A friend of mine once asked me for a fried rice recipe and I gave them my trusty chicken fried rice with gai lan recipe. I followed up with them the next day to see how it went and they said it was good, but something was different. They asked me what “gai lan” was and I explained to them that it was Chinese broccoli. They said that they weren’t able to find it at their local grocery store and used regular fleurette broccoli and that by using soy sauce, would rationalize it as being “Chinese“. After I stopped pounding my head against the wall, I tried to figure out if the problem was my friends or the fact that I didn’t specify where to get the ingredients… especially after I found out that their pantry soy sauce was the kosher-gluten-free variety.
Korean
Ah spring break. My fondest memories of spring break consist of locations that usually included a beach, a lot of fighting between my sisters and I, hitting, scratching, yelling, crying, spitting and threats from our father of it being our last family vacation ever. I pity those who now celebrate “spring break” which their learning institutions are calling “study break” by which they are loaded up with projects and assignments and promises of exams upon their return. As a graduate myself, I feel the responsibility to help those who are reading these words I’m writing – in distraction to the monotonous studying or trying to memorize equations that look like your fist had angry sex with your keyboard.
What is your relationship with food like? Do you have a favorite meal that you go to when you’re feeling down? Is there a dish that evokes certain memories and emotions that you can envision yourself in particular place and time? As I’ve come to eat my way across Montreal, I’ve created associations with restaurants and dishes that will either bring back a flood of delicious memories, or the horror and fear of getting stuck in traffic after an unpleasant run-in with a bowl of ice cream and a bottle of diet coke.
Little did I know, I would forge a very special relationship with a restaurant before I even stepped foot in the place; it’s been going on for the last 2 years. Someone suggested to me, Hwang Kum, a Korean spot on Sherbrooke. I went twice to check it out, only to find the place closed both times and I took it as a sign and decided to shun it off my list forever; if I’m not meant to eat there, then I’ll stop trying. Then it happened… from the corner of my eye, like spotting accidental cleavage, I notice the “OUVERT” side of the sign was facing the window, I parked the car and IT.WAS.ON!
