There was a time when I was considered an honorary asian. A lot of factors came together to allow this hallowed claim, but most of them are gone now. But whether I have such an elevated position, one thing remains true: I love the cuisine. Since I’ve been back I haven’t had sushi (a shame), but I have had curries, pho, and most recently I’ve discovered that the bus drops me off right next to Uwajimaya, the city block asian market, with about half an hour to spare before I take the train the rest of the way home. That much time, daily, in an asian store is one of the most simultaneously awesome and detrimental experiences of my young life. The problem isn’t so much the market as it is the food court. I mean, we’re talking about a tiny strip mall with an asian deli (including whole, cooked, duck), a Korean BBQ joint, a little Vietnamese place with really awesome Pho, a place exclusively for cream puffs, and a little bakery with these amazing chestnut cakes. I’m trying really, really hard not to eat these things every day, despite my ravenous end of the working day state. Instead, I peruse the shelves for fresh produce (delicious mangoes, rainier cherries, red and black plums). But one thing I have allowed myself, guilt free, is Kimchi. Oh god… kimchi. Who knew that sauerkraut, which I find almost completely intolerable, could be so delicious when prepared with in the Korean style. Good lord, talk about an understanding of eating. (I guess I feel the same way about horseradish and the Japanese version of horseradish: wasabi.) So this week I had Kimchi and rice. Oh lordy how I missed it.
Upcoming culinary goals in the international district: dim sum and hom bao. I don’t know when I’ll gobble them up, but I promise I will.
At some point I’ll include the requested photographic evidence of my culinary adventures. But not until my own computer is hooked up to the internet instead of using my parents or my office computer.
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