Jul 31st, 2022 Sunday Sunny
I have been interested in food and cooking since childhood. To start, I have relatively sensitive smell and taste, which help me to navigate the world of flavors with excitement. Paired with my open-minded parents who firmly believe children should be exposed to as wide of a spectrum of food as possible, I had the fortune of trying cuisines from many different regions and countries before I entered adulthood.
Then I moved to a country known for its diversity. A salad bowl of cultures. A place where ingredients and foodways from all over the world can be found in daily life. I know I am about to start an adventure š
To a certain extent, it IS an adventure of unfamiliar foods ā falafels, pho, tacos, fondue, tagineā¦ you name it. I have tried them all.
But I am not satisfied with only enjoying all these interesting foods from restaurants or food carts. I want to be able to cook them at home and put them on everyday dinner menus. I hope to truly incorporate the world flavors into my diet, not only have them as a treat every now and then.
I once thought that in this country where people from different ethnicities and backgrounds mingle together, there should be plenty that share the same sentiments as me. Surprisingly, my experience seems largely the opposite, even though many claim to be very open-minded when it comes to food.
I was puzzled. Are they just being hypocritical?
Actually, no. Being open-minded about food and cooking does not necessarily mean being able to cook exotic meals at home on a regular basis, as I finally become aware of three ābarriersā that need to be overcome.
The first is the availability of ingredients. Many ethnic dishes require special ingredients that are rarely seen in typical grocery stores, and not every community has the luxury of having ethnic food stores ā usually only a large enough ethnic immigrant population can support the existence of these treasure islands.
The second is the availability of authentic recipes. Following a recipe while cooking is by no means a universal practice around the world, and even if a recipe does exist, most of them are written in another language FOR people who speak that language (who also tend to have enough contextual knowledge of how to make that dish, probably from observing its preparation while growing up). As a consequence, the recipe, when I CAN find one, is likely to be either in a language I cannot read, or lack a lot of the details that would greatly increase the chance of success when an outsider attempts it.
The third is ā remarkably, a contingency plan for the failed masterworks, i.e. what to do if my Pad Thai ends up becoming a chunky brown mess? ?
The last barrier has been the most difficult one for me, because I have been taught that wasting food is taboo, yet I have no heart to gobble down a plate of chunky brown mess, especially after the disappointing outcome of my cooking has aroused a big bellyful of frustration. ? This fear of āwhat to do if I failā has brewed into a strong hesitation to try cooking new foods, particularly those from other cultures or regions that I did not grow up with.
Until I started dating my husband. He is blessed with a good appetite and pretty adventurous taste. Better still, he is very tolerant of āfailedā cooking attempts, as long as they are still edible ā the definition of edible also seems to encompass a much larger array of foods in his mind ?
Isnāt that empowering?
Here is my latest (first) attempt at fried ho-fun (with shrimp paste), a dish I have had in restaurants but not at home. I have never seen my parents cook it, thus I have no idea how it should turn out. When I voiced my concern, my husband laughingly said, āin the worse case, it would turn into a gigantic pan-sized rice cake. Then we can just cut the rice cake and eat it. Iām sure itāll still be tasty.ā
Well, if you have that mindset, what do I have to be afraid of?
Luckily, this dish was a success by my often rather high standard. I guess the rice cake idea would have to wait till next time š