As I pour the messy scoop of orange broth with various interesting ingredients and thick light brown noodles out of the pot and into my hand-held bowl, I see him. Entwined in the forest of noodles, he is there trying to get out. Gently picking up my chopsticks, I grasp him coldly and, without remorse, put him into my mouth, remembering fondly the time I first met him. That little face has a habit of popping up during the good times: meeting a friend for the first time in years, birthdays, fun dates, traveling to new places; it always seems to make an appearance, or maybe I seek it out. To me, it represents a recurring theme of community. Whenever I encounter that silly looking squid it reminds me of where I was last time I saw him, offering me a brief moment of perspective of my life. Friends, jobs, school, they come and go, but he’s always there, reminding me that I am where I belong.
I love trying new foods, and I love watching other people do it too. Every birthday, I invite my friends and family to a banquet at some restaurant around the city. One year, we ate Persian food because I thought my grandma would like it. Another year I took everyone to an Ethiopian place because I was craving rice bread. Another year I thought it would be really funny to force everyone to eat ice kachang with black fungus for desert, which honestly is not as bad as it sounds; the Chinese are notoriously bad at coming up with appetizing names for their food in English.
My family often makes fun of me, saying that I would probably eat a monkey if that was put in front of me. Honestly, that’s not the case. Novelty is a large element of why I love trying new food, of course, but it goes so much deeper than that. Eating food from other places gives you a window into the world that other people live in. Every spice, every flavor conveys an experience. One can often learn a lot about the commonalities and differences they have with people from a certain culture when they taste their food.
I love trying new foods, and I love watching other people do it too. Every birthday, I invite my friends and family to a banquet at some restaurant around the city. One year, we ate Persian food because I thought my grandma would like it. Another year I took everyone to an Ethiopian place because I was craving rice bread. Another year I thought it would be really funny to force everyone to eat ice kachang with black fungus for desert, which honestly is not as bad as it sounds; the Chinese are notoriously bad at coming up with appetizing names for their food in English.
My family often makes fun of me, saying that I would probably eat a monkey if that was put in front of me. Honestly, that’s not the case. Novelty is a large element of why I love trying new food, of course, but it goes so much deeper than that. Eating food from other places gives you a window into the world that other people live in. Every spice, every flavor conveys an experience. One can often learn a lot about the commonalities and differences they have with people from a certain culture when they taste their food.
"Eating food from other places gives you a window into the world that other people live in."
I remember coming to an epiphany a couple months ago in Singapore. I was there visiting my best friend and while we were sharing a huge bowl of dry noodles with some other friends, I overheard two older Chinese ladies casually greet each other with “Ni chi le ma?”, meaning “Have you eaten yet?”, the standard greeting for most Baby Boomers in Mandarin. I realized it wasn’t a real question, of course they had eaten. It was equivalent to asking “How are you?” in the United States. Looking down at the ridiculously large bowl of noodles we were sharing, something clicked for me about the Chinese. Their entire history and culture has been shaped by scarcity. This is why Chinese food is typically prepared in large quantities. Unlike in Europe or the Middle East, most Chinese families did not have the luxury of preparing individual plates for every member. At mealtimes, the main dishes are almost always placed at the middle of the table. Rarely would the Chinese think of creating something as individualistic as a hamburger; meals were always communal, like a large amount of noodles or rice placed in the middle of the table. Specific social norms exist that govern who gets to eat first, and who serves who.
During the same trip in Singapore, I was almost kidnapped by my friend’s family. They took me to their hometown of Padang, the regional center of western Sumatra island. Sitting at the dinner table with her family, I realized that the squid signifies much the same thing as the bowl of noodles. Squid is something that has to be prepared correctly. If not enough spices are used or if it is undercooked, it will feel like you are taking a bite out of a tire. No one wants to eat a tire. But, once you get it right, the soup, or ‘mie kuah’, as they call it, can be left on the stove for hours, letting every ingredient absorb the flavor of every other. The amount of time it takes for this to happen allows for time to do other things, such as contributing to the family farm, cleaning, taking care of children, spending time with your family, or any number of other things. This, I think, is why squid is such a popular dish in cuisines originating from the fishing-dependent cultures of western Sumatra and Southern Java. Not only are squid common in the surrounding water, and not only are they nutritious, but preparing them takes time. The “cooking time”, as I heard them call it, lasts for anywhere between 45 minutes and three hours. This span of time before mealtime allows for the women of the house to come out of the kitchen and is some of the most valuable time for families to spend with each other, especially during the holiday season of Ramadan.
I really connected with her family on that trip in a way that I probably wouldn’t have been able to if I didn’t take the risk of coming with her, or trying their strange food. My passion for traveling comes not only from a love of sightseeing, but also a drive to meet and connect with other people that defy my normally introverted personality. The connection that can be made with people from other places, defying all cultural and language barriers, is something that is close to my heart, and I will never let go of it.
During the same trip in Singapore, I was almost kidnapped by my friend’s family. They took me to their hometown of Padang, the regional center of western Sumatra island. Sitting at the dinner table with her family, I realized that the squid signifies much the same thing as the bowl of noodles. Squid is something that has to be prepared correctly. If not enough spices are used or if it is undercooked, it will feel like you are taking a bite out of a tire. No one wants to eat a tire. But, once you get it right, the soup, or ‘mie kuah’, as they call it, can be left on the stove for hours, letting every ingredient absorb the flavor of every other. The amount of time it takes for this to happen allows for time to do other things, such as contributing to the family farm, cleaning, taking care of children, spending time with your family, or any number of other things. This, I think, is why squid is such a popular dish in cuisines originating from the fishing-dependent cultures of western Sumatra and Southern Java. Not only are squid common in the surrounding water, and not only are they nutritious, but preparing them takes time. The “cooking time”, as I heard them call it, lasts for anywhere between 45 minutes and three hours. This span of time before mealtime allows for the women of the house to come out of the kitchen and is some of the most valuable time for families to spend with each other, especially during the holiday season of Ramadan.
I really connected with her family on that trip in a way that I probably wouldn’t have been able to if I didn’t take the risk of coming with her, or trying their strange food. My passion for traveling comes not only from a love of sightseeing, but also a drive to meet and connect with other people that defy my normally introverted personality. The connection that can be made with people from other places, defying all cultural and language barriers, is something that is close to my heart, and I will never let go of it.
"This span of time before mealtime allows for the women of the house to come out of the kitchen and is some of the most valuable time for families to spend with each other[...]"
The little squid with its stupid face follows me wherever I go; from Padang to Singapore, from Arizona to San Francisco. He always shows himself in the moments I am happiest, and I share him with the people who are most important to me. When I think of him when I feel sad, I remember that there will always be a brighter time in front of me. He reminds me of my best friends and family, and of what I love most about myself. To fully enjoy life, one must eat squid and the black fungus. One must try the spicy ox-tail, and the ice-noodles, and the durian fruit. Everyone who doesn’t will wish they did in 30 years time.
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About the Author
Ajani de Roock is a first-year student studying for a BA in International Relations and wrote this essay for English 104 with professor Caroline Casper. The assignment was to select an item to write a 'Letter of Recommendation' about, and it honestly took me a long time to think of what to write. I finally settled on something that is a little bit weird, but close to home. I feel like this essay shows a lot about who I am as a person, and I am excited to share it! |