Growing up in a mostly Italian household in a suburban neighborhood, regretful as it is, I had a pretty sheltered diet. The Mediterranean menu is expansive, but I didn't start eating outside of my comfort zone until I was an adult.
As a child I loved eating and I was never picky. I ate octopus, and olives, and different kinds of cheeses; all things that the other children in my family would shy away from, in favor of mashed potatoes. I also tended to fall in love with foods, an addictive personality plus my first taste of eggplant parmigiana led to me waking my mother up at three am to heat me up the left overs, (I was five and she still tells that story like it was cute, and not at all annoying as hell).
Once at a restaurant I tried to order the tuna steak because I had seen it on television and decided I wanted it. But I was a child and I wasn't expected to like it, so someone ordered me the shrimp instead. I was very pissy about that.
I think that's the reason I wound up going to school for pastry and not culinary; pastries are so much more available, especially to children. No one is afraid you won't like it, because its assumed that anything sweet will appeal to a child.
Food actually became my very tame way of rebelling. Eating foods outside of my maturity range gained me an odd sort of attention. (So did skipping college and heading to culinary school.) The first 'rebellious" food I had was actually Capn'Crunch. My mom wouldn't buy it because we were a healthy cereal family, but it haunted my dreams, so I tried it at a friends house one day. The second was rabbit. Then there was the time I went to a wedding and ordered duck. That duck was the best thing I've ever eaten. I don't know if it was so good because it was actually good, or because it just wasn't chicken.
Now I have found myself working at two jobs that epitomize the attitude of my childhood, my flavor greedy, Christopher Columbus, giddy as a school girl at the dinner table attitude. At Hot Pot Culinary Events, we do flavor mash-ups. I can tell my boss was the kid who would spend lunch time constructing an edible disaster out of bits and pieces of traded snacks. It's a good fit because I was that kid too. It's still hard for me to watch other people partake in the events, because while I'm setting up all the ingredients, my mind is racing with ideas.
While I'm working the Korean Food Festival, I'm less frustrated, only because I know there's a staff meal waiting at the end of my shift, full of things that I've never tried before. Also, I tend to see myself in some of the people who hop on my line. We're creating an amazing opportunity. Any time a small child is waiting on the line with their parent, I always offer them some Bibimbop or Bulgogi or whatever the sample dish is that day. If they don't take it, I understand, but if they do, it makes me happy, and I congratulate them on being my littlest foodie. They're doing the right thing by being adventurous, and they deserve that positive feed back.
My favorite experience this week has been our trip to Kunjip. It's basically a 24 hour traditional Greek diner, only instead of Greeks, it's Koreans. Kunjip is the busiest place on Korea Way and for good reason. The atmosphere is warm and wonderful, and the food is unbeatable. I was comfortable here, and I had already made friends with our host, so when the menu was placed in front of me, I studied it for a while, but then I passed it off, and told my new found tour guide that I didn't know what I was doing and that he should order for me.
He ordered in Korean so I was left in the dark until the steaming, sizzling hot bowl of Hamool Bibimbop was placed in front of me. Bibimbop is a beginners dish, but Hamool Bibimbop is full of seafood like mussels and scallops and little itty bitty tentacles, which makes it a little more adventurous. It was the most amazing thing I've ever eaten. I also had some spicy octopus and udon noodles off a friend's plate. That's what I'll be ordering next time I go back.
As much as I'm looking forward to returning to Kunjip, I'm anticipating something else even more. The next time I find myself in a cultural restaurant, I shan't be getting something safe for fear of wasting my money on a bad pick, instead I'll be handing my menu back to the waiter at the Ethiopian cafe and letting him bring me his favorite thing. Try it sometime, if you think you can learn a lot from wearing some one else's shoes, you'd be amazed what becomes clear when you're eating at their dinner table.
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| It felt like home. |
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