashed potatoes. I took a deep breathe and went for it. As soon as the deliciousness reached my tongue, I was in heaven. My taste buds were drowning in pleasure and desire. An overwhelming confidence came across me as I watched my family eat the steaks that I had cooked all by myself just for them. I was in a state of bliss. I finally did it. My dad turned to me and pat me on the back, "Good job sis, now we know that there's something you CAN cook besides pizza rolls."