Food is something that we all know because without it we would not be alive. What food symbolizes for each of us is unique. The uniqueness of it all is what makes food important. Food to cooks represents their desire to please their customers like an actor to their audiences and Matt McAllester a means of grieving for his mother. Maybe to some people it’s just a source of energy. As for me food took on the role of love, friendship and family.
Walking home from school my stomach rumbled, rolled, and growled. I hurried to the kitchen, upon seeing my mom I asked her “what do you have for me today”. My mom would then prepare the table, setting down the dishes of barbecued pork, broil vegetables and a steaming bowl of white rice. While I ate my mom would assault me with a barrage of questions in how my day went. I would recount the various little things here and there that I did that day. 
There was this one time that I got back home and my mom didn’t have any food prepared for me. In my mind there is this big, red, question why did my mom not make me any food. I was very displeased coming home from school tired, exhausted, and most of all hungry. I endured. I persisted till she got back and complained about it for the whole night. My mom replied “I will still cook for you everyday”. Reassured I stopped complaining.
Now that I am in college I do not have the luxury of being taken care of by my mom. Now when my classes end I would go back to Fitten up the long, tedious, chain of stairs. Finally to have reached my floor I would walk around and ask if anyone wants to ask if anyone is hungry. Sometimes there would be an uproar of voices shouting “yes lets go”. Then there are times that I had to eat by myself. Alone.
People say that the “woodies” have the better food of the two dining halls, Brittan and Woodruff. I would have to disagree; the food that my mom makes is the best. The break feast, lunch, and dinner at “woodies” is just food. I couldn’t taste any warmth, beauty, or heart. It’s just bland.
At times I would see rice and Asian food. Rushing to the counter and scooping the food up, I wonder if it would taste anything like the food at home. Upon holding the chopsticks in my hand I begin to feel closer to my mom and family. Warmth of home. It is just a fleeting, bitter, unsustainable feeling because once I took a bite of the food the feeling of home disappears; the strong, salty, teriyaki sauce relentless attacks my taste buds and awoke me from that dream, of home.
Desperate for a taste of home I began searching for an Asian restaurant or a place that serves Asian food. So far I had found two places. Tin drum and the food court. I visited the food court and was surprised to find that they served sushi. Even though my mom doesn’t know how to make sushi my family and I went out for sushi a lot, especially with my mom. So I decided to get an order of sushi. Opening the box of sushi I swallowed in their solid, cold form. Sinking my teeth into sushi as it rolled and tossed around my tongue I tasted the flavor of rice, salmon, and wasabi. The food was excellent and so were the memories that accompanied it.
Hurled back into time by the taste of sushi I saw my father, my sister, and my mom eating sushi. I took a look around the place and saw the distinctive lights and paintings on the wall of HK and Sushi. We go there a lot because of my sister’s love for sushi and my father’s stubbornness and persistence in having Chinese food for break feast, lunch and dinner. HK and Sushi was the compromise.
Tin drum when I saw the name I didn’t think much of it. However as I enter the place and saw the menu a thought ran across my mind like an electric current, “ this might become my favorite place in Atlanta.” Alas the food was not as I thought it would taste like. I ordered Vietnamese Pho noodle. The Vietnamese Pho noodle at Tin drum had an evolution of sorts. It tasted vaguely similar to the one I had back at home with my friends. They were both sour, spicy (prefer to put hot sauce in mine), sweet and had some minty flavor in the broth. But somehow they tasted different; the broth at Tin drum is missing this delicate balance of flavor. The taste of Vietnamese Pho noodle is suppose to be first sour followed by the strong taste of spice, then finishing up with the sweetness of the noodles. Just like the formation of friendship, starting off awkwardly not knowing what to say like eating a lemon, then the feelings heats up turning into a strong flavor of spice, and then imbuing us with the sweetness of friendship.
Food plays a role in everything from a normal day, an outing and hanging out. We would get hungry at the same hour of everyday, the hunger for food, championship, love, and simply the enjoyment of having the ones you love sitting next to you eating whatever you are eating. The feeling of love is displayed in food at many levels. The one that is preparing the food shows love by the extensiveness that one makes it and the time one set aside everyday to cook for us. We also compromise with each other when we go out to eat by selecting the restaurant that suites each and everyone’s taste and also when we order the food. Food takes all shapes of forms but for me it can’t be anything besides love, friendship and family.
Image1: http://www.ehow.com/way_5285697_can-throw-chinesethemed-baby-shower.html
Image2: www.mexicowoods.com
Image3: http://www.scorpionade.com/2008/02/25/dining-wazen-japanese-restaurant-melaka/
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