my relationship to food has always been one of deep appreciation. i love to eat all sorts of things. most of my food items growing up were a blend of thai dishes, which were expertly crafted by my dad, and pseudo-experimental fusion-americana dishes, lovingly prepared by my mom.
in terms of hands, i had three: on the first hand, there was the thai food. deliciously golden minced pork omelets with green onions and garlic, there were sour soups and sweet rice with mango, and a favorite of mine, chao-dtom, a rice soup whose bland subtleties were offset by pickled delights, dried shredded pork, and crisped fatty chinese sausages; their deeply red ovoid slightly-curled little slices poking through the opaque soup surrounded and caressed by the ivory grains of jasmine rice.
my dad would spend a whole day making sure the texture of the rice was perfect, and the coconut milk was stirred in lovingly and carefully. he would grunt as he folded the rice with a large wooden spoon. he sat with this large aluminum bowl resting on a chair, and his arms would flex and bulge under the enormous weight of the mixture. to know that such hard work and a marked effort precluded such a seemingly simple dessert, made the consumption of it all the more satisfying.
the second hand was my moms. she made a bunch of crazy delights such as thai spaghetti, a rice vermicelli-based flurry of mixed vegetables and ketchup (yay america). or thick multi-ingredient meaty sauces made for any sort of pasta. or thai-style rice krispy treats replete with curry powders and walnuts, which resembled thai street vendor afternoon treats.
she'd always have this pleasant look about her face and demeanor which paralleled the excitement of the presentation. more often than not, i'd look at the dish with trepidation, look up at her beaming visage, then back at the dish and ask, "what is this?" she'd always say "just eat it," and i totally would have to or else get into trouble.
a lot of my friends who came over after elementary school and throughout my schooling career (and beyond), were always astounded at the multiple myriads of delectable dishes available to eat, and while i enjoyed them immensely, i never fully appreciated them unless someone made such a big deal out of them.
the third hand was of course, television and my friends who cooked. in my own experience of cooking for myself, a lot of it has come from just being around different sources of culinary inspiration; my parents, PBS cooking programs (julia child, jaques pepin [and eventually his inept daughter], america's test kitchen, chef's table, lydia, and of course of course, the illustrious yan can cook).
these days some key people have informed my eating habits, for health, for flavor, for the love of balancing flavors and texture. i try to cook something at least once a day, and whether it's very similar to the previous day or not, it still fills me with an overwhelming calm and sense of blissful satisfaction. that sensation is not hard at all to recreate, but it isn't as delicious an outcome.
tonight's homework:
find a recipe for a salad, then an entree that compliments that salad, then a light dessert or bowl of mixed fruits. make everything yourself or with a friend, and take careful consideration of texture, flavor, and portion control. you may find yourself on the way to a bigger belly, but i bet you'll be able to control yourself. maybe.
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