I love food. When I was a kid, I was the one with hollow legs that ate everything in sight. We were a meat and potatoes family that had fresh onion at every meal, thanks Dad! My parents saved money by buying our milk in bulk, boxes of powdered milk, so good warm… And there was the government supplied cheese. Sounds funky but we had food on the table unlike my wife.
I knew how to cook breakfast at six and by eight I was cooking steaks, when my parents weren’t around. My salads were healthy but basic. My brother and sisters loved my pizza bread, not really but it filled us up. Salmon and Halibut were the two fish at our house and common during their seasons.
I remember eating at an asian restaurant once. The prawns looked so big. 99% of the time we ate at my moms’ sisters houses and there my palette expanded, a little. But my food experience didn’t really take off until I joined the Army and moved east. California to Oklahoma, then to Georgia.
Getting off base during advanced training was a weekend thing and I remember the tons of BBQ I ate in Lawton outside Ft Sill. I have no idea if it was good, but I know it was good enough compared to Army chow. When I got to Ft. Gordon I fell in love with southern cooking. Regional delights like Krystal burgers, just kidding. Collards, beans, and ham – serious comfort food.
As you can tell, I was not branching out too far from pot roast and meatloaf.
When I got to DC everything changed in a second. I found Greek lemon soup, moussaka, kababs and gyros. Then there were the blue crabs and steamed spiced shrimp covered in this magic dust called Old Bay! Life was good and so were the pizza slices, for DC.
My first trip out of the US was a three-legged affair. The first stop was Paris. The sights, sounds and beautiful young women…mind blown! I didn’t know super thin pancakes could taste so good. I’m surprised my body didn’t go into shock over all the pastries I ate. I’d never had fish so smooth and buttery, the Sole Meunière melted in my mouth. I didn’t want to leave.
The next stop was New Delhi. A place I only know of because of my aunt and uncle’s National Geographic subscription. The tandoori mains, paneer sides, naan and yogurt sauces. I took part in my first formal dinner at General somebody’s house. With people handing me food from over my shoulder. The table was set with more silverware in front of me than I owned. Seven courses, might have been more. I was terrified.
As no fighter pilot ever likes to say, I was in full defensive mode. I kept my hands on my thighs until I saw someone else pick up a spoon or fork - monkey see, monkey do. The food was amazing and most importantly I enjoyed myself.
The last stop on the trip was Dacca Bangladesh. I quickly saw what a poor country it was when compared to France and India. I don’t remember there being a lot of choices other than the restaurant in the Intercontinental. I ate dinner at the house of a State Department communicator. Unfortunately, I can’t recall any real difference between dinner in India and Bangladesh. I did have a nice dinner in the hotel with a lovely young woman who was whisked away by her mother at the end of the meal.
What made the meal very memorable was what happened the next day. In a first for me, I found that I could maintain my communications link even while hallucinating through serious cramps. The consulate nurse had what I needed, and my issue disappeared before the end of the mission and the long series of flights back home.
Sickness aside, it was an amazing experience that whetted my appetite for international food. DC and the surrounding suburbs turned into a “I’ve not tried that before,” kaleidoscope of opportunity.
Do you have a favorite food/cuisine???
Best Steve