My
mom warned me early and often, “If you keep eating that much rice, your eyes
are going to start to slant!” Now Mom,
that’s a pretty politically incorrect thing to say. It’s technically incorrect also, as it turns
out.
In
fact, after consulting with several doctors as well as Web MD, the consensus
seems to be that I can never actually become
Asian (failed algebra three
times and didn't even feel that bad about it). So when it comes to Asian cuisine I’m doomed
to muddle through with my god-given Caucasian taste buds, however limited they
may be.
On
the other hand, don’t go getting the impression that I’m some ignorant gwai lo
raised on sweet and sour sauce. Consider
this impressive resume:
- Only
white girl to complete Mandarin 1, 2 and 3, University High, class of ‘97.
- Received
years of training in removal of shoes when there are 2 (two) or more pairs of
shoes within a five foot radius of a residential doorway.
- Enjoyed
multiple viewings of Jackie Chan’s Twin Dragons AND Drunken Master.
- Like,
totally know who Quan Yin is.
Culture,
FTW.
This
blog is mostly about a quest for the ultimate Asian food experiences in an
American city that’s up to the task of dishing them out. It’s about throwing down on new ingredients,
some of which have eyes, or smell like bat guano, or are frightening to pets
and small children. Why? Because when I walk into 99 Ranch Market, there are still about 1,000 ingredients I have no
idea what to do with. Who the hell is buying all of those live eels and preserved
duck’s eggs?! Something has always told
me that the answer should be: ME.
But
there’s still a long way to go. At restaurants, I still can’t conquer certain items…
like jellyfish. Many times have I tried, and many times failed. My brain thinks
“Pork Lungs in Chili Sauce”, but my mouth says “Kung Pao Chicken”. So I will
light another candle and ask my Kraft Mac and Cheese-making ancestors to grant
me strength to try again.
