Gloomy Monday

9.11. Day of rememberence, of reflection. For each American, this day carries with it something different - we each have our own experience of the day and of its aftermath, and our reflection is unique to ourselves. Mine was the day of the 3 hour commute as I drove with my little pet guinea pigs in my car, in parking-lot traffic trying to make my way out of Washington DC, to my boyfriend's (now said Hubby) house, not knowing what would hit next and what was or was not safe; and then of watching the news for the rest of the day, only to dart back into an eerily quiet DC, to pick up a change of clothes so that I didn't have to stay at my condo that evening, which, mind you, was a mere 5 blocks from the White House. It was a profound day, a day of awakening, that we are not alone in this country. My parents rushed me out of Taiwan for fear of a Communist attack after the US Government declaration that China was the real China. We sought refuge in the US, thinking this land to be the land of hope and of some level of safety. That day 5 years ago, I came to the realization that, as temporary keepers for what short time we live on this mass of land and water, and so long as greed and some twisted sense of supriority reigned in the human psyche, the human species will experience no sense of true safety, true hope, and true freedom. Alas, nothing is ever perfect...and yet, at times, we really can get just enough of what we need to get by.

With reflection in my mind as I biked home this evening, I thought to make something that my father often makes for Hubby and me when we go visit. And, the day being quite gray and chilly, I thought this dish to be appropriate. Beef noodle soup, a very Chinese dish, a fast-food dish, often found in street kiosks at lunchtime, a wonderful conglomeration of spiciness, saltiness, and sourness.

Chinese Beef Noodle Soup
I started this dish not really knowing exactly how to make it, but I did remember some of the ingredients my father used, and improvised to develop my own flavor. I used our left-over spaghetti from our pork chop noodle soup, just brought it out of the fridge. I had 1 small left-over tomato from my visit to the farmer's market 2 weeks back, a small head of green-leaf lettuce (I was in lack of Chinese cabbage, which would have been the right thing to add, blanched), Chinese fried shallots, and some store-bought low-sodium beef broth. I also brought out some thin-sliced beef (though stew-style or kabob-style cuts can also be used). I seasoned the beef with some salt and white pepper, and let it defrost while I took my shower after my ride home.

I came back to the kitchen to partially defrosted beef, which I turned over to season the other side (same, with salt and white pepper). I coarsely chopped the tomato. Using a medium saucepan, I laid the beef slices in with the first seasoned side down. Heated up the beef, and sauteed it sans oil in the hot pan until it changed color. Then, I added the tomatoes to the pot, and seasoned lightly with some soy sauce and some dried chili pepper flakes. I added the fried shallots, stirred to mix, and let the mixture cook a bit to draw out some of the tomato juices. I then added the beef broth, brought the mixture to a boil, and let it simmer for about 5 minutes. At the end of the 5 minutes, I threw in the left-over pasta and the lettuce leaves, just to heat and blanch, and turned off the heat after about 1 minute. If you actually have Chinese cabbage, unlike my explosion of expletives when I realized I was in lack of this essential ingredient, blanch it, chopped into big 2" pieces, in water for 2 minutes, and add it at the end, just before serving. That was it - dinner in a bowl, ready to go, and fairly easy!


As I cooked this dish this evening, I reflected on my parents, and how much they cooked when I was growing up. I never really thought much of it, and I didn't compare how we ate to how others ate, not until later on in life, after having left their house. I remember talking with one of my office colleagues about a particular dish, dumplings in chicken soup, and, while he came from a more southern root, and I from roots half way around the world, we relaly were surprised how closely the dishes matched each other and how much they really satisfied the soul. I take no shame in declaring that I love that dish that my parents made for me when I was little, and though they both were very well off as doctors in Taipei by the time I came along, they still cooked this peasant's dish at home. I remembered that not long ago, I asked my father for the recipe, and he just laughed. That's poor people's food, he declared. Your mother's family and my family ate that as a filling food, because the dumplings did fill you up, and they were inexpensive to make, he laughed. But I love that dish, no matter the roots.

If not for my parents' family roots, if not for their hard earlier life, if not for all the circumstances that surround our every day - we may be very different people from who we are today. If not for my parent's poor family status growing up, they may not have had as much experience cooking at home, and they may have gone out to eat more often - and I may not have had as much opportunity to cook and to enjoy cooking, and to be able to appreciate some of the food they brought to the table, rich or poor. If not for my family's - and in particular, my maternal grandmother's - foundation of market-scouring and home cooking, I would be a very different person today. I would not sacrifice any part of my family's histories, for better or for worse, for sake of losing what daily joy I find in the kitchen.