I’ve taken to writing a note jointly to my sons every Wednesday, just to clutter up their email, but also to let them know their father thinks about them still. Yesterday I described my morning with The Princess. Since both of us are now working in close quarters out of the house, it is important to get out of the close confines every so often. Kyle and I called Cathy Kerns to lunch with us on a whim. I’d been to a soul crushing job interview in the morning, got home a little before 12 to nothing in the larder, and it was decided for me that it was a Taco-cheena restuaurant day. Wednesday was National Hot Dog Day, and the thought of a Japa-Dog from a hipster Mexican-Asian fusion restaurant was wonderful We picked up Cathy, plopped ourselves down, and ordered from an attractive but heavily inked young woman who was our server. Alas, the kitchen had no avocado, so the Japa-Dog became a sort of Korean hot dog with kimchi and chili paste on top, but it was all good. We gobbled down our ‘dogs, including an order of empanedas. After check out, the fun started. Cathy and Kyle wanted to go to this Asian Market around the block from Taco-cheena. I was outnumbered and not driving, so I was along for the ride. I generally am a pretty adventurous eater. And I generally enjoy identifiable Asian food. While there are many styles of cooking that come from Asia, I had no exposure to any of them until I was well into my 20’s. My mother’s idea of Chinese food was canned chop suey from Chunking Products. Bought at our Iowa grocery store, the two packages were fastened together by duct tap. One can contained fried noodles and the other was a chicken and vegetable mix suspended in a gelatinous sauce. My mother would carefully follow the directions to dump chicken parts and vegetables into a pot, heat and stir, then serve over the hardened noodles. It never was my favorite. My father simply refused to eat it or made plans to have a dinner meeting out whenever he knew it was on the menu. My palate, raised on pork, beef, chicken, and ham, is not immediately receptive to Asian foods use of dried seafood, desiccated animal parts, unknown vegetables floating in syrup, or brightly colored plastic bags with objects noisily clattering about upon being shaken. My eyes glaze over quickly when surrounded by that kind of stuff. Into the Asian Market we stumbled. Packages and cans of unknown and poorly marked product climbed to the ceiling. Following both women into this tightly packed market, The women drove themselves even further into the store, until at last, I broke. I picked up a can of some liquid - maybe even beer - and said in a loud voice, “Do you remember that line from “Wayne’s World”? The one where Wayne looks into the camera and says, “What’s the main ingredient of Chinese food?” They paused, looking at me. It was time to pounce. “Look at the label. The main ingredient is the juice of soom jung gai!!” The swelling is going down from where the 10 pound bag of brown rice hit me, and I’m told the glasses will be fixed next week. So much for being invited to go shopping there again.
Posted on: Thu, 24 Jul 2014 19:27:23 +0000
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