By Xanh Quang, Chef and Collab Chair
Have you ever heard the idiom: the eyes are the mirror to the soul? How about a picture is worth a thousand words? Whatever your answer, here's my personal spin off -- a picture may be worth a thousand words but a warm meal says "You're safe, welcome home."
Northwestern was my first time authentically away from home. The first time I left the comfortable anonymous haven of a busy, bustling city of diversity only to suddenly have all privacy stripped with the introduction of a roommate within the confines of the so-called dorm hotel.
It's been a culturally jarring experience for me. Northwestern was the first time that I realized what food meant to me. Food is a language. A love language. It's love. It's hate. It's distaste. Love is when your single mom remembers your minute preferences and reminds YOU that you didn't like tomatoes in your burgers. Love is when she saves you the largest and freshest serving only to eat the leftovers herself. When she stays up all of Sunday night through to Monday morning to prepare you enough food for the week because that's her only time home.
Home is where you learn to call the dishes and sauces and herbs of your mom's country in the native tongue you once tried to forget. Home is where I learned to appreciate the simplicity of freshly cooked rice. The simple backbone of any meal. A porridge, a noodle, a dough, a pancake, a burrito, a drink, a dessert. Plain and elegant. The belle of the East. The unitor of the West. Rice permeates every culture with its warmth.
Rice is the comfort that we all need and that we all miss. If you need to soothe an upset stomach or a sore throat, add some extra water to your jasmine rice. If you seek to quell your hungry beast, make it in a 2:3 ratio, 1 cup rice, 1 ½ cup water. If you wish for some spice to your overly plain life, get a bamboo mat or a whole brained hat and make some sushi.
Get a rice cooker. It'll change your life.
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