Steak: It's what's for dinner Part I

Since the beginning of time, March 31, 1984, steak has been the epitome of manliness. Every barbecue that was ever graced with my presence was also graced by at least one steak. The number was, of course, dependent on the number of adult males present for the special occasion. Nonetheless, my Father always managed to get at least one steak on the grill. Up until the age of 16 I was unfortunate enough to get the "kiddie" food: a hot dog. However, I knew that one day my mouth would get to savor the amazing, not to mention succulent, taste of a steak, cooked medium-rare.

I can remember thinking on numerous occasions: "Someday I'll eat a steak just like my dad: when that day comes I will be a man!" In my young mind, nothing epitomized the image of a manliness more than that of a man cutting through a juicy, tender steak. When the day finally came, I considered myself more than prepared, and as I bit into that beautiful piece of meat I instantly realized something: I liked medium-well, not medium-rare...That aside, I knew I had passed the threshold of boyhood; my right of passage was complete, yes, I was finally a man.

The article by Rouse and Hoskins, as well as the discussion in class, spoke on the taboos of food. A taboo was not something that was bad to talk about (for immoral reasons). It more that the things (taboos) were so sacred people avoided conversation about them for the sake of sacredness. It is much like the commandment in the Old Testament stating, "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vane." I find this point coincidal with my early childhood and my desire to consume steak.

The act of eating a steak, to me, was a sacred rite. It was as if the whole world stood still, and my spirit connected with the steak; we became one, and I became a man. I never really spoke of eating the steak, I just desired to do so.

Obento and My Sack Lunch

Growing up my school lunches were never very 'cool'. I had the usual apple and pb & j, along with the occasional snackpack, but hey, I never really thought twice about it. I can remember my buddy Jason constantly playing with his fruit snacks. He was always able to have the coolest fight scenes, but it was never the same when I tried. My fruit snacks always seemed dull, along with the rest of my food. I guess I was always just taking the sack lunch for granted, and never really thinking about the time my mother spent making it.

However, upon learning of the ritual of the obento, I started to look at my sack lunches a little differently. The mothers in Japan would spend huge amounts of time, not just in preparation for the obento to be eaten, but in thinking of what to give their kids in it the next day, etc... Learning this really made me start to think about my mom, and the time she spent in making my lunch. Sure, she didn't spend a ton of time making it, but still, I could have made my own sandwich and lunch (although if I did, the lunch would have consisted mainly of pudding and pop, with the occasional Cheetos or fruit snacks.

Though I never thought of it this way before, just like those mothers in Japan who showed compassion to their little kids by making them ornate obento every day, my mom was showing me that she loved me every day, though I never noticed it.

What's that smell? That can't be soup! (Portfolio)

Picture the most amazing smell you have ever had the chance to lay nose on. Got it? Great! Now, as you smell this wonderful aroma, take in a slow, deep breath, open your mouth, and then take a bite of it! Oh the bliss! There must be a hundred different ways to describe the exultation, the joy, or the pure satisfaction that come upon this type of indulgence. You might even experience something similar to what Marcel Proust experienced when he bit into a piece of Madeleine dipped in tea: his childhood came back in a flash of vivid picture and images, real enough that one would feign try to touch it. I know I most certainly did, how about you? Why does this explosion of memory occur, and what tie does food have with our past?

It had been nearly 3 years since I last experienced Korea. The two years I spent there were now just a memory, treasured, but nothing more. Since that time my life decided to put the pedal to the metal and hit overdrive for a while. I met the girl of my dreams and we got married. We had our first child, a beautiful little girl, and quickly another one was on the way. I wanted to remember more of my time spent in Korea, and I wanted my family to experience (to some extent) a portion of that time. So, I decided to make my favorite Korean dish. Some would call it fermented bean soup, and to the untrained nose it might not seem like food, but the product of eating it :) To me, it is Dwenjang Chigae. I didn't know why I wanted it so bad, just that I did.

I purchased all the ingredients and then went to work. In went the water, and in went the Dwenjang. As the delightful (my wife would never use this word and this food in the same sentence) aroma split through the air at the speed of sound, I began to fell a tingling sensation in my toes. I was instantly back in Korea, that world opened up for me, once again. It was simply exhilarating. However, I was abruptly pulled out of this dream-like state when a sound pierced the air. "What's that smell!!!! That can't be soup!!!!" were the words that flowed from my wife's mouth. I don't blame her at all; the bit of heaven I was smelling was not at all what she was smelling. To her credit, she ate her bowl (barring the octopus legs). I was so proud. My bowl was simply amazing. The first bite was exactly like the last bite (of my 4th serving), heavenly. I honestly forgot I was in my own dining room. Two different realities, the past and the present, seemed to blur before my face.

Why did this happen, it is just food, right? I'm not so sure. There was definitely more than food going on when I was eating. Even though I was no longer in Korea, the whole of the Korea I experienced was contained in the soup. Upon unlocking the aroma and the taste, that all but forgotten world was remembered. For some reason the chigae became a symbol and an association of my past, specifically in Korea, and it awakened all of my senses to those scenes gone away.

Food is a catalyst. It draws in the whole scene that surrounds it, and that scene gets locked into all the aspects of the food itself (the taste, smell, and appearance). The dish becomes more than just food. The association with food becomes a gateway to the past, whether conscious or subconscious, that can be unlocked whenever you eat or smell it. Food is a powerful tool, and the power is in your hands, not only to remember the past, but to make new, wonderful associations now.