vietnamese food

I made myself a meal for the first time in weeks. It made me feel slightly more human, less robot. I made my mom's crack pork chops (with sauteed scallions and shallots, leftover from our potluck last week) with steamed broccoli and basmati rice (ran out of my other white rice). It was simple and satisfying, and made me miss my mom very much. So I made a decision that makes me happy. I decided to violate my plan of doing nothing on those six Sundays during Boards studying. I've wanted to learn and compile my mom's recipes for a long time, but resisted making this (and several other ventures) a goal during my study time at home. I wanted to let go of the need to be "productive" even on my "day off." I'd pretty much planned on being a couch potato on those no-study-Sundays. I haven't entirely abandoned this image of myself (my dad will have plenty of company on the couch). But atop of my meal today, some small coinciding events reminded me that my mom's cooking is something I want to preserve. These included meeting up with a junior high friend I haven't seen in a couple years, who still remembers how good the food was that my mom fed her when we were thirteen; being sent an article about students discovering their immigrant parents' stories way past the time they felt there was little left to know; and Allison raving about Vietnamese food.

I can make my mom's crack chicken and pork chops which have become addictive staples among those I've fed it to (hence crack), egg rolls that I steep in oil despite everyone's complaints about unhealthy because that's how my mom does it, and her various kinds of eggs (yes you can put ground beef in eggs). But I have a list of others I'd like to learn and have been limited in the past by ingredients, or her protest that I'll never make these things because they're meant to be consumed by groups. These include a tangy sweet and sour catfish soup; my favorite kind of spring rolls with boiled beef and pineapple; Vietnamese crepes with shrimp, pork and bean sprouts; and my favorite favorite meal of all time, a noodle and fish dish that she makes every time I come home. The fish is marinated and fried with onions and lemongrass, served with vermicelli. Condiments include roasted peanuts, raw onions soaked in vinegar, some pickled vegetable whose name I don't know, crispy sesame rice paper, lettuce, and other Asian greens whose names I also don't know (part of this project entails learning names). As with a lot of other dishes, you don't eat it in one big bowl; you use a small rice bowl and keep re-filling it as you go. You take some noodles and fish, add condiments to taste, and top with a key component: a pungent shrimp sauce mixed with red peppers from the backyard. I do believe the essence of my love for food lies in 1) sauces and 2) mixing things. Some people finish their burger before they eat their fries; I always complement a bite of burger with a few fries. This dish isn't something most people like on first try, but once your palate adjusts it is such an amazing blend of flavors and textures.

To prove that I'm studying and not just daydreaming about my mom's food, I'm going to impart something interesting I've learned in posts when possible. Today I learned that three out of five heart transplants are rejected by the immune system of the recipient. Getting a new heart is pretty wondrous, but it's not so easy. People miss what's theirs when it's gone. As an almost twenty-five year old, I find it a bit pathetic that I consciously miss my parents probably more than they miss me. I hope this helps keep them close.