They Don’t Make It Like They Do Over There

Dearest Rachel –

It’s wild for me to realize at this point that I’ve now been back home for almost (but still not quite yet!) as long as I was abroad on that Asian cruise this year. And while I’ve still not gotten around to getting myself a deep-dish pizza like I said I was going to once I got back to Chicago, like I’d told my tablemates, I’ve already gotten nostalgic for some of the food I had while on the trip.

In some respects, that should be understandable, as there’s nothing like the variety and elegance of a cruise ship buffet. And while I do miss having my meals prepared for me – to say nothing of the sheer quantity of it all, especially the meats (although given my attempts at losing weight, that’s something of a two-edged sword) – it’s not so much the ship’s food that I find myself longing for, as much as the local places I would stop at and get something while ashore.

I knew this was going to happen; I fully expected to be captivated by certain tastes as I went along. It’s why I tried to film myself eating in certain circumstances, just to remind myself of how much I liked (or didn’t like; there would be and were the occasional disappointment, after all) some new and exotic – at least, to me – food or preparation. It was to serve as a reminder to myself, and an encouragement to seek out opportunities to recreate or revisit any of it back at home.

I’d already done some of this for the boys maybe a month or so ago, frying up an entire can of Spam along with a couple cups of sticky rice (to which I added a few eggs and vegetables; so it was more like fried rice than that which was offered to me in Honolulu). It certainly wasn’t an exact replica of the meal I’d gotten for myself that morning, but it wasn’t meant to be. Basically, I incorporated a few ideas that I thought might improve upon it – or at least render it more palatable for the boys’ taste. Whether it did or not, at least I could say they ate it up well enough, if possibly not to the same extent that I had at the Ala Moana food court.

Of course, this was some time ago, and I didn’t bother to make a photographic record of that particular breakfast, so you’ll have to take me word for it that it happened. I’d say that I wouldn’t lie about it, but that’s just the sort of thing that a liar would say, too, now, isn’t it?

Anyway, that was just another example that I thought I’d add to this letter while comparing a few restaurant visits Daniel and I have been to over the last week or two. What’s particularly impressive about these is the fact that Daniel himself was the one who suggested going to each of them; while I’d at least take credit for placing them on his radar (with a “for your consideration” note verbally attached to each of them as I brought them to his attention), he’s the one who straight-up asked me to take him there. Obviously, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue, but each time came as a bit of a surprise for me, as I don’t consider him to have a particularly adventurous palate.

Then again, what do I know about his palate these days? This is the same kid who, all on his own, camped out outside of the new Korean place while I was away, to win himself a year’s worth of meals from the place. Clearly, he enjoys his Asian cuisine; he wouldn’t go through that kind of effort (even if it was only for a few hours, as opposed to overnight or anything like that) if he didn’t.

At the same time, we’d been eyeing the Malaysian place by our house ever since it took over the old Zippy’s fast food joint some ten or fifteen years ago. We told ourselves we’d check it out someday, and that day just… never came. There were, in our defense, plenty of other places that grabbed more of our attention, so it’s not that we deliberately avoided it. It just never got all that high on our list of priorities – and, to be sure, we had no idea what Malaysian cuisine even entailed, so we might have hesitated about that – and eventually we ran out of time. Still, once I got over there in the first place, there was a newfound desire to check the place out, and I mentioned it to Daniel; and on a day a little over a week ago, when I got home early from the ‘office,’ he suggested we give the place a try.

I can almost guarantee that we’ll be back there some time, as we enjoyed the place thoroughly. While they don’t necessarily make things like they do over there, this was a close replica to my overseas experience, so it was the next best thing to getting back there – and I don’t mind telling you, it was a shock to see Daniel chowing down on the chili peppers in his dish. He’s got a more adventurous palate than I did at his age – or even now, I have to admit.

I’m not quite so sure about yesterday’s trip out; it’s probable, but not for the reason I had in mind. I’ve been of a mind for some adobo recently, particularly after my experience with the food truck in Honolulu.

While I know I can’t find a Dole Whip back here (although who knows? Maybe the local gelateria would have a pineapple offering that would be comparable in flavor, if not necessarily texture), I figured I should be able to find a Filipino restaurant offering adobo. And sure enough, there’s one that we pass by (or come close enough to pass by) fairly regularly on a major thoroughfare between church, home and the ‘office’ that would be a convenient place to stop. To be sure, it was closed on Sunday after church (and it had been our “Plan B” stop as it was), but Daniel’s curiosity had been sufficiently piqued by our trip there to suggest checking the place out yesterday evening in lieu of our weekly visit to the folks, which they had canceled.

The proprietor recommended that we order combo platters as opposed to the adobo plates, and upon getting them, we figured out why that was the better plan (although probably not for the reasons he might have had in mind). The pancit was good, reminding me of lo mein, but with thinner noodles. The appetizers, whether the barbecued skewers I’d gotten or the suibao Daniel ordered, were more than worth a second look. but the adobo itself, well…

Actually, it wasn’t the adobo itself, but the meat they used. Daniel’s chicken had been given a fairly indiscriminate chopping up; there wasn’t a bit that didn’t have a sliver of bone or cartilage (or both!), making it difficult to consume. I’m sure that we Americans are spoiled by the availability of boneless chicken, but that should also be available to restauranteurs, too, so we should be able to expect it. As for my pork, every bite had a palpable layer of fat on top of it. I realize “the fat’s where the flavor is,” and ate every bite of it, enjoying it reasonably well, but also painfully aware that it would set me back a few pounds. And, when I weighed in this morning, I was proven right.

Speaking of dessert, Daniel actually had one there, an ice cream dish with corn flakes and ume, a purple yam that’s used throughout various Asian cuisines. He ate it all, and admitted it was good, but it was a bit much for him. It was astonishing to watch, considering that he’s not usually much for ice cream in the first place. Maybe he’s just on a kick of trying new things. Pity this wasn’t quite to the level of the stuff I had abroad. Maybe there are other places that come closer; here’s hoping we can find them.

In the meantime, honey, keep an eye on us, and wish us luck. We’re going to need it.