Seth French
Oklahoma State University Library
2020
My obsession with trying different types of food began in my dad’s second floor apartment in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The apartment was “cool” because it was on the second floor. It had stone steps leading upward to the small patio and doorway that was teeming with many varieties of potted plants. A person passing by could see the soft blanket of colors that the flowers made against the railing of the patio – an urban jungle. My dad always had an interest in things that many, who are familiar with gender roles, would call “feminine.” These interests and passions consisted of potted plants, metro-sexual fashion, wine, and of course, fine cuisine. My dad was the type of person who would go to the grocery store to buy the freshest ingredients possible to try out the most recent recipe he had read in either his French or German cookbook. He also enjoyed coming home with the most foul-smelling cheese you can imagine because according to him “the stinky cheese is the best!” This sense of culinary adventure also extended into our experiences on the nights when dad didn’t feel like cooking.
Dad always had a way of finding what he called a “hole-in-the-wall place.” He always told me that “the hole-in-the-wall places always have the best food!” and boy, did we live by this mantra. We often found ourselves at restaurants where we were the only pair that spoke English. We would end up in the Mexican part of town at restaurants with the most delicious, authentic food in town. We would also go to many different Asian restaurants and on special occasions, we ended up at the nicest French restaurant in town and ate delicious, buttery escargot and flaky bread.
My most vivid memory of adventuring into the world of food occurred at a small, “hole-in-the-wall” Japanese restaurant called Ichiban. I was seven years old, and I loved Pokémon. The place was barely even visible from the road. When you walked through the ordinary glass, you found yourself inside of the elegant world of Ichiban. Little red cushioned chairs were neatly placed around square wooden tables. The red cushions gained even more vibrancy due to the overall reddish glow of the restaurant’s interior. A soft, red lighting beamed from lanterns that seemed to float in the air, like lonely balloons that had been left behind after escaping a child’s clutch. Bottles of Kikkoman brand soy sauce found their homes atop the square wooden tables, and seemed to accessorize the little red cushioned chairs. When we were seated, I did as any restaurant patron does: I looked at the menu and sipped on the glass of ice water in front of me.
As I was exploring the menu my dad leaned over and said to me: “You’ve gotta’ try Tako salad!” The first thing I thought of when my dad said “Tako salad” was the yummy combination of ground beef, cheese, pico de gallo, salsa, a dollop of sour cream and various toppings of the consumer’s choosing, that would all be served up in a crunchy, taco shell bowl. Thus the name “Taco salad.” When my dad asked me to try a food, I was always expected to give the dish a try. I was never that kid who got chicken or spaghetti at every restaurant.
I was a fearless and open-minded child who could never be labeled as picky eater. When my dad said we had to try the Tako salad, I of course agreed to order it. When it arrived, I realized that this was not the Taco salad I had envisioned. In front of me was a pure white bowl in the shape of a flower. In its center were colorful bits of cucumber with sesame seeds, fresh strips of something soft and green, and glistening pieces of white edged in pinkish purple. My dad was smiling at me.
I picked up my chopsticks and put one of the thin white slices into my mouth. It was strange, chewy, vinegary….delicious! We had ordered Tako Sun, cold octopus and vegetables in a sweet, savory vinegar sauce. That day at Ichiban, a miraculous transformation happened: a seven year old girl, who loved Pokémon and was seated on a red cushioned chair, fell in love with Asian cuisine. I began to make connections between food and culture. Japan is an island nation surrounded by bodies of water. With this abundance of water, the Japanese enjoy many seafood dishes that are not typically served in other cultures. One of those strange creatures is octopus. The simple elegant furnishings of the restaurant and the beautiful white bowl and the elegant arrangement of each item in it spoke of the Japanese attention to meticulous detail and fondness for precise rituals.
I am forever grateful to my dad for taking me out of my comfort zone. He made me give different and exotic foods a try. This did something even deeper for me than tantalize my taste buds: it made me love and appreciate cultures other than my own. Food is now the focal point of my experience with other cultures, and I have blossomed into a lifelong cross-cultural “foodie” thanks to the simple phrase my dad loved to say: “You’ve gotta’ try this!”
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