I know where I'm going when the food crisis hits...

I have discovered a new source of cheap food... dim sum! I went out to brunch last Saturday with 10 friends/acquaintences. The restaurant was called Honey Court, on 3rd and Maynard (or 2nd... 1st? ) in Seattle's International District.

This was my first Dim Sum experience, and I'll say that it was definitely an interesting learning experience. Basically, Dim Sum is a meal eaten between morning and midday, in which one drinks tea and selects from a wide variety of dishes, each served in small quantities... much like a french a la carte brunch. Tea is served in a large kettle, and nice Chinese ladies come by to offer various cakes, pastries, meatballs, rice dishes, gelatins, meat- filled pastas, and more, from a cart. We didn't know what anything was by looking... its all a little strange-looking, to be quite honest. But our host/Charlene's friend (I'm sorry, but I just cannot remember your name!), was able to interpret for us, explaining what was in each dish and how it was to be eaten.

Though most of the time, it didn't matter what he said was in it... the server would take the lid off of the dish to show us, and invariably one of the eleven people around the table would say, "oooh, yes! let's have that!" So we ended up eating. And eating. And eating. Until the "ooh, yes!" would be slower in coming and was said with a little less gusto... and until we all finally said, "alright, now, I'm done." But by the time that happened, we had already ordered:

• three rice rolls (veggie, beef, shrimp)
• two rice dumplings (veggie, shripp)
• two crispy fried shrimp dumplings
• two barbecued pork puff pastries
• two barbecued pork flake pastries
• one barbecued pork bun
• three sesame balls
• one potato cake, one pork meatball
• one rice and chicken dish.

Mind you, each of these dishes had 3-6 small servings on it! And the most amazing thing about this entire affair was the bill... only $65.76, to feed eleven people!

Possibly the best part, though, was that everyone tried a little of everything. There were no cop-out pansies in our group, no one proclaiming an allergy or an aversion to get out of eating something. Even if it looked wierd and slimy, everyone had a taste... and that was so awesome! Being able to take a bite and explore the newness with someone else, a whole table of someone-elses, at the same time... I'm definitly looking forward to doing dim sum again... and at that price, how can you resist?!?

A Mother's Love

I realized when we were making our obento in class on Thursday that while Japanese mothers might indeed prepare the obento to live up to a standard set forth by the Japanese school system and Japanese government, they also do it out of love.

My mother never spent an extraordinary amount of time molding rice balls or cutting octopodal figures out of wieners and carrots... but she did pack my lunch, and I remember there being a great amount of care involved - more than I wished she would have spent. All of the other children I went to school with seemed to have ordinary lunches: a pbj or ham sandwich, an apple, and a couple of oreos. There were times when I desperately wanted one of those ordinary lunches. But my mother was more creative than that. I would get soup in a thermos, maybe a hard-boiled egg. I remember for awhile getting breadless sandwiches in my lunch - little rolls of lunchmeat and cheese held together with toothpicks, accompanied by crackers. My mother had made these because she knew that I did not much care for bread. And she was right: I didn't like bread, and her version of a sandwich was much tastier than other moms'. But as much as I liked these breadless sandwiches, I didn't want her to make them for me. They were too different from the lunches that my classmates brought to school, and the last thing that I wanted was to be different. And perhaps - though I wasn't really conscious of this thought at the time - perhaps I didn't want it to seem that my mother cared for me as much as she did. Cool kids were more independent, and they didn't let their moms coddle them. Eventually Mom gave up and gave in, telling me to buy lunch or pack my own, and when she did pack it for me, she would make a perfectly ordinary, run-of-the-mill, boring lunch - exactly what I had asked for.

Looking back, I have a new appreciation for what my Mom did for me. Those lunches were a symbol of her creativity, her knowledge of her daughter's likes and dislikes, her devotion - exactly what the obento are for Japanese moms. I was reminded, and appreciated anew, my mother's lunchmaking ability when she packed a lunch for me last week. I had been selected to go to the Democratic county convention to select delegates to the state convention, discuss a platform, and listen to a lot of really long campaign speeches by local and state politicians. The convention would be an all-day affair, and I was supposed to bring a sack lunch. That Saturday, my mother woke up early and made me a lunch, complete with her famous crispy oatmeal cookies. She had gotten up at six AM to bake the cookies so they would be ready for my lunch... and oh, they were good, just as I had remembered them from my childhood, when she and my Nana used to make them to put in those labored-over lunches. And I realized, once again, how much my Mom loves me.

CRISPY OATMEAL COOKIES

1c. shortening

1c. brown sugar

1c. white sugar

2 eggs

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 c. flour

3c. "quick" oatmeal

1 tsp vanilla

1. Combine all ingredients. Blend well. Refrigerate for 4 hours, or overnight.


2. Roll into small balls and place on a greased baking sheet a little distance apart.


3. Grease the bottom of a small glass. Dip into granulated sugar and press cookie flat. Repeat sugar dip and press for each cookie.


4. Bake at 375 degrees for ten to 12 minutes, or until light brown.