The Puritan pallet of Boston—where baked beans, butter, and baked haddock reigned supreme— never really captured my imagination the way that my first lunch in Boston's Chinatown did. The further that I dug in, at dingy Pho joints, grand Hong Kong seafood restaurants and Cantonese BBQ stalls, the more I realized that these foods (and the cultures surrounding them) were an antidote for what I dislik
ed about American food culture—the tendency towards indulgent, heavy, or extravagant meals, or cheap, low quality, bland fast-food and heavily processed junk. Traveling and living in Asia was something of a revelation: the ritual of food culture in many of these countries is meant to nourish you, but also stimulate your taste buds in a variety of ways--anything from searing hot chilis and fresh herbs, to different styles of fermented pickles and floral, tingling Sichuan "peppercorns" might be mingling in your noodle broth. And, as the competition is fierce, the standards are quite high, and the prices quite low, with the same acute attention to different textural contrasts. After living in Chengdu and traveling around Asia several times, I can't really live without this stuff, but here I am, in Vermont! Luckily, this state--and perhaps American food in general--is undergoing a transformation; perhaps we've realized that there can be more to eating out than either 5-star, once in a lifetime, remortgage-the-house meals, or "fast food", prefabricated pizzas and bland burger chains. And not only the flavors, but the history of Asian food as well, are uniquely fascinating--from the Spice and Silk Roads, to Admiral Zheng He's far flung travels and influence, and subsequent European colonialism (which is why we have strange things like Euro-Malaysian hamhock curry, and Vindaloo). The list of ingredients in a bowl of curry can often tell hundreds--sometimes thousands--of years of history! My favorite foods that emerged from these diverse set of cultures are often communal, stimulating, bold, quick, often medicinal, and not pretentious or prohibitively expensive. [Sadly, every subsequent trip to Asia sees some of these traditions fading, with more KFC's being imported [which is odd, because Korea, Thailand, and Malaysia are the fried-chicken champions] and more Chinese open markets, with their gauntlet of hawker stalls, are being bulldozed for new high-rises, shopping centers, and Carre-fours. Does progress have to mean the end of the street food artisan? But be warned: I'm stubborn and adamant about not turning these traditions into gussied-up cultural commodities, by "elevating" them into bistro fare, or toning them down for American sensibilities. I'm pretty sure people are interested in trying new and different things, and I feel that removing some of the more "challenging" ingredients can ruin the effect of a dish, so unless you're worried about allergies, take a chance every now and then--even if things like fermented shrimp paste or durian sound like somethings you'd rather skip!
