My name is Tom, Are You Going to Finish That, Cao and I love to eat. Food to me is life. It brings me comfort, inspiration, amazement, laughter, and at times can leave me speechless. It's the friend that has always been there and outside of a few dishes I've eaten at in questionable locations, it's the friend that has never really let me down. Outside my family, food maybe be my greatest love (and on certain days, and the behavior of my kids) it may very well be tops on my list.
Being my first blog post ever, I won't talk about what would be my normal topics of discussion being what I have eaten recently, the goofiness of my kids, something my wife did, the yapping dogs that have infested my home and everything that falls in between. No, today I would like to talk about tacos. Actually, one taco in particular.
Being a young kid from a Vietnamese home, I never really ventured out on eating much. Sure I had my fair share of boluts, pork intestines, sun cured aged fish, and every organ out of a cow you could imagine, what self respecting 8 year old wouldn't? I'm talking about venturing out eating American dishes. You know, the really out there fare of deep dish pizzas, chili cheese dogs, pulled pork sandwiches, and of course tacos.
Then one day, I was called into the principle's office. It seems like I was going to be rewarded for having made the honor roll. Yes, this Asian made the honor roll, I bet that was a first for my race but I can't be too sure. Anyway, they had these bags of food that sat upon a long conference table that filled the room with an aroma that danced in the air. I can almost remember that scent to this day. I was even more taken aback when the principle touched me on the shoulder and told me to go in that room and take my seat. A number of other students made their way to the table too.
I took my seat and eyed the white and gold bag that sat before me and wasn't really paying attention to the principle telling us about how proud he was of this or that... All I really remember was that he said enjoy and heard other kids opening their sacks. I took the contents of mine out carefully which consisted of two tacos, a bag of chips and some queso. At least that's what I know now. At that time, I didn't know what any of those were. I remember looking back in the bag for a fork, spoon or a least one chopstick but there wasn't any to be found.
I unwrapped my first ever taco and looked up and saw that everyone else was just eating theirs with their hand and I figured that's how I should take my tacos on myself so I took my first bite... right out of the center of the taco. Now, if you have never eaten a taco before, taking a bite right out of the center isn't advised because once I did, that crackly yellow shell just split in two dumping its contents out on the table below and a little onto me. I was mortified. I sat there with a blob of food in front of me not having any utensils at my disposal and knowing that there were some kids laughing at me like I was an idiot. I might not have been the first Asian kid to make the honor roll but I might have been the first one to be thought of as an idiot the same day as being told how smart I was.
I tried to collect myself by eating with my fingers and scraping up the fallen contents up into my mouth. I still don't know why I didn't use the remains of the shell to scoop up the goods or why I bit my second taco right out of the center too, maybe I was really an idiot. I think my mom might have thought I was one too while I described what I had eaten to her at school that day while wearing a meat and queso stained shirt. Even she, someone who never seen a taco before I believe, asked me why I didn't just take it on from on of the corners or at the least kept it in the wrapper.
In the end, that taco was really good and tasty, the queso not so much, and that experience helped give me a great desire to learn more about not only my food but the foods all across this great and diverse globe. I hope to share other past and upcoming forays in my search of satisfaction.
