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 dishes of barbecued pork, broiled vegetables and, apart from the rest, a steaming bowl of white rice. While I ate my mom would assault me with a barrage of questions about how my day went. I would recount various details here and there, things that constituted my everyday life.
This one incident occurred when I got back home and my mom didn’t have anything edible prepared for me. In my mind there was this big, red, question why did my mom not prepare any food. I was displeased coming back home from school tired, exhausted and, most of all, hungry. I endured, and persisted till she got back and subsequently 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 walk 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” has the best food of the two dining halls, Brittan and Woodruff. But I have never heard anyone mention that the food that the dining halls serve is incomparable to what they have at home because no matter which dining hall is better or how good the food there is. The breakfast, 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; at the time the strong, salty, teriyaki sauce relentlessly attacked my taste buds and woke me from that dream, of home.
Desperate for a taste of home I began my search for an Asian restaurant or a place that serves Asian food. So far I have found two places. Tin drum and the food court. I visited the food court and was pleasantly surprised to have found that they served sushi. Even though my mom didn’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 soft and sweet 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 Tea 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 breakfast, lunch and dinner. HK Tea and Sushi was one such compromise.
Tin drum, when I saw the name I didn’t think much of it. However as I entered the place and saw the menu a thought ran across my mind much akin to an electric current, “ this might become my favorite place in Atlanta.” Alas the food was not as I thought it‘d be. I ordered Vietnamese Pho noodle. The Vietnamese Pho noodle at Tin drum is a variation 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 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 the sweet taste of friendship.
Food plays a role in every activity or event like a regular day to a birthday. 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 preparing the ingredients, which eventually turns into sustenance, 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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