After almost several days of worrying that the visiting Chinese professors were not getting enough to eat, I asked them what they like to eat. They said that the food they missed most was rice. American rice, they said, had no flavor and was "not sticky". Not a rice fan, and always conscious of "empty carbs," I avoid making it because it makes a horrible mess mess in the saucepan as I inevitably use too little water, too much heat and forget about it until it burns. But I wanted to make my guests happy diners. I went to the local international grocery store and bought rice from Thailand and a small rice cooker.
When they walked in the door that night, they smelled it. Smells evoke memories and can be soothing and even enchanting. I could tell it in their faces as their noses followed the scent and they smiled, then giggled.
They were clearly delighted to have something that smelled and tasted like home. More than that, they were so touched by the thought. It was just a little thing for me, but it meant so much to them and they were clearly overjoyed to have this familiar, simple food. "It tastes like my Mother's rice," one said. In China, as in America, this is the ultimate compliment. It doesn't get better than Mom, even without the apple pie. I beamed, they ate.
The next day I sent containers of rice for their lunch at school. That evening they returned their empty containers and said that they had shared some rice with their Chinese colleagues at school that day and told them that I had made the rice for them. They were impressed. I offered to make some more rice for them to take to their friends the following day. "No, that is too much," one said, "we will spoil them."
Each night since, I have fixed rice with dinner. They always finish the rice and rarely finish the other American food - until last night. They loved the grilled eggplant and asked for seconds. Again, the ultimate compliment.
Tonight, they will fix us a traditional Chinese meal. Last night we went shopping for the ingredients and I learned which soy sauce is "the best." I enjoyed going through the international grocery store, following behind them as they looked for their ingredients and found familiar items. These lovely, highly educated women, whose own Mothers live with them and do most of the cooking, were alternately methodical and childlike in their approach to the shopping experience. They say they are not very good cooks, because they do not do it often.
I look forward to repaying them the compliment of cleaning my plate. But I know I won't be able to tell them that is just like my Mother's because the only Chinese food she ever fixed for me in the 1960's and 70's was from a can, American style.
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